by Linda Reilly
Her cell pinged with a text. Expecting that it might be Gideon, she snatched her phone off the table. The text was from Deanna, and she’d attached three snapshots of Noodle and Doodle frolicking in her bedroom. Lara breathed a sigh of relief; the kittens looked happy. Deanna’s message read:
Loving my furbabies.
Lara sent off a quick text thanking her and promised to call her on Sunday.
Lara took a shower and washed her hair, then pulled her new sundress out of her closet. At the welcome tea for Deanna, she’d worn the same dress with her aunt’s chunky gold necklace. This evening, however, she wanted to wear something more delicate around her neck.
Lara fished through her jewelry box, the same one she’d had since she was a girl. Made of white padded plastic, it had a ballerina that danced to a tune when the cover was opened. It made her think of her mom, who she hadn’t seen in well over a year.
This past winter, Brenda “Breezy” Caphart—now Brenda Caphart-Rice—had taken a trip to Vegas with a gal pal and met a slick-looking, self-professed country music virtuoso. Three weeks later, the two had gotten married. They’d been promising to visit Lara and Fran, but so far hadn’t made an appearance. Lara hated to be a pessimist, but she wondered if her mom’s quickie marriage would even make it to the one-year mark.
Her gaze landed on the slender gold necklace with a blue topaz pendant she’d had since high school. Her dad, now deceased, had chosen it for her when she’d turned sixteen. She lifted it from the box and secured it around her neck. Tears came to her eyes. I miss you, Dad.
At precisely five fifty-eight, Gideon appeared on the front porch. He peeked through the screen, knocked lightly, then stepped inside. His brown eyes glittered when he saw Lara. “You look amazing,” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“As do you,” she said, her insides warming at the sight him. He wore a light gray blazer with dark trousers, his ever-present Superman watch on his wrist.
“Our res is at six-thirty. I hope that’s not too early.”
“Are you kidding?” Lara teased. “I’ll be half-starved by then.”
After bidding a quick goodbye to Aunt Fran, they headed toward Moultonborough.
The restaurant, named Mélange, was as colorless a place as Lara had ever seen. The all-white décor was blinding. Even the roses placed precisely in the center of every table were a crisp, snowy white.
Their server, dressed completely in black, was a thin, middle-aged man with a slight French accent and an efficient manner. He suggested the chef’s special—grilled filet of bass with champagne sauce. Lara and Gideon both chose it.
Over glasses of chardonnay, they sampled an assortment of local cheeses and warm, buttery rolls. Preceded by an endive salad, the bass turned out to be heavenly—perfectly seasoned, the champagne sauce as light as air.
During dinner, Lara gave Gideon an overview of the events of her week. Although she and Gideon had shared fried clams a few days earlier, they hadn’t had a chance to really sit down and chat in a leisurely fashion. She told him everything, beginning with the worms in Deanna’s purse to Kayla’s disclosures about Nancy Sherman.
“You really have had quite the week,” Gideon said with concern.
Lara took a sip from her water glass. “I just thought of something else. It’s funny how things keep popping up in my head. When Deanna came over yesterday in that crazy getup, she was wearing a horrible-looking wig.”
“Not surprising,” Gideon said, forking up his last bite of bass. “It’s probably one of the disguises she uses to avoid the public. I bet a lot of celebrities do that.”
“Yeah, but I just remembered something else. She said she borrowed one of Nancy’s wigs. It wasn’t even her own. Why would Nancy have wigs?”
“I wouldn’t read too much into that,” Gideon said. “People wear wigs for all sorts of reasons. If she did help her husband rob banks, she might have used them to disguise her appearance.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” Lara made a face. “I’m sorry. I guess I can’t stop stressing about all of this. I’m starting to get a little paranoid. I see murderers around every corner.” She grinned at Gideon across the table. Against the glaring whiteness of the room, he looked even more handsome than ever.
“You’re far from paranoid.” Gideon’s brown eyes gleamed at her. “Lara, I’m so glad you moved back home,” he said in a husky voice. “I…can’t imagine my world without you anymore.”
Lara swallowed. She felt tongue-tied. “Thank you,” she managed to choke out.
For so many years, Boston had been Lara’s home. She’d loved her tiny studio apartment above a North End bakery. But she had to confess, reuniting with Aunt Fran and returning to Whisker Jog was the best thing she’d ever done. Growing closer to Gideon over the past several months felt so natural, so right. Right now, she couldn’t imagine her world without him, either.
Lara swallowed the last bite of her bass. “That was unbelievable. My compliments to the chef, as they say.”
Gideon smiled at her. “I hope you left room for that chocolate soufflé.”
The soufflé had to be requested at the beginning of the meal, as the dessert chef required forty minutes to prepare it.
“Oh no, I didn’t really order that, did I?” she groaned.
“You did, but never fear. I’ll share it with you.”
A tingly feeling came over Lara. The wine? The meal? Or was it the company that had her feeling suddenly giddy?
Their server delivered the soufflé in a white, straight-sided dish edged in gold. He supplied them each with a spoon, and before long Lara was scraping the bottom.
After Gideon paid the server they strolled out to his car, his arm wrapped loosely around her. The night air had cooled, but her skin felt warm. She felt as if she were glowing from the inside out. “Gorgeous evening,” she said. “Thank you for such a wonderful time.”
Gideon squeezed her waist. “It was great, but it was you who made it special, Lara.” He said it seriously, not in his usual joking way.
He’d started to open the car door for her when she spotted something. Adjacent to Mélange’s parking lot was a small strip mall of only three shops. One appeared to be a florist, another a dry cleaner. The third one had a sign overhead that read Joy’s Tea Room. A neon sign in the window proclaimed the shop open.
That had to be Joy Renfield—the woman who’d supplied the teas for Deanna Daltry’s welcome event! The same person who’d begged Lara to stop by for a tealeaf reading. She told Gideon about her invitation from Joy.
Gideon shook his head and laughed. “This will be a first for me—a tealeaf reading.”
“Yeah, for me too,” she said. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” She playfully looped her arm through his.
They hopped into Gideon’s car, and he drove into the adjacent parking lot over the access drive shared by the restaurant and the strip mall. Only two cars were in the lot, a black sedan with a dent in its driver’s side door, and an aging, pale green VW beetle.
Both the florist and dry cleaner were dark inside, but lights shined through the glass door of Joy’s Tea Room. The door opened with a cacophonous jangle of bells. The scent of cloves and myriad other spices overpowered Lara’s senses. If the restaurant had been the absence of all color, Joy’s Tea Room was the presence of every hue in the spectrum.
Hanging from the ceiling was an array of paper lanterns in all shapes and colors. The back wall was lined with shelves on which a jumble of metal tea tins rested, each having a unique color scheme and design. Near the far end, to their right, were two round tables covered with bright red tablecloths. Atop each table, two teacups rested upside-down on corresponding saucers.
“Be right with you,” a female voice trilled from somewhere in the back of the shop.
Gideon looked at Lara and shrugged, then closed the door
as gently as he could. They glanced around. Two teenaged girls browsed in front of a glass case that held an assortment of bangle bracelets and oversized earrings.
From behind the tables, a beaded curtain abruptly whooshed aside. Joy Renfield emerged into the shop, wearing a full-length, flowing pink dress. A matching headband imprisoned her flyaway hair, keeping it away from her face. Her fingernails were painted cerulean blue, and she wore a heavier than usual layer of makeup. “Hello, I’m Joy. May I— Oh my, it’s you, Lara. I’m so happy to see you!” In flowered flip-flops that slapped the tile floor, she strode over and gave Lara a brisk hug.
“Great to see you too, Joy.” Lara said, a bit unnerved by the intensity of the hug. She smiled and made the appropriate introductions. Gideon, ever the gentleman, politely shook her hand.
“Are you here for your free tealeaf reading?” Joy clasped her hands under her chin.
“I am, but there’s a problem. I forgot to bring the coupon you gave me.”
“Don’t be a ninny,” Joy chided. She held up a finger, tipped her head to the side, and addressed the teenaged girls. “Find anything you like, girls?”
The teens looked up sharply and shook their heads. In the next instant, they opened the door and hurried outside.
Joy rolled her blue-lined eyes. “Those two—always browsing, never buying,” she said with a twinge of irritation. “But you’re both here, so I’m tickled to death.” She ushered them over to one of the tables, and pulled a third chair from the adjacent table. “Sit,” she said in a chirpy voice. “Are you both having your leaves read?”
Gideon held out Lara’s chair for her, then sat down. “Sure, why not. I could use a glimpse into my future.” He grinned at Lara.
Lara stifled a giggle. Gid was such a good sport. He probably thought it was pure silliness, but was going along with it for her sake.
“Fabulous!” Joy batted her mascara-coated eyelashes at him, then turned over both teacups so that they were face up. The teacups were white and nearly translucent, with a row of tiny violets encircling the edges of both cup and saucer. Joy reached behind her, and from a low shelf brought out a moss green tea tin shaped like a Chinese pagoda.
“That’s a lovely tin,” Lara commented.
Joy nodded but said nothing. She opened the tin, and into each cup she shook out about a tablespoon of fragrant tealeaves. “Oolong,” she said, by way of explanation. “I use a bit more than some tealeaf readers. That way I get a better reading. Do either of you take sugar or lemon?”
“Sugar for me,” Gideon said.
Lara smiled. “I’ll take lemon.”
Joy excused herself. She returned a few minutes later with a tray that held a steaming white teapot and a double-sided ceramic dish containing both sugar packets and lemon wedges. Holding the lid on the teapot, she poured boiling water into each of their cups. “You can prepare your tea now. Don’t worry about disturbing the tealeaves. It’s all part of the process. The powers that be are present to guide you from a higher plane.”
Lara and Gideon glanced at each other, then followed Joy’s instructions.
“I’m going to leave you for a few minutes while you enjoy your tea. Let the leaves settle a bit first. As you sip, try to clear your minds of all negative thoughts. Drink as much of the tea as you can but leave a bit of liquid at the bottom.” Without another word, she rose and slipped back behind the beaded curtain.
Lara felt a chuckle trying to escape her lips, but clamped it off. She didn’t want to be disrespectful to this eccentric but kindly woman. She noticed that Gideon’s expression had turned serious. Lara wondered if he’d bought into Joy’s mystical spiel.
They finished their tea quickly. Lara found the flavor to be citrusy and quite appealing. She almost wished for a second cup.
Joy returned and sat before them. “I’ll start with you, Lara. I’d like you to begin by swirling your cup three times clockwise—because time moves forward, not backward. Then carefully invert the cup and set it down on the saucer.”
“Three times clockwise,” Lara repeated. She did as Joy directed, then watched the liquid drain from the cup into the saucer.
“Now, tap the center of the cup three times with your right knuckle.”
Lara tapped. Joy reached over and pulled both cup and saucer toward her. With great care, she lifted the teacup and set it right-side up next to the saucer.
Lara suddenly felt her nerves tighten. What if Joy saw something bad in her tealeaves? Would she be able to dismiss it as a lot of nonsense?
Joy gazed into the teacup, studying the patterns made by Lara’s tealeaves. Her eyes took on an odd gleam. She turned the cup around several times. After what seemed an eternity to Lara, Joy’s lips flattened into a straight line.
“Nothing too horrible, I hope,” Lara said, unable to bear the suspense any longer. She felt Gideon go still beside her.
“So much to do,” Joy said quietly. “Others need you, both animal and human. I see a hand with cupped fingers. That means you’re juggling multiple tasks.”
You got that right.
Joy pointed to a cluster of leaves close to the cup’s handle. “The symbols closest to the handle represent events happening now. I clearly see the letter C.”
A no-brainer, Lara thought. Cats.
“The shape is more curved at one end. It might also be a tail.”
A cat’s tail.
“Or a G,” Joy added.
Without touching the cup, Joy’s finger moved slowly around the rim. “I see a cross,” she said. “Usually that means a recent loss, or a loss you fear in the near future.”
Hesty, Lara thought. Though she hadn’t really known the man, his death had been a blow both to her and to Frankie.
Joy’s finger moved to the point on the cup that was opposite the handle. Her plain face widened into a smile. “Here I see a circle—a ring. It’s thick and solid, which signifies something unbreakable in the future. Because of its distance from the handle, however, time and many challenges will first intervene.”
She’s quite glib, Lara thought. Accustomed to telling people what they hoped to hear.
Joy went on to relate future successes and happy times. While Lara didn’t want to put much stock in the reading, she found herself breathing a sigh of relief.
“You’re easy to read,” Joy said, setting the cup aside. “You don’t hide your feelings. You wear them like a badge.”
Lara laughed. “That’s sort of true, I guess.”
“But you have a secret, don’t you, Lara?”
She felt her body jerk slightly. “Um, a secret?”
“Not a bad secret,” Joy clarified, “but it’s something you feel unable to share.”
Lara felt a blush creeping up her neck. Joy couldn’t possibly know about her spirit cat by looking at a bunch of random tealeaves. She started to deny it when Joy added, “Unburden yourself, Lara. You’ll find others more receptive than you think.”
Gideon grinned and elbowed her playfully. “Okay, Lara, spill it. What’s your secret?”
With a wave of her hand, she heaved a theatrical sigh. “Okay, you’ve caught me—it’s true, all true. I’m actually a spy for the country of…Catatania. Where felines rule, and humans are subject to their every whim.”
Gideon belted out a laugh. “You know, I half believe you.”
Lara smiled to defuse the tension she felt building in her head. Joy’s revelation had unnerved her more than she wanted to admit. “Don’t laugh, because you’re next,” she warned Gideon.
Joy repeated the same ritual with Gideon. “Aren’t you a curious one,” she said, staring into the dregs of his teacup. “You don’t have only one secret—you have many. Secrets you’ll never share with anyone.”
“I concede that. My job requires me to keep confidences.” Gideon shot a look at Lara. “Do you see a ring in m
y future, too?”
Joy’s brow furrowed, aging her ten years. “I see two rings. One is broken—”
“Uh oh.”
“And one is complete. The question you need to ask yourself is, which will come first?”
The mood instantly dampened. Joy sensed it, and wrapped up Gideon’s reading quickly.
Anxious to be out of there, Lara thanked Joy for her free reading. Gideon insisted on paying for his. He followed Lara to the checkout counter at the front of the shop.
“You were both fun to read,” Joy said, accepting a twenty from Gideon.
“Well, I enjoyed it,” Lara said. She didn’t want Joy to think she’d taken the reading too seriously, either hers or Gideon’s. “Maybe I’ll try it again sometime.”
“By the way, Lara, your friend Mary Newman was very receptive to me. She’s going to let me put a display of some of my handmade jewelry in her shop.”
“Joy, that’s great. Mary is a terrific person. I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with her.”
Lara turned to leave when she noticed a good-sized framed photo, about eleven by fourteen, hanging on the back wall behind the counter. The pic was black-and-white, a medium she favored. In the photo, a family of three adults—a man and two women—and four kids posed before a fireplace on which a row of stockings had been hung. Except for their expressions, the women could’ve been twins. One woman glowed with happiness, while the other looked off to the side with a cheerless, vacant stare. From the fashions and hairstyles, Lara guessed that the picture dated back to the late 1950s or early sixties.
“Is that your family?” Lara asked. “It’s a great photo.”
Joy’s face softened. “Yes, isn’t it? I never married, so they’re the only family I’ve ever had.” She reached up and touched the face of the smallest child in the photo—a boy of about four or five. “A neighbor took the picture for us. It’s my mom, dad, my aunt Agnes, me and my sisters, and my little brother. My last sister died a few years ago. It was almost a blessing. She didn’t have a very good life.”
