Goddess of Spring Read Free Page B

followed the whispers of her childhood back to Tulsa. With her she brought a little piece of Italy, its style and its romance—as well as its amazingly rich assortment of breads and pastries. Again her grandmother helped her. Together they discovered a worn-down old building smack in the middle of the artsy area of Tulsa known as Cherry Street. They’d bought it and slowly turned it into a shining sliver of Florence.
    Lina shook her head and flipped off the radio. She couldn’t let Pani Del Goddess fail. It wouldn’t just break her own heart; it would cut her grandmother to the bone. And what about her customers? Her bakery was the meeting place for a delightfully eclectic group of regulars, made up mostly of local eccentrics, celebrities and retirees. It was more than a bakery. It was a unique social hub.
    And what would Anton and Dolores do? The two had been working for her for ten and fifteen years. She knew it was a cliché, but they were more than employees; they were family to her, especially since she had no children of her own.
    Lina sighed again, and then she inhaled deeply. Despite the horrors of the day, her lips curved up. Pinyon smoke drifted through the BMW’s partially rolled down windows. She was passing Grumpy’s Garden, the little shop that signaled the beginning of the Cherry Street District, and, as usual, “Grumpy,” who was actually a very nice lady named Shaun and not grumpy at all, had several of her huge chimeneas perpetually burning, perfuming the neighborhood with the distinctive smell of southwest pine.
    She felt the knot in her stomach loosen as she downshifted and slowed her car, careful of the pedestrians crossing the streets while they moved back and forth from antique shops, to new-age bookstores, to posh interior design studios and unique restaurants. And finally, in the heart of the street, nestled between a trendy little spa and a vintage jewelry store, sat Pani Del Goddess.
    As usual, there were few parking spaces available on the street, and Lina turned into the alley to park in one of the reserved spaces behind her building. She had barely stepped out of her car when she felt an all too familiar tug at her mind. The feeling was always the same, though it varied in degree and intensity. Today it was like someone far away had spoken her name, and the wind had carried the echo of the sound to her mind without having to reach her ears first. She closed her eyes. She really didn’t have time for this . . . not today.
    Almost instantly Lina regretted the thought. Mentally she shook herself. No, she wouldn’t let financial troubles change who she was—and part of who she was, was this. It was her gift.
    Glancing around her, Lina peered into the shadows at the edges of the building.
    â€œWhere are you, little one?” she coaxed. Then she focused her mind and a vague image came to her. Lina smiled. “Come on, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called. “I know you’re there. You don’t have to be afraid.”
    With a pathetic mew, a skinny orange tabby stepped hesitantly from behind the garbage receptacle.
    â€œWell, look at you. You’re nothing more than a delicate flower. Come here, baby girl. Everything will be fine now.”
    Mesmerized, the small orange cat walked straight into Lina’s outstretched arms. Ignoring what the cat’s matted, dirty fur could do to her very clean, very expensive silk suit, Lina cuddled the mangy animal. Staring up at her rescuer, eyes filled with adoration, the cat rewarded Lina with thunderous purring.
    Lina could not remember a time when she hadn’t felt a special affinity for animals. As a small child, she had only to sit quietly in her back-yard and soon she would be visited by rabbits and squirrels and even nervous little field mice. Dogs and cats loved her. Horses followed her like giant puppies. Even cows, who Lina knew had big, mushy brains, lowed lovingly at her if she got