Chapter 18 #2
Luna sipped her own cup of spiced-orange tea as Eugenia went on.
According to her, Tom was something of a genius .
. . by which Luna understood he had a cute smile, a nice build, and made Eugenia laugh.
His actual penchant for business, who could guess?
But Eugenia believed that, with a little capital, he could reopen the Doorhandler family business and make it a success once more.
“The family business,” Luna ventured, “as in . . . door handles?”
“Gracious, no! What gave you that idea? No, they are famous for their useful kitchen appliances. Potato peelers, cheese graters, and their patented Doorhandler Can Opener.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Not at all fashionable, I know.” Eugenia sighed dramatically.
“Mother quite despairs! But there was good money in can openers back in the day. Only Swindon and Tyne came around with their can opener, which was really just a cheap knockoff of the Doorhandler patent, but the market was gutted. The whole business has foundered these last two decades, but Tom, you see, he’s got a brand new idea.
A fresh concept that will totally reinvent can openers for the modern chef.
He says he intends to make them . . .” she dropped her voice and mouthed the word, unable to speak it out loud “. . . sexy again.”
Perhaps he was a genius after all. It would take some ingenuity to find the sex appeal in a can opener.
“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” Luna said slowly. “This Tom Doorhandler has no money, but hopes your steel inheritance will help him get his sexy can openers manufactured and on the market.”
“He tells me, when it works, he’ll be able to pay me back a hundred times whatever I put in!”
“If it works.”
“Yes. That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“But your parents would prefer that you marry the Duke of Woolfwood.”
Eugenia sighed and slumped in her chair, swirling the last sip of her tea absently. “Yes, well he’s titled you see.”
“Rich?”
“Very.”
“So not after your fortune then?”
“He could always be richer, couldn’t he?”
Luna had to give the young woman credit for insight there. “Do you have any particular objection to the man himself?”
“Well . . .”
“Yes?”
“His nose.”
“Yes?”
“It is considered the proud dignity of the Woolfwoods.”
“Yes?”
“It even features on their coat of arms.”
“Indeed?”
“It is . . . rather prominent.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“No. I suppose not. He’s pleasant enough. Congenial. Amusing. Good dancer.”
“But not . . . sexy?” Luna guessed. And mentally added, Like a can opener. She hastily took a sip of tea to stifle a snort.
“No,” Eugenia sighed. She downed the last of her own tea then and stared into the dregs, as though she might discern her future for herself.
“So your choice, as you see it then,” Luna pressed, “is to marry the man you like, at risk that he may only be after you for your fortune, or to marry the duke with the title, at risk of your children inheriting his prominent proboscis.”
“Exactly.” The young miss held out her teacup for Luna to take. “Can you help me, Miss Talbot? I’m so afraid of making a terrible mistake!”
Luna set aside her own cup and saucer and accepted Eugenia’s. “Remember,” she cautioned, “I see only glimpses. They may or may not prove helpful. Or hopeful. They will simply be what they are.”
“I understand.” Eugenia took a shuddering breath and squeezed her hands together. “Any guidance will be appreciated!”
Sutton uttered the barest of huffs. Luna ignored her, however, and swirled the contents of Eugenia’s teacup clockwise thrice and counter twice. Then she peered inside.
She drew a sharp breath through her teeth.
The leaves—they’d clumped on two sides of the cup, leaving a clear channel between them.
Oh dear. She’d seen this only a few times before, when there were two very distinct and yet very probable paths lying before a person.
The aunties called it a Double Jeopardy and bemoaned its every occurrence.
Luna blew out a frustrated breath. A complicated reading was not how she wanted this day to begin. But she couldn’t very well send poor Miss Eugenia away with nothing. She would simply have to recall everything the aunties had taught her and do her best. She looked deeper.
Two images began to play out simultaneously before her Sight.
A witch of Auntie Apolonia’s skill might be able to separate them, to view one after the other.
Luna didn’t have the knack; to her, they were like drawings on transparent paper, layered on top of each other.
It was hard to make sense of either, to see which parts belonged to which.
The only thing she could see with absolute clarity was Miss Eugenia’s face—or rather, her double face.
Because of the way the layers overlapped, Miss Eugenia appeared like some sort of monster, with features on both sides of her head.
One face looked one way; one looked the other.
In the left-facing Eugenia, she saw a careworn, exhausted creature, clad in somber clothes and looking faintly out of breath.
In the other, right-facing Eugenia, she saw laughter—crinkled eyes, flashing teeth, plain features transformed into cheerful prettiness.
As for the rest of the details? It was hard to say.
She thought perhaps one of these women had a baby slung over her shoulder, while the other pushed a pram.
There was a man, striding swiftly ahead of the tired Eugenia, his face obscured.
He seemed to be made of nothing but long legs in motion, and she was panting to keep up with him.
The other, laughing Eugenia seemed to be sitting beside someone, of whom Luna could discern nothing but an extremely long nose and a matching walrus mustache.
Nothing else made sense. Maybe a carriage with a coat of arms?
Maybe a house with a sagging front porch?
Possibly a dog? Or several? It was all too much of a jumble.
Luna blinked several times to clear the vision from her eyes. Her head throbbed a little, a common accompaniment to any Double Jeopardy vision.
“Well?” Eugenia demanded eagerly, sitting forward in her seat. “What did you see? What is my future?”
Luna licked her lips, considering. It was impossible to know what sort of advice to give under these circumstances.
At first glance, it would seem as though one choice would bring Eugenia happiness, the other misery .
. . but one had to remember, these images were merely glimpses of a moment in time.
A tired woman could be made peaceful and contented after a nap; a laughing woman might be disguising secret heartache.
There were simply too few other details to go by.
Luna closed her eyes, summoning to memory all her aunties had taught her over the years.
“When you marry,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care, “you must choose the man who respects you above all others. The man who hears your voice, heeds your ideas, and allows himself to be partnered with you in all things. If you wed such a man, you will find happiness. Wed a man who seeks only to use you for his own ends, and your life will be one of misery.”
Eugenia frowned. “What about Tom Doorhandler? What sort of man is he?”
Luna leaned in, met the young woman’s eyes with earnest intensity. “Until you know with certainty the answer to that question, you must make no promises of marriage.”
The young lady’s brow knotted. “But you can’t tell me?”
Luna shook her head. “Tea leaves only reveal so much.”
Miss Eugenia slumped back in her chair, worrying her lower lip. “You know,” she said sadly, “I used to think it would be such fun to be sought-after like Miss Tuttlemouse. Now I wonder if perhaps I was happier as a wallflower.”
Luna offered a sympathetic smile. “I’ve often found,” she said gently, “that flowers bloom best in their correct environments. If a flower happens to belong on the wall, well, perhaps there’s good reason for it?”
Eugenia tilted her head thoughtfully. “So, you think I should step back. Look at things from an outside perspective. Like a wallflower.”
“Perhaps.”
“But my mother wants me to marry!”
Oh, mothers. The bane of fresh young debutants everywhere! Sometimes, Luna was happy she only had a passel of spinster aunts with which to deal. None of whom felt any urge to see their only niece married off. “And did your mother marry in haste?”
“Of course. She was engaged before the second half of her first season.”
“Is she happy?”
“Well . . .” Eugenia blinked. “I never considered it.” Her face screwed up in thoughtful effort. “No,” she decided at last. “No, she’s not. She never is. I’ve never seen Mother happy a day in her life.”
Sutton uttered the smallest, daintiest, most nearly-imperceptible of snorts.
“Perhaps,” Luna hazarded, “your mother’s choices are not so much a guide as a warning?”
“I never thought about it that way.” Eugenia tapped her lip with the tip of one finger. Then she said abruptly, “This tea of yours. It’s very good.”
“Thank you.”
“May I purchase some to take home with me?”
Luna hopped up and fetched a tin of the spiced orange blend. “The serving instructions are written on a card inside the lid,” she said, ringing it up at the register.
Eugenia thanked her, paid for her purchase, then leaned across the counter and whispered, “Thank you, Miss Talbot. You’ve been most helpful.”
“My pleasure, Miss Lambert,” Luna replied.
She caught Sutton’s narrow look on the way out. The maid offered the slightest of all nods. It was, Luna suspected, tantamount to applause from a woman like that. She accepted the gesture with pleasure and saw the two of them out the door.
“Whew!” Luna sighed, wiping a strand of hair from her forehead.
That reading took more out of her than usual.
She glanced at the clock—just seven minutes until opening.
Moving quickly, she returned to the nook to clean up, only to find that Mr. Grimm had already removed the tea tray and Miss Eugenia’s cup.
She could hear sounds of him washing up in the kitchen.
He had, however, neglected to see her own teacup, tucked away in a corner of the counter.
Luna moved to fetch it, thinking to carry it off to the kitchen. A sudden curiosity overcame her, however, and she paused to take the barest peek inside.
Her eyes widened.
Her own tea leaves were split as well. Two clumpings on either side, with a channel in between.
Luna set the cup down quickly and took a step back as though stung.
Her breath came a little tight. A double Double Jeopardy?
What were the odds? Not great, surely—she’d never heard of anything like this!
Why, months, even years could go by at Tealeaf Cottage without a single Double Jeopardy disrupting the regular readings offered to the denizens of Greater Snoring.
Before today, Luna couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one.
So. Her future was split as well. Just like Miss Eugenia’s.
The temptation was strong. To look. To study what two overlaying images may appear. To see her own face doubled—two Luna Talbots, looking opposite directions.
She chewed her lip. The same perils applied to her as any other Double Jeopardy reading. A single glimpse could only tell so much, but it might be enough to deceive one into making choices, trying to bring about one future over another, and then . . .
“Wallflowers,” Luna whispered. “Wallflowers wait. Wallflowers watch.”
Advice that was good for the client was good for the tea witch as well. Wasn’t that one of Auntie Arabella’s sayings? She’d best take heed. And, today at least, not let herself be distracted by visions of the future.
Mr. Grimm’s footsteps sounded in the passage. Luna looked up and met his eye just as usual. “Well, Mr. Grimm!” she said in a bright, crisp voice. “How is your bruise this morning? Shall I make you a pot of that swelling-reduction tea I mentioned?”
His expression was smooth, closed, and perfectly composed, despite the weariness lining his eyes. “Thank you, Miss Talbot,” he said. “That would be very nice. Best get on with it, though. The shop opens in five minutes.”
“Right you are,” Luna said and bustled back to the kitchen.
Tomorrow had come. Just as she’d promised herself it would. She and Mr. Grimm would fit back into their established grooves, and all would be as it should be.
“Wallflower,” she whispered as she went. “Yes. Nice, patient, watchful wallflower.”