Warm light from café candles glowed along the table, glinting from crystal wine glasses, iced tea glasses, and water goblets—empty, filled, and in between—creating a symphony of light resonant of an evening of enjoyment. Kris scraped a last bit of chocolate from her dessert plate and closed her eyes as she savored it. Santacafé had given us a delightful dinner, and now it was time to get down to business.
Picking up the folder I had rested against the foot of my chair, I took out a handful of pages and passed them to Kris, Julio, my Aunt Nat, and Hanh, whom I had decided to include at the last minute. She was second-in-command in the Wisteria Tearoom’s kitchen, and might be the chef someday. I valued her opinions. I also wanted to teach myself to be less intimidated by her.
“Here’s my agenda,” I said as they looked over the pages. “Feel free to chime in if you have concerns I haven’t covered.”
I laid the copy I had kept for myself beside my notepad. The list was short, but each item on it would take a while to cover. I hoped we’d be able to finish before the restaurant closed.
I took a sip of water. Julio, seated to my right, gave me a wry look and poured the last of the red wine into my glass, carefully keeping the dregs back in the bottle’s shoulder. I nodded my thanks.
“First, then, is staffing. We need a full-time manager for the gift shop. Kris has run the numbers, and we can afford it. Does anyone know someone they’d like to recommend?”
Silence for a moment, then Nat spoke up. “Are you going to offer it to the servers?”
“Well, I thought about it, but most of them are in school or have other reasons for wanting a flexible schedule. This is a full-time job, and I know you don’t want that.”
“Right,” Nat said. “What about Dale?”
“I can mention it to him, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t be interested.”
Of all the servers on my staff, Dale spent the least time in the gift shop. The others were more likely to straighten and restock the merchandise, or acquaint themselves with new items when they came in.
Also, in my heart, I wanted to keep Dale as a server. It was good to have a male on the service team, and he was really good with the Bird Woman. The thought of promoting him to run the gift shop went a little against my feminist grain.
To be fair, though, I should let them all know about the position.
“I can advertise the job,” Kris said, “but that means interviewing and all that.”
I nodded. “I’d rather spare us the trouble if I can. Please think about it, and if you have any ideas let me know in the next couple of days.” I made a note on my pad to mention the opening to the staff. Maybe one of them would have a suitable friend.
“Do we have any other staffing needs?” I asked, looking at Julio. “Is the kitchen covered?”
He nodded, his dark curls free over his shoulders for once, rather than confined by a chef’s cap. They were getting longish, I realized.
“We’re good for now,” he said. “We’ll see how we do when the tourist season gets into full swing.”
I turned to Kris. “How about the servers? Any scheduling issues?”
“We’re okay, though we might need an extra when things get busier. February strained us a little.”
“Yes,” I said.
Valentine’s Day—that whole week—had been very busy. If we’d had one server sick out, it would have been a problem. Of course, dealing with (another) murder investigation on the property had not helped.
I took a sip of wine. “Well, let’s think about adding one more server. Low-priority, but we can start looking. Next: St. Patrick’s Day. No event, but I’m planning to have live music again, like we did for Valentine’s.”
Julio exchanged a glance with Hanh. “We may need Ramon in the kitchen.”
“I wasn’t going to ask him,” I said. “I’m thinking about harp music, not guitar.”
“Owen?” Kris asked.
“Yes. I haven’t talked to him yet. It’s a Thursday, so we won’t have an extra work day this time. And it’s not a huge romantic holiday. The music will probably book us up solid for that day, but it won’t be as crazy as Valentine’s.”
“We are fairly well booked for March,” Kris said.
“Are we?”
She nodded. “I’d say between half and three-quarters booked.”
“Wow. Does that include the dining parlor?”
“A few times. People are getting used to it being open for cream tea, but we do have a couple of big parties. Mrs. Olavssen wants it on St. Patrick’s Day.”
Of course she did. What would it be? A troupe of leprechauns? Céilí dancers?
I sighed. “Well, we can accommodate them, but I have changes in mind for that room. If there are no more questions about St. Patrick’s, we’ll move on to that item.”
Julio raised a hand. “Do you want the menu to be Irish-themed?”
“For the whole month? No. Maybe a couple of items.”
He nodded. “Good. I’ve got a draft done. We can go over it Monday morning.”
I made a note, and checked my calendar. Monday was February 22nd. Julio would have a week to finalize the menu for March.
“Anything else?” I looked around the table.
Nat smiled, ever supportive. Although the tearoom would not have existed without her encouragement, it was my thing, not hers. She made suggestions now and then, but the decisions were up to me.
Hanh looked placid, patient. She was habitually quiet, only speaking up when she thought something really needed adjustment. Her silence was part of what intimidated me, as I sometimes got the feeling it was disapproving. But that could be my imagination.
“All right, then,” I said. “On to the dining parlor. I’m going to take the table to my new home, and we need to have a little work done on the fireplace—”
Because I’m going to have a hole dug in the wall.
“—so it’s a good time to think about changing it up. We don’t get enough big parties to keep it booked up, and the cream tea has been a bit chaotic. I’m thinking of dividing the parlor into alcoves instead.”
“Great idea,” Kris said. “People have been disappointed about Poppy and Hyacinth being gone. Afternoon tea beats cream tea for profitability.”
“Yes, and the cream tea is a little hard to manage,” I said. “People want to linger.”
“They’ll be disappointed if we take away cream tea altogether,” Nat said.
“I’m planning to serve it outside, on the portal, once the weather is warm enough. They can linger there without being a problem.”
“Then we’ll definitely need another server,” Kris said. “And you might want to get some inexpensive china for outdoors. There’s bound to be more breakage, and you don’t want to lose your fine china.”
“True. Could you price some inexpensive stuff for us?”
“Sure.” Kris made a note on her agenda. “You could even use paper out there.”
“I’d rather not. I’ve been toying with offering cream tea to go, though.”
Kris’s brows rose. “I’ll price cups and containers.”
“Look for eco-friendly, please. I’d like to avoid single-use plastic.”
She nodded. “We can use our current pastry bags and boxes. We’ll just need cups and something for the cream and curd—unless you’re skipping those.”
“No, no! Cream is part of cream tea!”
I looked at my agenda, and underlined the note to hire another server. “We’ve strayed a little. Let’s go back to the dining parlor. Nat, will you help me find furnishings?”
“I’d be delighted. Will it be four alcoves, like the main parlor?”
“I was thinking three. One with the fireplace to itself, one with a view out the French doors, and one facing the lilacs out the north windows.”
Kris tilted her head. “Do you have a copy of the floor plan with you?”
“The current one? Yes.”
I picked up my folder and extracted the ground floor plan, which I handed across to her. While she gazed at it, I took another sip of wine and checked the time on my phone. Almost nine.
“Your lilac-viewing alcove would be really long and skinny. How about two smaller ones instead? We do get a lot of parties of two.”
“I don’t want to have the fireplace shared, though,” I said. “It’s awkward.”
“You don’t have to,” Kris said. “May I draw on this?”
“Sure.”
She marked a couple of lines on the plan and handed it back to me. She had drawn a line vertically at the north edge of the fireplace, and another dividing the room horizontally, resulting in two larger alcoves and two smaller ones.
Nat leaned toward me to look at it. “That looks good! You could bring Hyacinth and Poppy back as the small ones.”
“I’m thinking of making Poppy the fireplace one, actually. The northeast one will be Lilac, and the one looking out the French doors will be Marigold.”
“Ah—so all the wing chairs will come back into alcoves!”
“Yes. We’ll need some additional furnishings, but that will give us a start.”
“I like it!”
I sketched in an entryway giving access to the two smaller alcoves, similar to the main parlor, which was divided by heavy drapes hung from the ceiling. We had started with screens, originally, but the fantastic drapery decorations that Kris and her friends had put up for their Halloween masquerade had made me realize we could use drapes to divide the alcoves. They were easier to move around and provided better soundproofing.
Looking at the picture, I drew a dotted line in the main parlor, extending Rose to the north side of the fireplace there and making Iris smaller. Then I did the same in the south parlor, giving Violet the fireplace and making Dahlia smaller.
“What do you think of this?” I asked, showing Nat.
She gave a slow nod. “Yes. It will make the fireplaces easier to tend.”
“May I see?” Kris said. Nat handed the page to her. “Oh, that’s good! That gives us four smaller seatings.”
“Is that too many?” I asked.
“Not at all. Guaranteed, they’ll fill up with parties of two or three, and we’ll be able to accommodate bigger groups in the enlarged alcoves. Up to eight, it looks like.”
She handed the page to Hanh, who looked at it, nodded, and gave it to Julio.
“What about groups larger than eight?” he asked.
“We can open up Marigold and Poppy into one big alcove,” Nat said. “We can even add the two smaller ones if we need to. So the dining parlor will still work for large parties.”
“That’s good,” Julio said. “Big groups closest to the kitchen makes it easier to serve them.”
I accepted the page back from Julio and looked at it again. “Yes. This will work. We’ll have to move the curtains for Rose and Violet.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kris said, making a note. “We’ll be installing new ones in the dining parlor. It can all be done at once.”
My weekends would be busy for a while. Well, they would be anyway, because I needed to move. I put the floor plan back in my folder.
“If we’re done with the ground floor, I have some changes planned for the upper floor as well. Since I won’t be living in my suite, I think I’ll move my office into the bedroom. Then Kris can have my current office, and the gift shop manager can have hers.”
“Brilliant!” Kris said. “I was going to ask about a desk for the gift shop person.”
“If you like, we can leave yours where it is and get you a new one.”
“And another file cabinet, please? The one we have is stuffed.”
“Okay.”
This was starting to feel expensive. I took a deep breath. Kris would price everything out and let me know if the money would be a strain. We could wait on some things, if need be.
I did want to get the dining parlor changed before April, though. I hadn’t put it on the agenda for this meeting, but I wanted to have a special event to celebrate the tearoom’s first anniversary. It was time to start planning.
I looked over my notes. “I think that’s everything. Any questions?”
Silence for a moment, then Hanh raised her hand.
“Yes, Hanh?”
“I would like to take a day off on May 14.”
I checked my calendar. A Saturday. Not the day before Mother’s Day, fortunately.
“I’m sure that would be fine,” I said.
“Thank you.” She nodded—or was it a small bow? It reminded me of Owen’s formal courtesies.
Now I was curious. Hanh had never asked for time off before. She’d been working at the tearoom since the fall. I glanced at Kris, looking for any reaction, but she seemed impassive.
Maybe Hanh just wanted a vacation day. She had certainly accrued the time by now. But she had asked so far in advance, it must be for something special.
Don’t be nosy, Ellen.
We’d just ask Ramon to cover for Hanh that day. I made a note, though scheduling wasn’t technically my responsibility. Kris would take care of it.
“Anything else?” I asked, looking around at everyone. Julio shook his head. Kris picked up her wine glass and drank the last bit.
“Then thank you, all,” I said. “We’ll do this again.”
I finished my own wine as the others began to get up. Kris slung a small, black, beaded purse over her shoulder and paused by my chair.
“This was great,” she said. “Really helpful.”
“I agree. We should have been meeting like this all along.” We’d started having monthly staff meetings, but this was the first meeting of just the administrative team. The need for it had become apparent in February, with the Valentine’s Day crush.
I gathered my notes as our waiter quietly stepped forward with the black folder containing the check for our meal. I accepted it, then Kris took it out of my hands.
“Deductible,” she said. She glanced at the bill, inserted the tearoom’s credit card, which we used for purchasing supplies and so on, and gave the folder back to the waiter. “We shouldn’t meet here every time, though.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “But I wanted to thank you all. You’re all essential to the tearoom’s success.”
Nat smiled as she draped her warm shawl around her shoulders. “See you tomorrow!”
“Yes,” I said. She didn’t usually come in on Thursdays, but I was treating her to tea, along with Claudia Pearson. My thank you to them both for working on Valentine’s weekend.
A tall young man in chef’s whites came up to Julio: Andre, his former roommate. After they exchanged greetings, he turned to me.
“I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
“Very much,” I said. “Thank you, Andre. Everything was wonderful.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“Have you booked your tea?” Andre had also pitched in to help us at Valentine’s, giving up his weekend to do so, and I had given him a gift certificate good for tea for two as a thank-you.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m bringing my partner.”
A half-glance toward Julio, who had looked away. History there—they had been more than roommates, I suspected, but Julio was now with Owen Hughes. Who happened to be my new landlord. So convoluted. Santa Fe was a small town, though.
I smiled at Andre. “Good! We’ll look forward to seeing you.”
I collected my folder, purse, and wrap, and said goodnight to Julio, who looked like he meant to linger and chat with Andre. Nat and Hanh had already left. Kris was signing the credit card slip. I waited for her, gazing at the candlelight still dancing among the glasses on the table. It had been a good evening.
I hugged my wrap close against the chill as Kris and I walked out to the parking lot together. “How often should we meet?” I said, half-musing. “Monthly? Quarterly?”
“Eight times a year,” Kris said with a small laugh.
“Okay.” Whatever the joke was, she didn’t elaborate. “See you tomorrow,” I added.
We’d meet as the need came up, I decided, getting into my car.
I dressed for tea right away the next morning, since Nat and Claudia were coming at eleven and I expected to be busy until then. I carried Minuit, my adopted kitten, to her playpen in my office at arm’s length, as the dress I had chosen was both lace (vulnerable to snags from tiny claws) and white (magnetic to black fur). She meeped a little as I zipped her in, but took her disappointment out on her ring toy, attacking it with rattling gusto.
I poured myself a cup of tea from the pot atop the wisteria samovar, which I had brewed before getting dressed. Kris was at her desk and glanced up at me.
“Tea?” I offered.
“I’ve got some, thanks. Let me know when you have a minute.”
“I’ll check my messages first if that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
Settling at my desk, I took a swallow of Assam. Malty, strong, and bracing. Just what I needed.
A handful of lavender messages slips left over from the previous day sat in my in box, silently tut-tutting. I glanced through them, tossed a couple (sales reps), and started a “call” list with the others. I added Owen to that list, and Phillips, with whom I needed to schedule the extraction from the dining parlor wall of what I hoped was the pistol ball that had killed Captain Dusenberry. And Manny’s friend Louie Cordova, whom I would need to repair the damage from that exercise.
My cell phone rang. I picked it up, and sighed. It was my bestie Gina, and I knew what she was going to say.
“Hi, Gina,” I said brightly.
“Have you chosen a wedding venue?”
“Not yet.”
“Dude, you gotta get it done.”
“I know.” I picked up a pen and started doodling on one of the message slips.
“If you don’t book it soon you’ll be getting married at the tearoom,” she warned. An option I had already decided against. “Did you see the list I sent you?” she added.
“Yes. I want to go up and check out Hyde Park Lodge.”
“You won’t like it. There’s no kitchen.”
I grimaced. “I’d still like to see it. I really want outdoors.”
“I know, I know. Go this weekend, okay?”
“I’m moving this weekend.”
“So take a break. Go up there with Tony.”
Not a bad idea. Tony should have a say in where we’d be getting married. But there was so much to do....
“I’ll think about it.”
“All right. Let’s have lunch and talk about the reception.”
“Yes, but not today. I’m booked.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Fridays are busy. How about Monday or Tuesday?”
“Tuesday. A lot of places are closed Mondays.”
Including my tearoom. I had stuck to closing Sundays and Mondays, with exceptions for holidays that fell on those dates, despite pressure from our customers to open. My staff needed a weekend. I needed a weekend.
“Tuesday it is,” I said, opening my calendar. “You choose the restaurant.”
“Have you been to Piccolino?”
“Yes, Tony took me there. What time?”
“Meet you there at eleven.”
“Okay,” I added it to my calendar. “See you then.”
“Ciao!”
I put down my phone with a sigh. I loved Gina dearly, but she sometimes drove me crazy. Making her my maid of honor might have been a mistake, though she’d have been terribly hurt if I hadn’t. And really, she was the obvious choice.
Closing my calendar, I set aside Gina and the wedding plans. I had work to do.
I swallowed the last of my lukewarm tea and got up to pour myself a fresh cup, adding a dollop of milk. Through the doorway of her office I saw Kris watching me. Smiling, I carried my tea in and sat in her guest chair.
“I’ve priced out a new desk and file cabinet,” she said, swiveling her flatscreen monitor so I could see the desk displayed on it. It was sort of Arts-and-Crafts-looking, and very black. I would have chosen something lighter, but it would be Kris’s desk. As long as she didn’t drape the entire room in black, I was willing to let her follow her taste.
She told me the price, and I nodded. It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t crazy expensive, and quality was worth paying for. She brought up a file cabinet—also black—and horizontal.
“It costs a little more than an upright, but it will fit under the roof behind the desk and take up less space,” Kris said.
I nodded. “That works. What about a printer stand?”
“There’s one with the set, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” Better to get it all at once.
She went on to show me packaging options for the curd and cream to go. I chose round white paper containers over the less expensive plastic. They looked nicer and were better for the environment.
“I’ll order a small quantity to start with, and we’ll see how they do,” she said. “Now, have a look at this.”
She brought up an image of tapestry fabric woven with clusters of wisteria blossoms. I gave a little crow of delight.
“Where did you find that?”
“It’s new, from the company that did our drapes for the alcoves. Want it for the new ones?
“I want it for the whole tearoom!” The current drapes were solid-colored, a deep violet.
“That might be pricey,” Kris said. “I’ll see if they’ll give us a bulk discount.”
“Well, we’ll have to get new drapes for Violet and Rose anyway, since the sizes are changing.”
“True,” Kris said. “They’re coming in to measure for all of that on Monday. I can talk to them then.”
“Thank you, Kris! What a wonderful find!”
She tapped her keyboard, bringing up a picture of a plain white teacup and saucer. “For outdoor service. There’s this, and then this.” She changed to another style, very modern-looking. “The second one is slightly less expensive.”
I shook my head. “Too stark. I like the first one.”
“Okay. When do you plan to start serving the cream tea outdoors?”
“Um. Well, after the anniversary, I think.”
“So we don’t need to order this right away. I’ll do it next month.”
“Thanks, Kris. How is all this affecting the budget?”
“Well, the big items will be the new drapes, furniture, and the new staff. We’ll know about the drapes after Monday.”
The gift shop manager would be expensive. I planned to offer what had been Kris’s starting salary. The server, whenever we added one, would get the same as the others—a decent hourly wage. When the tearoom had opened I’d made that our policy, and informed our customers that our prices included compensation to the staff, so that tipping was unnecessary. Several other restaurants in town had done the same, and I supported moving away from a tip economy.
“Can we afford to give the servers a raise on the tearoom’s anniversary? At least Dee and Iz, they’ll have been here a year. Oh, and Mick, too.”
“Maybe a small raise. What about Julio?”
“Yes. He should definitely get a raise.”
“I’ll run some numbers.”
“Thanks.”
She turned her screen back, typing notes. “You already gave me a raise, so I don’t need another.”
“Oh, Kris. You’re indispensable, though!”
A small smile curved her lips. “You pay me enough.”
“Well, I’d like to give a gift to all the staff for the anniversary. A free tea for two?”
“Maybe for one. I’ll cost it out for you.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now.”
I finished my tea and stood. “Thank you.”
She nodded, already absorbed in calculations. I left her to it and returned to my office. Minuit chirped at me, and I couldn’t resist reaching into her playpen to give her a scritch. I added some kibble to her bowl, then closed the playpen again and went downstairs.
The tearoom was not yet open, but the kitchen was baking for the first seating. The aroma of rose almond scones made my mouth water despite my light breakfast. I looked in and saw Hanh seated at the break table with a mug of green tea before her, sketching in a notebook. Julio wasn’t in the room. Loaves of bread and a bowl of cucumbers sat on a work table, waiting to be made into sandwiches.
I walked over to Hanh, smiling. “Good morning. Where’s Julio?”
“Went for a walk.”
Break time. I glanced down at Hanh’s sketch, which was a two-tiered cake with elaborate floral decorations.
“Is that for a wedding?”
Hanh shook her head. “For Buddha’s birthday. That why I asked for the day off. I need to make two like this, for the next day.”
“Goodness! Well, I’d want a day off for that, too! Is it a big celebration?”
Hanh nodded, picking up her tea mug. “Big holiday. Biggest day of the year for us.”
I’d never heard of Buddha’s birthday. It must be rather like Christmas, I supposed. Gazing at the sketch, I wondered if the hanging clusters of flowers on the cake would be wisteria.
“Well, that looks absolutely lovely. What kind of cake will it be?”
“Carrot cake. Vegan.”
“Ah.” Hanh had ordered a vegetarian entree at the dinner meeting, and I’d never seen her eating meat, that I recalled.
“One is for offering,” she added. “The other for the feast.”
I slid into the seat across from her. “Do you make cakes every year?”
She nodded. “Last three years, yes. Since I finished school.”
“I see. Are there many food offerings?”
Hanh raised her dark eyes to meet mine. “Yes. Also flowers and incense. Big ceremony, and speeches. Then everyone bathe the baby Buddha for good luck.”
“You bathe the baby Buddha? Is it a real baby?” I asked, thinking of the live nativity displays that were common at Christmas time.
“A statue. We pour tea over.” She pantomimed ladling water over an imaginary statuette.
“Ah.”
“Then make a wish.”
I nodded. “It sounds like a lovely celebration. Thank you for telling me about it.”
She smiled shyly, then picked up her mug of tea. I judged it time to leave her to her break. As I stood, Julio came in, shedding his coat. He hung it on a hook and took down his apron.
“Cold out?” I asked, joining him by the sink as he tied it on.
“Yeah. Windy.”
Fires in the fireplaces today, then. Most mornings I would work on them myself if I had time. I loved a nice, cozy fire, and enjoyed building them. Today I’d leave it to the servers, since I was wearing white. Instead I went up to the gift shop to pass the time tidying and restocking any merchandise that was low.
There was still an abundance of pink and hearts on the seasonal display table, though the valentine cards had been put away for next year. One lone black heart mug—my nemesis—remained on the table. I just didn’t like the design, though a lot of our customers had. I looked in the storage cupboards beneath the table and found half a dozen heart-shaped ceramic boxes. Those would probably sell. Arranging them on the table, I moved the black mug aside to make room for them, then stood back, appraising the display.
Time to get some Irish-themed merchandise for March. Extra Irish Breakfast tea, certainly. We had a few select pieces of Belleek shamrock china to sell. That would go in the center of the table. Lace doilies could be in the seasonal display as well. They didn’t have to be Irish lace.
This sort of thing would be handled by the new gift shop manager, I realized. Not that I disliked it, but I did have plenty of other things to do.
Such as making phone calls. I’d better get that done before eleven.
Heading upstairs, I met Dale in the hall, carrying a sling of firewood to the main parlor. We exchanged good mornings as we passed, and I remembered that I needed to tell the staff about the job opening. Both openings. I’d mention it at the monthly staff meeting, Tuesday morning.
Returning to my desk, I resisted the temptation to pour myself more tea. I’d be having plenty with my guests in a little while. Instead I took out my “to call” list and a notepad and pen.
Phillips, the crime scene technician who worked with Tony and had located the possible pistol ball in the wall, was first on the list. I got voicemail and left a message asking if he could come extract the ball on Sunday.
Next was Louis Cordova, but I’d wait until I’d heard back from Phillips. I called Owen’s number and he answered with a languorous “hello.”
“Am I calling too early?” I asked.
“No, no. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for some live Irish music for the tearoom for St. Patrick’s Day, and wondered if you’d be interested, or know someone else—”
“I’d be delighted!”
“We’ll pay you, of course.”
“Of course.”
And I knew what he’d do with the money. He’d give it to charity.
“And maybe you know a couple of other musicians who’d be interested,” I said. “Perhaps a trio?”
“A duo. I know just the person, but he’ll need your permission to take off work,” Owen said, sounding amused.