flock of perfect blue butterflies. They led me down a side street, past a chocolaterie and an antique bookshop. I followed them through large teal wooden doors into an open white courtyard with slender trees and little round tables. The congregation stopped at a restaurant a few blocks from Ines’s bakery, swirled in a tight formation, and then vanished high into the sky.
A floral garden mosaic dotted with hummingbirds graced a large wall behind the outdoor seating area. Gold letters blazed in the noon light above the stained-glass-accented glass door. I took a picture and made a note of the address. Perhaps my aunt and I could dine here tonight.
Twenty-One
My aunt and I polished off the gooey grilled sandwiches alongside glasses of her custom blend of iced honeyed chrysanthemum tea. With the shop closed for lunch, we ate in peace.
“Had you been gone longer, I’d have sent out a search party,” Aunt Evelyn said as she opened the box of biscuits and peeked inside. “Ah, langues de chat.”
“Ines gave me a sample. They’re amazing. I think we should have a fresh box of cookies to serve with the tea samples. You can make an arrangement with Ines to figure out what will complement whatever you plan on sampling that day. Maybe she can have some of your tea to sell, or even have it available to serve, to her customers.”
Aunt Evelyn beamed. “That is an excellent idea. I’ll call her today and see what we can come up with.”
“And I found the perfect place to have dinner tonight. Wait till you see it.” I plucked two cookies from the box.
“You seem to have had a most productive outing. Where is the rebellious wayward pupil I remember?”
“She’s missing,” I answered with a laugh. “I am trying my best to be a good student, Auntie.”
My aunt nodded, and refilled my glass with more iced tea. “Your efforts are noted.”
“Are you expecting me to dispense predictions until I run out?” I asked. “I mean, is it even possible to run empty?”
“As long as there is a future, there will be predictions. Why? Are you feeling discomfort?”
The physical pain I had always experienced with prophecies, as well as the migraines, had eased with each subsequent prediction this morning. I still reeled from the content, but it stung less. My long-held reluctance regarding my ability had been reinforced by the agony I had endured.
“No, it’s getting easier,” I confessed. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever get used to giving bad news.”
“Painful truths are always the hardest.” Her voice had softened.
I wanted to pry. “Well-intentioned interference” ran in the family. Her misty gaze stopped me. She was a lifetime away in a place aching with regret. An invisible veil denied me entrance. I longed to help, but I didn’t know where or when she had gone. My aunt kept her secrets beyond where I could go.
“Are you ready to get back to work?” she asked, coming back to me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
* * *
The rest of the day yielded four more predictions: the taste of a flourless chocolate cake for a resolved family squabble; a hint of grilled teriyaki salmon belly for a new business opportunity; a spoonful of ginger-syrup-soaked tofu pudding showing one baby on the way; and the sharp bite of burnt kale exposing a decade-old lie.
Each brought a newfound sense of ease, as though I were riding a bicycle where my wobbling grew less the farther I pedaled. Aunt Evelyn’s approving glances added to my confidence. The fear of seeing another’s death always loomed over me, but I’d been spared this afternoon.
“Do you have a different lesson for me tomorrow?” I asked my aunt as I helped put the cleaned tea service into the cupboards below the counter.
“It will be the same as today. You’re becoming accustomed to your gift, and there’s still much room for improvement. I’m waiting for you to show you’ve advanced. Today, you learned physical pain doesn’t have to accompany a prediction. This is an important step. In the next few days, I hope to see you expand the scope of your gifts.”
Aunt Evelyn tipped her head toward the window, where an elderly couple in their seventies walked side by side. “He will surprise her tonight with a trip to Morocco. They had their honeymoon there fifty-three years ago. She’ll love the vacation, but hate the citrine earrings he picked out for her.”
From anyone else’s mouth, it would have sounded like gossip or fanciful fiction