4345.94 · April 4, 2025 AD
Unusual Notes
Calum McKenzie fills the doorway like a man already certain of his welcome. One of Edinburgh's most respected roasters, he arrives with samples, proposals, and questions that linger a fraction too long on the wrong details. His Ethiopian roast is bright with blueberry and jasmine. The Campbell house blend has something he can't quite place—"unusual notes," he calls it. "Something botanical." Daniel's answer is careful. Nathan's attention sharpens. Some partnerships come with hidden costs.
The knock is confident. Metronomic. The knock of someone who expects to be let in.
Calum McKenzie enters the Campbell kitchen with professional charm and eyes that never stop cataloguing. One of Edinburgh's elite roasters, his reputation precedes him—earned bean by bean, roast by roast, scars on his forearms marking lessons learned through fire. He brings samples of his festival roast: Ethiopian natural, bright with blueberry and honey, packaged in bags that tell stories of origin trips and direct trade.
But his attention keeps drifting. To the special blends stored separately. To the greenhouse glimpsed through the window. To the notebook filled with Daniel's precise formulations.
"Your house blend has some unusual notes," he observes over his cup. "Something botanical. Something I can't quite place."
Daniel's response is smooth. Family recipe. Years of perfecting. The verbal sleight of hand that has protected Campbell secrets for generations.
The partnership agreement is signed. The handshake exchanged. Calum leaves with professional warmth and one bag slightly displaced from its perfect alignment—evidence of fingers that lingered where they shouldn't.
Tomorrow brings the festival.
Nathan makes a mental note to watch Calum McKenzie very carefully indeed.
