Victoria took the tea and bit her lip to hold in a laugh at the infuser. But she was pleasantly surprised again by the label on the tea bag. It was quite a lovely, high-quality oolong that she herself had some of at home. She’d thought she was the only person who knew about the Lotus Flower Tea Cottage in Brentwood and their artisanal tea blends. “This is an excellent tea.”
“I know. I’m almost sad now that I have to share it.” Anna flashed her a quick smile before returning to her seat. “But I’m glad someone else appreciates it.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” Victoria said, feeling a bit off-balance and determined not to show it. The spicy perfume, the exquisite tea… between this and Anna Monroe’s general sweetness and air of earnest honesty, there was a worrisome sensation of Victoria being disarmed so subtly ,she wouldn’t have noticed it if her walls weren’t up so damn high.
She was going to have to be so careful today. If Anna had been a threat yesterday, she was a full on defcon 1 invasion force today, and she didn’t even know it. Victoria set about making herself a cup of the beautiful tea, and braced herself.
Anna didn’t bombard her with questions while she worked, and Victoria tried not to think that perhaps that was another tactic. Her paranoia was certainly beginning to rage out of control today, she noted.
The silence stretched on. Victoria couldn’t take it anymore. She stirred a packet of monkfruit into the cup she’d blindly chosen off the wall rack. “Aren’t you going to try to get into my head?” she asked, keeping her tone light as she moved to the green corduroy couch, perching gingerly on the edge of the too-soft cushions.
Anna shrugged. “It seemed impolite to, before you got any tea into yourself. We have a whole hour, allowing you a few minutes to situate yourself is the least I can offer.”
Begrudgingly, Victoria appreciated that. And she wasn’t exactly unhappy about putting off the moment the headshrinker was going to start trying to pry into her thoughts and feelings. She sat in silence, holding the cup in both of her hands, letting the heat seep through and warm them. She hadn’t even realized her hands were cold.
In her cozy brown velvet chair, Anna was sitting, a picture of peace and stillness. She reached down to a table tucked in between her chair and the window and picked up her own cup of tea. It must have been quite fresh; Victoria could still see the steam curling up off of it.
Another silence filled the room. Victoria hated it. “Well?”
Anna’s big brown eyes widened over the rim of her cup, and she blinked. “Well, what?” she asked, lowering the cup without taking a sip.
“Get on with it!” Victoria exploded. “I don’t appreciate this manipulative tactic of yours, letting this horrid silence go on and on and on, holding it over my head like some sort of Sword of Damocles.”
“Silence doesn’t bother me,” Anna replied quietly. “And I don’t use it as any sort of tactic. If you want to talk to me, you’ll talk. If you don’t, you won’t. If I attempt to force or cajole you into spilling your guts, that’s counterproductive.”
Does she really mean that?Victoria pressed her lips tight together, determined to test the therapist’s assertion. She didnotwant to talk to Anna, so she would not.See how you like it.
To her chagrin, Anna really did seem to be comfortable with silence. She sipped at her tea and gazed out of the window, and somehow seemed completely content with her view of the Oakridge parking garage.
Victoria, on the other hand, found herself mortifyingly restless. She tapped her fingers against her cup of tea, making the delicate liquid ripple. Her balance on the edge of the sofa cushions was slightly precarious, so she had to make adjustments while trying not to get too comfortable in its plush green depths. Though she wasn’t usually a jewelry fidgeter, Victoria found her fingers wandering more than once to toy with the jade pendant she wore around her neck on a slender golden chain.
She couldn’t stop moving. Meanwhile, Anna, the picture of serenity, hardly moved at all except to drink her tea and once, to scratch the tip of her pert little nose.
Then, to Victoria’s horror, the most revolting possible thing in the world happened: in the charged silence of Anna Monroe’s office, Victoria’s stomach growled. Loudly.
She wanted to sink through the floor. Down through Physical Therapy, the ER, through the hospital cafeteria, right down into the morgue where she would be so very glad to simply lay downon the polished cement floor and die along with the rest of the corpses. Victoria felt her cheeks flush a piping-hot red.
Anna, in her chair, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. She simply stood up and crossed over to the tea and coffee station. “Forgive me,” she said gently. “It was rude of me not to offer before. Would you like a croissant?”
When she turned around to face Victoria again, she was holding a white box in her hand, stamped with the whimsical blue-violet ink logo of Patisserie Rêverie, a bakery Victoria adored. Opening it, Anna extended it out.
Croissants. Half a dozen tall, glossy,croissants au beurre, a treat Victoria hadn’t allowed herself in months. She could all but taste the rich salted butter dough, and her mouth watered. Somehow, she found the strength to resist. “No, thank you.”
“If you’re sure.” Turning, Anna set the box down on the table by her coffee machine. She reached for a small plate from a motley stack of mismatched dishware and placed one of the perfectly golden-brown pastries on it. Without another word, she turned and began to glide serenely back to her chair.
As she passed Victoria on the sofa, Victoria’s stomach betrayed her once more, even more loudly, and she groaned. “Fine. Yes, please.”
“Of course.” Anna smiled softly and handed Victoria her plate. “Go on, dig in.”
With care, Victoria ripped the end off of the beautiful pastry and dipped it into her cup of warm tea. By the time Anna had retrieved a second plate and croissant and crossed back over to her chair, Victoria had eaten a full third of the large roll, savoring each deliciously buttery bite as it all but melted in her mouth.
“They’re so good, right?” Sitting down, Anna bit into her croissant with gusto, sending flakes of pastry showering down the front of her silk blouse and mauve cardigan. Victoria closed her eyes briefly against the messiness of it all, but Annadidn’t seem to notice as she spoke again,whileshe chewed, to Victoria’s horror. “I love Rêverie so much. I go way too often.”
Victoria could see that. Anna’s curves were a testament to it. Not that they were bad curves, but she certainly did look like someone who liked baked goods, was all. But she said nothing other than, “I like it too. Thank you.”
It took some effort, but Victoria managed to stop herself from eating more of the croissant. What she really wanted to do was rip it into pieces and shove it down her throat, but when so much of her life felt so out of control, it felt good to refute that urge, to resist the siren song of buttery, flaky layers. Instead, she set the plate aside and picked her tea back up again to take a sip. It had cooled some, but was still a lovely cup of tea.
And she continued to hold her tongue. To her absolute irritation, Anna continued to eat her croissant and drink her tea in what appeared to be a very happy silence.
