Chapter 7
JULIET
There is a formal invitation waiting for me in my mailbox when I arrive home from work on Friday evening.
I’m talking gold lettering and paper too heavy to be blown away by a mild breeze.
The embossed card stock—which my greeting card–loving heart drools over—informs me I am invited to Hester Willowborne’s abode for tea at two in the afternoon on Sunday.
Though framed as a request, I get the sense turning down the olive branch would end up with me getting whacked over the head with it.
Not that I want to skip the tea. I’m intrigued. And after Tanya’s comment, I wonder if I can pick up any wolf vibes from Hester.
But I have a conundrum.
What dress code is required for tea at a neighbor’s house in small-town Colorado?
Having seen the way Hester dresses, I’m assuming more than just jeans.
Worried about making a bad impression, I venture into town to buy myself an ironing board and do my best to make one of the few skirts I own look presentable.
But shopping for an ironing board turns into shopping in general, and by the end of the day, I’ve treated myself to a few armfuls of new clothes.
I need to fill the closet in my new bedroom, I reason.
And it’s not as if I’m hurting for money.
When my grandparents passed away, they left me their house.
Not wanting to stay in Delaware, I sold the place for a decent amount and stuck all the cash in my savings.
My cross-country traveling used a little bit of that money, but since I camped out most nights and ate at cheap diners or bought my food to cook over a campfire, the majority of the funds from the sale of the house remained by the time I reached Bear Valley.
There, I got a job as a library associate and simply lived off my salary. I used some of the inheritance toward earning a master’s degree in library science, but that was the only time I touched it.
On the whole, I just saved the money, letting interest accrue and figuring maybe I’d want to make a larger purchase at some point. Or if I met the right man and decided I wanted a kid or two, the cash could be used toward their future schooling.
So, that bank account never sat in the forefront of my mind.
And I never told Cory about it.
I had no idea I would rely on that money for an escape.
It became my safety net. And most recently, it enabled me to straight-out purchase a small house without worrying about a bank approving a mortgage for Juliet Adair, whose fake ID might not have held up to the scrutiny of a credit check.
And now, I want to buy more things.
Something about my time in Bear Valley made life seem shorter. Like I need to take advantage of the time I have.
So, I’m not emptying out my savings account completely, but I’m not going to let that money sit unused for another stretch of years.
I’ll dip into the fund to purchase things that bring me joy.
Like this polka-dot skirt and frilly blouse. I swish in the mirror, grinning at my new outfit. This getup has major let’s-sip-tea-and-gossip vibes.
At least, I hope that’s what Hester wants.
One of the best parts of working in a public library is getting to hear patrons whisper about small-town drama. And what better way to utilize that knowledge than forming bonds with my new neighbor? Even better if she can give me some hot tea of her own.
The sun is out, warming my skin as I stroll down the road to my neighbor’s house.
When I press the bell, I listen to the deep ring of it, loving the weight of the sound. This house feels heavy with history. Maybe Hester will give me a tour.
The door swings wide, silent on well-oiled hinges, and reveals Hester in a fitted linen jumpsuit that looks elegant and comfortable. The outfit sits beautifully on her tall, lithe form, and I wish I could emulate the style. But I’m at least six inches shorter and have more muscle and curves.
Rompers look adorable on me though, I remind myself.
The self-compliment comes easily, and I’m glad. I’ve gotten in the habit of finding good things to focus on whenever life gets dark. A silent battle against the way Cory used to belittle me.
“You received my invitation. Good.” With a regal sweep, Hester waves me into her home.
“I did. That paper you used was beautiful. I appreciate the effort.”
She hums an acknowledgment while leading me down a long hallway. Paintings of dark landscapes hang in gilded frames, and I wish I could take a moment to admire them. But I don’t want to overstep myself on visit number one.
Passing through a set of paned glass doors, Hester leads me out to a screened-in back porch.
The view beyond shows a garden, then the same trees and peaks of mountains I can spy from my own backyard.
There is an element of beautiful disarray to the garden that allows the space to blend seamlessly with the woods across the yard.
As the woman disappears back into her house, I settle on an intricately designed iron chair. Unfortunately, despite the furniture’s creative appearance, the maker didn’t seem to take comfort into account. Trying to find the best angle, I only stop squirming when Hester reappears with a silver tray.
“Oh!” I pop up. “Let me help you with that.”
I’m about to reach for the tray when Hester gives me a reproachful look. The meaning is clear. Sit your ass back down in that chair.
Without my help, Hester settles the spread between us, then pours tea into two delicate cups. The steam rising from the liquid is fragrant in a way my bags of Lipton could never be. I give in to the urge to pick up my cup and inhale the scent deeply.
“This is a settling tea.” Hester answers my question before I can ask it. “I blend the herbs myself.”
“Why a settling tea?” Do I look ill? “For my stomach?”
“Not for your stomach. For your body.” She arranges herself in the chair at my side before picking up her own cup. “My assumption is that you wish to become comfortable in Pine Falls. You purchased property despite having no true connections in this town. Did you not?”
“That’s … true.”
The question seems personal, but it’s not really. She’s only making an observation. Maybe it’s the way Hester regards me. Like I’m a book she’s reading and she hasn’t decided whether she likes the plot yet.
When I sip the tea, I hope to feel that elusive sense of being settled. Or maybe even more comfortable in the unforgiving chair.
But all I get is a riot of flavors on my tongue and the feeling that it’s my turn to contribute to the conversation.
“Do you have family in Pine Falls?” I ask.
“No. I would not want to be anywhere near my family.” She says that with a tone indicating no one else would want to be either.
Cryptic much?
But maybe Hester’s relatives are like Cory. Maybe this beautiful woman had a partner at some point who treated her the same way my ex treated me.
If so, then I’m glad her family is far away.
“This town though,” she continues, “it takes care of you if you take care of it.”
Hester sips her tea, and I ponder over her words.
“Most everyone I’ve met has been nice.” Strike the grumpy werewolf from that category. Although he did fix my electrical issues, so I guess I have to give him points for that.
“Niceties are often a mask,” is her only reply.
I open my mouth to deny that harsh observation, but then find myself closing my lips.
Hester offers a shallow nod. “You know that, don’t you? Nice people will smile as they slide a knife between your ribs for an offense you never knew you committed. Do not get comfortable around the nice people in the world. Get comfortable around the honest ones.”
“You’re saying I should only befriend the mean people I meet?” The question comes out bitter as more thoughts of Roderick itch against my brain.
The woman barks a sharp chuckle. “What a simple view of the world you have. Nice and mean. Next, you’ll declare the only colors that exist are black and white.”
That’s not how I see the world, I want to argue. But I came here to make friends with my neighbor, not bicker with her.
To keep from saying something I’ll regret, I pick up a shortbread off the silver tray between us and pop the cookie into my mouth. The buttery, crumbly creation is delicious and makes me glad I didn’t try to bake anything as a neighborly present.
My pastry skills are mediocre at best. Still, I try every so often. The act of baking can be meditative, and everything at least comes out of the oven edible. But never blue-ribbon-at-the-state-fair impressive.
Even after I’m done chewing and swallowing the treat, I’m still stuck on Hester’s dismissal of the word nice. The polite thing to do would be to let it go.
The nice thing to do.
But that’s not what Hester wants, is it?
“How should I categorize you?” I ask. “You invited me over for tea. That seems like a nice gesture.”
There’s a slow curl to the edge of her lips. “Was that nice? Are you having a nice time?” Her questions bore past the surface of my skin as I meet her sharp, assessing gaze.
“This chair is uncomfortable,” I reluctantly mutter, as if the truth is pulled out of my throat.
That earns another laugh from her. “You are sitting on cold metal. Of course it is uncomfortable.”
Hester rises from her own seat and disappears inside her house.
I’m just starting to debate about whether I should follow her and apologize when the woman reappears.
She extends her hand toward me, clutching a round cushion.
The fabric is a muted green velvet and acts as a beautiful background to her ruby-colored nails.
“When you want something, ask for it,” she chides in her dangerously smooth voice. “Better yet, demand it.”
Accepting the seat cushion, I slide it under my butt. The chair transforms with the addition, and my body relaxes into the seat.
But her words set off a spike of annoyance in me. This woman must have lived a privileged life because not everything can be gained by just using a more commanding tone.
“In theory, that might sound like it’ll work. But I’ve spent the last few years of my life with people who would take a demand from me as incentive to break my arm.” My teacup rattles in its saucer as I set it down with more force than I should have.
Quiet falls between us.
Silently, I berate myself for that slip. I’m supposed to remain uninteresting so no one tries digging into my past.
People are always fascinated by violence. I brace for Hester’s prying questions.
Only none come.
“You left that place,” she states, her one shoulder lifting in an elegant shrug. “You left those people because they did not treat you well. A demand does not have to be vocalized to be clear.”
I wait for Hester to say more, but she only picks up her own cookie and bites into it.
“I guess that’s true.” My voice comes out hesitant. One could say me fleeing Bear Valley in the middle of the night was a way of demanding control over my own life.
My mind thinks back to the body-spray bomb I left waiting for Cory in my car.
That move certainly wasn’t nice.
Pressing the little porcelain cup to my lips, I hide my evil, satisfied grin.
Not nice at all.
“Tell me about your paper crafts,” Hester commands. “I want to know how you make your designs. Then you can retreat to your home and try to decide what kind of woman I am.”
As I meet my neighbor’s gaze, the gray-blue color of her eyes pins me down, and I can’t help thinking I’ll never quite have a category to put her in.
She is an un-shelve-able book.