Coffee Scoop by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page A

dimples, he might have been any other contemporary male at the local overpriced coffee shop. Dark hair cut in a fashionably messy style complemented tanned skin, giving him the look of a man who spent more time outdoors than in the boardroom.
    The briefcase he held said otherwise, however.
    It was black and made of leather, one of those expensive numbers that screamed quality and a high price tag. Just beneath the handle, two initials were discreetly place in gold letters.
    R.B.
    “Ryan Baxter. 2B”
    “Excuse me?” She swung her gaze from the brief case to its owner, who had settled in the seat beside her. “Oh, 2B. I thought you were quoting Shakespeare. You know, ‘To be or not to be’?” His blank stare told her he mostly likely thought her certifiable. “Never mind,” she said as she snatched up her book and tried to find her place.
    Obviously the first class crowd had a difference sense of humor.
    “So you’re a fan of Shakespeare?”
    . “Yes, actually, I am.” Carrie gave her companion a sideways glance. “Why?”
    Mr. Baxter closed the overhead compartment and took his seat beside her. “Then maybe you can tell me which of Shakespeare’s characters killed the most chickens and ducks.”  
    Carrie laughed despite herself. “What?”
    “Birds. You know. Chickens and ducks. Which character killed the most?” His face grew serious. “Does that mean you don’t know the answer?”
    She shook her head.
    Casting a glance about the cabin, her seatmate leaned toward her. “Hamlet’s uncle, Claudius.”
    “Hamlet’s uncle?” She folded her book closed and turned in her seat to face him. “I don’t understand.”
    “He did murder most foul,” he quoted in a perfect imitation of a British accent.  
    She groaned then, as her gaze met his, burst into a fit of giggles. The flight attendant looked up from her recitation of the safety instructions to glare in their direction.
    “Oh, that’s terrible,” Carrie whispered.  
    “It is, isn’t it?” He snapped his seatbelt closed and settled the briefcase into place then thrust his hand toward her. “Ryan Baxter. Pleased to meet you.”
    “I’m Carrie,” she said as she shook his hand. “Carrie Collins. Thanks for helping me with my bag.”
      “My pleasure, Miss Collins.” “I haven’t been to the gym in almost a week. The weightlifting did me good.”  
    “Now I’m really embarrassed,” she said as the captain began his pre-flight announcements.
    Her seat partner offered a dazzling smile. “Don’t be.”
    By the time the plane leveled off to its cruising altitude and the seatbelt sign went off, Carrie had learned that Ryan Baxter, a seminary graduate with a Harvard MBA, was the head of a nonprofit organization that used the proceeds from the sale of coffee grown on their Central American premises to fund improvements among the local poor. Headquartered in a small village on the edge of the Costa Rican rainforest, Heavenly Beans was in its third year in existence and already making a tidy sum.  
    Mr. Baxter claimed that, due to sound investment and numerous sources of funding back in the States, one hundred percent of the profits were being reinvested in the company or distributed to an orphanage called Casa de Dios. This fact combined with the obvious incongruity of the man’s style of dress, quality of briefcase, and choice of seating on the nearly-empty plane led Carrie to one conclusion. This man was a feature story waiting to happen.
    Possibly even the scoop that made her boss reconsider his decision not to promote her to feature writer.
    Carrie smiled and leaned back into the soft cushions as she made mental notes of the answers Ryan Baxter gave to her questions. Yes, indeed. If her reporter’s instincts were correct, Carrie Collins was about to get the scoop of the decade.
    The coffee scoop.
    In her experience, big money plus high profile ministry generally equaled fraud and deception on some level. A feature on bilking the