Wallace shrugged as Apollo pranced around the tea plants. “Then we make the most of it.”
Nelson didn’t reply.
* * *
He spent the day in the kitchen with Mei. He’d recovered enough from the séance with Nancy that he was able to pull trays of pastries from the oven and to lift the kettles from the stove. If anyone had looked through the portholes, they’d have seen kitchenware floating through the air with the greatest of ease.
“Why don’t you just heat the water in the microwave?” he asked, pouring the water into a ceramic teapot.
“Oh my god,” Mei said. “Don’t ever let Hugo hear you say that. No, you know what? I changed my mind. Tell him, but make sure I’m there when you do. I want to see the expression on his face.”
“Wouldn’t be too happy, huh?”
“Understatement. Tea is serious business, Wallace. You don’t heat water for tea in the freaking microwave. Have a little class, man.” She picked up the tray Wallace had been working on and backed through the doors. “But still, tell him. I want to record his reaction.” The doors swung shut behind her.
He went to the portholes, looking out into the tea shop. It was as busy as usual. The lunch crowd had arrived, and most of the tables were filled. Mei moved expertly around the people before setting the tray on a table. He glanced at the far corner. Nancy’s table was empty. He wasn’t surprised. He thought she’d be back, but it probably wouldn’t be until he was gone. He didn’t know if what they’d done had been enough. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d alleviated her pain, but he hoped she’d at least have the foundation to start to build again if she wanted.
Hugo stood behind the register, smiling, though it was distant. He’d been quiet that morning, as if lost in thought. Wallace didn’t want to push. He let Hugo be.
The front door of the tea shop opened, and a young couple walked in, their hair windswept, eyes bright. They’d been here before, the man saying it was their second date, when it was actually their third. He held the door open for his lady friend, and she laughed when he bowed slightly. Even above the din, Wallace could hear him. “After you, my queen.”
“You’re so weird,” she said fondly.
“Only the best for you.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling him to the counter. He kissed her on the cheek as she ordered for the both of them.
And Wallace knew the next thing he needed to do with the time he had left.
* * *
“You don’t have to do this,” Hugo said after the tea shop had closed for the night. Wallace had asked Mei and Nelson to give them some privacy. They’d agreed, though Nelson waggled his eyebrows sug gestively as Mei pulled him into the kitchen, Apollo trailing after them.
“Maybe. But I think I do. If you can’t, I can ask Mei to—”
Hugo shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. What do you want me to say?”
Wallace told him. It was short and simple. He didn’t think it was enough. He didn’t know what else to add.
If he still had a beating heart, he thought it’d be in his throat as Hugo set the phone to speaker after he’d dialed the number Wallace had given him. He didn’t know if anyone would answer. It’d be a strange number appearing on her screen, and she’d probably end up ignoring it as most people did.
She didn’t.
“Hello?”
Hugo said, “Can I speak with Naomi Byrne?”
“Speaking. Who’s calling, please?” The last word was quieter, and Wallace knew she had pulled the phone away to look at the number, frowning as she did so. He could see her clear as day in the corners of his mind.
“Ms. Byrne, my name is Hugo. You don’t know me, but I know your husband.”
A long pause. “Ex-husband,” she said finally. “If you mean Wallace.”
“I do.”
“Well, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but Wallace died a couple of months ago.”
“I know,” Hugo said.
“You … do? You spoke of him in the present tense, and I just assumed—it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you, Hugo? I’m afraid I don’t have long. I have a dinner meeting to get to.”
“I won’t take much of your time,” Hugo said, looking up at Wallace who nodded.
“Were you a client of his? If there’s a legal issue, you need to call the firm. I’m sure they would be happy to assist—”
“No,” Hugo said. “I wasn’t a client of his. I guess you could say he is—”
“Was,” Wallace hissed. “Was.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “He was a client of mine, in his own way.”
A longer pause. “Are you his therapist? I don’t recognize the area code. Where are you calling from?” Then, “And why are you calling?”
“No,” Hugo said. “I’m not a therapist. I own a tea shop.”
Naomi laughed. “A tea shop. And you say Wallace was a client of yours. Wallace Price.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I ever saw him drink a cup of tea in his life. Forgive me for sounding dubious, but he wasn’t exactly the tea type.”
“I know,” Hugo said as Wallace groaned. “But I think you’d be surprised to hear that he learned to enjoy it regardless.”
“Did he? That’s … odd. Why would he—it doesn’t matter. What do you want, Hugo?”
“He was a client of mine. But he was also my friend. I’m sorry for your loss. I know it must have been difficult.”
“Thank you,” Naomi said stiffly, and Wallace knew she was wracking her brain, trying to figure out what angle Hugo was working. “If you knew him, I’m sure you’re aware we divorced.”
“I know,” Hugo said.
She was growing irritated. “Is there a point to this conversation? Or was that it? Look, I appreciate you calling, but I—”
“He loved you. Quite a bit. And I know it got rough, and you went your separate ways for good reason, but he never regretted a single moment he spent with you. He wanted you to know that. He hoped you found happiness again. That you would have a full life, and that he was so sorry for what happened.”
Naomi didn’t speak. Wallace would have thought she disconnected, but he could still hear her breathing.
“Say it,” he whispered. “Please.”
Hugo said, “He told me about your wedding day. He said there had never been anyone more beautiful than you were at that mo ment. He was happy. And even though things changed, he never forgot the way you smiled at him in that little church.” He laughed quietly. “He said he panicked right before the ceremony. You had to talk to him through a door to try to get him to calm down.”
Silence. Then, “He … he said he couldn’t get his tie to work. That we might as well call the whole thing off.”
“But you didn’t.”
Naomi sniffled. “No. We didn’t, because it was just something so Wallace that I … Christ. You had to call and ruin my makeup, didn’t you?”
Hugo chuckled. “I don’t mean to.”