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“Don’t get mad at me,” Nathaniel said, “I’m about to grind fresh coffee beans for you and use the new French press Jean-Claude got you.”
I frowned harder.
“I know how much you hate to admit that you like the French press, but you do like it.”
“It doesn’t make enough coffee at one time,” I said. Even to me it sounded churlish.
“I’ll tell Jean-Claude that you would like a really, really big French press.” He said it completely deadpan, and only the faintest of smiles and the tiniest gleam in his eyes let me know he was going to add something. “Size queen,” then he was through the door, before I could close my mouth and decide whether to yell at him, or laugh.