"Not that bad," she agreed.
"So we started making plans; scheduling weekends to visit each other. But he went away last weekend for a college visit, he comes back, and basically ghosts me." Tess shot her a look before she went back to her task of brewing another batch of coffee. "Ghosting is when-"
"I know what ghosting is," Eloise interjected, the sting of her age coming up yet again. She wasn'tthatold, for crying out loud.
"Right," Tess said with a little edge. "Anyways. Just sucks."
"Have you asked him to explain? Get together to talk about what's going on and why he isn't talking to you?"
Tess did turn to her then, her blonde bob not as bright and bouncy today, hanging thin and limp against her chin. "Uh no. That's embarrassing. I am not chasing him."
Eloise wasn't sure whether to laugh or to hold back a biting remark. "You know, learning how to communicate effectively is one of the greatest skills you can hone."
"I'm not testing it out on a guy who obviously doesn't want me," she grumbled.
The smell of sun-wilted roses wafted through the small bar space as Eloise saw the hurt cover this young woman. It clung to her form in the way her shoulders sagged, her fingers couldn't stay idle, the unkempt creases in her shirt. She probably wasn't wrong. The guy in question, who clearly did not have great communication skills of his own, would talk to her if he wanted.
The sad truth was that women often opened themselves up to a partner if they could see potential. A man did not date potential, he made himself available for exactly what he wanted in that moment. It was a major difference between two very different hearts that Eloise and Ursula learned painfully many times over the years.
She set the black soup bowl mug she had been crafting in front of Tess who looked down at the cat latte art with a raise of her eyebrow.
"Caramel and brown sugar latte. Your favorite, right?" Eloise asked. "Why don't you sit in the loft, turn on the twinkle lights up there, drink your latte and breathe for a bit. I've got this covered and two more baristas are coming."
Tess picked up the black mug and gave her a tight smile as she made her way upstairs, unsure how to take on this kindness which Eloise suspected she didn't receive often. She'd met her dad when he came into the cafe last week. Her mother passed away from cancer when Tess was too young to have more than glancing core memories of her. Her single father was a busy attorney trying to fill in the gaps where his wife was gone, but with an aloofness that struck Eloise as purposeful. He barely knew his daughter, an easy dynamic to recognize as he asked hersurface-level questions a father shouldn't have to ask a daughter. They seemed uncomfortable around each other, and she was relieved for Tess when he took his coffee to go. A father should be so much more than that.
You could tell when a woman has been loved well by her father. It was small things. It was in the way she wasn't looking around the world in question. She owned the ground she stood on and met people's eyes with intention. A woman who lost out on that fatherly affection often had this uncertainty about them; questions left unanswered about themselves, and about the world.
Eloise looked up at the loft with a sip of her cappuccino and wondered what it would take for this young woman to feel more sure of her place.
The day swept by, with double the number of people as the week before, double the amount of pastries bought and by the time she was putting the furniture out on the now sunny front patio to create much-needed seating, she had shed off her jacket and was fanning her sweat-slicked skin with a newspaper. It held an article about The Lost Souls Coven she read and forgot. What she didn't forget and could not forget was the black willow that had sprung up overnight, for she kept finding their thin black leaves wherever she went; on tables abandoned by satisfied customers, in empty coffee cups, falling from the balcony slowly like a dramatic ballet. And when she cleared one of the wrought iron patio tables, her hand hesitated and hovered over a long, reedy branch, black with black willow leaves, holding down a Canadian tip.
Her heart thumped.
That careful relaxation she had found diminished in moments.
He was here.
Of that, she was now sure.
Her phone buzzed and she fished it out of her pocket letting out a deep sigh when she read it. It seemed that they would be having company for dinner. She loved having company over, but tonight she wasn't feeling up for it. She'd been about to text Ursula asking if they could have a quiet night of reading and candles with bowls of pasta, hoping that a great adventure between the pages would sweep her mind away from the dark danger lurking when Ursula told her who would be joining them.
With a weary sigh, she tucked her phone back into her pocket, accepting that she would not have a leisurely quiet night. The handsome detective who couldn't date was coming over to grill with Jenson.
11. Dark Omens and Garden Walks
Jenson and Taylor grilled lemon and garlic chicken for the fusilli pasta that Ursula and Eloise made with fresh ricotta and herbs. The side salad that Bess put together had crisp apples and walnuts dressed in a raspberry vinaigrette, and for dessert vanilla bean affogatos.
They gathered around the island with their fragrant bowls of pasta. Luckily, Tilly had left them three bottles of her honey wine last week, which Eloise was grateful for with each sip.
Taylor was polite but distant, something else Eloise was grateful for. She wasn't sure she could keep up her usual banter with the man, and her emotions were running too muddy for her to keep her heart in check. He was a man who wanted his freedom and though she felt an attraction, had felt it spark when she was near him, she was more than happy to also keep her distance. A woman learns a thing or two about protecting her heart and what signs to look for when a fence needed to be built.
She built one, because of the way his blue eyes sometimes caught on hers like a snag in soft fabric; a jolt of lightning and a flash of his sweet orange scent could make her heart trip. Maybe dating someone would put more distance between them and she could be in a room with the detective without feeling his presence so keenly.
But tonight she was distracted.
She was quiet, still stepping into conversation on queue smiling and laughing, but there was a dullness to her words. She'd gotten home to an empty house, her mind busy with worry. Eloise spent the time cleaning as she moved from room to room restlessly, checking the windows and locks. Casper was on edge as well, whimpering whenever she started chewing on her thumbnail, even trying to hold her down on the couch when she sat for a moment as her constant moving was making the hound anxious.
He wasn't the only creature frenzied by her worry. Candles started flickering in every room she was in and gusts of stiffly cold air would brush against her warm skin. Chamomile and rosehip tea did nothing to dull the edge of her nerves. Even a fire lit by a consoling ghost, though it made Eloise smile, did not dispel the black willow omen.
