“Why did you do that?” Adam asked. “Now it’ll be too sweet.”

Ludwig stirred the brew, lifted the cup, put it in Adam’s hands and again disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with two plates piled with food. “This morning Chef has prepared a Spanish tortilla of potatoes, eggs and onions with a skewer of fruit and fried sweetbread.”

“Sounds good.” Adam sipped the coffee. It was too sweet, yet the coffee and the food were exactly what his exhausted body needed. Simple food, but prepared so well that, if Adam was given to displays of emotion, he would groan with pleasure.

Angelica got the continental breakfast: a basket of rolls, a small orange juice and an assortment of jams. She ate sparingly, although Adam knew the pastries were top-notch. As Veda worked, she glanced wistfully at Angelica’s table. Did she ever get to eat? Angelica could have at least tossed her assistant a mollete.

When two vans pulled up in front of the restaurant, Angelica pushed her breakfast away and marched to the door.

Veda joined her, tablet in hand, and opened the restaurant door while the vans discharged eighteen people of various genders, ages and skin colors...and yet, they were alike: clean, alert and dressed in the Angelica style. Adam appreciated that ethics meant hiring diversely, paying according to skills and not discriminating by gender. But there should be a law against hiring people who all dressed the same.

Angelica welcomed each one with a handshake and a restrained smile. When the last of the line had passed, Angelica consulted her tablet. “Where are Noah and Jill?”

As she spoke, a man and a woman stumbled off a van looking pale and shaky. Motion sickness. The shade and sunshine of the windy road did have that effect.

“Oh, dear.” While the other employees filed into the conference room, Angelica walked two Angelica Lindholm– brand bottles of water out to the unfortunates and shepherded them inside.

Ludwig whipped into the conference room carrying pitchers of orange juice, baskets of pastries, and tea and coffee: the employees would eat like the boss. Except for Noah and Jill, who hastily vacated the room... Sometimes the smell of fresh-baked bread could be fatal to one’s composure. When Ludwig finished placing the food on the table, Veda shut the door behind him. The meeting had begun.

The street door opened, and Adam looked up to see Rune of Madame Rune’s Psychic Readings and Bookshop. Six feet tall with a darkly stubbled chin and flowing gray hair, she wore clothes that proclaimed her profession: long skirts, shirts with asymmetrical hems and coins affixed to the fringe of a tie-dyed scarf. As she made her way across the restaurant she fluttered her fingers at everyone in the place, spoke in her fluting Julia Child voice and took the table next to Clarice Burbage, who welcomed her warmly. They were, apparently, old friends.