Read Online Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens by Patrice Greenwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Patrice Greenwood
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need to be fresh and cheerful, as opposed to tired and sad.
I lay waiting for sleep, thinking about Tony and the chaos he was dealing with. As I began to drift off, I heard a melody: gentle, mournful, and lovely—familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I wondered who was playing it, just as I fell asleep.
~
The next day was unusually busy, even for a Saturday. By the time I finished a quick breakfast of tea and a croissant, eight messages were stacked on the reservation line, all but two of them wanting to come in that day. I was trying to fit them into the schedule when Kris came in, wearing a dress of black and white vertical stripes that looked like a throwback to the seventies.
“Did you hear about the murder at the opera?” she asked, stepping into my office.
So it was officially murder. News must have traveled fast. I wondered if Tony had a suspect.
“I was there,” I said.
“Oh, was last night your party? Awesome! Did you see anything?”
Did I?
I shook my head. “It happened backstage. Kris, we have six people wanting reservations today. Can you help me fit them in?”
“Let me handle it.”
I handed her the notes I had jotted down. “I didn’t erase the messages.”
“Good. Is there tea?”
“I was about to make some.”
“Great. Thanks.”
She went into her own office, and I sat staring at the chimney that anchored the wall between us.
Had I seen anything? Onstage, or perhaps in the audience?
The only thing that came to mind was the arguing woman in the fur coat. Anger had radiated from her. I wondered who she was.
Maybe I’d ask Tony. I got up and went out into the hall, stepping to the front window. His bike was gone. I felt an odd stab of disappointment.
Not wanting to go downstairs, I went across to my suite to make a pot of tea for myself and Kris. I put together a tray and carried it back across the hall, setting it on the credenza in my office.
“Here you are,” I said as I brought a cup to Kris.
“Thanks. All set on the reservations, but two more have come in. Do you want to stay open late?”
I gave a small sigh. On busy days, we sometimes stayed open an extra half-hour or more to fit in a few late reservations. I didn’t really feel like it that day, but it was good business.
“How late?”
“Six-thirty, maybe seven.”
“All right. No later than seven, though.”
“Got it.” She held out two slips of lavender message paper. “These are for you.”
I carried the messages back to my desk, but didn’t look at them until I’d fixed myself a cup of tea, with sugar. It was that kind of morning.
One of the messages was from Mr. Ingraham, asking me to call when it was convenient. The other, same message but with a bit more urgency, was from Willow Lane.
I leaned my head in my hands. I could just guess what she wanted.
Another ghost to add to her tour.
I finished my tea and went downstairs, to find Julio dancing in the kitchen, intent on a tray of watercress sandwiches. He looked up and took off his headphones.
“Full house today,” he said. “Can you put in some scones for me? It’s time to start the first batch, and I have to finish these.”
“Sure thing,” I said, going to the sink to wash my hands.
“There’s a tray in the fridge, but not set up for baking. We’ll have to go to frozen in the afternoon unless I get time to make some more.”
I put on gloves, took out a baking tray and lined it with parchment. “Has Kris sent down the updated list? We’re staying open late.”
Julio nodded. “That’s why I’m scrambling, here.”
“Interested in some overtime?”
He gave me a pained look. “I’ve got a date. I could do an extra half hour.”
“Maybe you won’t have to.”
I helped Julio until it was almost ten-thirty, then went up front to make sure everything was ready in the gift shop. Rosa was there to open, and Iz was setting up trays in the butler’s pantry. A glance out the front windows told me that all the tables on the
I lay waiting for sleep, thinking about Tony and the chaos he was dealing with. As I began to drift off, I heard a melody: gentle, mournful, and lovely—familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I wondered who was playing it, just as I fell asleep.
~
The next day was unusually busy, even for a Saturday. By the time I finished a quick breakfast of tea and a croissant, eight messages were stacked on the reservation line, all but two of them wanting to come in that day. I was trying to fit them into the schedule when Kris came in, wearing a dress of black and white vertical stripes that looked like a throwback to the seventies.
“Did you hear about the murder at the opera?” she asked, stepping into my office.
So it was officially murder. News must have traveled fast. I wondered if Tony had a suspect.
“I was there,” I said.
“Oh, was last night your party? Awesome! Did you see anything?”
Did I?
I shook my head. “It happened backstage. Kris, we have six people wanting reservations today. Can you help me fit them in?”
“Let me handle it.”
I handed her the notes I had jotted down. “I didn’t erase the messages.”
“Good. Is there tea?”
“I was about to make some.”
“Great. Thanks.”
She went into her own office, and I sat staring at the chimney that anchored the wall between us.
Had I seen anything? Onstage, or perhaps in the audience?
The only thing that came to mind was the arguing woman in the fur coat. Anger had radiated from her. I wondered who she was.
Maybe I’d ask Tony. I got up and went out into the hall, stepping to the front window. His bike was gone. I felt an odd stab of disappointment.
Not wanting to go downstairs, I went across to my suite to make a pot of tea for myself and Kris. I put together a tray and carried it back across the hall, setting it on the credenza in my office.
“Here you are,” I said as I brought a cup to Kris.
“Thanks. All set on the reservations, but two more have come in. Do you want to stay open late?”
I gave a small sigh. On busy days, we sometimes stayed open an extra half-hour or more to fit in a few late reservations. I didn’t really feel like it that day, but it was good business.
“How late?”
“Six-thirty, maybe seven.”
“All right. No later than seven, though.”
“Got it.” She held out two slips of lavender message paper. “These are for you.”
I carried the messages back to my desk, but didn’t look at them until I’d fixed myself a cup of tea, with sugar. It was that kind of morning.
One of the messages was from Mr. Ingraham, asking me to call when it was convenient. The other, same message but with a bit more urgency, was from Willow Lane.
I leaned my head in my hands. I could just guess what she wanted.
Another ghost to add to her tour.
I finished my tea and went downstairs, to find Julio dancing in the kitchen, intent on a tray of watercress sandwiches. He looked up and took off his headphones.
“Full house today,” he said. “Can you put in some scones for me? It’s time to start the first batch, and I have to finish these.”
“Sure thing,” I said, going to the sink to wash my hands.
“There’s a tray in the fridge, but not set up for baking. We’ll have to go to frozen in the afternoon unless I get time to make some more.”
I put on gloves, took out a baking tray and lined it with parchment. “Has Kris sent down the updated list? We’re staying open late.”
Julio nodded. “That’s why I’m scrambling, here.”
“Interested in some overtime?”
He gave me a pained look. “I’ve got a date. I could do an extra half hour.”
“Maybe you won’t have to.”
I helped Julio until it was almost ten-thirty, then went up front to make sure everything was ready in the gift shop. Rosa was there to open, and Iz was setting up trays in the butler’s pantry. A glance out the front windows told me that all the tables on the
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