The Diva Serves High Tea (6 page)

Nina and I were offering to help Velma carry her books home when Natasha sidled up to me, her skin ashen in spite of her ample makeup.

“I need a huge favor.”

She seemed so desperate. “What's wrong? I thought the auction went pretty well. Are you sick?”

Her hand fluttered like a bird. “It's not that.” She gestured toward the window.

Dear Sophie,

What's the difference between English, Irish, and Scottish Breakfast teas? I'm so confused. Are they all pretty much the same?

—Tea Fan in New London, Connecticut

Dear Tea Fan,

Breakfast teas are all blends of black tea. English Breakfast tea may be preferred because it's the mildest of the three. Irish Breakfast tea has a strong Assam component, which impacts the flavor. Scottish Breakfast tea is the strongest of the three, presumably to overcome the flavor of the water at one time.

—Sophie

A woman with silver hair cut like a young boy's was waiting for traffic to clear so she could cross the street. I would have recognized Natasha's mother, Wanda, anywhere. Frankly,
I liked Wanda. I had never understood how she could be so different from her prissy daughter.

“Please, Sophie,” Natasha said. “Take her home? I just can't deal with her right now. Not here. Not now! She's crossing the street! Hurry!”

Natasha towed me toward the door but it was still too crowded to make much progress. By the time we reached the front, Robert Johnson was gazing at Natasha's mother with astonished curiosity.

She cut an interesting figure in tight camouflage yoga pants, a gauzy low-cut top over what I assumed must be a squeeze-and-lift bra, and a white jean jacket. “Baby doll!” She held her arms out to Natasha. “Are you okay?”

Natasha appeared reluctant to hug her mother.

Wanda promptly destroyed Natasha's carefully coiffed hair by feeling the back of her head. “Darlin', I don't feel a knot. Did you have a doctor check you out?” Wanda drew back and examined Natasha's face. “Well, you look as beautiful as ever. And I don't think your pupils are off. Follow my fingers, baby.” She snapped her fingers and moved her hand in the shape of a cross.

“You haven't said hi to Sophie,” Natasha muttered.

Wanda turned to me immediately for a hug. “I'm so glad you girls are friends. Thank you for taking care of Natasha last night.”

While Wanda's back was turned, Natasha made a swift attempt to get Robert out the door. He wasn't budging, though.

Wanda let go of me and smiled sweetly at her daughter. “Mama's here to take care of you now.”

“I'm fine. Really.”

Wanda shifted her attention to Robert and held out her right hand. “Wanda Smith. I don't believe we've met. I would have remembered
you
!”

Natasha drew in a deep breath and appeared mortified. Wanda had an eye for men, and there was no mistaking the flirtatious nature of her remarks.

“Robert Johnson. I gather you are Natasha's mother?” He shook her hand, and it looked to me as though one of them
held on a moment too long. “You must have had a long trip. Won't you join me for tea?”

“Well, aren't
you
just the sweetest thing! I would like that very much. Natasha, was this all a ruse to get me up here to meet handsome Robert?”

A confused smile hovered over his lips.

“Don't be shy, sugar. It's always the straight-laced ones that are the most fun in the sack. Believe me, I know!”

“Mom! You're embarrassing me.”

“Oh, Natasha. When are you going to grow up, honey? You're livin' with Mars without benefit of marriage. You're hardly in a position to go gettin' all goody-goody on me.”

Robert led the way to a cozy nook with only two chairs.

Natasha appeared to be frozen in place.

“Natasha? Are you okay?” I asked.

“Did you see that? This is a first. I've never had to compete with my
mother
before. He took to her like a cat to cream.”

I had to admit that I never would have expected Robert, who gave the impression of being so dignified, to be attracted to wild Wanda. And then I realized what Natasha had said. “Compete? Are you dating Robert?”

“What could he possibly see in my mother?” Natasha sagged against the baked goods case. “Give them five minutes. She can't go longer than that without mentioning herbs and backcountry spells. I have nothing to worry about.”

I noticed, though, that she didn't take her eyes off them. “Was your lunch date with Robert?”

“Of course.”

This development was astonishing on so many levels I hardly knew where to start. “He's almost old enough to be your father.”

“Sophie, age is irrelevant when two people mesh.” She cocked her head and gazed at him. “Do you think my dad is as debonair as Robert?”

Not even close. I chose my words carefully. “Natasha, I was seven when your father left, and I'll admit that I don't remember him very well, but Robert doesn't begin to resemble the man I recall.”

“You don't know. That was a long time ago.” She inhaled like she was taking her last breath. “You have the nicest father in the world. He's like a TV sitcom father. You have no idea what it's like to not know what happened to your dad. Not know if he's dead or alive. You never had to dream about meeting your father or wonder if he was out there in the world watching you, being proud of you.”

I listened with deep sorrow. No wonder she worked so hard at being perfect and wanted to make a name for herself. She was trying to please a man she had lost decades ago and couldn't find.

“You have everything,” Natasha hissed. “Your mother wears sweater sets and pearls. She's not some refugee from Woodstock who never got over her hippy days. You haven't lived in fear that someone would catch your mother casting spells under the light of the moon.”

I was horrified by her outburst, but she wasn't finished. “And you got Mars's beautiful house. And Mars.”

I didn't know what to say. Natasha had coveted my life for a long time but I had dismissed her feelings. I hadn't realized how deep they went and how long she had seen me as the recipient of all that she didn't have. It had clearly started when we were very young. As terrible as I felt for her, I couldn't help thinking of Mars, who had been sweating their breakup when all the while, Natasha had moved her affections to Robert.

“How long have you been seeing Robert?”

“You make it sound like I did something wrong.”

“Up until today you were living with Mars . . .”

She glanced at me with annoyance. “You should know better than anyone that it's wise to feather a new nest before you leave the old one.”

I was so taken aback that my mouth fell open again. “Me?”

“You weren't prepared when Mars left you. You still don't have anyone. Not really. I saw Alex here today with another woman.”

“What happened to you?” I asked. “You used to stand on propriety. You were the model of decorum, looking down
your nose at the rest of us who weren't as perfect.” I kept my voice low so others wouldn't hear. “I don't know what's going on in your head, but you're acting with as little integrity as your father.”

She winced. “That's not fair. I tried, Sophie. You know I did. But Robert is more my type. He's more polished and suave than Mars. We went to the opera last week.”

“I didn't know you were a fan of opera.”

“Isn't everyone?”

Martha must have been listening because she piped up from behind the counter. “If only it were so. I'm delighted to know someone else who would like to see
Die Fledermaus
. Perhaps we can go together.”

Natasha cheered up. “I would love that!” She turned a pleased face to me.

I let it slide. Martha would know soon enough that Natasha was an opera neophyte. Maybe it would do Natasha good to befriend Martha. After all, she seemed very sensible and had opened a hugely successful business in Old Town. She might be just the sort of friend Natasha needed.

Natasha might have planned on watching her mother and Robert all day, but I didn't intend to. I turned on my heel and navigated through the crowd. Back at the table, I hoisted a basket of books, grabbed my skeleton and wreath, and asked if Nina could carry the birdfeeder.

“Sure. What's got you in such a tizzy?”

“Let's go.” I motioned to Francie and Velma. They all followed me to the door.

Once outside I let out a deep breath. Why was I so upset with her? Natasha had done so many thoughtless things over the years. This wasn't really new behavior. “You know why Natasha didn't throw a hissy fit when Mars said he was leaving her? Because she's already seeing Robert!”

Velma sputtered when she asked, “My Robert? I mean, my deceased sister's Robert?”

“Apparently so.”

Francie howled with laughter. “Why, that scamp!”

“It's the best thing that could happen to Mars.” Nina
shifted her grip on the birdfeeder. “No guilt, no fuss. In fact, he can use it against her. He'll have the upper hand if they argue about anything.”

“And it's the best thing that could happen to you, Sophie!” Francie's eyes sparkled. “You better grab Mars before Natasha realizes her mistake and changes her mind!”

“
My
Robert and Natasha?” Velma whispered as if she found it incredulous.

“Velma! Did you really have your eye on your own brother-in-law?” asked Nina.

“It happens. I'm a little older than he is but we've known each other for a long time. He's got to be fifteen years older than Natasha. What would he want with her?”

The other three of us laughed aloud. We started for Velma's home, still giggling about it all. In spite of my own laughter, my heart broke a little for Mars. Even though he had wanted to leave Natasha, he would be crushed that she had been seeing someone else while they were still a couple.

Dried leaves crunched underfoot on the brick sidewalks as we walked. Orange pumpkins and crook-necked yellow gourds decorated stoops. Bright yellow and burgundy mums sat in baskets, and a few eager Halloween aficionados had already draped ghosts and bats on their stoops. I planned to hang my skull wreath on my front door as soon as I got home.

We passed a green front door decorated with the word
BOO
.

Velma shook her head and tried to peer into the adjoining bay window. “What is it with Halloween? Seems like everyone starts the season in September these days.”

Nina shot me a bewildered glance. “Uh, Velma, most folks don't appreciate people looking in their windows.”

Dear Natasha,

My grandmother very thoughtfully gave me her Franciscan Cameo Pink china. I'm just sick over breaking a plate. It was discontinued before I was born! I've been searching eBay with no luck. Any suggestions?

—Klutzy Kate in Cameo, California

Dear Klutzy Kate,

Try Replacements.com. They specialize in finding discontinued patterns and will even help you identify a pattern.

—Natasha

“It's okay, darlin', this is Callie's place. It's the tiniest little thing but she decorated it quite nicely,” Velma said.

“She doesn't usually close the drapes like that, though.” Francie's mouth puckered. “Can you see anything?”

Nina and I exchanged a look. What did they think they were doing?

“There's a teensy crack between the curtains. I think the kitchen light might be on, and I see boxes stacked up.”

“Now you stop that!” I said. “Callie is at The Parlour, working. There's nothing to see.”

“I don't think she went on a date last night,” Velma said. “She would have told us about it.”

“Peering in her window isn't going to help,” Nina pointed out.

Poor Callie probably didn't even realize that Francie and Velma thought they had adopted her.

“Maybe we can see more from my place.” Velma shuffled across the street with Francie. Nina and I followed.

Velma unlocked a cream-colored front door. A cone-shaped gray metal container held fresh sunflowers, assorted greenery, wheat stalks, orange berries on stalks, and two tiny sugar pumpkins.

“Are those real?” I asked.

“Everything except for the berries. I'm mighty proud of that arrangement.”

She opened the door and hurried up the stairs, with Francie right behind her.

“Are we supposed to follow them?” asked Nina.

I shrugged, taking in Velma's cozy living room. White trim accented warm beige walls. Two windows overlooked the street. An old grandfather clock ticked quietly in the corner. A brocade sofa in shades of blue faced the fireplace, along with wingback chairs in a blue and beige pattern. An Oriental rug covered part of the gleaming hardwood floors. Oil paintings hung around the room in ornate frames. A huge collection of teapots covered the built-in shelves next to the fireplace. On the other side, mysteries fairly spilled from the shelves.

It bordered on formal, yet drew me in with comfort. I could imagine Velma there with a cup of tea, wrapped up in a throw and reading quietly.

We set the baskets of books on the floor.

“Well, I'm going up there,” Nina said. “What's with them and that Callie person anyway? It's like they're obsessed.”

I followed Nina up the stairs and along a hallway into a bedroom. Wallpaper covered the walls from the chair rail up to the ceiling. A print of leafy green vines crisscrossed a white background and in each resulting diamond was a lush peony in shades of pink. Tall windows that reached to the ceiling lined the wall that faced the street. Gauzy white curtains hung on them. Two plush armchairs had been turned around to face the windows. A table between them held a lamp.

Velma and Francie perched in the chairs and peered through binoculars.

“I knew we should have bought that telescope,” said Velma.

Francie groaned. “It wouldn't help you see through Callie's curtains.”

I cleared my throat so they would know we were there. They didn't even turn around. “Francie! What do you think you're doing?”

“Velma's windows overlook Callie's apartment and Robert's house. It's the best seat in town.”

“For spying?”

“Oh, honey,” Velma said without moving the binoculars, “we're not spying. We're like a neighborhood watch keeping an eye on people. I don't believe Robert is home yet. Maybe customers are keeping him busy at his store.”

She must not have noticed him sitting with Natasha's mother at The Parlour. Given the current situation and what was beginning to appear to be an unhealthy obsession, I didn't think I should mention that little fact. “What should we do?” I mouthed to Nina.

She hunched her shoulders and held up her hands.

I didn't have a clue, either. Were they Peeping Toms? Could they be considered stalkers? Could they get into trouble? I would have to ask Alex—if we were still speaking.

“I guess we'll go. Velma, we'll leave your books downstairs. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Thanks for carrying them.”

We left them at their post. On the way down the stairs,
Nina said, “If they can't see anything, why are they still sitting there?”

“I have no idea. They didn't just turn the chairs around, either. We would have heard them being moved. I have a feeling this has been going on for a while. I'm worried that they could get into trouble for being Peeping Toms or something.” We reached the living room. “Do you think we should have a talk with them?”

“Seems a little weird to scold them.”

“I know what you mean. There's something uncomfortable about correcting sweet old ladies. Besides, they're not dumb. They know better than to do that.” I placed my hand on the doorknob. “On the other hand, we
have
done our fair share of tailing people.”

“That was
totally
different. We were trying to uncover murderers. Like the time we waited in a parking garage to follow Natasha.”

“Do you remember how boring that was? Nothing happened for the longest time. We ate our way though all the snacks we brought with us. I thought she would never appear.”

“I guess they're not hurting anyone. But they sure are nosy!”

We let ourselves out, and I pulled the door shut. “One of these days that will be us spying on the neighbors because we have nothing else to do.”

Darkness was settling on Old Town much earlier, marking the end of summer. My evening strolls with Daisy were now by streetlight. A change in the atmosphere had taken place, too. Business suits had replaced sundresses and shorts, and everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere, even at nine o'clock at night.

Daisy pounced on leaves as they skittered along the sidewalk. I was busy admiring the colonial houses dressed up for fall with wreaths and pumpkins. We slowed at Robert Johnson Antiques so I could admire the items in the show
window. Robert had an eye for quality. A sparkling chandelier hung over a Hepplewhite-style sideboard. A painting of a cottage, probably in England, was propped up on an easel next to it. A collection of tempting blue and white dishes, teacups, and vases graced the top of the sideboard. No wonder Natasha couldn't resist buying at Robert's store.

Across the street, the windows at The Parlour were dim as though Martha had left a small light or two on when they closed for the day. A motion caught my eye. Nothing more than a shadow, really. My radar of suspicion rose. Dodging traffic, Daisy and I crossed the street. Trying not to be too obvious, I looked in a window. Someone was definitely inside.

“Spying?”

I jumped and whipped around. “Mars! You scared me.”

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I saw someone inside The Parlour.”

“Oh no!” He clapped his hands to the sides of his face like the kid in
Home Alone
. “Imagine someone being inside. It could be the cleaning crew, or a baker, or the owner!”

I pretended to slug his arm.

Mars laughed at me and knelt to pat Daisy. “Where are my two girls off to?”

“Just taking our evening walk.”

“Mind if I come along?”

“We would be honored, kind sir.”

We ambled for a few minutes without speaking, passing historic houses, their windows aglow in the night.

“It's nice to just stroll in Old Town,” Mars said. “Lately it seems like I've always been on the run.”

“Have you settled into Bernie's okay?”

“That house is huge. It's really a mansion, Sophie. I think we could go for days without seeing or hearing each other.”

“No regrets yet?”

“About Natasha? I wouldn't confess this to just anyone, but I had forgotten how peaceful life can be when someone isn't pitching a fuss or having a crisis every single minute. Last night I left my shoes in Bernie's den when I went to bed.”

“So?”

“It was like a miracle. They were still there in the morning. Natasha would have hidden them to clean up and teach me a lesson.”

“Come on, Mars. She can't be
that
bad.”

“Maybe I'm too much of a slob for someone like her.”

We turned a corner and a woman flew toward us. Mars shielded me with his arm.