Leigh nodded to Saga but spoke into the phone. “Absolutely, I’m certain! Well, I’m at the café right now.” She gave her niece a sympathetic smile. “I swear, duckie, I am looking at the arabica, plain as day, I see it. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Well, she wouldn’twhollylie to him, anyway. Her brows raised at Saga inquisitively but the shorter woman shook her head.
She didn’t dare elaborate her distress while Leigh was still on the phone. There was no need to possibly risk putting the anxiety-ridden coffee dealer in a greater panic.
Leigh held up a finger to Saga with a knowing smile. “Those crates must be fromsomeone else’s shipment.”
Those were the magic words. Saga could almost hear the click on the other end of the line as Hassan hurriedly went to call any other possible client he may have inadvertently wronged.
“Something the matter, sweetie?”
Saga swallowed. “Did you rent out apartment B, by chance?”
There was the faintest shift in Leigh’s demeanor, but she began to busy herself with cooing over River. “Yes.” Her next question was cautious. “Did you meet them?”
Her answer gave closure, but no comfort. Saga had never seen her aunt try to skirt a subject before. Why wouldn’t she tell her? “No. They came in very early this morning. Two or three a.m. It’s fine. Startled me, is all.” It wasn’t fine, but she didn’t want to appear ungrateful.
Leigh’s face crumpled in remorse. “I’m sorry, Saga, I should have told you sooner. It wasn’t clear when exactly they’d be taking the space, so it slipped my mind.”
“No, it’s okay, really!” She’d made Leigh apologize and so she found herself overexplaining to ease her aunt’s conscience. “I just didn’t realizeyou’d cleared it out. I was worried we were being robbed or something spooky was happening.”
Leigh chuckled and adjusted River in her arms. “No, not being robbed. Though that does remind me, I need to make sure our accounting is in order before I get my hands dirty today. Will you be all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got Shai with me, and Mikhail should be in before we have to start worrying about the lunch crowd.”
Leigh’s mouth pursed thoughtfully in a way that made Saga wonder if her question might not have been about the café at all. She hugged the little koala child on her hip closer to herself before giving a decisive nod and moving down the hallway toward the office.
Saga lingered, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that there was something more going on than was being spoken aloud. It left her feeling disconnected as she wandered back into the café. Something wasn’t right.
From across the café, she could hear the faint chime of the six or seven notes that created the titular lyric of “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” Before Shai could reach into her apron pocket to turn off the alarm, Saga called out to her. “Hey, go ahead and take your thirty, I can bus the rest of the tables.”
The young girl smiled in appreciation. “Can I mark out a scone? Forgot to bring a snack.”
“Go for it.”
Hudson’s was never empty, but it did have lulls, and with it came a kind of energy shift akin to a long exhalation. The moment to breathe between rushes. A few bakery regulars, some scattered students, which made the newcomer sitting at the bar an easy-to-spot anomaly.
First, because they were not sitting so much as slumping onto the bar, and second, they had pulled their coat over their head.
The telltale signs of a hangover.
Saga rounded back behind the counter, a tub of dirty dishes resting against her hip, and as she did she caught a glimpse of white hair falling from beneath the cover of fabric. She barely stepped into the kitchen toset down the tub before pivoting back to investigate the poor soul melting into her counter. She approached tentatively, not wanting to startle them or further aggravate the migraine that had likely been their undoing. She waited, giving them time to notice her presence.
No reaction.
She placed her hands on the counter and lowered herself, speaking as softly as the din of the café would allow. “Fancy a cuppa, soldier?”
The slump groaned and the coat slid back into place as they struggled to raise their head.
Saga’s breath caught. She’d never imagined what moonlight would look like if it could take form, but she was certain she beheld it now. Eyes crafted from quicksilver peered blearily at her through a curtain of loose tousled silver-white curls that fell over her face. An angular face; chiseled; a strong bone structure with an aquiline nose and surprisingly delicate features. Her Cupid’s bow was pronounced, her lower lip a tad fuller than the top, and together they naturally set in a slight downturn—a natural sort of pout. Petallike, they parted, and in motion, Saga found them even more beautiful.
That was when she realized the stranger was speaking.
Saga choked a little on her own breath. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“A strong cup of tea with milk and sugar, please.” Her voice was deeper than Saga had expected, husky from either disuse that morning or overuse the previous night.
“Yeah—yep! Right away.” Saga moved to the kettle, grateful for the excuse to turn away. Two hundred degrees for black tea. She could feel the woman’s eyes following her as she set the temperature.
“Do you know if the original family still owns the building?”
