Chapter 7
A week later, Leonie hung up her apron and wheeled her empty suitcase the few blocks from The Spice Pelage to the townhouse.
Not her townhouse or their townhouse anymore, though both her name and Mark’s were still on the paperwork.
It just looked so foreign to her now, even though she knew she’d find that hint of underlying red through the glossy white paint on the front door.
Even surrounded by her own things, Leonie felt like a stranger in someone else’s house. She got to work, gathering up clothes, books, shoes, and whatever else seemed essential and urgent that would fit into her suitcase, plus a second suitcase unearthed from the storeroom under the stairs.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her mum.
MAMA CHIN
Don't carry your suitcase on the bus. You'll hurt your shoulder
ME
Thanks Mum, I'll be fine
MAMA CHIN
What time you going to the house?
ME
I'm already here.
Leonie breathed against the tightness in her chest, hoping her terse replies would get the message across while simultaneously hiding her emotions.
Her parents hadn’t mentioned Mark or the business or anything since that night at the restaurant.
Conversation at home had been pleasant and functional and entirely unclear whether the matter was closed or if there was still something left unsaid.
There were probably lots of somethings left unsaid, but these suitcases wouldn’t fill themselves.
The bedroom ensuite carried a lingering scent that reminded her of the dental office reception, and an unfamiliar floral-print bathroom bag sat half-open next to Mark’s razor.
Good riddance, in a way, and Leonie grabbed her robe and stuffed it into her luggage, picturing a future negotiation between her lawyer and Mark’s over a fancy boardroom table.
Another buzz.
MAMA CHIN
You wait there, I drive you
ME
I'll be fine, I'm almost done. I don't want to wait around
MAMA CHIN
On my way
Great. Leonie let out a frustrated growl, surprising herself with how loudly it came out.
But she was alone, no one to judge her, no one to worry, so she stomped towards the front door with both suitcases in tow.
She lifted them over the doorstep, only then realising how heavy they both were, now packed tight and full to bursting.
Once outside, she let out another, quieter growl, more at her situation than anything else, then begrudgingly typed a reply.
ME
I won't be at the house. Meet for lunch instead?
* * *
“Lee, what are you doing back already?” Hayden asked, as Leonie lugged her suitcases up the café’s back step. Without waiting to be asked, he stepped in and lifted them over the threshold like they weighed nothing.
“Thanks,” she puffed. “My mum insisted on picking me up, so I figured we’d have lunch here.”
“Is that . . . I mean, you mentioned things were tense at the moment. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Did I miss anything fun?”
Hayden grinned. “Yes, actually. Your soup sold out already.”
“The pumpkin pie soup? No way!”
“Dee reckons we should make a double batch tomorrow, and offer a choice between mascarpone and Greek yoghurt for the topping. Lara’s got me making more shortbread fingers for dipping.”
Leonie laughed. “That whole idea was totally a joke, you know.”
“Well, then, I can’t wait to see what you come up with when you get serious.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Grab a table. Mackie just cleared that one at the back if you still don’t like sitting by the window.”
Settling in at The Spice Pelage had come easy.
After just a week, Leonie wondered how she’d never considered working in a café before.
Maybe she’d lost the will to wish for things, knowing how easily dreams could get torn away from her.
But something was different now, something that began as a spark, then bloomed until she felt it in her fingertips.
Being here, bathed in the aromas of coffee, pastry, breads, fruit and comfort, seemed to stoke that hope in her.
So, when Mum trundled into the café, squinting at the licensee sign above the door, Leonie didn’t feel as annoyed or frustrated as before. She waved and pushed a chair out, relieved to see her mother smile on her way over.
“This area has changed,” Mum remarked. “I haven’t been around here since . . . wah, long time already.” She put on her glasses and picked up a menu. “What is this, Tea Times? Why so many lines and boxes?” she tutted.
Leonie chuckled. “That’s a puzzle sheet, Mum. The menu is up there.” She pointed to the wall-mounted chalkboard behind the front counter and display cabinets.
Mum turned around. “Oh, quite a lot. What you want to eat?”
“Sausage roll? I can get it.” Leonie stood, but her mum stayed her with a hand, already clutching her purse.
“I go, save time,” she said, and Leonie knew better than to argue.
She poured out two glasses of water, then thumbed the folded-up drawing Sam’s kid Tommy had given her to congratulate her on her new job. She kept it in her pocket for good luck—after leaving it in direct sunlight for a few hours as a precaution against germs, that is.
Mum returned with a table number, and they made harmless small talk about the food options, then about the plants on the shelf, and then about the café’s decor.
That last one made Leonie a little nervous, wondering if Mum had noticed the theme already.
Between the pictures on the wall, Lupe’s prominently placed plush dingo on the shelf, and the dreamcatcher behind the counter, it was at least half-obvious this place was run by shifters.
“Where are your suitcases?” Mum asked.
“In the office.”
“Can like that, ah?” Mum looked around. “Oh, is this the café you’re working at now?”
It was hard to tell whether she meant something by this. There was nothing hard about her tone, but knowing what she knew of her mother, Leonie had trouble accepting a question like that could come without some judgement attached.
She looked across at Hayden. He flashed her a supportive smile, and suddenly her shoulders relaxed and she found herself letting go of a breath she only just realised she’d been holding.
“Yes,” she said. “I told Mark I wasn’t coming back.”
“What about your clients?”
“They’re Felisha’s clients now, and I knew I was right to push for hiring a second hygienist.” Okay, that last remark sounded unnecessarily defensive.
Calm your farm, Leonie chided herself. Still, she kept her guard up, even when—or maybe especially so—when Mum’s face softened into sympathy. Who did she think she was fooling?
“Good, then, you’ve sorted everything out.”
“You can just say it, you know, Mum. I know—” The words caught in her’s throat as Deanne brought over their lunch, surreptitiously nudging Leonie’s shoulder with a gentle affection. “I know you don’t approve of any of this.”
“Aiyah, don’t worry so much,” Mum said softly, moving plates and cutlery around the table. “Eat first, lah. You want half?”
She almost refused, then realised her mum had ordered her favourite dish, a lasagna stuffed with lamb mince and creamy béchamel.
The Spice Pelage did the best she’d ever tasted and served it with native herbs and a wedge of desert lime for a condiment.
Plus, she knew her mum’s belly could only handle so much cheese.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. You take half of mine then too.”
“Wah, they use puff pastry for the sausage roll?” Mum exclaimed, cutting off a piece.
“They make the pastry themselves.”
“Hmm, it’s very good.” Mum chewed thoughtfully, her gaze wandering around the café. “Get them to teach you, then you can teach me. My puff pastry was never good.” She leaned forward. “That man who just went into the kitchen: he looks familiar.”
Leonie swallowed. “That’s Hayden. He’s the chef. Well, they all kind of share the work here, but he’s the main person who does the food.”
“Hayden. Didn’t you know someone with that name in school?”
Her body tensed. She looked away. “Yeah, I did.”
“Is that the same boy?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” she said flatly, hoping her mum would just drop it.
Mum made a noise partway between a hum and a grunt, and they ate in silence. It was only when she was halfway through her portion of lasagna that she put down her cutlery and rested her hands on the table. “Ah Nee?”
“Yes, Mum?”
“I want to talk to you about Mark.”