Chapter 2: Episode 2: Viking Food
The soft light and cozy atmosphere of the tiny café warmed my spirit the moment I walked inside. The sweet, decedent scent of baked goods and roasting coffee made my mouth water in anticipation. I made a beeline for the order counter and mused over all my options with my deep green eyes.
I could have the Chicken Club, but a sandwich wasn't exactly a warm dish. There's the tried-and-true Broccoli Cheese, but I just wasn't in the mood for that much cheese.
'Oh, what's this?'
"Try our new Tomato Basil. A thick rich soup made from vine ripened tomatoes, fresh garlic and basil, and topped with toasted Italian croutons and shredded sharp cheddar."
'I think I just found a winner.'
I quickly placed my order with one of the teenage new hires for the Tomato Basil soup and a large Caramel Macchiato. As soon as I got my order number to place on the table, I headed over to the seating area. There were so many inviting couches that had a table in front of it. As I strolled over to a small corner booth, I admired the artwork on the walls.
This cafe loved to represent local artists, but some of the artists preferred to remain anonymous; only collecting the money for their work from the owners and never revealing who they are to the patrons who purchased it. Some pieces were abstract, and some were highly realistic, but all of them had a calming mystical aura about them. As I settled into my seat, Kris emerged from the back.
'Someone must have let him know I stopped by. He never can resist a quick chat with me.'
It always amused me how Viking-like he looked. He had the outdoors build, the long blond, braided hair with a matching beaded beard, but he also had tribal looking tattoos. He told me once that they were something called runes and held different meanings. I hadn’t a clue what meaning those were, but they felt safe and comforting to look at. To top it off, he always wore this odd-looking hammer necklace and had a hobby of making shields and swords. A great asset when the comic-cons came to town and it was a stark contrast to our internet-loving, hipster crowds.
I smiled and called out to Kris happily. As I stood to greet him, he stormed over, embracing me in a bear hug.
"Good day, warrior, Angel."
"Good afternoon to you too. I see you've added a few things to the menu," I greeted as we ended our embrace.
Kris laughed a smile reaching his icy blue eyes, "You can thank Joshua’s obsession with the latest trend of cooking videos. He was worried it wasn’t good enough to serve, but I insisted we add his Tomato Basil to the menu and let the sales decide. Spoiler, our sales have been through the roof due to the recent cold front."
"He should have more confidence in himself, but I’m glad you encourage him. I think it's a wonderful addition. I even ordered it," I proudly declared, making Kris grin even wider.
"Just wait until you find that special someone. You'll do just about anything to see them smile. Anyways, are you still coming with us to his parents' restaurant tonight?" Kris inquired as we sat down on the plump couches.
"Are you kidding me? I would never miss authentic Chinese food. If I do, it's code for ‘I'm being kidnapped’ or ‘I need a doctor’," I joked, excited for the evening.
"I don't know how you can eat so much and stay healthy. I have to work out to keep my warrior body," Kris shook his head.
"Eh, genetics and I don't eat often enough. Not healthy in the long run, but I don't do it on purpose. I just kinda forgot," I shrugged.
"Well, let me get you a Cinnamon Roll to add to your meal. Don't want you getting too skinny," Kris stated, standing up.
"Kris, I haven't had any relapses of anorexia since high school. I've been doing really good for almost ten years," I sighed. His icy eyes softened, but his muscles remained tense.
'He can’t forget it, can he? I wish he would. I wish everyone would stop reminding me about it. I’ve been doing so well… I can’t really blame him though. It was a rough year…'
Memories of my junior year played in my mind. The beeping machines, everyone crying, and my organs slowly shutting down. I had survived and gotten help. I could even joke about eating now, but it was so bad.
"I know it was a while ago, but I still worry about you. You know you're like a sister to me," Kris softly explained. I nodded in agreement. I knew he wasn't saying it to be mean, but memories can still sting. Kris left for the kitchen as my order arrived at the little table.
'They must have just finished a batch of soup when I ordered, and the Macchiato never takes long to make.'
I took a spoonful of the soup and blew on it, making the savory aroma drift around my face. It smelled slightly spicy and was full of herbs. When the thick sauce-like soup touched my tongue, I could almost envision the beautiful garden it came from. The crunch of the crouton and the soft melted cheese danced along my taste buds. The food here was always a magical experience.
Josh could win anyone over with his cooking. I knew the recipes, but I could never make it quite like him.
'One day I'll learn his magical cooking secret.'
Kris returned to my table with the sinful Cinnamon Roll. While Josh may have been the cook, Kris was the star baker. It was so hard to resist his light, sweet, fruit-stuffed Cinnamon Rolls. His apple stuffed Cinnamon Roll was, by far, my favorite and it was the exact flavor he placed in front of me. I thanked him for his generosity, and he patted me on the head in a brotherly way.
Even though I hadn't finished my soup, I couldn't resist taking a bite of the Cinnamon Roll. The warm icing flooded my mouth as the soft bread and gooey, baked apple tumbled onto my tongue. Notes of cinnamon and clove danced along my pallet alongside the buttery sugar from the apples.
'Pure bliss.'
I spent a good hour enjoying the food and the warmth of the coffee before ordering a second coffee to go. I still had the rest of my shift to complete and two rather odd books to investigate.
Chapter 3: Episode 3: Research and Religion
When I returned to the shop, I wasn't surprised to see the front was as empty as I left it. No one would wait for a bookstore to open in the cold when it wasn't tourist season.
'I think I'm the only person in this town that prefers the library and the bookstore.'
Everyone else was always clogging up the mall and the movie theater. Though, you could still see a few odd souls who would brave the cold and have some fun on the beach.
Closing the door behind me, I found the shop was no warmer than when I had left. I took a sip of my coffee knowing it was going to be a long afternoon. Setting my bag down on the floor and my coffee on the counter, I turned my attention to the box of new books that I had haphazardly tossed together before I left.
'The best course of action is to inventory and shelve the easy stuff before diving into research for the two unusual finds.'
I grabbed the shipment manifest and double checked the number of books to what was shipped and compared it to the number of books in the box, but it didn’t match. I checked it three times, but each time my total was two books more than what was shipped.
'Did they send us too many of one of the books?'
I sighed, annoyed. I was going to have to check off every book then repackage the extra and send them back or have Mrs. Hartford cut a check, but I noticed something even more unusual.
According to the shipment manifest, Mrs. Hartford had bought the books from a liquidation warehouse. They were trying to get rid of stuff from sites that close forever. Even with us having gotten extra they wouldn't want it back. I shook my head.
'I'll figure it out later. I have work to do.'
Inputting in the system, tagging, and shelving the books only took about two hours. I found every book on the list; except the two odd ones I had noticed earlier.
'So much for using the manifest to find out the book's names.'
Returning to my front counter, I pulled out the two unusual books. Opening the Virgin Mary book, I found on the first page it said ‘Wicca’.
'Is this one of those new books added to the bible?'
I knew there was a controversial book about Mary, but I hadn't heard of this book. Mrs. Hartford wasn't the type to go after anything even mildly controversial, but at least I had a name, something I could look up.
I pulled out my phone to look it up because our internet could take ages on the giant 90s era computer. I sipped my coffee as I waited for the results to load, but immediately regretted my decision. I choked on the beverage when I saw the result.
Wicca: a form of modern Paganism, especially a tradition founded in England in the mid 20th century and claiming its origins in pre-Christian religions. Its belief is in the Goddess, respect for nature, and they hold both polytheistic and pantheistic views. Some sects also believe in metaphysical items and/or locations, mental and physical abilities, as well as the ability to commune with gods/spirits/other entities. See also: Witch or Witchcraft.
'There is no way in Hell Mrs. Hartford would have ordered that book. The lady thinks rock music is the Devil. A book about witches or witchcraft would give her a heart attack.'
On the same page, I saw the moon symbols. It was called The Triple Goddess.
The Triple Goddess: A deity or deity archetype revered in many Neo Pagan religious and spiritual traditions. In common Neo Pagan usage, the Triple Goddess is viewed as a trinity of three distinct aspects or figures united in one being. These three figures are often described as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. Each of which symbolizes a separate stage in the female life cycle and a phase of the moon. It also often rules one of the realms; Heavens, Earth, and Underworld. In various forms of Wicca, her masculine consort is the Horned God.
I looked over at the black book that had the odd shaped cross with worry.
'What secrets does it hold?'
I tentatively put down my coffee and opened the cover of the black book. Inside it had one word: Kemetism. I went back to my trusty phone and looked up the unknown word.
Kemetism (also Kemeticism, Neterism, or Egyptian Neopaganism): A revival of the ancient Egyptian religion and related expressions of religion. A Kemetic is one who follows Kemetism. There are several main groups, each of which takes a different approach to their beliefs, ranging from Eclectic to Reconstructionist. However, all of these can be identified as belonging to three strains, including: Reconstructed Kemetism (adopting a philological and scholarly approach), a Syncretic approach (a mixture of old and new age ideals and practices), and a more novel synthesis tending toward monotheism, Kemetic Orthodoxy.
I was blown away. We had gotten two books on other religions that would have made Mrs. Hartford shit a brick if not die from shock. On the same result page, I found the oddly shaped cross. It was called an Ankh.
The Ankh: An ancient Egyptian symbol which symbolizes the many aspects of life, including physical life, eternal life, immortality, death, and reincarnation. The symbol is a teardrop-shaped hoop with a cross connected directly below it, to represent the sun making its path upward and over the horizon.
I was stunned and intrigued. I felt the books almost calling out to me; begging me to learn their secrets. I knew we didn't order these books and I also knew Mrs. Hartford would have them tossed in the trash or possibly even destroyed. I hated to see a book of any kind ruined for no good reason. I debated on putting them in the system and ringing them up as a sale for myself, but Mrs. Hartford had shorted me on my last check, and we didn't have any security cameras.
I stuffed the two books into my bag as payment. She wouldn't miss something that was given to us for free and wasn't listed on the manifest. It wasn't her cup of tea anyway. I sipped my coffee. Only a few hours to go until my dinner with friends.
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