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All the conversations in the parlor had stopped, arrested by the sudden injection of saxophones and “Beep, beep!” in three-part harmony. I resisted gritting my teeth, and instead smiled at Theresa Aragón.

“Someone must be playing a joke. Please excuse me for a moment.” I stood and went out to the hallway, where I encountered Iz, wide-eyed.

“Iz, could you brew some more tea for our party in Jonquil? Thank you.”

I stepped past her as she hurried into the main parlor. At the far end of the hall, a tell-tale figure of fluffy white and yellow was dancing. The Bird Woman’s party had spilled out of the dining parlor. Two of the others were doing the jitterbug.

As I came up to them, the Bird Woman turned to me with a joyful grin, singing, “Six creeps in a jeep that leaks!”

I stepped into the butler’s pantry, where the house stereo lived, and pushed the eject button. Dee, red-faced, came in from the kitchen and leaned close to murmur in my ear.

“I’m sorry. I tried, but I couldn’t stop her.”

“A police barricade wouldn’t stop her,” I whispered back. “It’s all right.”

I placed the Andrews Sisters disc back in its case and returned the displaced Mozart to the carousel, then turned down the volume and set the music playing on random once more. Soothing strains of a Chopin nocturne emerged from the speakers, and I emerged from the pantry.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” I said to the women in the hallway. “I’m afraid that music’s a bit too—hic—lively.”

“Aw, shoot!” said the Bird Woman. “I just thought it was a perfect theme song for us. There’s six of us, and Peggy drove her Jeep!”

“An admirable choice, I agree,” I said, handing her the disc. “Just not for the tearoom.”

“If you had one of those tea dances it would work.”

“We don’t really have room for dancing, I’m afraid.” I stepped out of Iz’s way as she ducked into the pantry with our empty teapot. Behind her I saw Dee, this time carrying a tray of pumpkin fritters.

“Here’s Dee with a special treat for you,” I said. “It’s a preview from our October menu—no—hic—one else has tasted it yet.”

A chorus of “Ooo”s was the response, and Dee sailed across the hall with the plate held high. The ladies followed her into the dining parlor like a flock of ducklings. I couldn’t resist closing the door behind them, though I managed not to slam it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I headed back toward the main parlor and my guests. As I passed the Rose alcove, I noticed Loren watching me. I shot him an apologetic smile, then turned my attention to the Aragóns.

“Sorry about that,” I said, resuming my seat. “Where were we?”

“We were talking about your chef,” Angela said.

“Oh, yes. I met Julio at his sister Anna’s wedding. He made the cake for it, and it was so good I asked who had—hic—had baked it. I was just starting to organize the tearoom at the time.”

“Are you Catholic?” Theresa demanded.

Splat. There it was, one of the Big Questions. I took a careful breath.

“No, I was raised a Unitarian.”

“Hmf.”

Iz came in with a fresh pot of tea, and poured all around. She bent close as she filled my cup.

“Julio says should he send some fritters?” she whispered.

I nodded, then took a swallow of tea. If Theresa was going to grill me, I wanted to be fortified.

But she did not grill me. Instead she mused silently on her own thoughts. Dolores, after giving her a sidelong glance, turned to me.

“Is that a Pueblo girl waiting on us?”

“Yes. Isabel Naranjo. She’s from Tesuque.”

“She has nice manners.”

“Thank you. She’s a very sweet girl.”

All my servers had good manners. All my staff did, for that matter. I expected no less from my employees.

“Do you really have a ghost?” Angela asked.

“Well...”

“Tony says it’s just old wiring,” said Theresa, picking up her second truffle.

“Yes, I know that’s what—hic—he thinks.”

“But you think different?” Angela said.

I gave a helpless shrug. “Some of the things that have happened can’t be explained by wiring. The piano in the next alcove, for instance,” I said, gesturing toward Iris. “It’s played music when no one was near the keyboard.”

“How do you know?” Dolores asked.

“I was there.”

“And did anyone else witness this?”

She was channeling Tony, and not at his most congenial. I felt my blood pressure go up a notch.

“Yes,” I said. “My—my friend, Violetta. Hic.” Vi was no longer available to testify, but that was beside the point.

“Doesn’t it bother you, to be in a house with ghosts?” Angela asked.

I opened my mouth, but closed it again. To say “no” would have felt insincere. Captain Dusenberry didn’t bother me, but Daniel Swazo was a different story. If he really was hanging around, as Willow seemed to think.

Speaking of hanging around, there were other spirits who might be haunting the tearoom. Sylvia Carruthers and Maria Garcia had both died in the house. And there was Vi, who had worked here for several months before joining the Opera.

I suddenly felt the need to clear the air.

The Aragóns were watching me, waiting. “I’ve gotten used to it,” I said. It sounded feeble even to me.

To my relief, Iz returned at that moment with a plate of pumpkin fritters and another of meringue pots de crème. Meringues again, but from the gleam of anticipation in Theresa’s eye, I figured that wouldn’t be a problem.

I passed the fritters around first. My guests appeared to enjoy them. Theresa took two right from the start, which I considered a tribute to Julio’s talent.

I put a fritter on my plate and nibbled it. It tasted good, which was a comfort. I wished for the hundredth time that Tony had been able to join us.

The matter of the ghosts bothered me. I wondered if Willow did exorcisms, or knew someone who would. That was a Catholic thing, though. And Willow would probably object to anything that might encourage spirits to leave the tearoom.

Maybe just a cleansing—something involving sage smudge, perhaps. Iz had once suggested a sing. I’d have to ask her about it.

I wrenched my thoughts back to my guests. My Miss Manners angel prompted me to say something, ask a question. I reviewed possible topics: Angela’s school (done), Dolores’s work (done), Tony (done), Theresa. I knew little about her except that she might have lost her house. Not a good memory to raise.

“Your garden is beautiful,” Theresa said, gazing out of the window.

“Thank you.”

“Did you plant it yourself?”

“The roses and the flower beds, yes. The wisterias were here. So were the lilacs—hic—on the north side of the house.”

“Those are lilacs, those tall bushes?” Angela asked.

“Yes. If you come back in May or June, they’ll be blooming.”

“I love lilacs.”

“Do you like to garden?”

Angela gave me a frightened glance, then picked up her teacup. Dolores reached for another fritter.

“We live in apartments,” she said, “so we don’t get to garden.”

Oh. Oops. Again.

“When I was younger, yes, I liked to spend time in the yard,” Dolores added. She and Theresa exchanged a long glance.

“Well, you’re welcome to spend time in mine,” I said. “Please feel free to visit.”

Dolores gave me a thoughtful look. “Thank you.”

I picked up the plate of pots de crème. “These are a new item, if you have room for one more sweet. They may be—hic—a little fragile, so be careful.”

The Aragóns each took one. Dolores and Angela watched me and picked up their spoons when I raised mine. Theresa simply popped the whole meringue into her mouth. The crunch as she bit down on it filled the silence.

I scooped out a bit of chocolate crème with my spoon. It was bittersweet and melted on the tongue.

“Those are good,” said Theresa when she was able to speak again.

I offered her the plate. She took two more.

“Mama!” Dolores protested.

“It’s all right,” I said, hoping Theresa wasn’t diabetic.

Dolores said something pithy in Spanish. Theresa ignored it, consuming a second meringue with enthusiastic crunching.

“They are very good,” said Angela, scooping out the last of the chocolate from her cup.

“Careful,” I said. “It might break.”

She smiled as she put down her empty spoon, then shot me a mischievous glance and bit the cup. It held together, probably because of the custard. I breathed relief.

“Your Julio invented these?” Dolores asked.

“Yes. He’s very creative.”

“You better give him a raise, or someone will steal him from you.”

Julio already made more than anyone else on the staff besides Kris and me, and his salary was not that much less than mine.

“Good advice,” I said.

Crunch. Theresa had dealt with her third meringue pot. As she chewed it, she eyed the ones left on the plate.

Dolores looked from her to me. “This has been very nice. Thank you, Miss Rosings.”

“Ellen, please. Call me Ellen.”

She gave a regal nod. “Thank you, Ellen. But now I think it’s time for us to go.”

Angela hastily finished her tea and put down the cup, then stood and went to retrieve Theresa’s walker, which was folded up and tucked against the wall.

“Did Tony arrange for payment?” Dolores asked, just a trifle stiffly.

“It’s all taken care of,” I said. Tony still had the gift card, but it didn’t matter. I’d tell him to use it to bring them back, if they wanted to come.

Angela, holding the walker steady while Theresa used it to pull herself to her feet, glanced at me. “It was wonderful. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you for com—hic—coming.” I couldn’t think of anything more clever to say.

I accompanied them slowly out to the hall. Theresa made a bee-line for the gift shop, and Dolores followed her with a resigned expression. Angela hung back for a moment and turned to me.

“I’m glad I got to meet you,” she said shyly. “Tony’s told us so much about you.”

“Really?” I was surprised. Tony wasn’t very talkative, from what I’d seen.

Her shy smile widened. “Oh, yes. He had to explain everything he knew about you before Mama would lend him her car, that one time.”

The car that talked. I suppressed a shudder.

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet you, too. I hope you’ll come to tea again. Some time.”

Angela glanced toward the parlor, looking intimidated, but she nodded. “Some time.”

An urge to keep hold of this tenuous connection came over me. I took a tearoom business card out of a stand by the door.

“Do you have a pen?” I asked.

Angela dug one out of her purse for me. I wrote my cell number on the back of the card. “I meant it about coming to visit the garden. You’re welcome a—hic—any time. Just let me know and I’ll make some lemonade.”

“Or tea?” Angela said as I handed her the card, and the hint of a smile on her lips reminded me strongly of Tony.

“Or tea.”

Her smile softened as she looked at the card. “That’s nice of you. Thanks.”

“May I have your number?” I asked.

“Sure.”

She wrote it on the back of another tearoom card, then tucked her pen back in her purse and followed her family into the gift shop. I tagged along. Nat smiled at us from the podium.

“Did you enjoy your tea?”

“Oh—” Angela glanced at me. “Yes, it was lovely.”

“Let me introduce you,” I said to her. “Nat, this is Angela Ar—hic—Aragón, Tony’s sister. Angela, this is my aunt Natasha Wheeler. She’s the one who advised me to open a tearoom.”

“Yes, but you did all the work!” said Nat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Angela.”

Angela smiled and shook Nat’s hand. Nat leaned toward her and lowered her voice.

“You don’t happen to know any mariachis, do you?”

Angela gave her a blank look. “Mariachis?”

“My fiance wants a mariachi group—just a small one, a trio, maybe—at our wedding reception.”

“Oh. No, I’m sorry, I don’t know any.”

“Have you asked Ramon?” I said to Nat.

“No, but that’s a good idea. He’s a musician. I should have thought of that.”

Angela edged toward her grandmother, who stood before a display of bone china with a seventy-five-dollar teacup in one hand. Her grip looked firm, but I didn’t blame Angela for being concerned. None of us would be happy if that cup broke.

“Willow stopped by,” Nat told me. “She’d like you to call, to touch base about next week.”

“Next week?”

“The spirit tours. October.”

“Oh! Hic. Yes, of course. I’ll call her.”

October would start next week. What had happened to September?

A party of three—mother and two teenaged daughters—emerged from Dahlia, and Nat rang up a package of leaf tea for them. Loren Jackson and his sister came in as they were leaving. The Aragóns had moved on to the shelf of tea accessories, and were deep in discussion.

“Nat, do you have a minute to run to the kitchen?” I asked softly. “Pack up a few sweets for me to send home with them. Ask Julio to put in some of those new meringues, if he has any more.” I nodded toward the Aragóns.

“Sure thing! Back in a jiffy.”

As she left, the Jacksons stepped up to me. I smiled.

“I hope you enjoyed your tea.”

“Oh, yes!” said Shelly, eyes bright with pleasure. “Everything was wonderful.”

“Even the ... interlude,” added Loren. His smile was slight, but it had a dimple to one side, and his eyes were full of laughter.

“Sorry about that,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “One of our guests got a little carried away.”

“Not to worry,” he said. “Shelly was wondering if she could buy some of that Wisteria White.”

“Yes, it’s right over here.” Grateful for the change of subject, I led them to the tea shelf.

Dee came in and went to the register. Dolores went up to her and held out one of the leaf-shaped tea strainers. I doubted she was in the habit of brewing tea at home from anything other than tea bags, so it was either a gift for a friend, or a gesture of thanks for my hospitality. Dolores had a strong sense of honor, I concluded.

I stepped out into the hall to give them all more room. I’d have to ask Kris if she’d finished that evaluation of Hyacinth and Poppy versus more room in the gift shop.

“Here you are,” Nat said, coming up to me with a white pastry box sealed with our one of our wisteria stickers.

“Thanks.” I waited until the Aragóns came out of the gift shop, then pressed the box into Dolores’s hands. “For you to enjoy at home. Thank you again for coming. It was lovely to meet you all.”

“It was good to meet you,” Dolores said, nodding. She squared her shoulders and held her head high. She’d have made a great queen.

I held the front door for them and stood on the portal watching them make their way down the path to the car parked at the curb. It was the car that talked—I recognized it. An older model sedan in a sinister shade of dark green.

That had not been a happy evening for me and Tony. With a sigh, I went back in, still wishing he’d been able to join us.

“Beep, beep!”

I jumped, then hiccuped. The Bird Woman grinned at me, shaking out her shawl like a bird fluffing its feathers.

“See you next week for the tour!” she said. “Come on, girls. Beep, beep!”

I did not roll my eyes. I did close them, briefly. When I opened them, the Bird Woman was gone and Dee stood before me.

“Sorry, Ellen,” she said.

“Stop apologizing. There’s nothing you can do about her.”

“She did buy four fifty-dollar gift cards.”

I’d never be rid of her. She was my albatross. So to speak.

I put on a smile and said, “That’s great. Thanks, Dee.”

She smiled back and darted into the gift shop, passing Loren and his sister in the doorway. By Loren’s grin, I deduced that they’d witnessed my encounter with the Bird Woman.

“Let me guess,” he said. “She’s a regular.”

I tried not to grimace. “One of our best customers.”

“I gather she was responsible for the Andrews Sisters?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll have to tell me about her. Maybe on Monday?”

“Monday.” My brain was becoming a sieve, but I had a vague recollection that I’d made an appointment with him. “Yes,” I said, smiling.

“See you then.”

After watching the Jacksons out, I wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and collapse. There was one more party in the gift shop, but Dee was handling them. One couple left in the main parlor, in Lily. The day was winding down, none too soon for me.

Nat came up the hall to me. “Poor dear. You look wrung out. Do you want some tea?”

“I’ve had plenty of tea, thanks. What I need is some alone-time.”

And a bubble bath.

And brandy.

Nat patted my arm. “Go on up, sweetie. I’ll handle closing.”

“You’re a love. Thank you.”

“You know, you don’t have to come over tomorrow.”

October was looming. “Yes, I do. We need to fi—hic—nish your dress. We haven’t even started mine.”

“There’s time. Sleep in, if you like. Come for lunch, and we’ll work afterward.”

“I might not be able to sleep that long.”

“You will if you take one of those pills.”

“You mean a whole one? I’d sleep ‘til Tuesday.”

I gave her a hug and a smooch on the cheek, then went upstairs, pausing at the pantry to thank Iz for taking such good care of me and the Aragóns. I passed along Dolores’s praise of her manners, which made her blush.

Julio and Ramon were gone for the day. So was Kris. When I stepped onto the upper floor, it was blissfully quiet. Late afternoon light streamed in the western window, softened by the sheers, warming the space. A quiet hush filled the hallway.

Just me and the ghosts.

My shoulders drooped. I really ought to call Willow. I didn’t want to.

Better to get it done, I told myself, and went into my office. I turned on all the stained glass lights, which lifted my spirits a little.

A small stack of lavender message slips lay on my desk. I set them aside, resolving not to look at them until Tuesday. Or at least Monday. After lunch.

I couldn’t resist looking at my phone to see if Tony had left a text. He had, midday. It was short.

Break on case. Cant do tea. Sorry.

He hadn’t had time for more, but at least he’d called his family. Angela, probably. I wondered if she’d had to drop everything and scramble into her pretty clothes.

I looked at the card with Angela’s number. Her handwriting was neat, very feminine. I put it in my top drawer.

I liked her, and was glad I’d met her. She wouldn’t have come if Tony hadn’t had to bail.

I was tempted to answer him, to wish him luck and let him know we’d been fine (well, sort of) without him, but I figured that would just distract him from his work. I’d try in the morning, I decided.

Now, for Willow. Time to get it over with. I called her number and she answered on the third ring.

“Sorry I wasn’t available when you stopped by,” I said.

“That’s all right. I wanted to give you the tour numbers for next week. When’s the cutoff for the final total?”

“The day before, please.”

I brought up the reservations screen and updated the numbers Willow gave me. More than a week away, and the tours were already filling up. This would definitely be good for the tearoom.

“Thank you for forwarding that report on the knife,” Willow said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t understand much of it.”

“Neither could I. There’s meth, though, and something that might be food.”

“The meth is puzzling. I don’t get a sense that Daniel was a drug user.”

“He didn’t seem like the type, to me.”

“Have you had any more dreams?”

I sighed. “If I did, I don’t remember them. I haven’t been sleeping all that w—hic—well.”

What sleep I’d had was thanks to Nat’s pills, but I still tired easily, as though the sleep hadn’t been completely restful.

“I do think Daniel wants to communicate with you,” Willow said. “How would you feel about my coming over to see if we can reach him?”

“You mean a séance?” I couldn’t help recoiling at the thought.

“There’s a lot of baggage tied to that word. I just mean the two of us could sit quietly for a while, focus our thoughts, and see if Daniel reaches out to us.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day and I’m beat.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m spending the day with my aunt. Maybe in the—hic—evening.”

“Shall we touch base mid-afternoon, then?”

“All right. Let me give you my cell number.”

When we said goodbye, I put my head in my hands. I really didn’t want to commune with Daniel, but I also didn’t want to offend Willow right as we were starting this new joint venture.

Was I a wuss for not just saying no? Maybe.

Two light taps startled me into looking up. Nat stood in the doorway, holding the bank bag.

“We’re closed,” she said. “Mick’s finishing up the dishes, and Dee’s tidying the parlors. The others have gone home.”

I got out my keys and locked the bank bag in Kris’s desk. “Thanks, Nat. See you tomorrow.”

She kissed my cheek. “Rest up. If you decide not to come over, just give me a call.”

“No, I’m coming. I need to get out.”

“Well, go to your inner sanctum and have a drink or something. I’ll lock up.”

She smiled, hugged me, and nudged me toward my suite. I listened to her footsteps going downstairs, then went into my rooms and firmly closed the door.

I should eat. I’d had too much tea and not enough protein. I opened the fridge, looking for leftovers, but there was only yogurt, lettuce, apples and a few salad veggies. I thought of Gina’s lasagna, but it was downstairs in the freezer. Too much trouble, if it was even still there. For all I knew, the staff had had it for lunch.

I wasn’t really hungry anyway. Only a little lightheaded.

Maybe a bath? But that seemed like too much trouble as well. Really I just wanted to sit still.

I poured a glass of port—all I had upstairs in the liquor department, besides bottles of wine. There was brandy downstairs in the kitchen, and other exotic liqueurs that Julio used for his magic, but this was easier.

I sat in my favorite chair and took a sip. It wasn’t really what I wanted.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

Picking up my book, I tried to settle in to read, but my attention wandered and I found myself starting the same paragraph over and over again. Finally I put the book down and closed my eyes.

I woke to wind rattling the leaves of the trees outside the window. It was dark, and my neck was stiff. I got out of the chair and stumbled to the bathroom, squinting at the clock on my microwave on my way through the kitchenette.

Nine-thirty. Too late to start anything and a little early to crash, but heaven knew I needed the rest. I didn’t want to sleep late; I wanted to stop by the flea market in the morning before going to Nat’s. There would be an emotional hole there, shaped like Daniel Swazo. Maybe going back would help me remember some little detail of my non-conversation with him.

Or maybe I just wanted to lay the ghost.

I took a sliver of sleeping pill—a little less than a quarter—made a few swipes at my teeth with the toothbrush, and went to bed. As I lay waiting to fall asleep, I thought over my tea with the Aragóns.

It had not been too awful, really, except for my suffering from a strong case of foot-in-mouth disease. Theresa had enjoyed the sweets, and Angela seemed sympathetic. I hadn’t learned much about Dolores, except that she still grieved for her husband and she shared Tony’s pride.

They all did, in varying degrees. Maybe I’d never get past it.

I wondered if it would have been different with Tony there. Would Dolores have followed his lead and tried to like me? Would he have been able to cajole Theresa? Or would it have been even worse?

My thoughts drifted from these futile speculations to my upcoming obligations. Finishing Nat’s dress was top priority, followed by making mine. Then I’d need to meet with Julio and Nat about the menu for the wedding, get an update on how many guests there would be and decide about the shade—tent or umbrellas. Order champagne.

From that, I progressed to pouring champagne. Bottle after bottle for an endless stream of thirsty guests. The Bird Woman came by with two pilsner glasses, demanding to have them filled, which took most of a bottle. She sallied off and climbed into a jeep without spilling a drop while I reached for another bottle to open.

I couldn’t get the foil off, so I looked for my corkscrew to get it started. Instead I found a knife on the table in front of me. A knife with a handle of turquoise, malachite, and sugilite.

I looked up and saw Daniel Swazo staring at me.

He was dressed all in white, but not like Zozobra. Around his hips was knotted a sash of red, white, and black. It looked like a ceremonial garment.

Behind him, the line of people waiting for champagne was getting restless.

“I don’t know what to do,” I told him.

He pointed to the knife. I didn’t want to touch it. It wasn’t mine; it wasn’t my responsibility.

“Beep, beep!” said someone in line. Others took up the call, until the whole line was beeping at me, holding out empty champagne flutes.

Daniel stood silent, staring intently at me, pointing at the knife.

I had to get the champagne open, and this was the only way. I picked up the knife.

A terrible sense of wrongness filled me. Not the knife itself, not Daniel, but something was wrong, very wrong, and it would hurt the family; it would hurt the tribe. I had to do something, tell someone, but it was hard to walk, hard to breathe, and the hill was steep. Night would come soon. I had to get help. I had to let someone know.

Then I fell, endlessly, into darkness.