Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens Read Free Page B

the house its famous architectural silhouette. The front courtyard featured a long, curving flower bed planted entirely with white petunias that glowed in the dusk as the audience gathered before the performances.
    I cried when that second opera house was demolished to make way for the third structure. The change had been necessary, but despite the many improvements of the new theatre (not the least of which was complete overhead protection for the audience), I still missed the old building, where my love for the opera had been formed.
    That love filled my heart as I sat gazing at the tickets in my hands. What a wonderful gift from a beloved aunt and a new friend. Now that I was alone, I could think about who to invite.
    Tony Aragón came into my thoughts. He’d been hovering at the edge of them since Mr. Ingraham had given me the tickets, but I wasn’t sure I had the courage to ask him to join the opera party.
    Would he accept? Or would he think opera was one of those activities reserved for a privileged few that did not include him? An Anglo thing?
    There were plenty of Hispanics who attended the opera, but they weren’t from Tony’s class. He was a detective, definitely working-class, more a football guy than a fine arts guy. I could picture the narrowing of his dark eyes, the pinching of his nose in the hint of a sneer.
    I wanted to share this treat with him, but I wasn’t sure he would see it as a treat.
    Sighing, I laid the tickets down on my desk. Detective Aragón was a perpetual question mark in my life. I liked him; he’d done me some favors.
    Well all right—he’d saved my life. That was more than a favor.
    And he was … very attractive. I couldn’t deny that. It was one of the things that made thinking about him uncomfortable.
    Footsteps in the hallway preceded Kris’s entrance through the entrance that our offices shared. She looked in at me with a smile, her black hair and kohl-dark eyes making her look Cleopatra-esque.
    “Bird Woman spent a hundred dollars in the gift shop.”
    “God bless her,” I said.
    “Everyone loved the event. Heard lots of good comments.”
    “Thanks. What did you think?”
    “I thought it went very well.”
    “No, I mean Vi’s singing. Did you like it?”
    She tilted her head, thinking. “I liked the second number better.”
    That was no surprise. Kris had excellent taste, but she was also a Goth, so her preferences ran toward darker themes. Her work clothes were always elegant, and the décor she had chosen for her office was, too, but the lovely print of Millais’s Ophelia she had on the wall was still a picture of a dying woman.
    She headed into her office, and I looked back at my opera tickets.
    I could play it safe and invite Gina. She wasn’t an opera buff, but she was always up for a party.
    Coward.
    I hated it when the little voice in my head talked to me like that. Especially when it was right.
    I grabbed my phone, and before I could chicken out completely, I sent a text to Tony Aragón.
    PLEASE DROP BY THE TEAROOM WHEN YOU GET A CHANCE.
    I refuse to use shorthand when texting. I know it’s faster, but I grew up with a respect for proper English. Yes, I know it’s a losing battle. Still, I endeavor.
    I put the phone down, then went downstairs so that I wouldn’t stare at it. The girls had the parlor rearranged already, restored to its normal configuration of four smaller seating areas separated by a combination of pocket doors and strategically placed furniture. My mother’s upright piano was back in its normal place against the wall.
    I should get out some music and come down and play it after hours. I hadn’t touched the piano since the move. Granted, it had been out of tune, but I hated to think I might lose my music from being too busy with other things.
    I smiled, looking at the polished, dark wood. I’d learned to play on that piano. I wasn’t great, but I could play a few pieces competently, and I so loved it.
    Nothing like the soaring music