Seventeen
Nayte’s Coffee Shop was tucked down a small close off the High Street. Along one side of the room was the counter, a mix of display cases housing an assortment of cakes and pastries, and chest-high storage units. Behind the counter and along the wall two people were making sandwiches and dishing out homemade soup from large pots.
Lining the opposite wall were several high-top tables each with four chairs. The majority of them were occupied almost exclusively by women, most of them looked to Guthrie like they were well past retirement age. Alisdair headed to the table in the far corner. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Guthrie had a smile on his face as he sat down.
“What?” was all Alisdair could say. He too was smiling.
“You know, Alisdair, you are
