on a Thursday afternoon, Coast Guard Commander Kateri Kwinault shoved open the door to the Oceanview Café, stalked inside, seated herself on a stool at the lunch counter, and slapped her palm flat on the surface. “I’ll take a beer.” Rainbow finished wiping off a table, balanced the dirty dishes on one arm, and strolled over to the wall behind the counter. She dumped the dishes in one plastic pan, the silverware in another. In a tone of colorless courtesy, she said, “I’m sorry, we here at the Oceanview Café don’t have a beer license.” Kateri slapped the counter again. “I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks.” “I’m sorry, we here at the Oceanview Café don’t have a liquor license.” “I’ll take a puff of weed.” Rainbow put her fists on her ample hips. “I’m sorry, we here at the Oceanview Café don’t have a marijuana license.” Kateri sighed. “I’ll take a full-fat, full-sugar, half-caff latte with two pumps of vanilla.” “That I can do.” Rainbow Breezewing, waitress and all-round Virtue Falls busybody, hustled to the coffee machine and programmed it then, before she punched go, she returned, leaned down, and looked deep into Kateri’s eyes.
