“Yep.” I open the passenger door. “Get in.”
She’s subdued on the short drive downtown and doesn’t say a word as we walk in and sit at a table. She glances around the cheerful dining room, trying to smother a smile. I know what that look means—she’s smart enough to know she’s in trouble and is trying not to push her luck. One of the owners, Tina, walks over with a couple of menus.
“Well, look who walked into my tea shop,” she says brightly. “And you broke Jane out of school to do it. I know for a fact school doesn’t let out for another forty-five minutes.”
Jane’s grin spreads from ear to ear.
I pin my daughter with a stern look, and her smile fades slightly.
“Do you have any tea that loosens a person’s tongue?” I ask Tina.
Her mouth opens as though she’s about to answer, then she looks back and forth between us. “We don’t have any truth serum tea,” she says, “but peppermint tea is known to ease stress. We also have some little cakes that go well with it. They’re supposed to clear your chi.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say carefully, “but do they taste good?”
Tina laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. I’m done with my experimentation phase.”
She turns and heads back to the kitchen, and I turn my attention to Jane. She’s suddenly formed a fascination with a sugar dispenser in the middle of the table.
“So…,” I say. “How’d you get a bloody nose?” That seems like the easiest place to begin. She starts to speak, and I lift a finger. “AndI don’t want to talk about itis not an acceptable answer.”
She hesitates, then looks up at me. “I figured we’d wait for the tea before we got into all of that.”
I fold my hands on the table. “I have a feeling it’s gonna take a while, so why don’t you get a head start?”
Pursing her lips, she gets an indignant look. “It wasn’t my fault, Dad.”
“I never said it was, Jane. All I want is the full story.”
She lowers her gaze to my chest. “Michelle punched me in the nose.”
Michelle McFarland. Jane’s been having issues with her all year. “Is she the one who fell off the riser?”
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“Yeah, I know someone fell off the riser in music. Everything else about the situation is still under investigation. Was it Michelle?”
“No, it was Natalie Sylvester.”
“And how did Natalie get from the riser to the floor?”
Tina hustles to the table with a tray holding a teapot, teacups, and several tiny cakes. She sets it on the table. “When you’re done, flag me, and I’ll read your tea leaves.” Then she gives me an apologetic look and takes off. Given the tension at our table, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to see we’re not here for a tea party…even though we’re drinking tea and eating tiny cakes.
Fuck me. Wearehaving a tea party.
The teacups are empty, so I pour tea into them, place one directly in front of Jane, and pick up the other. “To sharing things with your dad.”
Excitement dances in her eyes, but she tries to smother it. It has to be hard facing my inquisition in a place she obviously really wants to be. Occasionally, I have moments of brilliance.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll give you a few minutes to enjoy your tea and cakes before you finish your story.”
Jane loves the tea and cakes. I’m not a fan of tea that’s not poured over ice and doused with sugar, but I decide it’s not a hardship to drink it. And while I feel like a fart in a perfume store eating the tiny cakes, I still down a few.
Finally, I decide Jane’s had a long enough reprieve and seek out her gaze. “How did Natalie get from the riser to the floor?” I’m as careful with my wording as I was before. I’m not going to accuse her of pushing the other girl, but I’m also not going to let her off by calling it a fall in case she did shove her.
She takes a tiny nibble of the last cake. “I pushed her.”
Dammit. “Why did you push her?”
