The Diva Serves High Tea (3 page)

Dear Sophie,

I love English Breakfast tea. In fact, I love it all the time, not just for breakfast. My brothers tease me when I drink it later in the day. Why is it called breakfast tea?

—The Little Sister in Breakfast Hill, New Hampshire

Dear The Little Sister,

Breakfast tea is a blend of black teas. It's called breakfast tea because it's strong and meant to wake you up.

—Sophie

“I'm leaving Natasha.”

I knew they'd had problems and Natasha
had
to be difficult to live with, but it came as a shock anyway. “Whoa.” I had so many questions, but decided I would be a better friend if I simply listened and let him pour it all out.

He rubbed his face with both hands. “I was going to do it before I left town this last time, but it didn't seem right to break
up with her and then take off. I thought it might be better if I was gone for a long time and told her when I came home.”

“There's never a good time for that sort of thing, is there?”

“I don't mean to sound cruel, but it's a huge election year for me, and I'm going to be on the road for the next couple of months. I can't come running back here all the time to deal with her latest drama. Was there really an intruder?”

The fact that he wasn't sure he could believe Natasha told me a lot about their relationship. “I'm afraid so. I saw someone leaving your house. And Natasha really was knocked out. She managed to lock herself in the bathroom before she collapsed.”

He winced. “Is she okay?”

I suppressed a smile. It was typical of Mars to be planning to leave Natasha but still worry about whether she was all right. “Seems to be. They wanted her to go to the ER last night but she refused. Mostly she's shocked and scared. And rightly so!”

“I always made fun of her for wanting to turn the bathroom into a safe room. You know, like the stars have in their mega-homes? So I humored her by swapping the normal lock on the bathroom door for an outdoor-type knob that required a key to open it. I feel terrible. Looks like she had reason to be scared.” He shook his head. “I should have been here.”

“Mars, what could the intruder have been after?”

He shrugged. “Cash? Jewelry? The regular stuff, I guess.”

“Wong asked me if Natasha had any enemies.”

Mars's eyebrows jumped up. “She thought Natasha might have been targeted? Oh man, now I really feel like a louse. You know how she is, Soph. She aggravates the dickens out of everybody but not to the extent that anyone would want to do her harm. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Could it have anything to do with your clients and the election? Secrets about one of them, maybe?”

“What kind of creeps do you think I work with?”

“C'mon, everyone has some kind of dirt they wouldn't want made public.”

“Really?” He grinned. “What's your dirt?”

“I'm being serious.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I'm exhausted from flying all night. And look what else I came home to.” He gestured toward the garage.

Their two-car garage was packed with furniture, leaving no room for a car. I walked closer. Pie safes, desks, sideboards, velvet settees, breakfronts, and a hodgepodge of crystal, china, paintings, statuettes, pottery, and baseball cards. Most were antiques or at least vintage. “They must be for the auction,” I said. “It's a huge haul, though. I'm shocked that she managed to get so many donations. It will take hours to auction off all this stuff.”

“That's a relief. I was afraid she had bought it.” Mars exhaled noisily. “This is such bad timing. We were all coming home for a couple of days tomorrow anyway, so there's no point in flying back tonight, but I'll be leaving again soon. She's going to hate me for taking off, but I have to work.”

“If she's mad at you, maybe it will be easier to break up.”

“I really dread this. Now it's going to look like I'm abandoning her in her time of need. I have a call in to Natasha's mom to see if she can come up to stay with her, and I'll get someone over here today to install an alarm system.” He eyed Daisy.

I reeled her leash in so she was closer to me. “No. Daisy cannot stay with Natasha. We agreed that she won't stay with Natasha if you're not home. She'll lock Daisy in the basement.”

“I know. I know. Actually, I was thinking how happy Daisy will be when she doesn't have to stay over here anymore.” Mars closed his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in Nat.”

A lot of people had wondered that. “Where will you go?”

“I'll be bunking at Bernie's. I'm not interested in most of the furniture, and we never officially tied the knot, so it shouldn't be a big deal. We'll probably sell the house. I hope she unloads all this junk. When I opened the garage door, I thought she had lost her marbles.”

If she hadn't already, she might when she learned that Mars was leaving her. It wasn't going to be pretty. “So you're
planning to move out
now
? Um, she has the auction this afternoon.”

He tugged at his earlobe. “You see the problem? There's always some reason I should put it off. I can't wait any longer, Soph. I'm going to wing it and hope an opportunity arises
today
. That's why I wanted you to know. And I didn't want you to think poorly of me.”

He didn't have to worry about that. “Mars, no one who knows Natasha would ever blame you.”

He wrapped his arms around me in a big hug. “Thanks. I can always count on you and Bernie.”

“Shall I tell her that you're home?”

Mars sucked in a deep breath. “Might as well get it over with.”

I turned to walk away but gazed back at him. “You might want to have a look through the house to see if anything is missing.”

“Nat doesn't want anything of mine.”

“Not Natasha, you dolt. The intruder!”

“I should have been home,” he mumbled, looking perfectly miserable.

Talk about conflicted feelings! Poor Mars. I was willing to bet Natasha would talk him into changing his mind. Daisy and I returned to our house, where Natasha paced the kitchen floor. “It's about time. Where have you been?”

She didn't wait for an answer. “I have a ton of things to do today for the auction. Please, Sophie, can you help me with the musicians? And could you go home with me so I can dress? I'm afraid the intruder will return.”

“Mars is home.”

“Thank heavens. I'll sleep much better tonight.”

Maybe. Or maybe not. In spite of her crabbiness, my heart bled for her a little bit. She had been clobbered by a stranger in her own home, her sanctuary. Home was where we went to feel secure, which was what made it all the scarier. And now, she would be devastated by Mars's decision to break off their relationship.

“I wish you had better lighting and mirrors in this house. It's impossible to do my makeup properly,” she griped.

Bernie refreshed my mug of tea. “Thanks, Bernie.” Why was she still complaining about my house? “Now that Mars is home, you can do your makeup there.”

“No! He can't see me until I'm all put together.”

“You look fine to me,” Bernie said.

She'd been a houseguest for only a few hours, but I was ready for her to go. “Doesn't he see you at night?”

“Yes.”

“You don't wear makeup when you sleep.”

“When he's home I do. You don't?” She giggled. “Really, Sophie, no wonder you can't keep a man.”

I ignored her criticism, slightly amused by the fact that I could say the same about her soon. I wouldn't, though. She was going to have a tough enough time dealing with it. She didn't need me rubbing salt on her wounds.

Mochie sat on Bernie's lap. Daisy watched Natasha. I leaned against the kitchen island, sipping my tea and thinking that everyone was waiting for her to depart.

Natasha frowned at me. “Well, I can't sit around here all day. Thank you for coming to help me last night. You, too, Bernie.” She walked up the stairs.

I waited until she was out of earshot. “How long have you known about this?”

“A couple of months.”

“I thought everything was forgiven when Natasha fixed up that fancy man cave for Mars.”

Bernie blinked at me and sat back in the banquette. “That was merely a plaster.”

“A plaster?”

“Aargh. That's one British expression I can't quite shake. A Band-Aid. Like when a husband sleeps with another woman and gives his wife an emerald ring to smooth things over. It takes out a little of the sting but the underlying problem is still there.”

“Listen to you, being so wise.”

Bernie shrugged. “My mum had a lot of husbands. We all learn from other people's pain.”

I peered at the pan on the stove. “What are you cooking?”

“Pumpkin pancakes and sausages. Natasha didn't want any, so I was waiting for you. I'd better make enough for Mars. I have a feeling you and I are going to be picking up the pieces today. I'll be moving furniture—”

“Why, thank you, Bernie. You so rarely want to pitch in when I could use a hand.” Natasha smiled at him from the kitchen doorway. “The antiques for the tea are in my garage. Please deliver them to Robert Johnson Antiques.”

Bernie shot me a look of anguish.

I tried not to laugh. He couldn't exactly tell her that he meant he would be moving Mars's furniture.

“Sophie, won't you please call the musicians for me?”

I grabbed a pad and a pen and scribbled a message. “Dial their number.”

Natasha dialed and held the phone out to me.

“Say this to them.” I handed her the paper.

Fortunately, Natasha was caught by surprise. She choked, but then read aloud, with the wrong emphasis. “Hi, it's Natasha again. I wanted to apologize”—she cocked her head and glared at me, her eyes huge—“for this morning. I had an intruder in the house last night who knocked me unconscious, and I'm just not myself today.”

She listened for a moment. “Yes, I should be fine. That's so nice of you. At three this afternoon, then?”

She said good-bye and hung up. “Looks like it's going to be a good day after all.
I
should have thought of that. I'll have Mars collect my suitcase later on.”

Bernie and I waited, frozen in place until she shut the door behind her.

“I can't believe I stepped into that,” grumbled Bernie.

“I'll pitch in. It shouldn't take too long, though I don't know how we'll move some of the bigger pieces.”

“I can call a couple of my bartenders. I've helped move plenty of
them
.”

Bernie was right about Mars. As we sat down to eat, Mars walked in through the kitchen door like he still owned the place. “Got enough for three? There's nothing in the fridge. I've only been gone for two weeks, and all Natasha has is wine and pickled jalapeños. Not even milk or eggs. Who lives like that?”

“How did it go?” I asked.

Mars buttered his pancake and poured maple syrup on it. “I'm not sure. I expected waterworks or slamming doors, but she was very calm. Frighteningly so, in fact. She usually makes such a fuss about things that I was slightly alarmed. She said, ‘You'll miss me, Mars.' And then she headed upstairs.”

Yikes! I hoped she wasn't busy burning his clothes or tossing them out the window. I leaned sideways to look out my bay window, but I couldn't see their house. “Does she know you're here? She was afraid to be in your house alone.”

Mars gulped tea before saying, “She never came back down. But her mom is in transit. I didn't tell Natasha that. You know how she is about her mom.”

I did know. Natasha's father abandoned them when Natasha was seven. Her mom had waitressed long hours at the local diner trying to provide for her little girl. I thought her mom was a hoot, but she was something of an embarrassment to Natasha, who tried to cultivate a sophisticated image. Her mother was a free spirit who preferred a more casual lifestyle.

I frowned at Bernie, who appeared to be as surprised as I was. Something was up with Natasha. Her reaction to Mars breaking off their relationship wasn't like her at all.

Mars devoured his pancakes as though he hadn't eaten in days. “Officer Wong called. She needs me to come in so they can exclude my fingerprints.” He grinned at me. “Apparently they already have yours and Natasha's on file.”

“No leads on the intruder, then?” Bernie asked.

“According to Wong, if there are no prints, in all likelihood they'll never find the perpetrator, unless someone saw something but hasn't reported it yet.”

“Did you notice if anything was missing?” I bit into the last piece of my sausage.

“Not a thing.”

After breakfast, Bernie passed me on his way out the door and whispered, “I wouldn't do this for anyone else but you.”