Melody Strikes Back by Myra Walker

Chapter 23 

A smug smile played on Mabel’s lips as the surprised exclamation rang out. She thought Melody’s amateur skills had led to some comical 

mishap. 

But then, the voice continued, “This coffee… it’s the most perfect cup I’ve had” 

The blood drained from Mabel’s face. Her face, moments ago alight with gloating, twisted into a grimace of disbelief. What the hell? How could this be?‘ she thought in shock. 

Yolanda, sharing Mabel’s shock, pulled her through the crowd to get a closer look. 

They saw Melody’s coffee, crowned with a dense, velvety crema that seemned to defy physics. While Mabel’s coffee was good, each bubble in Melody’s was perfectly uniform and impossibly fine, like crafted by a master. 

Mabel stood there, frozen, staring at the cup in disbelief. ‘Am I seeing things?‘ 

Mable had spent years mastering the art of coffee, becoming the unrivaled queen of Silverlake’s coffee scene. She couldn’t believe that she was outdone by Melody, a supposed nobody from the countryside. 

A flash of fear surged through Mabel, recalling the eerie similarities to an encounter at Wilmot’s boutique. This wasn’t just about coffee anymore—it was something more. 

However, as Mabel’s gaze shifted to the blotchy, awkward face of Melody, her panic subsided slightly. ‘Skills, even medical skills, can be learned, knowledge acquired. But beauty–that’s an advantage I still hold, Mabel reassured herself. 

Yet, she couldn’t shake off the irritation. “When the hell did Melody learn to master the art of coffee like this?” she wondered. 

“Mom…” she muttered angrily, tugging at Yolanda’s sleeve. 

Yolanda, now regaining her composure, seemed much calmer than Mabel. She gently patted Mabel’s hand, signaling her to stay calm. 

The crowd continued to rave about Melody’s coffee–making skills, even including Yolanda in their praise. 

“Mrs. Fox, you’re hiding treasure in plain sight! To think you have such gems at home and didn’t tell us! You lucky woman!” one of them 

remarked. 

“Truly, Mrs. Fox is blessed, Miss Mable is so beautiful, and Miss Melody is so talented. You must be so proud,” another added. 

Yolanda forced a stiff smile in the face of this praise, her heart twisting with resentment. These compliments taste worse than swallowing flies, she thought grimly. 

Back when Melody’s mother was alive, she had always overshadowed Yolanda in every way. And now, she couldn’t tolerate that her daughter being compared to what she considered a throwaway. 

Yolanda’s eyes narrowed, a chilling glint flickering within them. 

Meanwhile, Astrid was biting back her frustration, her smile cracking under the strain. 

Melody’s remarkable success had thrown her plans into disarray. She had orchestrated this to watch Melody fail, not to inadvertently crown her the belle of the ball. Unable to maintain her facade any longer, Astrid snapped, “Ladies, it’s about time. Shall we head downstairs?” 

“Yes,” the group agreed, but not without first insisting that Melody make a visit to each of their homes to teach their daughters coffee- making. 

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In Silverlake, where the coffee culture ran deep, being skilled in coffee making was a prestigious affair. If Melody could pass her skills on to their daughters, Mabel might well kiss her title of belle of the year goodbye. 

Surrounded by an admiring crowd, Melody walked out of the drawing room. Once overlooked, she was now the star everyone orbited around. 

She responded graciously to the ladies‘ compliments, seasoned by years of varied experiences, handling the spotlight with a calm ease. 

The ladies, initially taken aback by her plain appearance, had now been won over by her poised demeanor, treating her with a newfound warmth and respect. 

Mabel, on the other hand, felt like she was suddenly left in the cold, her earlier shine stolen. Fury and humiliation brewed inside her, burning hot and ugly. As soon as the last guest left the room, leaving only her and her mother, Mabel could no longer hold back her tears. 

“Mom, what the hell is going on?” she cried. “How in the world does Melody know more about coffee than me? And how is she better at it?!” 

Yolanda was equally as perplexed. However, it was not the time for questions but for immediate action. Years of navigating social situations had trained her well, and she was quickly able to regain her composure, 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan that’ll ruin her completely. But I need your help,” she whispered to Mabel, her voice a mix of cold determination and quiet fury. 

As Mabel listened, her eyes lit up with a dark anticipation, eager to see the plan unfold. 

“You must follow my instructions exactly. Not a single step can go wrong.” Yolanda said. 

“Trust me, I’ll make sure she won’t be able to show her face in Silverlake ever again!” she responded, her tone laced with venom. 

If this plan works, she won’t just be ousted from the Swanson family; no one of repute in Silverlake will let her through their doors again.” Mabel clenched her fist, resolute. “Mom, don’t worry, I won’t screw up like last night,” she vowed. 

After discussing their scheme in detail, they stepped out of the drawing room, renewed and resolute. 

Elsewhere in the estate, Maria was being led by a servant to Margaret’s bedroom, where they were met by two imposing bodyguards at the 

door. 

“Why are there guards at the door?” Maria asked, puzzled. 

Despite her illness, Margaret was highly respected by Ramon Swanson, the family patriarch. It seemed out of place that she would be so heavily guarded, almost as if she was being held captive. 

The servant did not respond to Maria’s question but spoke briefly with the guards, who then allowed them entry. Maria entered the dimly lit room, where the strong smell of medicine permeated the air, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust. 

As she approached the bed where an old 

d servant stood watch, he began, “Mrs. Fox, you’re here? I’ll wake Mrs. Swanson up- 

“No, let her rest a bit longer,” Maria quickly intervened, but the stirring in the bed interrupted her, a raspy voice asking, “Who’s here? Is it Astrid?” 

“Margaret, it’s me,” she replied. 

Hearing the name, tears began to roll down Margaret’s cheeks as she struggled to sit up in bed. 

“Take it easy,” Maria said, stepping forward to support Margaret gently. 

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“I’m fine,” Margaret insisted with a difficult smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, and now you’re finally here.” 

“I came as soon as I could,” Maria reassured, sitting down in the chair beside the bed, her eyes full of concern. “Margaret, how long have you been sick? Why aren’t you in the hospital? Why are you bedridden here?” 

Margaret sighed bitterly. “My illness can’t be treated at a hospital.” 

Her voice trembled with shocked concern. “What do you mean? What kind of illness can’t be treated at a hospital? You have to get help!”