“How do you know my aunt?” I asked.
“My mother met her at the farmers’ market a year ago. Evelyn mentioned that she had been to Málaga, where my mother is from. They became fast friends.”
“Did she ever mention why she decided to open her tea shop here?” I asked.
Ines wrote something down on the lid, which I presumed was the name of the biscuits. Tucking her pencil behind one ear, she cupped her chin. “She said she wanted to be here for decades. That this is her chance to be happy.”
I didn’t understand what that meant. I’d never questioned my aunt’s happiness. She appeared content or, at least, never appeared miserable. What was she missing back home that could be found here?
Ines must have noticed my confusion. She leaned against the counter. “Oh, don’t worry. Old people have their personal mysteries, which they keep locked up in their chests. After all, they spent a lifetime accumulating all sorts of regrets and wishes. My grandmother once told me that my grandfather wasn’t her first lover! He died without knowing the truth. I’d like to think he was happier for it.”
Her raspberry lips broke into an impish smirk. I laughed.
The scent of melted Gruyere made its way from the sizzling grill in the kitchen. In my brief time in the city, I learned that the difference between the croque monsieur and the croque madame was the egg atop the croque madame. It would have been wonderful if my gorgeous former tour guide could have continued to expand my culinary and epicurean knowledge.
“How long will you be staying in the city?” she asked.
“A few weeks. I’m helping my aunt in her shop. There’s something I need to deal with while I’m here.”
The tiny bell above the front door rang. A handsome man with a long, dark ponytail carried a large wooden box and stepped inside. Ines tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He set the box on the counter and leaned toward her.
I didn’t speak their language, but I understood their body language. His hazel eyes studied her face as if every word she spoke was precious oxygen. She watched him under a thick sweep of her curled lashes. Their hands moved with their voices in a tantalizing dance where the briefness of a touch sent sparks of gold into the air.
I moved away and pretended to browse the crispy baguettes in the baskets until the handsome stranger left.
“I’m sorry about that,” Ines said.
“Are you two . . . ?”
She shook her head and giggled. “No, Luc and I aren’t dating.”
“Can I ask why not? You have an obvious connection. Is he married? Are you married?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s complicated.” Her dark brows furrowed. Someone called out from the kitchen. She excused herself and returned with two takeaway boxes. “There are frites in there as well. It was a pleasure to meet you, Vanessa. Please stop by again and relay my regards to your aunt.”
I waved goodbye.
As I left the bakery, a single blue morpho butterfly hovered before my face, darting in a spiral pattern. Another arrived. The pair fluttered away, came back, left, and returned, as though waiting for me. Magic was in the air. Only the jaded could ignore it. I followed the dancing couple. Soon more butterflies joined the company. They undulated in the air like a sea of cerulean petals, urging me onward.
Three days ago, I followed a flying scarf. Today, a flock of perfect blue butterflies. They led me down a side street, past a chocolaterie and an antique bookshop. I followed them through large teal wooden doors into an open white courtyard with slender trees and little round tables. The congregation stopped at a restaurant a few blocks from Ines’s bakery, swirled in a tight formation, and then vanished high into the sky.
A floral garden mosaic dotted with hummingbirds graced a large wall behind the outdoor seating area. Gold letters blazed in the noon light above the stained-glass-accented glass door. I took a picture and made a note of the address. Perhaps my aunt and I could dine here tonight.
Twenty-One
My aunt and I polished off the gooey grilled sandwiches alongside glasses of her custom blend of iced honeyed chrysanthemum tea. With the shop closed for lunch, we ate in peace.
“Had you been gone longer, I’d have sent out a search party,” Aunt Evelyn said as she opened the box of biscuits and peeked inside. “Ah, langues de chat.”
“Ines gave me a sample. They’re amazing. I think we should have a fresh box of cookies to serve with the tea samples. You can make an arrangement with Ines to figure out what will complement whatever you plan on sampling that day. Maybe she can have some of your tea to sell, or even have it available to serve, to her customers.”
Aunt Evelyn beamed. “That is an excellent idea. I’ll call her today and see what we can come up with.”
“And I found the perfect place to have dinner tonight. Wait till you see it.” I plucked two cookies from the box.
“You seem to have had a most productive outing. Where is the rebellious wayward pupil I remember?”
“She’s missing,” I answered with a laugh. “I am trying my best to be a good student, Auntie.”
My aunt nodded, and refilled my glass with more iced tea. “Your efforts are noted.”
“Are you expecting me to dispense predictions until I run out?” I asked. “I mean, is it even possible to run empty?”
“As long as there is a future, there will be predictions. Why? Are you feeling discomfort?”
The physical pain I had always experienced with prophecies, as well as the migraines, had eased with each subsequent prediction this morning. I still reeled from the content, but it stung less. My long-held reluctance regarding my ability had been reinforced by the agony I had endured.
“No, it’s getting easier,” I confessed. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever get used to giving bad news.”
“Painful truths are always the hardest.” Her voice had softened.
I wanted to pry. “Well-intentioned interference” ran in the family. Her misty gaze stopped me. She was a lifetime away in a place aching with regret. An invisible veil denied me entrance. I longed to help, but I didn’t know where or when she had gone. My aunt kept her secrets beyond where I could go.
“Are you ready to get back to work?” she asked, coming back to me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
* * *
The rest of the day yielded four more predictions: the taste of a flourless chocolate cake for a resolved family squabble; a hint of grilled teriyaki salmon belly for a new business opportunity; a spoonful of ginger-syrup-soaked tofu pudding showing one baby on the way; and the sharp bite of burnt kale exposing a decade-old lie.