A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn by Patrice Greenwood

Author:Patrice Greenwood [Greenwood, Patrice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: mystery, tea, Santa Fe, New Mexico, Wisteria Tearoom
ISBN: 978-1-61138-271-6
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2013-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

15

An echo of the previous night’s anger arose, and I almost turned my back, but Tony had seen me and I couldn’t be that rude. Instead I opened the door, not caring, for once, how disheveled I might look.

“Hi,” he said, holding out a plastic bag containing several pieces of china. “I brought back your things from the lab. The food all tested negative, of course.”

I accepted the bag, looking down at the china that had served Maria Garcia’s last meal. “Thank you.”

“Still mad?”

I glanced up at him. An apprehensive smile hovered on his lips. I took a deep breath.

“Less so.”

The smile broadened. “Good.”

“I gather she talked back to the officers. She should have known better.”

“Yeah.”

We stood staring at each other for a long, silent moment. He had on a black t-shirt and jeans, his normal attire. He looked good, and a little anxious as well, which was endearing, much to my annoyance. I didn’t want to be attracted to him. I wanted to stay mad, but I just didn’t have the energy at the moment.

“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” I said finally.

“That sounds ... safe. Good, I mean,” he said, laughing at my frown. “It sounds good. Yes, I’d love a glass of lemonade.”

I pushed the door open a little wider. “You can come in while I fix it.”

He didn’t move. “I brought you something else.”

“Oh?” I said, trying not to sound too haughty.

He smiled and gestured to his right. “Want to see?”

I stepped out and looked toward the south end of the portal. Next to the nearest wicker chair, where he’d apparently been sitting waiting for my return, stood two four-foot columns of wood, carved in the twisted style common to old Spanish furniture and each topped with a white pillar candle.

“Oh! They’re beautiful!”

I stepped forward to look more closely at them. They were stained a dark mahogany, and while they looked rough-hewn, I could see that they’d been carefully finished. For an instant I wondered if Tony had made them, but he wouldn’t have had time since the night before, and he didn’t seem like the type to have a hobby.

He stepped up beside me. “I thought they’d look nice in your—room.”

I glanced at him. “Yes, they’d go perfectly with the Renaissance decor. But you shouldn’t have.”

“I just wanted to say I was sorry. I’m not good at speeches.”

He said it lightly, but the look on his face was genuinely anxious. I relented, and smiled.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.”

He smiled back, looking relieved. “Should I bring them in?”

“Yes, please.”

He handed me the candles and picked up both pillars. I held open the door, struggling with a moment’s reluctance to invite him upstairs. The pillars would have to go up there eventually, though, and the lemonade was in my kitchenette. I locked the front door behind us, dashed to the kitchen to leave the china, then led the way upstairs, grabbing my straw hat along the way.

“Looks like you were out hiking.”

“No, I went to visit the Rose Guild.

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