Cause For Alarm by Erica Spindler

discover her two managers, Marilyn and Blake, deep into one of their famous discussions. She shook her head. Anyone who didn’t know them would swear not only that they were arguing, but that they hated each other as well.
    And no wonder; the two couldn’t be more different. Marilyn was a blond bombshell with a Minnie Mouse voice and an IQ to rival Einstein’s. At twenty-five, she was working on her fourth college degree, this one in ancient religions. Blake, on the other hand, at twenty-eight, was still on his first go-round at college. Gay and proud of it, he was outspoken, funny and a bit too flamboyant to be living comfortably on the rather conservative North Shore. But he did anyway, he said, because he liked the trees.
    Their heated discussions had become legendary with the regulars. Some swore they came in not for the coffee, but to witness the fireworks. Even so, the two never got truly angry with one another and made a good working team.
    â€œHoney,” Blake drawled to Marilyn as Kate approached, “I’m telling you, when it comes to size, all races have not been created equal.”
    Marilyn made a sound of disgust. “Not only are you gross, but you’re playing to cliché and racial stereotype. A civilization that depends on stereotypes—”
    â€œExcuse me,” Blake interrupted, placing his fists on his hips and cocking his head at her. “But just how do you think clichés get started?”
    â€œUsually as a form of hatred and oppression.” Marilyn swiped at a spot of water on the counter, her cheeks pink. “My God, as a gay man, I’d think you’d be more sensitive to this sort of thing.”
    â€œExactly. I mean, just for argument’s sake, how many big, black—”
    â€œEnough, guys!” Kate said, stepping in. “This is inappropriate. We have customers.”
    â€œS’okay with me,” called Peter, a regular sitting in the booth closest the register. “I was kind of getting into it.”
    â€œMe, too.” Joanie, a romance writer and another regular, said as she sauntered to the counter for a refill. “Grist for the mill and all that.”
    â€œNo,” Blake murmured. “Kate’s right. But before we move on to a less…controversial subject, I feel obligated to say one more thing. Anyone who says size isn’t important, either has a teeny little wienie or is having a relationship with one.”
    Marilyn gasped, Joanie nearly choked on her refill, and Kate fought back a laugh. Before Kate could reprimand her employee, Peter chimed in, “I’ve never said that, Blake. Believe me. Quite the contrary, I always say size is the most important thing.”
    That brought a fresh round of giggles and groans from the group. Just as it looked as if the conversation were going to slip back into the realm of the totally inappropriate, a mother and her two young children entered The Bean. Marilyn and Blake became instantly professional.
    Kate shook her head, fighting a sound of amused exasperation. She could imagine Richard’s reaction if he’d witnessed the goings-on at The Bean. He already thought the place a nuthouse; no doubt he would judge them all, including her, certifiable.
    She glanced at Marilyn and Blake, chatting with the woman as they filled her order, then smiled. She enjoyed The Uncommon Bean. She enjoyed the people, the ones who became regulars and the ones who only stopped by occasionally. She enjoyed her employees, their eccentricities, being involved in their lives.
    Though her first love was art, she had decided early on that she was not going the starving artist route. She had grown up with that. Living hand-to-mouth, from sale to sale, watching her parents wait with growing bitterness for the recognition that had never come. Seeing how disappointment had sucked the life out of their marriage.
    They had divorced the year Kate graduated from Tulane. The year after