A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) (15 page)

Noticing my gaze, she smiled. “Blue was his favorite color. I want to put more on there but I don’t know where. I think it’s done.”

Gabriel glanced up from his work, giving a single nod. “White space is good.”

Gabriel had made a crisscross pattern on one skull, and now I saw it was becoming a harlequin mask with exaggerated, three-dimensional facial features. He was carefully building up layer upon layer of icing, working on other skulls while waiting for each layer to dry.

“Gabriel, that’s amazing,” I said as I watched him apply another layer of bright green to a diamond on one cheekbone.

“Just takes patience,” he said. “That’s ninety percent of most art.”

“But the inspiration is the hardest part,” I said.

“Not the hardest. Ideas are easy. Making them real...I said it took patience. I didn’t say that wasn’t hard.”

Angela gave a tiny sigh, looking at her much simpler efforts. “Patience and talent. You have a gift.”

“Well, he’s a professional artist,” Kris said.

“But even that is a matter of patience,” Gabriel added. “Lots and lots of practice. Years of it.”

Angela tilted her head. “You’re an artist, and you came here to spend your free time making folk art?”

“To experiment. I’ve never tried this medium. And I can use these.” He gestured toward his skulls. “A seasonal display with the art I have showing. That could be fun, right?” he asked Kris.

“Have to talk to the gallery owner, but she might go for it.”

His answering smile was so warm, I wondered if he would actually stay with Kris. She had a solid head for business, something that could be very helpful for an artist. She was obviously fond of him, too, even if she was able to look at their relationship with cold, objective speculation. I found myself hoping Gabriel would stick around, at least for a while. Kris hadn’t confided in me, but I suspected she had been through some hard times.

Gabriel finished the green and set the sculpted skull aside, then looked at me. “We’ll need to provide you with appropriate attire for All Hallows’ Eve. Are you and Kris about the same size?”

“More or less,” Kris said.

“I have a plain black dress I thought I’d wear...”

Gabriel smiled, eyelids drooping slightly. “Plain will never do. You are like a fine gem; you deserve a setting that will complement you.” He tilted his head, as if contemplating a blank canvas.

“I’m just going to be helping in the kitchen and the pantry,” I said, suddenly self-conscious.

“Ah, but you are part of the masque. You must be properly dressed. Don’t worry, we can find something for you.”

Unnerved at being the object of his artistic evaluation, I picked up my purple icing bag. To my relief, he let the subject drop.

I glanced at Angela, wondering what she thought of this. “Are you doing anything for Halloween?”

“I usually go over to
Abuela’s
and give out candy. She has trouble getting up, so it’s hard for her to answer the door, but she loves to see the kids’ costumes.”

“Does she get a lot of trick-or-treaters?”

“Yeah. There are bunches of kids in her building. I wear a clown nose and a rainbow wig, and a polka-dot dress. They love it!”

I smiled, then glanced at Gabriel and Kris. They were apparently uninterested in trick-or-treaters and rainbow wigs. Gabriel was working on a new skull, and Kris was just finishing one.

Angela leaned back, sipping her cider and gazing at the skull memorializing her father. Tony’s father, too. I wanted to know more about him, to ask when he had died, but that seemed intrusive. Leaving her to her thoughts, I picked up the violet icing again and contemplated my own white space.

There was room for a name across the forehead, but I felt reluctant to do it. Instead, I gave the skull a widow’s peak in the form of a “V,” then piped an “i” below it. “Vi,” vertically, could be taken for design rather than lettering. I liked it.

A feeling of satisfaction filled me. The skull didn’t look anything like Vi, really, but it reminded me of her. She had been pretty, ebullient, feminine. I still missed her.

I put the icing back in the center of the table and picked up my cup. It was empty.

“Anyone want more cider?” I asked, getting up.

Angela nodded and handed me her cup. Kris glanced up with a quick smile and a shake of the head. Gabriel kept on working.

“I’ll set these over here,” I told Angela, picking up her finished skull and mine of Vi. I moved them to the smaller table along with my clown skull, then took our cups into the kitchen where I walked around the tables, admiring everyone’s work. 

Dee’s skull was a study in anatomy, with vivid colors creating shadows and details, somehow making the little skull more realistic despite the rainbow hues. Rosa had covered one skull in orange and yellow flowers and was starting on a second. Ramon’s skulls reminded me of Mexican wrestling masks. Cherie’s seat was empty; maybe she’d gone to the restroom.

A line of plates holding finished skulls sat on the counter. It was pretty easy to guess which ones were done by Julio or Andre: the works of art. The more amateur skulls were harder to peg. One was one violet and black, with flowers, dots, and crosses; another Egyptian-looking, the eyes filled in black that drew to a point at the outside edges of the face, and three black “X”s across the mouth, reminding me of the stitchings on a mummy.

I frowned at that one. Three “X”s meant poison. Was it some Goth thing? I’d have to ask Kris.

Turning to the work table, I saw both Julio and Andre wielding the icing bags with precision and beauty. Andre’s skull was all light colors: yellow, pink, pale blue, and lavender; rows upon rows of tiny, uniform dots. Julio was creating a fantasy in orange latticework, worthy of a wedding cake. Beside him, on another plate, was what I suspected was a portrait of Vi, much better than mine.

I suddenly wanted to add decorated petit fours to the tearoom’s offerings, but I knew Julio wouldn’t have the time. Maybe I could hire someone part time, and offer them for special occasions. I’d have to ask Kris if we had room in the budget, since we were adding two seasonal part-timers already.

Turning to the break table, I saw that Margo’s efforts were like mine: wobbly, sometimes blotchy, but improving. She sat frowning at a fresh skull, red icing in her hand.

Dale had covered one skull in astrological symbols, and was now working on a second one that was some kind of demon with red, uptilted eyes and green, twisted horns drawn on the skull top. He glanced up and I gave him a quick smile, then fetched the cider and headed back outside.

Dale hadn’t mentioned his job application. I really must make a decision on that soon.

As I edged my way through the screen door with two full cups of cider, I saw Gabriel and Cherie talking over by the lilac bushes, voices hushed, faces intent. Kris was decorating a new skull in shades of black and lavender, studiously ignoring them.

Gabriel took one of Cherie’s hands in his and placed something in it, covering it with his other hand, keeping hold while he spoke to her with an earnest expression. I leaned toward them slightly and the screen door slipped from my control, banging shut.

Everyone looked up at me. Cheeks burning, I turned my gaze to Angela, smiled, and joined her at the table, setting her cider before her.

“That’s a nice skull,” I said, avoiding looking toward the lilacs. Angela’s skull had
“Abuelo”
on the forehead in careful letters. “Your grandfather?”

She nodded, then reached for her cider. I glanced up as Gabriel stepped onto the
portal
, a stray breeze lifting his hair away from his neck and making me think of male fashion models with their open necklines, all collarbone and smooth skin. He slid into his seat and picked up the bag of green icing. Kris looked at him, but said nothing. Gabriel began adding to the crisscross of lines on his current skull.

The screen door banged again. I glanced that way and saw Cherie’s shadow in the kitchen through the screen.

None of my business, I reminded myself. I took a sip of cider, then returned my attention to the sugar skulls.

Emboldened by my success with the skull for Vi, I decided to make one for my dad. Staring at a blank skull on my plate, I wondered how to honor him. He had loved the outdoors, and skiing, and good wine and cheese. None of these suggested decorations that I could imagine using on a skull. I ended up going very simple, just his smile and a suggestion of hair.

At three-thirty, Julio made coffee, then brought around the tray of
pan de muerto
and suggested people start moving their finished skulls onto a single, clean plate for each person. Margo, who had warmed to the game as the day went on, needed two plates for her seven skulls. There were lots of crosses with elongated, pointed ends. A favorite image of hers, apparently.

Looking over the all the skulls, I was impressed. The skill levels varied, but everyone had done really creative work. A sudden desire to capture it all sent me darting upstairs for my camera.

“Does anyone mind if I take pictures?” I asked when I returned to the kitchen.

“Sure, go ahead,” said Andre, picking up yet another blank skull. Beside him, Margo looked annoyed, but didn’t say anything. I was beginning to think “annoyed” was her most common expression.

Since no one protested, I proceeded to photograph each plate of finished skulls in the kitchen, then went outside to document the plates that had accumulated not only on the small café table, but on the nearby benches as well.

“You don’t mind, do you, Gabriel?” I asked belatedly. “I want to remember all this wonderful creativity.”

“Of course not,” he said.

“Just don’t use them in an ad without getting permission,” Kris added.

I looked at her, a little surprised by the remark, then realized she was thinking not of her own work, but of Gabriel’s. He grinned.

“My business manager speaks,” he said.

“Well...” Kris said, with a shrug.

Gabriel kissed her, disarming her. I turned back to the café table, hiding a smile.

⁹

A
t four, I decided there must be tea, since I’d gone for Julio’s coffee instead that morning. I brewed up some Wisteria White and offered it around. The decorating was winding down, and guests gathered their handiwork to go home. Plastic wrap, held above the plates by sections of paper-towel tubes, protected the skulls.

Angela was the first to say goodbye. “I have to get back to
Abuela’s,
but this has been so nice. I had a really good time. Thank you for inviting me.”

I smiled, and on impulse gave her a quick hug. “Thank you for coming, though it’s Julio’s party, not mine. Will you come and have tea with me next week? I’d like to talk more.”

She nodded, smiling. “I’d like that, too.”

“We’ll compare calendars.” I waved as she headed for her car, an older model Corolla.

Rosa and Ramon left soon thereafter, with Dee following. Dale and Margo took off, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Andre, who had started tidying up the counters. I realized I hadn’t seen Cherie for a while. Maybe she’d gone home early.

“Where’s Julio?” I asked.

“Showing his painting to Gabriel,” Andre said, gathering used plates.

I stepped into the hall and found Julio, Gabriel, and Kris heading toward me. Gabriel was saying, “—got to have a portfolio together, that’s number one. Take high-res photos of your best work and make high-quality prints. I can recommend a photographer if you want.”

Julio nodded. “Thanks, man.”

They shook hands as Kris took her coat off a hook and swung it around her shoulders. She gave me a hug, gave Julio a bigger one, and headed out with Gabriel, plates full of skulls in their hands.

Julio had collected the unused skulls—about two dozen—into a plastic box. Andre was putting leftover snacks into containers.

“I’ll leave this for the staff, if that’s OK,” Julio told me, gesturing to the food.

“Sure, they’ll make it go away,” I said. “It was a great party, Julio. Thanks for including me.”

“Thanks for letting us do it here,” he said, grinning as he carried the ceramic insert of the slow-cooker to the dishwashing station. “Did you make a skull for Vi?”