Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens Read Online Free PDF Page A

needed was to have to repair the floor.
    Three gentle notes of music sent a chill through my shoulder blades. Someone was playing my piano.
    I froze. The notes hadn’t been loud, but I was certain I had not imagined them.
    It wasn’t the stereo; Dee had turned that off when she left. Of course, Captain Dusenberry could have turned it back on…
    But the music didn’t continue. I turned, trying to be silent, and stepped out of my shoes. Padding down the hall in my stocking feet, I strained to hear anything more. I slowed and peeped around the edge of the parlor doorway.
    The room was empty, the piano closed.
    I could still hear the three notes in my mind: ti, la, sol. I walked over and opened the keyboard, and played them. B, A, G.
    A song? Or just a scale?
    Three blind mice.
    Too short a fragment to identify, really. It could be anything.
    I gazed around the room. I felt as if a question had been asked, and I’d missed it, so I couldn’t answer.

 
     
2
    T he morning of the 20th was blustery, with fits of scattered rain. Not the best weather for an outing to the Santa Fe Opera, especially a tailgate dinner. I checked the forecast online, and prayed that the showers would taper off before the evening.
    It was a Friday, and the tearoom was busy all day. I stayed downstairs until almost six, then left it to Iz and Rosa to close, and hurried up to my suite to dress.
    Waiting for me on a hanger hooked on my canopy bed was the dress I had chosen for the occasion: an Edwardian-style, cream-colored silk with lace insets and pearl buttons, one of my favorites. I briefly considered picking out something warmer instead, but decided that my long coat and the lap blanket I always brought to the opera would be enough protection.
    The sun had emerged in the afternoon, and the upstairs was warm. I stepped out of my work dress, and in my slip redid my hair and touched up my makeup for the evening. To my Gibson-girl hairdo I added three fresh rosebuds, creamy white. I had made a matching boutonnière for Tony, to help him feel more dressed-up.
    Satisfied with my hair, I slid the silk gown over my shoulders, deliciously cool against my skin. A check in my full-length mirror showed me an acceptable self: not a tall goddess, or a voluptuous vamp, but a reasonably elegant lady of medium height with soft brown hair and pleasant features. Best I could do.
    I moved my billfold and a lipstick into my beaded evening bag, slid the opera glasses that my father had given me for my eighteenth birthday into the tote that held my lap blanket and a collapsible umbrella, draped my coat over my arm, and picked up Tony’s boutonnière. Locking my suite behind me, I went downstairs to the kitchen.
    Mick was finishing the last of the day’s china. He glanced up and gave me a nod, did a double-take with a smile and a thumbs-up, then continued bopping to whatever was playing in his earbuds.
    Julio had left for the day. I opened the fridge to check that the Aria Cakes I’d asked him to make for the dinner hadn’t been raided by the staff. They were safe in a covered container, protected by a note in Julio’s sternest black marker: “HANDS OFF – OPERA PARTY.”
    I left them there and stepped out into the hallway, looking out the lights around the back door at the lilac bushes outside. They were stirring, but not wind-whipped. The sky over the Sangre de Cristo mountains was filled with rather dramatic, dark, storm clouds, but it wasn’t raining down here in Santa Fe. Sunlight slanting in from the west lit the face of Santa Fe Baldy. I drew a deep breath, grateful for the beauty of my world.
    “For a minute I thought you were a ghost.”
    Startled, I turned to find Tony standing behind me. He grinned, pleased with himself for sneaking up on me.
    “A Victorian ghost. Maybe Captain Dusenberry’s wife.”
    “He was unmarried. You look very elegant!”
    He wore the dark suit I remembered, which set off his shoulders quite deliciously. There was no