Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens (30 page)

“There’s some soup left,” Julio said. “Want me to warm it up?”

I swallowed. “Yes, please. Or I can. I have a few minutes.”

“It’s in the fridge door.”

Ramon waggled a scolding finger at me. I stuck my nose in the air and he grinned.

I found the soup, put some in a bowl, and stuck it in the microwave. When it was hot, I took it out onto the back
portal
, where I had a small patio table and a couple of chairs, shaded now that the sun was past its zenith. I sat and sipped soup and tried to relax.

I was
hungry
, having failed to eat most of my lovely and expensive breakfast. I made myself eat slowly, though Julio’s soup had only improved over time.

I gazed at my back garden, enjoying the green and the shelter of the shade. The day was pleasantly warm. Traffic hummed along, slightly muted by distance. Birds fussed in the bushes, and hummingbirds flitted around the feeder hanging outside the kitchen window. Someone had filled it; I hadn’t had time.

My phone was annoyingly silent. 

Julio came out with his notepad and a small plate holding two tea sandwiches and two shortbread cookies. He set this beside me.

“Got a minute?”

I picked up a sandwich. “Sure. And thanks.”

He pulled up a chair and laid the notepad in front of me. “This is the menu for Usher’s party.”

I glanced through it and whistled. Lobster canapés, roast beef sandwiches, pâté, crab salad, champagne sorbet.

“Will the fee she’s paying cover everything?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ll turn a nice profit.”

“And this won’t be too stressful?”

“We’re closed all day Tuesday, right? So I’ll have the morning for the fragile stuff. Ramon and I can come in Monday, probably just half a day, to prep the rest. Should be fine.”

“OK, then.”

“I’d like to put in our grocery orders today, so we’ll have everything by Monday afternoon.”

“Sure, go ahead. Or do you need me to do it?”

“Nah. We’re caught up. Ramon’s a fast learner.”

“I’m glad he’s working out well.”

Julio smiled. “He’s a big help. We’re keeping him, right?”

“As long as we need to. But he said he’s going back to UNM in the fall.”

“We’ve been talking about that. He might take some classes online and drop back to part-time at the tearoom. If that’s OK with you.”

“Sure. Better than looking for someone new.”

He nodded, then fell silent, hands clasped on the table in front of him. I ate the other sandwich.

“Been thinking about Vi,” Julio said.

I waited, watching his face. The frown he’d been wearing lately was there, but softened now. There was sadness in the lines around his mouth, and bewilderment in his eyes.

“I hope they get the bastard that killed her,” he said.

I took a slow breath. “Me, too.”

He shook his head. “Such a waste.”

We were silent for a minute.

“I’m going to change Marigold to Violet,” I said. “For her.”

He turned a surprised gaze on me, then nodded. “Good. That’s a good…”

His voice had gone tight. I put my hand over his, watched him blink furiously. After a minute he stood, sliding his hands out from under mine.

“Better call this in,” he said, picking up the notepad.

He went inside, leaving me alone with the hummingbirds and two pieces of shortbread. I ate one, musing on the myriad forms and expressions of grief.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The tearoom was busy but not crazy; though we were booked full, the staff handled everything smoothly. I lent a hand here and there, but never felt like I was putting out fires.

My phone, though I kept it with me through the afternoon, didn’t ring or buzz once. Tony was busy. I imagined him lining up evidence against Passaggio, perhaps talking with the District Attorney, trying to decide if their case was strong enough.

I sure hoped it was. I couldn’t bear to think of that horrible man going free.

As the day drew to a close, the staff began to depart. Julio, Ramon, Rosa, Kris, and Nat all took off, promising to be back for the potluck. I took over in the gift shop while Dee and Iz looked after the last few guests. Mick was in the kitchen keeping up with the dishes.

By 6:45 the last customers had departed, and I locked up and sent the staff home. I put the sodas in the downstairs fridge to chill and took the receipts upstairs to lock them in Kris’s desk. The warmth in the upper hallway drew me back out.

The drapes were still closed, though a ray of sunlight fell through a gap, spilling golden across the oriental rug. I stepped to the window and opened the drapes, basking in the late sunlight.

Vi had stood here, just before her event in the parlor below. My heart ached at the memory of that day; her excitement, all the promise of her summer as an apprentice.

Vi would haunt me always, not in the way that Captain Dusenberry did, but as a dear friend lost to a terrible tragedy.

No, a crime. Tragedy could be accidental. The loss was tragic, but the cause was a crime, the deliberate action of a criminal.

I had dark feelings about that man, and I didn’t want to be sucked into them. I sat in an armchair and gazed at the sheers glowing with light, trying to imagine Vi in a place of beauty, free from pain and worry.

The sun was too bright for my eyes, even through the sheers. Blinking, I looked away, and my gaze fell to the low table before me, where a couple of pieces of paper and a small stack of business cards lay.

Loren’s cards. I picked one up.

I should probably call him. Talking through some of this would do me good. I’d have to wait, though—there were some things Tony might not want me to mention. I’d need to check with him first.

I gathered up the papers—handouts about grief—and the cards, and took them down to the dining parlor. I’d mention them and remind the staff that Loren was available.

The dining parlor was big enough for all of us, and any spills would be easier to clean up there than in the main parlor. Besides, the main parlor was rather full of memories.

I cleared off the sideboard and put out some paper plates, cups, and napkins. As I headed to the closet to get out the extra leaves for the dining table, the floorboard creaked beneath my foot.

Maria Hidalgo’s letters. I still needed to follow up on that.

Suddenly I felt very tired.

I stood still, thinking about Maria and Captain Dusenberry. How sad that their love had never been realized. If he hadn’t been killed they would have married; I was certain of it.

I would find out who had murdered him. What I would do with that knowledge I had no idea, but I still felt compelled to search until I had solved the problem.

I heard a car pull up out back. Glancing through the French doors, I saw that it was Nat’s. She got out and took a huge pan covered in foil from the passenger seat. I hurried to open the back door for her.

“What did you bring? An elephant?”

She chuckled. “Smoked brisket.”

“Oh my … I owe Manny a pie.”

“Cake, dear. He adores cake.”

“Cake it is, then. Go ahead and put it on the sideboard.”

Nat helped me put the leaves in the table and cover everything with sturdy tablecloths. The lace was put away; this was not a dainty occasion. I set out a bowl of ice and the drinks, and soon the staff started arriving.

Rosa and Ramon brought a huge tray of enchiladas from El Vaquero. Dee brought a big salad, and Mick brought a dozen doughnuts. Iz brought fresh-baked horno bread with butter. Kris brought a slow-cooker full of baked beans. I couldn’t have planned a better comfort meal.

We all loaded our plates and sat around the table. When everyone was seated I held up my cup of ginger ale.

“I just want to thank you all for taking the time to gather tonight and remember Vi. Thank you, Julio, for suggesting that we do this. It’s been a hard week and I’m grateful to all of you for holding the tearoom together.”

Everyone was silent. Some traded glances. Afraid I’d put a damper on things right from the start, I decided I’d better try to lift everyone’s mood a bit.

“I’ve decided to change Marigold to Violet in her honor. If any of you have suggestions for the decorations, please let me know.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Dee said. “Can there be a portrait of her?”

I nodded. “Good thought, Dee. I can ask her mother for a copy of a photograph.”

“It should be a painting,” Julio said in a rather fierce voice. “I’ll do it.”

“You paint, too?” Nat said.

He nodded. “I was going to go to art school, then I switched to culinary.”

I hadn’t heard about that. “Why did you change?” I asked.

“Chefs have a better chance of making a living.”

That explained a lot, I thought.

The staff continued to brainstorm about how to redecorate Marigold while we ate. I mostly listened, thinking that we’d need twice the available space to implement all the ideas. It didn’t matter; this was helping us remember Vi, and honor her, in a happy way.

Gradually the conversation shifted to stories about Vi. Everyone had a fond memory of her to share, even Ramon, who hadn’t met her. He had come to her event earlier in the summer, and been wowed by her voice. I hadn’t remembered seeing him there, but I had been pretty busy.

The only one who remained silent was Kris. I watched her surreptitiously, wondering how she felt about Vi.

We had pretty much run out of stories, and room for food, by the time the daylight outside started fading. I was about to get up and turn on the chandelier when it came on by itself.

Everyone looked up, and a couple of people gasped. I helped myself to a doughnut and returned to my place.

“You’ve all seen that before by now, right? Maybe not you, Ramon.”

He answered slowly, eyes on the chandelier. “Actually, I was coming out of the bathroom once when the hall light came on. There was nobody there but me. Julio was in the kitchen.”

“Maybe you should have someone do a sing,” Iz said quietly.

I thought a moment, then shook my head. “He’s never done anything belligerent. I don’t think he means any harm.”

“But he’s not at peace,” Rosa said.

“I’m working on that.”

That got me a couple of curious looks. I ate another bite of doughnut. I wasn’t ready to talk about the letters yet.

The sound of a motorcycle made everyone look out the windows. I swallowed the last of my doughnut hastily.

The back door was open, and Tony must have seen us through the windows. He let himself in and came to the door of the dining room.

“I’m not going to stay,” he said, helmet in hand, “but I wanted to let you all know that the D.A. has asked for a warrant. We’ll be making an arrest tonight.”

Everyone exclaimed. Over the hubbub of questions, Tony met my gaze. He wasn’t smiling—it wasn’t something to smile about—but the triumph in his eyes matched what was in my heart.

He raised his hands. “Can’t give you any details, sorry. But we’re pretty sure we’ve got Vi’s killer. I thought you’d want to know.”

Julio got up and gave him a fist bump. “Thank you, man.”

I carried my plate to the kitchen and came back with a tall wastebasket. The potluck was breaking up; people stood around the table, talking, nibbling doughnuts, finishing drinks. Tony extricated himself and headed for the back door, and I followed him out.

“Thank you,” I said. “This meant a lot to us.”

He paused, standing by his bike, staring at me in the light spilling through the windows. “I have to go back.”

“I know. Lock that man up, please.”

“That’s the plan.”

I stepped toward him, and before I could chicken out, planted a kiss on his cheek. He caught me around the waist with one arm and demanded a real kiss.

A chorus of cat-calls and applause arose from the
portal
. I pulled away, blushing hard, heart pounding.

“Movie,” Tony said, and put on his helmet. “Soon.”

“Yes.”

I watched him ride away, then turned back to the tearoom.

I never saw so many grinning faces.

Lighter than an Opera Cake, this dessert blends almond and tea flavors in a cake that is both airy and rich. This recipe makes eight cakes.  It can be doubled (but you’ll need two jelly-roll pans).

Tea Syrup

Assam tea brews quickly and has a robust flavor, but other varieties of tea may be substituted (they may have to be brewed longer; about three times the usual steeping time).

3 T Assam tea leaves

½ c granulated sugar

¾ c boiling water

Place tea leaves in glass or ceramic measuring cup or bowl. Pour boiling water over them. Let steep for 3 minutes.  Strain into small saucepan, add sugar.  Stir over medium heat until sugar is dissolved, then simmer for 5 minutes.  Set aside to cool.

Cake

This is an almond sponge cake (joconde). Our version is less sweet than usual, to counter the sweetness of the other components.

Important:  Measure out all your ingredients before you begin, including cracking the whole eggs into a bowl. Cut two sheets of parchment paper to fit inside the bottom of the cake pan. Make sure your counter top is clean.