Chapter 41

Eddie sipped a white, creamy coffee while sitting in the breakfast corner of the mansion kitchen, looking out the window at the faraway view of the lake. In that land of virescent beauty lay a disc of the brightest blue and gray. Like a mirror on the wall, it was oval and flat, its surface forever guarded against the cold winds and the lush hills around it. At the edge, the land met and carried right on as a perfect reflection.

Sipping the coffee, he sighed. He’d learned about the drink while visiting Mexico one summer. It was almost identical to a latte except that it was made with coffee instead of espresso. It had more milk than a café con leche, so the taste was less bitter. There was a paused look of fulfillment on his face as he sipped the warm, toasty flavor. That was something he felt the Europeans had gotten right. They always made time for coffee or tea, particularly in the afternoons. Most Americans viewed it more as an energy drink, something to be gulped and disposed of.