Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens by Patrice Greenwood Read Free Book Online

me a searching look. I smiled to reassure him as the lights went down and the overture began.
    A gentle opening, almost pastoral, but with hints of brooding darkness. I let the music take over my awareness, and soon it swept me up in Puccini’s lush, dramatic passion.
    Tony leaned forward to fiddle with the captioning screen on the back of the seat in front of him. I left mine turned off; I usually find it distracting, and in this opera I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know what the characters were saying.
    The opening strains of the first act were strong and dark, setting the tone for what was to come. I kept wondering what Tony was thinking and losing my focus on the performers. When Tosca came onstage and began her love scene with Cavaradossi, Tony slid his hand onto mine.
    I didn’t follow the rest of the scene very well. Tony’s hand was so warm, and I felt a little breathless.
    I watched the lovers onstage go from adoring to bickering to playfulness, all the while wondering what would happen between me and Tony later that night. He had left his bike at my house, and we’d be back late, close to midnight. Should I invite him in?
    My thoughts continued scattered until Victor Solano came onstage. A smattering of applause greeted him. His voice commanded attention, and I caught the thread of the story once more.
    I liked the performer, but his character, Scarpia, was thoroughly despicable. I knew that he would deceive Tosca into thinking her lover was seeing another woman, but the language bothered me more than I expected. I understood a little Italian, and I couldn’t help glancing at Tony’s captions now and then.
    Go,Tosca!
    Now Scarpia digs a nest within your heart!
    Coupled with the oppressive music, I found the words disturbing. When the act ended, I felt relieved.
    We all got up, but we weren’t fast enough to beat the lines that formed outside the restrooms on the terrace. Mr. Ingraham suggested the ones behind the gift shop as being less likely to be crowded, so we headed out to the front courtyard. Tony offered me his arm and led the way.
    The courtyard was much less crowded, but as we passed through a narrow spot a couple suddenly stopped short right in front of us. Apparently they were having a disagreement; the woman looked unhappy. I glanced at Tony, expecting him to move past them or excuse himself, but instead he was watching from beneath a slight frown.
    Cop mode. Triggered by the disagreement. I wondered if he’d had to answer a lot of domestic calls.
    The woman noticed his gaze, shot a glance at her companion, and strode away toward the gift shop. The man stepped aside, grimacing, and we walked on.
    Not needing to visit the restroom again so soon, I waited outside by the fountain and thought wistfully of the big petunia beds that were now gone. My gaze followed the line of the hedge where the beds had been, and I again saw the man who’d been arguing with the woman. He was standing with his back to the hedge, talking with another man who looked vaguely familiar.
    As I watched, the arguing man—who had dark, curly hair combed artistically but not quite concealing a receding hairline—took two cigars from his breast pocket and offered one to the other man, who was taller and had salt-and-pepper hair. That man shook his head, and the arguing man put one cigar back in his coat.
    Mr. Ingraham joined me. “Do you know who that is?” I asked him, watching the arguing man use a small, brass knife to cut the end off of his cigar.
    “The tall one? I believe that’s the General Director.”
    “No, the other one. The smoker,” I added, moving away as said individual lit up his stogie.
    I don’t object to a little pipe smoke, but cigarette smoke makes me sneeze, and I find cigar smoke particularly vile.
    Mr. Ingraham followed me, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not sure. He does look familiar.”
    The others joined us, much refreshed by all appearances, and we all strolled toward the south patio. A