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It seemed as soon as Rose was out of sight, the front door opened, whooshing just the slightest bit differently, as if cautioning me.
The patron who stepped through the doorway was the old woman with the birdcage veil—the one who’d scowled at me yesterday. She was wearing the same hat and veil today, along with a long black dress with lace trim.
She stood just inside the entrance, as if allowing her eyesight to adjust to the lighting before taking a step forward. Over her shoulder, I noticed the white-winged monarch flapping its wings against the front window before rising out of sight, still flying in a topsy-turvy flight pattern.
The woman glanced over her shoulder toward the window as if she had heard the butterfly as well. A thin eyebrow was arched as she turned back to face me. Slowly, she stepped up to the counter, her footsteps somehow sounding like fanfare, theatrically announcing her arrival.
I wasn’t sure at all why she made me nervous, but she did. Glancing toward the back hall, I hoped Rose would suddenly reappear, but apparently I’d used up all my luck yesterday.
I plastered my voice with false cheer. “Good morning! May I help you?”
The woman’s silvery eyes narrowed behind the veil. “A small hot chocolate with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, if you will. To go.”
She’d caught me by surprise. I hadn’t expected her to order hot chocolate. She looked more like an espresso drinker to me. Or perhaps an Americano—espresso diluted with hot water. Something strong. And dark. Quite dark.
“Coming right up.” I could do this. This morning someone had ordered an iced chocolate, which was basically milk chocolate with ice, and Maggie had walked me through the steps of making it hot as well.
I readied a cup and set it aside. Then I added two pumps of chocolate syrup to a stainless steel steaming pitcher, then added cold milk.
Taking a deep breath, I faced the espresso machine and tried to scrounge up some courage. The steam wand terrified me, especially after hearing the story of what happened with Sienna. Earlier, I’d used it only with Rose or Maggie by my side. Never alone.
“Is there an issue?” the veiled woman asked in a tone that suggested she knew exactly why I hesitated.
“Not at all.”
“Hm.”
Taking a deep breath, I turned on the steam wand to purge it of air and jumped when the burst of steam came out, just as it should. I glanced at the darkly dressed woman. Now she had the other eyebrow lifted high.
She terrified me almost as much as the steam wand.
I could do this. I was in charge of my life now. I had to be braver. Take more chances. Believe in myself. Stop letting my fears get in the way.
Before I lost my nerve, I positioned the pitcher and carefully made my way through the steps Maggie had taught me. A few seconds later, after the correct temperature of the milk had been reached, I shut off the steamer, pulled the pitcher free, purged the wand, and wiped it clean.
I wanted to do a happy dance but controlled myself as I poured the hot liquid into the to-go cup, added whipped cream, and asked, “Would you like a lid or extra whipped cream instead?”
Her thin lips pursed. “A lid. Don’t forget the cinnamon.”
I smiled. “I’d never.”
She harrumphed as I shook cinnamon on top of the whipped cream. I secured the lid and slid the drink across the scarred wooden counter. “That’ll be three dollars even, please.”
She picked up the cup, took a sip, and nodded. “Remarkable what can result from letting go of one’s fear, is it not?”
Goose bumps popped on my arms. It was as if she’d somehow heard the pep talk I’d given myself. I opened my mouth but realized I had no words, so snapped it closed.
From her black clutch, she took out a credit card and then tapped it against the card reader. That tap reverberated as much as her heels had when she came in.
Shereverberated. One big quiver housed in a black silk–wrapped package. I’d never heard a sound like it. Had never met anyone like her. I took a deep breath, trying to pick up her scent, which might give me a clue to her disposition, but there were only the normal scents of the shop floating around.
Which was unusual.
Everyone I’d met since my sense of smell had become enhanced carried a unique scent, one that revealed hints about them, their personality. This woman did not.
Her thin eyebrow arched again. “You will come to my shop this evening. SixP.M. Do not be tardy. I cannot abide tardiness.” She gave me a firm nod.“It has been said.”
She took her drink and turned away, her heels now oddly silent as she walked out. Stunned, I could only watch her go.
