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Luna made sure everything in the café was set up and ready for her influx of clients. She checked her schedule. Five. That’s a lot of energy for one day.
* * *
Tori nervously began the thirty-mile drive to the center. So much was going on in her mind. The word “divorce” floated through her head a few times, but when it came to the actual act of it, well, that was a different story. After reading through the law books it hit her. There was a lot to do. Now, looking at it from a personal point of view, she had a much better appreciation for all the divorce cases she had worked on. She simply did the paperwork. This time it would be her doing the heavy lifting. How? That was a big question. How was she going to approach him? He would feel like he’d been blindsided. Not that it should come as any big surprise. Many marriages are mediocre or even bad, but no one has the wherewithal to make a move, so they suffer in silence. Then comes resentment. She thought of asking him to go to marriage counseling, but he would balk. He was perfectly fine with his situation. That was the problem. It washissituation. Not theirs, as a couple, or hers. She never had the strength to fight back. Stand her ground. Speak her mind. She feared his wrath, so she remained silent.
Tori thought about stopping somewhere to grab lunch but had heard there was a café in the center. She wondered if it was the same café the woman operated from. She wanted to give herself ample time to check out the situation before she approached the woman. If she was, in fact, approachable. She drove another twenty minutes until she came upon a lushly landscaped area with a sign that said:
WELCOME TO THE STILLWELL ART CENTER
She turned on to what appeared to be a private road that led to the massive structure. It was the size of a mini-mall. She found a place to park and sat in her car for a few minutes to gather her thoughts and fortitude. She had never done anything like this before. Venturing on her own. In search of answers. She checked the visor mirror. She looked respectable; her short-cropped blond hair framed her face. Her makeup stayed intact. She ran a stick of gloss over her lips, unbuckled her seat belt, and got out of the car. She steadied herself. She was embarking on a different course. One that hadn’t been laid out for her. She was on her own today.
She entered through the massive glass doors and found herself amidst a lush garden with breathtaking skylights. The perimeter was marked with artists’ shops and beautiful colors. It was a tsunami of visual stimulation. She didn’t know where to begin. Then her eyes went immediately to the corner where pieces of sculpture sat alongside another glass door. They appeared to be made of metal. Her first inclination was to look. She slowly walked around one side of the atrium, glancing into the windows of ceramics, glass, birdhouses, and jewelry. It was a bit overwhelming. It could take all day to find the woman she was in search of. When she arrived at the front of the metal-sculpture kiosk, she got a shiver. She peered inside and saw that no one was on the premises. She saw the sign about the honor system but resisted touching any of the objects. After browsing through the shop, she turned and noticed a sign for the Blonde Shallot. She was getting hungry and decided to check it out. As she made her way toward the sandwich shop, her eyes darted around to see if she could find the mysterious woman’s café. There it was. Namaste Café. She stopped in her tracks for a moment to peek into the shop. There was a woman around Tori’s age with a very long braid, granny glasses, and bangle bracelets standing next to an easel. Tori thought perhaps it was the woman she was seeking. There was another woman seated at the adjacent table, and they were talking. By the expression on the braided woman’s face, it was a serious discussion. She resisted the urge to go inside. She would check again after she had some lunch.
Tori entered the Blonde Shallot and decided to try something different and bought a caprese sandwich with fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, tomato, and pesto on a ciabatta roll. She grabbed a bottle of water and carried her lunch to one of the high-top tables in the atrium. She found a seat where she could keep an eye on the café, hoping the woman would be free to talk at some point. She watched the first woman leave. She was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and had a large piece of paper rolled under her arm. Tori couldn’t tell if she was crying or trying to be incognito. Within minutes, another woman walked into the café. She watched them shake hands, then the braided woman motioned toward the table next to the easel. Tori thought she might have the wrong person. Maybe she was simply a sketch artist. Then she saw the braided woman sit across from the customer, who took off a piece of jewelry and handed it to her. The braided woman clasped the piece and closed her eyes for several minutes. She began to write something. The customer kept nodding. Then the braided woman got up and went to the easel and began to sketch. It was a very odd interaction. At least from Tori’s point of view. Several people stopped midway and blocked her from seeing what was happening next. Tori tried not to be conspicuous by craning her neck when the people finally moved away from her line of sight. At that point, the braided woman tore off the paper, rolled it up, and handed it to the customer. Both women nodded and shook hands again. Tori was now convinced that the braided woman was the one she needed to speak to and wondered if this would be a good time to approach her. But before Tori could wrap the remains of her sandwich, the braided woman slid the glass door shut, put up a sign, and disappeared through a connecting door into the restoration showroom. Tori sighed and decided she should finish her lunch and walk around the rest of the center. Maybe by the time she had completed her first lap, the woman would be returning to the café. A few minutes later, a young college-age woman entered the café and removed the sign. It became more confusing as the minutes went on. Maybeshewas the person?
* * *
Luna entered Cullen’s workshop and yawned. “I am exhausted, and I still have two more people to meet with today.” She pulled up a chair and rested her head on the long worktable.
“Did you have any lunch?” Cullen asked.
“Not yet. I asked Sabrina to cover for me for a half hour. I needed a break.”
“I’ll go grab something and bring it back. You can hide out here for a while. Roast beef?”
“With cheddar please. Thanks.”
“Be right back.” Cullen grabbed his wallet and headed through the main door of his showroom.
Tori watched closely as a tall, nice-looking, clean-cut man with sandy brown hair appeared from the showroom. He was close in age to the woman from the café. Probably the same age as Tori, maybe a couple of years older. But not by much. Maybe forty, but it was hard to pinpoint. She eyed him walk toward the sandwich shop, nodding at each person passing by. His face lit up when he spotted a striking honey-toned woman with long dark braids, half of which were wrapped around her head. She wore a beautiful purple caftan with exquisite silver and stone jewelry. Tori noticed the woman was coming from a stall that said:
SILVER AND STONE
Probably the owner,Tori thought to herself. It occurred to her that there were several people close to her age who had businesses. Careers. Sure she had a good job, but she had never considered it a career. She couldn’t complain, though. It was so much better than working as a hostess with ungodly hours.
Tori watched as the stunning woman gave a brief nod and smile to the tall, sandy-haired man. Tori thought they could be dating by the way they looked at each other. Something about the man’s face. There was a special light in his eyes. The beautiful woman had a gentle but innocent, maybe even shy look about her. The two people caught up with each other. They were smiling and laughing. Tori tried to remember what that felt like. The man nodded toward the door of the shop he had just left. The woman nodded back in acknowledgment as she placed her hand on his arm. Tori’s feeling was correct. There was some kind of spark.
She watched the woman walk to the corner where the man had come from and go inside. Several minutes later, the man exited the sandwich shop with a large bag and strode to the same door.Must be having lunch together. But what happened to the hippie-looking woman?Tori shrugged and finished her sandwich. Her eyes were fixed on the strange corner shop with the metal sculpture. Maybe she would take a look. She glanced in the direction of the café and calculated that she would be able to spot the woman if or when she returned.
* * *
Cullen strode into the workshop with three sandwiches. One for Luna, one for Chi-Chi, and his favorite sloppy lunch. “Did you bring enough napkins?” Luna teased.
“I’ll have you know that I am not a messy eater,” Cullen shot back.
“No, you are not. But the sandwich has different ideas,” Chi-Chi said with a straight face.
Cullen chuckled. He was enjoying Chi-Chi’s company and humor more each day. He calculated how many days it would be before they went to dinner without his sister. Two weeks and a few days. He didn’t like to wish his life away, but in this case he was eager to be alone with Chi-Chi in a beautiful, romantic restaurant.
The three of them made small talk as they devoured their lunch. When they were finished, Luna and Chi-Chi helped clear the table of their bags and napkins. Luna announced she would take the diary back to her café and try to get something from it while waiting between clients. She was careful to be sure she wore latex gloves and handled it as if it were something fragile.
Chi-Chi had a box of amethyst she needed to peruse for the jewelry show coming up. Cullen was going to start to work on the trunk. Clean it up, fix the hinges and lock. The biggest obstacle was getting the smell out of |it. For something that had survived a fire, it sure did stink. In the letter, the owner mentioned it being in storage. Maybe it was packed with other fire-related items.
* * *
Tori watched the tall, stunning, honey-toned woman exit the showroom through the main door. She thought she saw a shadowy figure move from the showroom into the café. Shortly, the younger twentysomething woman exited the café, and the hippie type returned to the corner table next to the easel. Tori made a mad dash across the atrium, but before she reached the café, another person walked in. She realized she had been stalking the woman for over two hours and hoped no one else had noticed her odd behavior. Tori decided to write a note and leave it on the counter inside the café. One way or another, Tori was going to connect with her.
She searched her tote bag and pulled out the small pad and pen she always carried with her. Many people use their phones to write lists and take notes, but ever since she was in school for her paralegal certification she discovered there was a lot of note-taking on paper. She printed her name and phone number and jotted,If you have time today, can you please call me? You were highly recommended.There. That made it sound like she knew what she was doing and that someone had referred her. Technically, someone had recommended her but not directly. That was a good enough argument in the legal sense.
