A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn (30 page)

But maybe they'd like the scones, and maybe one or two of them would come back for tea sometime, and get an idea that beauty and elegance could also be cool. I could hope.

I had also told Ramon I was serious about hiring him to come play guitar at the tearoom, once a week through the summer, until he had to go back to college. I was all for encouraging talent, and it might give him a new focus for his energies.

I served tea and scones while the kids continued to pepper Tony with questions, many of them unanswerable. Willow offered explanations where she could, but the fact remained that very little was known about Captain Dusenberry's murder. I had made an appointment to go to the museum with Willow and talk to her friend, who I hoped could shed some light on the matter, or at least point me toward more information. The captain's unsolved murder was becoming a mission for me.

When the scones had all been devoured, Willow made some closing remarks, and I wished Ramon and his friends good night. Tony helped me usher them out the back door. Ramon hung back.

“Thanks, Ms. Rosings,” he said, smiling. “It was really interesting.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

He looked at Tony and held up his hand for a fist-bump, then shepherded his friends toward their cars. I watched them pile in and drive away.

“Well, that's that,” I said, going through the French doors back into the dining parlor. “Hopefully they'll come in the front door from now on, if they come back at all.”

“I'm going to go change out of this wool,” Tony said.

“Hot?” I asked.

“Itchy. Ray offered to lend me some long johns to wear underneath, but I said nah. Now I wish I'd taken him up on it.”

“You'll have to do that if we make this presentation again,” Willow said.

“Hm.” Tony headed upstairs without further comment.

I turned to Willow. “There's a little tea left. Would you like some?”

“No, thanks. It'll keep me awake.”

“I could make some tisane...”

“No, I ought to be going. This went well, Ellen. Would Tony be willing to present the Captain again, do you think?”

“I don't know.”

“If not, perhaps his friend could put us in touch with one of the reenactors. I could see making this a part of our tour-and-tea package.”

“I'll ask him,” I said. “Thanks again, Willow.” I handed her an envelope containing a thank-you note and a gift card for tea for two.

“My pleasure,” she said, gazing at the chandelier.

One crystal was swinging gently back and forth, glinting in the candlelight.

Willow looked at me sidelong and smiled. “Good night,” she said softly.

I saw her out, then turned on the chandelier. The brilliance of electricity made me blink. I began putting out the candles, using my mother's candle extinguisher, smiling at the memory of her teaching me how much better it was than blowing candles out. No wax flying onto your table, and besides, it was more elegant.

The evening had gone well, and I was grateful. There'd been constraint between me and Tony ever since our talk about guns. We hadn't gone dancing; this was the first I'd seen of him since the evening of the lecture, though we'd exchanged emails. It felt as if we'd taken a step back in our friendship, but at least we were still talking.

Tony came downstairs, wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, his arms piled with the uniform and accoutrements. I picked up another envelope and walked out with him to the back. He'd driven his mother's car, since the uniform and weapons were too much to carry on his bike. I waited until he'd loaded them in, then handed him the envelope.

“What's this?”

“A gift card. I thought you might like to bring your grandmother to tea.”

“That's nice of you. I'll have to warn her she can't smoke here.”

“I'd appreciate that.”

His lips twitched. “She might say no. She loves her cigs.”

“Well, then maybe you could bring your mother, or one of your sisters.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the envelope, held between his hands. The paper made a small crinkling sound. He looked up at me.

“Would you join us?”

Heart skip. “I'd be honored,” I said.

He nodded, then turned and tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat. “Well.”

“Thanks for doing this,” I said. “You were the hit of the evening. Willow wants to know if you'd do it again.”

He grimaced. “I don't know.”

“Or if not, whether Ray could recommend someone.”

“That's probably a better way to go. Those kids asked a lot of questions I couldn't answer. A real Civil War buff wouldn't look so dumb.”

“You didn't look dumb. You looked rather handsome, I thought.”

“Yeah?”

“In a macho, gun-toting sort of way.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Right. OK, good night.”

“Good night, Tony. Thanks again.”

“Glad to help.”

He got in and started the engine.

“The door is ajar,” said the car.

I pushed it closed and Tony hastily buckled his seat belt, then rolled down the window. “I'll call you.”

“OK.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, then gave a little chin-lift and backed the car. I retreated to the dining parlor and stood watching him through the French doors.

The chandelier went out.

I stayed where I was, better able to see Tony as I stood in the darkened parlor. I wondered if he had noticed the light going out. If he had, he didn't let it stop him.

 

 

Note: Harvest roses from bushes that have not been sprayed or treated with systemic insecticide, or use edible rose petals from a commercial source. If you harvest your own roses, cut them in the late morning. Wash them on the stem, being careful of any thorns. Gather the petals into a bud with your fingertips and pull from the stem, then use scissors to clip off the white bases, which are bitter. Wash the petals again, thoroughly.

 

Ingredients

 

1 cup fresh edible rose petals

2 cups sugar

4 cups water

2 lemons

fruit pectin (optional)

1/2 T cold butter

 

Put rose petals into a bowl and sprinkle with 1 cup sugar. Toss with your fingers, bruising petals to release their fragrance. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

 

Juice the lemons, leaving any seeds in the juice (for pectin). In medium saucepan, combine lemon juice, seeds, water, and remaining sugar (1 cup). Add a little fruit pectin if desired. Heat gently, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Add rose petals and simmer 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Bring to a boil and cook for 5 minutes* until jam thickens (220°F or 105°C), or until a spoonful dropped onto a cold plate shows jam texture.

 

Remove from heat. Stir in butter. Use a spoon to remove lemon seeds.

 

Pour jam into clean jars, close lids tightly. Use hot water bath if you like, or just store in refrigerator after cooling.

 

*Note—at elevations over a mile above sea level this may take much longer, up to half an hour. This has an added benefit: you may end up cleaning your kitchen while you wait for the jam to thicken.

 

 

 

Patrice Greenwood was born and raised in New Mexico, and remembers when dusty dogs rolled in the Santa Fe plaza.  She loves afternoon tea, old buildings, gourmet tailgating at the opera, and solving puzzles.

 

 

Wysteria Tearoom Mysteries

 

A Fatal Twist of Lemon

A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn

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