John grimaced. Nelson was his brother and he loved him dearly-well, he loved him-but, Jesus Christ, piquant?

"But," Nelson continued darkly, raising his spoon for emphasis, “I detect overtones of earth. There's a definite groundy undertaste here."

"I agree,” Maggie said, something of a rarity for her where Nelson was concerned. “It's groundy. Earthy."

"Dear Cousin Maggie and Cousin Nelson-” began Rudy with a sigh of sweet condescension.

"I'm not your cousin,” Nelson said. “Thank God."

"-I yield to no one in my admiration for your many virtues, but I feel compelled to say that neither of you would recognize a good cup of coffee if you fell into it from a fourth-story window. No offense."

"Rudy…” Maggie glowered at him, her head lowered like an irritated bull's. Painted, hand-carved wooden earrings shaped like tiny tropical fish swung against plump cheeks. “…I know you think you're the be-all and end-all of anything that has to do with coffee, but-"

"I?” Rudy said. "Au contraire. I have an absolute and unequivocal lack of belief in my own judgment. Thereby,” he added without losing a beat, “confirming the perspicacity of my opinions."

And there was Rudy in a nutshell: droll, biting, double-edged-but ultimately even-handed in his barbs, digging them into Maggie, or Nelson, or himself with equal relish. John had been on the receiving end for his share too. Even Nick had. And other than Nelson, they all laughed now-except for Rudy himself, whose dry, dour expression rarely changed very much.

"Come on, Rudy,” Nick said, “what about the Excelso?"

Rudy decided to be serious. “I don't taste any groundiness,” he said. “There is a little woodiness, but it has a nice, nutty, buttery finish. Definitely not for one of our premiums, but I was thinking it would be all right for the Weekend Blend."