by Linda Bleser
Kate ran her fingers over the familiar loops and swirls of her mother’s handwriting, only now coming to terms with how much she’d miss her letters, the sound of her mother’s voice on the phone, the weekly nagging to come home. Maybe she would have come home sooner if she hadn’t been so stubborn.
If only she hadn’t waited so long.
Fighting back regrets, Kate lifted her cup to her mouth, draining all but a few drops of the cooled tea then absently swirling the dregs in the bottom of her cup. She’d always preferred coffee, and the only tea she’d ever had came from a tea bag. But this was really very good and surprisingly soothing. Maybe her mother was savvier than she’d given her credit for. If the continuous stream of customers was any indication, Lillian had tapped into a gold mine here. Even the extravagantly garbed woman reading tea leaves was a stroke of brilliance.
As if sensing Kate’s thoughts, Madame Zostra drifted over on a cloud of jasmine. She reached out and placed her hand over Kate’s cup, stopping the swirling motion. “Enough,” she said. “I’ll read for you now, Miss Kate.”
Kate waved her hand. “No, that’s all right.”
Before she could argue, Madame Zostra turned the cup upside down, letting it drain onto the saucer. “No charge for you, Miss Kate,” she said, settling into the seat, flowing robes of gold and royal purple floating around her.
Kate couldn’t muster up the energy to argue. Her confrontation with Max had drained all the fight out of her. She leaned back as Madame Zostra prepared to divine her future in the pattern of tea leaves.
“I see a trip in your future,” she intoned.
Kate fought back an indulgent smile. That was a no-brainer. Everyone in town knew she’d be going back to New York soon. She watched the sunlight glitter off Madame Zostra’s gold hoop earrings, thinking the whole gypsy outfit was a little overdone.
“There’s love. True love. But you have to open your heart to see it.” Madame Zostra closed her eyes and tipped her head to the side. “I feel…” She opened her eyes again and studied the cup, both inside and out. “This is your mother’s cup,” she said. “No one else ever used this one.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
Madame Zostra pointed to the elaborate curl of vines and roses decorating the front of the cup. Only then did Kate see the letter “L” hidden in the design. Lillian’s cup.
Kate glanced over at Nellie, wondering why she’d given her that particular cup. Perhaps it was a symbolic gesture, passing the reign of power from mother to daughter.
“I can feel your mother’s vibrations,” Madame Zostra said. “So strong. So clear.” The woman gasped. Then her face grew serious—deadly serious. “Your mother is trying to reach you,” she said. “It’s very important that you listen.”
Kate nodded. “Okay, I’ll listen.” At this point she would have said anything just to get the psychic to leave her table. It was all getting a little too strange for her.
Madame Zostra cocked her head again then laughed. “Your mother said you never listened while she was alive, why would you listen now?”
That comment was so like Lillian that Kate felt a prickle of goose bumps crawl up and down her arms.
“Take this,” Madame Zostra said, shoving the cup at Kate. “Take it and keep it with you.”
“Why?” Kate asked, feeling a little silly taking the empty cup. She couldn’t help sneaking a quick peek inside, half expecting to see her mother’s face staring back at her.
“I don’t know,” the psychic said, a puzzled frown on her face. “I just know you must.” Then her voice softened to a whispered hush, her eyes glazed and distant. “And listen,” she murmured. “Listen with your heart.
*
Outside, Max Connors worked in a back lot that served as delivery drop-off, storage space and employee picnic area. He stripped off his denim shirt and tossed it over a bench. The afternoon sun was hot, but it was anger that had his temperature boiling. How dare Kitty—oh excuse me, I mean Kate!—accuse him of taking advantage of her mother. He’d taken on this project as a favor to Lillian, and he’d taken it for a damn sight less than he could have too.
His jaws hurt from grinding his teeth in frustration. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Kate had a history of underestimating him. But they’d been kids then. He’d always hoped she’d come to her senses. Even Lillian had convinced herself that Kate would tire of living in New York and come back to Arizona. As the weeks turned to months and the months to years, it was only stubborn pride that had kept Max from picking up the phone and begging her to come home. Now he could see he’d been a fool to wait for her.
Max ran a hand through his hair. Even as the thought came, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d have waited a lifetime for Kate. She excited him and infuriated him at the same time. There’d been other women over the years, both casual and semi-serious. But none of them had come close to making his nerves sing and his blood sizzle. And none of them had made him forget Kate. Now that she was back, those feelings were stronger than ever, even while she continued to push all his buttons. He could handle the accusations she threw at him if it meant finally clearing the air, but how dare she question his integrity.
He picked up his planer and started shaving a piece of oak, running his thumb along the surface every now and then to test the edge. He’d hand-picked the finest woods, choosing them for evenness of color and grain. He’d consulted with Lillian at every step of the design phase, incorporating pullout pantries and lazy Susans at her request. Together they’d picked out architectural details such as moldings, casings and trim.
It didn’t end there. Each layer of finish was hand-sanded between coats to remove even the tiniest imperfections, and the final coat hand-rubbed to the desired luster. Money couldn’t buy craftsmanship like this. He’d poured his heart and soul into every piece.
It had been worth it, though. He loved working with wood and building something from nothing at all. So had Lillian. She used to sit out here watching him, asking him questions as he worked and making the time fly by with her stories—mostly stories about what Kate was up to in the big city. Lillian had appreciated and admired every detail of the work. She’d called Max a genius, a true artisan.
Obviously Lillian’s daughter didn’t share her good taste.
*
Kate stood in the doorway watching Max work. The muscles of his forearms bunched and flexed as he ran the planer along the wood in long, smooth strokes. The smell of fresh-cut wood mixed with the sweet green scent of new-mown grass. She took a deep breath, holding it in for as long as she could.
Straightening, Max pulled a blue and white bandanna from his back pocket and wiped his forehead. A light sheen of perspiration emphasized the solid strength of his bare back and shoulders. He looked hot—in more ways than one.
Before Max could turn and catch her staring, Kate ducked back inside and reached into the cooler for two cold bottles of iced tea. Max had probably worked up quite a thirst working out in the hot sun—not that she needed an excuse to talk to him or see for herself whether his bare front was half as enticing as the back.
She had a great view of his backside as Max bent over the sawhorse again to sand the wood he was working on. She admired the view, feeling like one of those drooling women in a soft drink commercial. Not too cliché, she thought, glad she’d chosen tea instead of cola.
She’d had a chance to look at the work he’d done inside and had to admit that the finished product was both beautiful and functional, taking advantage of every inch of space inside and out. Maybe she’d been a little rough on him. That didn’t mean she’d let him walk all over her. He’d taken advantage of her innocence once and it wouldn’t happen again.
He hadn’t heard her walk up, so when he stood and stretched, she cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned, narrowing his eyes when he saw her.
“I thought you could use something cold to drink,” she said, holding out one of the bottles as a peace offering.
&nbs
p; He grunted his thanks, took the bottle and held it against his forehead for a moment before twisting the cap off. He tipped his head, drinking half the cold tea in one long gulp. She watched him drink, mesmerized by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. A slow trickle of sweat ran from his forehead to his jaw, glistening in the sunlight. She realized that her own throat had suddenly gone dry as dust.
Grateful she’d worn slacks instead of a skirt, she climbed onto a nearby picnic table and leaned back, lifting her face to the sun. Ignoring her completely, Max finished his drink and returned to his work. Not that she could blame him for being a little peeved after her earlier outburst.
“Max?”
He answered with another grunt, not bothering to look up.
“I’m sorry,” she said, rushing to get the apology out before she could change her mind. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”
He stopped what he was doing and turned slowly to stare at her.
“I’ve had a chance to look at your work, and you were right about the quality. It was unfair of me to compare it to department store furniture.”
When he still didn’t speak, she rambled on, filling the silence. “I felt overwhelmed and guilty for not being here to help Mom these last few years. I guess I always thought she’d be here if I changed my mind. And now…anyway, I overreacted and I’m sorry.”
There, she’d apologized and given him the perfect opening. It was his turn now. And he had a whole lot more to be held accountable for.
He put down his sandpaper, brushed sawdust from his jeans then sat beside her. “Why didn’t you?” he asked. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
She shrugged. “I wanted a fresh start. A clean slate.” She looked up at him. “Surely you can understand that?”
“No, not really,” he said with a frown. “I guess I never wanted more than this.” He made a simple gesture, taking in the whole town, his work, the very grass at his feet. “Guess I’m just a small-town cowboy with no aspirations, huh?”
“Why would you say that?” And then she blushed, remembering the night behind the football bleachers when she’d spit those exact words at him. They’d still been dating then, and she couldn’t even remember what they’d been arguing about at the time. How long had he been carrying those hurtful words around inside him?
Probably as long as she’d harbored her own personal grudge.
“I guess we’ve both said things we shouldn’t have,” she admitted, giving him another opening to come clean and apologize for being a cad all those years ago.
He slapped a palm on each knee and straightened, blocking out the sun as he towered over her. “Yeah, I guess we have.”
And that was it. No apology, no excuses, nothing. Well, she’d given him the opportunity to own up to his mistakes. If he had, she might have forgiven him and taken the first step toward putting the painful past behind her.
Pretending she wasn’t hurt, she picked up their empty bottles and walked away.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. How hard could it be to avoid Max Connors until she fulfilled her obligations and flew back to New York?
Chapter Three
Ed Tate Jr. strolled into the Tea and Crumpet Shop to the surprised gasp of every customer inside. Heads inclined to whisper and speculation hissed hotter than steam from a teakettle.
“Well, what do we have here?” Nellie murmured, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lillian’s not even cold in her grave and the Tates are descending like vultures.”
Kate looked up, adding her own questioning gaze to the combined stares of everyone else. Ed Jr. hadn’t aged well in the ten years she’d been gone. His hairline was creeping north and his waistline was drooping south. Kate remembered him as an overbearing bully in high school. Apparently he’d found a way to turn it into a career, judging by the khaki deputy sheriff uniform he now wore.
Ed’s dull walrus eyes searched the room, finally lighting on Kate. He harrumphed and tugged on his belt then threaded his way through the room toward her, seemingly unaware of the buzz around him.
“Kate,” he said, holding out a beefy hand. “It’s good to have you back. I’m sorry it had to be under such tragic circumstances.”
The sympathy didn’t reach his eyes. Kate waved him to a seat across the table. “Can I get you anything?”
He turned to Nellie who hovered protectively beside Kate’s chair. “I’ll have some of that fancy tea everyone raves about.”
When Nellie turned with only a barely disguised snort, Ed called after her. “And one of your famous muffins too.”
Having dismissed Nellie, Tate pulled out a chair and turned his attention to Kate. “I just wanted to welcome you home.”
Home? No, this was only temporary. Two weeks at the most—just until Jeff came back from his honeymoon. Then she was heading back east again, as far from Arizona as she could go.
Ed looked around, seeming to take in every detail of the shop. “Your mother built quite a little business here,” he said with a nod. “Now that we’re family, I hope to spend more time in here myself.”
“Family” wasn’t exactly how Kate would describe it. Jeff’s marriage to Ed’s sister made them in-laws, but only in the legal sense of the word.
“You’re more than welcome, of course,” she said, wondering where this conversation was leading. She didn’t trust Ed Tate. He was the kind of man who’d run your dog down in the street then drive away without blinking an eye. Maybe he’d changed, but in her mind Ed Tate was still the sniveling little brat who’d tried to kiss her behind the bushes in the third grade. And the fourth and fifth and—
“Kate?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
Ed puffed out his chest. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind. Since you’re in town anyway.”
“Changed my mind? About what?”
“About attending our ten-year reunion. The committee sent you an invitation a few months back.”
Kate vaguely remembered getting an invitation, which she’d promptly thrown into the trash and pushed out of her mind.
“It’s not too late to reserve a spot,” he said. “I’m on the committee, so I could squeeze you in.”
“No,” she protested. “Don’t go to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” He gave her that sneaky smile that made her want to hide behind the playground bushes all over again. “I’m sure you’d like to catch up with some friends since you’re in town.”
What friends? They’d all abandoned her when she’d needed them most. If there had been anyone she’d wanted to keep in touch with, she would have. She hadn’t, and didn’t intend to start now.
Nellie returned to the table, teapot in hand. She placed a cup in front of Ed and filled it halfway. “Fresh out of muffins,” she said with barely concealed contempt, then turned to Kate. “Refill, honey?”
Kate placed a hand over her empty cup and shook her head, then jerked her hand back when a tingling vibration traveled up her arm. It felt as if a mild electrical current had jumped from the cup to her hand.
What the…?
Gingerly touching the cup again sent the same vibrations skittering along her fingertips. She glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice anything unusual. Nellie had already turned to leave, Ed Tate was frowning in annoyance at the packed display case and additional baskets full of muffins sitting on the counter, and the rest of the customers seemed oblivious to everything but their own teacups.
Nerves, she told herself. Only nerves, nothing else. She pulled her hand away from the cup, frowning.
Just then the lights flickered.
That wasn’t her imagination. Ed saw it too.
“You’d better get that looked into,” he said. “Could be a fire hazard.”
Kate nodded, waiting for the flash again. But nothing happened. She glanced at the cup, wondering what could have caused the shock and whether it had anything to do with the lights flashing. For just a moment,
the letter “L” on the side of the cup seemed to light up with an ethereal glow. Kate blinked and it was gone, a trick of the light or perhaps only her imagination.
Ed cleared his throat. “I was thinking if you’d changed your mind, maybe I could escort you.”
Kate forced herself to focus on the man sitting across from her. Was he still talking about the reunion? Even if she was desperate to go, the thought of walking in on the arm of Ed Tate Jr. made her skin crawl.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the teacup in front of her rattled, as if someone had kicked the table. It wobbled on the saucer for a moment then came quietly to rest.
A deep baritone voice pulled her attention away from the cup’s antics. “Sorry, Ed. Kate’s already agreed to go to the reunion with me.”
Kate’s eyes widened at Max’s announcement. Since when? Max shot her a warning glance and she clamped her mouth shut, swallowing the urge to argue. When Max glared at Ed, the air sizzled between them. Kate thought they looked like two junkyard dogs facing off over a juicy T-bone. Something threatening passed between the two men. There was bad blood there—whether old or new, Kate wasn’t sure. The teacup remained mercifully silent on the subject.
Ed was the first to look away. He gave Kate a too-friendly nod and stood to leave. “If you need anything, just call.” He looked around the room and a dozen gazes shifted away, pretending they hadn’t been following the exchange. “This is a nice place you have here. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”
Like what? Kate was about to ask when Ed turned on his heel and walked away. The unspoken threat seemed to hang in the air. Kate watched until Ed was out the door then turned to Max. “What was that all about?”
“Unfinished business,” he said.
“Well, I want no part of it. I have no intention of going to that reunion—with you or anyone else.”
