A Man to Waste Time On

by Nina Barrett

  “Okay.”

  “It is a combination of a white tea and lychee blossoms. Lychee blossoms produce a heart-shaped fruit with a slight honey-like flavor. We use the blossoms along with a white sage for balancing and add rose petals as a top note. We tested the tea in various combinations, like we always do, until we felt it was right. Believe me, we drank gallons of the stuff for weeks.”

  “But there was a problem with it? Something happened at the hotel?”

  “Did someone have an allergic reaction?” Ed asked.

  “No. Well, maybe they think they did. One lady was in town to play in some stupid darts tournament the hotel was hosting. Only she missed competing because she claims she was affected by drinking our tea.”

  “Food poisoning? She got sick?”

  “No.” Cinna covered her face and bowed her head. “She and her husband were in bed, but apparently not um…well…resting.”

  “Excuse me, madam. Your order.” She moved aside as the waiter delivered their plates and did something with his pepper mill.

  Rosemary stared at her making no attempt to pick up her silverware.

  “And are they complaining?” Ed looked like he was trying not to laugh.

  Rosemary shot him a look. “Cinna is upset about this. You aren’t taking this seriously, are you?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know. Things have been a little crazy. Mags and I were out of the shop yesterday afternoon. The gal who covered for us said there was a steady stream of people from the hotel coming in and buying up all the harmony blend we had in stock. And, apparently, the news has made it onto the Internet because now we’re getting orders and phone calls from all over the country.”

  “So what did the hotel say?” Rosemary speared a fat shrimp with her fork.

  Yeah, the hotel. Be careful there.

  “The manager was in this morning asking about it. He wasn’t mad, I guess. Just asking about side effects. They’d had a number of curious questions from some of their guests. He’d already pulled the rest of the tea from their breakfast buffet.”

  “Wow. What do you think, Ed?”

  Her friend had been listening quietly. He reached for a bread stick in the basket, broke it, and dipped one end in his paella. Chewing slowly, he seemed lost in thought.

  “It’s interesting.” He shook his head and smiled. “Rose petals, lychee blossoms and white tea.”

  “And white sage, but nothing we don’t use every day in a variety of teas.”

  “Right, but… There’s a well-known medical experiment that has been duplicated with the same results a number of times that may have something to do with it.” Ed took a sip of his water. “Pictures of women have been shown to groups of men who are then asked to rate them on a scale of attractiveness and desirability. Consistently, the pictures of women taken at the height of their reproductive cycles are judged most desirable. The results have been duplicated time and again.”

  “So what do you think might have happened?” Rosemary asked.

  Ed shrugged. “Understand I’m just hypothesizing. But if the relaxing benefits of the tea coincided with the peak doctors call the Venus week, male hormones could be stimulated generating the desire to reproduce. When estrogen levels are high, women are more confident, socially active, and at ease. Testosterone peaks during this week too and so, a strong desire for intimacy occurs. Add in an attractive partner, being in Vegas on vacation, and well, sparks could fly.”

  Cinna swallowed. Her lunch, untouched on her plate, looked less appetizing than ever.

  “Wow. Cinna, you and Magdalena may have really stumbled onto something.”

  Ed nodded. “And, of course, if you and your friend didn’t happen to be in the right part of your cycles and weren’t involved in a relationship, you probably wouldn’t have noticed anything.”

  Their waiter picked up Rosemary’s glass to refill it. He was probably hearing more about human biology than he wanted to.

  She certainly was.

  Chapter Six

  Hands on hips, he stopped and surveyed the floor area. It was a time in the day when things were winding down. There’d be a lull during the lunch break before the action picked up again.

  In the pits, the table games were grouped together. Blackjack, craps, and the roulette wheel were still drawing crowds while it looked like the poker tables were breaking up. Even so, business looked good. And it hadn’t been like their dealers were complaining about idle tables or the size of the tips customers left since the Imperial’s opening. It made the shortfall in their revenues even more inexplicable. He shook his head.

  At one of the blackjack tables, Ron Caisson had his arm around a player. From the size of the man’s chip stack, it was evident he’d had a successful outing. Ron was signaling one of the cocktail servers. Comping the winner some champagne? It looked like he was marking the player’s club card too. It was the way the casino monitored player’s bets and time at the tables. Raising the player’s credit marker? He winced. It was probably justifiable. Still he wished Ron would check with the casino host first. But then he also wished Ron would clock in on time and cut out leaving early.

  “Oh, Mr. Marco!”

  He turned to see Brielle Bennett, trim in her Imperial Hotel blazer and navy skirt, hurrying his way down the hall.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” Despite probably being closer to thirty than twenty with her oversized glasses, brown eyes, and slight lisp, Brielle always reminded him of one of their teenage-aged spa attendants or lifeguards rather than a member of the management team.

  “It’s okay. I was just on my way back to the construction site to see how the addition is coming along before I grab some lunch. What’s going on?”

  “Mr. McMasters asked me if I could track you down. You know how he hates to use cell phones or the pagers.”

  He grinned. “Just doesn’t seem quite polite to interrupt someone in that fashion, does it now?” He’d spent so much time with the older gentleman over the past few years it was like the Imperial’s Chairman of the Board was wired into his head.

  Brielle nodded. “Mr. McMasters is in the Exeter Club with a guest he’d like you to meet. Someone who’s here from England, I think.”

  “Okay, sure. Thank you, Brielle.”

  Other men might have watched Brielle leave, but he bit his lip, changing direction and thinking. Celia Wightman? Was she still miffed about the harmony tea incident? He thought he had smoothed things over with her. Was she upset enough to want to complain to Gentleman Jim? He hoped not. It wouldn’t help Cinna and Magdalena’s tea business if McMasters got the idea there were problems with their products.

  The Exeter Club had been Jim McMasters’s pet project. A take on a London gentleman’s club, it was situated in the rear of the mezzanine. Employee positions here were some of their highest bid openings. Its suite of rooms included a book-lined lounge area where a pianist played quietly in the corner. Other rooms in the suite included alcoves for Jim’s beloved whist and snooker as well as private gaming areas for the high limit baccarat, black jack, roulette, and card games their preferred players sought. The Club’s inclusion in the Imperial’s renovation had been part of re-positioning the hotel as a small, exclusive luxury destination and it had brought with it a not inconsequential outlay of capital. Fortunately, they were beginning to see return in the type of clientele they were targeting.

  He made his way to the back where floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the rooftop garden. It was Gentleman Jim’s favorite place at the Imperial, providing a respite from the hotel’s daily bustle. As he stepped through the French doors to the garden, he could see McMasters’s profile turned toward someone in a lounge chair under a striped umbrella.

  He inhaled and paused to breath in the fragrance of the desert blossoms the horticultural staff cultivated. In spite of the sunshine and slight breeze, as well as a cloudless sky overhead, McMasters looked tense as he looked up.

  It wasn’t Celia Wightman. McMasters’s compan
ion put her cocktail glass on the table and looked up expectantly, taking off her sunglasses. Probably a contemporary of Gentleman Jim’s, she looked like the classic English gentlewoman with her fair complexion, light blue eyes, and pearls.

  “Thomas.” Gentleman Jim sounded relieved at his appearance. “I’m so glad you could join us. Elspeth, this is Thomas Marco, our general manager here at the Imperial, my good right hand, and the one responsible for all the splendid changes we’ve made to the property.”

  He started to protest, but McMasters didn’t give him a chance.

  “And Thomas, this is my dear, old, old… Of course, I mean in length of acquaintance, my most dear and valued friend, Elspeth Porter-Hayes, sister of a flight mate of mine, Gordon McAlister. Elspeth has come all the way from Manchester with a friend to see the Imperial.”

  He took the hand Mrs. Porter-Hayes extended. Soft and well kept, it looked as if she habitually wore gloves. He bowed over it.

  “Quite a trip. Thank you for giving us a try.”

  “Well, my friend Joyce was coming this way. Her grandchildren live in San Francisco so I more or less invited myself along to see how things were going out here.”

  “Oh, quite, yes, yes. Lovely surprise. I was entirely taken aback when the girls popped in this morning.” There was a note he didn’t recognize in McMaster’s voice. He turned to look at his employer.

  “You see Elspeth is one of our investors, part of the consortium back in the U.K.”

  All right. That put things in a different light.

  He took his time seating himself in the chair McMasters was indicating while Gentleman Jim’s guest reclaimed her drink and sunglasses.

  “I see. Nice to meet you. Is this your first trip to the States?”

  “Oh, no. My husband and I visited the east coast a number of times, but I’ve never been so far west. Then Joyce rang up to tell me about her holiday to visit family in California and did I want to come along? So I thought, what a jolly idea to pop in and surprise James.”

  “I’ve shown Elspeth and her chum around a bit.”

  “Joyce is off in the baccarat room now having a go at it. James, the pictures you’ve sent back to Britain don’t do the property justice.”

  “Thank you. So kind of you to say, my dear.”

  “So how long can you spend with us?” Tom asked.

  “Just over the weekend, then we’ll be traveling on. I thought I’d drop in, look things over for the other investors, you know. Give everyone a personal report when I get back. Your latest quarterly report from the accounting firm should be out now, shouldn’t it?” Mrs. Porter-Hayes smiled at her old friend.

  Quarterly report. Did that explain the clear signals of unease he was getting from McMasters?

  He nodded. “Yes.” He drug the word out. “We have the preliminary figures, but the final report hasn’t been delivered yet.”

  And it technically hadn’t. Although he’d seen it at the auditors’ office in Henderson, the bound, printed copy hadn’t been mailed to the Imperial. However, the accountants’ initial findings and their finalized reports had never differed significantly.

  “Oh, yes, well, I thought I’d just give it a look-see while I was over here, you know.” Gentleman Jim’s guest sipped her drink. “So tasty, James. Can I treat myself to another one of these? What did you call it?”

  “A Margarita. Of course, my dear.” McMasters raised his hand at a passing waiter and pointed at Mrs. Porter-Hayes’ glass. “Elspeth is quite the math wizard, Thomas. A degree from Cambridge, worked for Her Majesty’s Inland Revenue, O.B.E. for service to the crown. Right, dear girl?”

  McMasters’s eyes met his own. They weren’t happy. He wondered if his boss could keep Mrs. Porter-Hayes’s Margarita glass filled.

  ****

  “You’re squishing,” Magdalena complained. “Spread those piggies.” She sat back on her heels and contemplated Cinna’s feet.

  “I think we need a darker shade, you know.” She held up her bottle of polish and frowned at it. “This Slice of Watermelon doesn’t do it for me.”

  “Do you really think anyone is going to be paying attention to my feet, Mags?” She wiggled as new cotton balls were pushed between her toes.

  “It’s part of the whole package, Cinna. Like the new lingerie we picked up at Bare Necessities.”

  The lace-trimmed, ivory teddy had cost more than her high school prom dress.

  “We want you to feel beautiful, alluring. You are going to be up against some major hitters looks-wise, and we want eyes to be on you. Keep your hands in that soaking solution. I’ll work on shaping and buffing when I get done down here. I’m going to try this Strawberry Sherbet the gal at the beauty shop recommended.” She reached over to pick up another bottle of polish and shake it. “It’s what I’ll use on your nails, too.”

  “Are there any colors not food related?”

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? The hair highlighting kit we picked out is called Vanilla Honey.”

  “Yum. So, do I mention Ed’s theory to Marco? I mean it was just a guess,” she asked.

  “From a doctor who ought to know what he’s talking about.” Magdalena stopped what she was doing to look up. “How well does Rosemary know him? I mean you don’t suppose he’s her—”

  “I didn’t ask.” Cinna shuddered. “Her judgment about men has had to get better since those days with Tom.”

  “Let’s be fair to the man. Tom didn’t actually accuse us of anything. But, Cinna, something must have happened. I mean it’s not a thing people would normally talk about and plant the idea in other couples’ minds. You know, a group hysteria type of situation. I don’t think it’s our fault, but on the other hand, we probably better not sell any more of the Celestial Harmony before thinking all this through. Maybe David Witheroe will have an idea. We can talk to him about it when he’s here. Oh, yes.” Magdalena bit her lip and studied the results of her efforts. “Most satisfactory, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, fine.”

  “It’s not like Tom is going to be on the hook for child support. Hey!” Magdalena’s head came up to stare at her as she jerked her foot away.

  “That was a joke, Cinna. I can’t see anyone suing the Imperial or us because they fooled around without being careful.”

  “Sorry, just nerves.”

  “Tom should be in tomorrow morning for his usual fill-up. You probably ought to say something to him.”

  Great—tea, an order of shortbread, and a comparison of her and Magdalena’s reproductive cycles with those of his randy guests.

  ****

  Business seemed better than usual.

  He stood in line behind half a dozen customers. Most of the small circular tables in front were filled while other shoppers perused the shelves and display areas. A regular in the corner was busy on his laptop. Behind him, he heard the sound of the door chimes as someone else entered.

  Cinna was taking orders while her friend filled them. The pair typically worked in sync, but today their timing was off. Cinna seemed distracted in contrast to Magdalena’s brisk cheerfulness.

  He worked his way up behind a pot of jasmine tea and a whole-grain muffin.

  “Just the usual today. A large Breakfast Blend, leaded.”

  She nodded, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was counting out his change when Magdalena put his order on the counter and paused.

  “I can take over here, Cinna, if you want a moment with Tom.”

  Ordinarily, that would have sounded promising except for the marked signals of reluctance he was getting from Cinnamon.

  “Sure, thanks. Do you have some time? I don’t want to make you late to work,” Cinna asked. She twisted her fingers.

  “It’s okay. Dolores should be there and Brielle Bennett usually comes in early.” He folded a bill in half and stuck it in the tip jar. A good thing since her boss, Ron Caisson, was chronically late.

  “Maybe we can have a seat.” She nodded at a nearby
table.

  He followed her over and sat down sipping his drink. He watched as she took a breath, smoothing out wrinkles in her apron.

  He waited.

  “It’s…well, I wanted to talk to you about, about what you came in for yesterday. You know about the side effects…possible, unintentional side effects of our house Celestial Harmony blend.” She bit her lower lip, her shoulders sagging.

  “I didn’t mean to upset the two of you. I just wondered if you knew about any added benefits from the tea.”

  “No! Well, not us. That is Magdalena and me. But then yesterday I was talking to a doctor, an OB/GYN.” She looked away. “And he had some thoughts, a theory about what could have happened.”

  He waited as she drew a less than steady breath, balling her fists up on the table.

  “There might be a medical explanation? You’ve stumbled onto an herbal V—?”

  “I guess there have been studies where men can tell when women are at the peak of their reproductive cycles.” Cinna swallowed hard, staring at the table. “Men can pick it out from pictures they’re shown and they judge these women as the most attractive and desirable.”

  He sat back, regarding her.

  “Anyway, this M.D. thought that if the relaxing part of the Celestial Harmony Blend was combined with being on vacation in Vegas…and then if all that coincided with the optimum point of a woman’s cycle.” Her voice slowed. “It could stimulate everyone’s hormones and…” She waved a limp hand and looked away.

  “Put people in the mood. Wow!” He gave a low whistle.

  “Yeah, well.” She looked up at him. Fatigue shadowed her eyes as if she hadn’t been sleeping. Under the circulating fan, a stray curl escaped her headband to tickle her cheek.

  “I don’t know if it’s even a problem. Like I said except for Mrs. Wightman, no one complained. You could be sitting on a gold mine. You might want to consider re-naming it though.’ He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  “David Witheroe, our tea scout, is due to arrive sometime today. He’s an absolute expert on tea. He’s hitching rides across the country so his schedule isn’t really set. Maybe he’ll know something about it.”