Navigating A Plot Device

Navigating A Plot Device

-by José-Pierre Fernandez

Of all the customers who had patronised her small coffee shop in Upstate New York in the seven years since she opened, the Regular Stranger intrigued Jennifer the most.

He was regular only in the consistent frequency of his patronage. Many of Jennifer's customers came in and sat down, or ordered to go, at eight in the morning before the workday began. Many came in at coffee time around ten and around two. Many came in for lunch and many stopped by for dinner instead of cooking. Many of each of these crowds were friends and intimates, and friendly with Jennifer.

The Regular Stranger was none of these things.

Sometimes he would come in at seven-thirty, the day's financial newspaper in hand. Sometimes he would come in around nine, read his paper, and then pull a top-ringed notebook out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and then either write or sketch while slowly drinking his cup of coffee. Sometimes he would do this in the afternoon with tea in lieu of coffee. Sometimes he would do this at lunch or dinner while slowly working his way through the healthy meal of the day, never with any sauce or dessert.

And while most of Jennifer's customers sat at the counter or congregated in booths, the Regular Stranger always at alone in the booth meant for one. He did not interact with the other customers. With Jennifer, he was cordial and exceedingly respectful, but in no wise particularly warm.

And while most of Jennifer's customers took advantage of the free wi-fi she offered, she never once saw the Regular Stranger produce a smartphone or a tablet. It was as if he was unaware that these things even existed.

And while Jennifer's other customers dressed appropriately to their work, to the day of the week, and to the season, the Regular Stranger always wore the same outfit. A tweed jacket over a simple tie over a simple, but clean, shirt, flannel trousers and non-descript shoes. The only variation was a long overcoat and boots in winter.

And while very few of Jennifer's customers tipped her since she was the owner, the Regular Stranger always left a gratuity of an amount well above the local norm.

Before opening her coffee shop, Jennifer had worked in a competitive industry where the ability to read people was crucial to any longevity worth the name. Jennifer had worked over a decade in that industry. So, her inability to get a read on the Regular Stranger intrigued her. At once, she was intimidated by his inscrutability and by the fact that he was there every day she was open, and she was drawn in by the very same inscrutability and regularity, feeling an urge to solve the puzzle that was the Regular Stranger.

By happenstance, she learned more about the Regular Stranger one Friday night after she had put her daughter to bed. Friday night was when the local news journal came on the local public television station. The Friday night in question, the Regular Stranger was on the local news journal, giving commentary on a development of the week. Jennifer learned that the Regular Stranger was an historian and a writer, and considered by some to be a "conservative" commentator. Given her background, this latter detail unnerved Jennifer. However, throughout her working life, Jennifer had been a professional, one of whose strengths was her ability to never allow her personal dislike of any individual interfere with work. Neither was she someone to let an injustice stand.

One afternoon when she was alone with the Regular Stranger in her coffee shop, Jennifer broached the topic after offering him more hot water for his tea, which he, as usual, politely declined.