One of the great things about Idaho Springs was its small town atmosphere of shops lining Main Street and people visiting on street corners, without some of the provincial thinking that could make a small town oppressive. Every community, be it big or small, had its characters, the people who inspired the “only in …” phrase. Idaho Springs embraced their citizens who teetered on the ragged edge of sanity, certain that without them, the town simply wouldn’t be right. There was the man whose name nobody was sure of, because he tended to claim to be someone different every week. This week he was Teddy Roosevelt, sporting a very dapper cowboy hat with the right brim tacked up, and a pair of rounded specs with no glass in them. He loved reminiscing about San Juan Hill as he sipped his morning latte` at Java Mountain Roasters. Asta always gave him free biscotti if he promised to stay at his own table and let the other patrons come to him rather than the other way around. When Ricky stepped into the coffee shop she was immediately enveloped in the aromas of fresh, deeply roasted coffee, and the smile of one Stanton Christophersen, who was currently rapt in conversation with Teddy. Ricky ordered a Pumpkin Spice Breve Latte with whipped cream and a salted, caramel biscotti and sat down next to Teddy, across from the adorable Stan. He was handsome this morning. She sipped her drink, happy to revel the charms of these two interesting men.