The Last Latte ; Or She Never Settled

He gathered up his courage and pushed open the door. It was not his favorite type of task. She had died suddenly in Europe on a business trip. A distant relative. Now he had to take care of the final details.

He pushed open the door and entered the large Italian tiled entrance room and spoke to the the very professional looking woman at the desk. " I have come for the urn of Gloria Fitzgerald, please. "Oh yes," she said, " I have been expecting you.".

Now as the woman left to retrieve the urn, all the memories swept over him. He thought of the last time he had visited with Gloria. It was at the Caribou Coffee at Hwy 101 and Hwy 12 in Minnetonka. She was a very high test woman. Very well traveled. Very particular as to all the details. Very much a perfectionist in every way. " Yes," he thought, "Her favorite phrase was " I just never could settle. "

Quietly chatting with her while the very busy staff at Caribou Coffee brewed her beverage, their chat was interrupted by the manager booming out------" Latte, low fat, extra froth, extra hot, half pump vanilla, sweet and low---and yes half caff--"

"That's ME, That's ME " she said, with her hand waving above her head. Just then it seemed as though a spotlight shone on her like some rock star as she rose to the stage to get her latte. It was just those overhead cone lamps at Caribou. It seemed like a stage to him.

As the lady returned with the urn, he quickly signed the paper. "Well," he thought, "that was her last latte." "She never did settle."