"That's true." Nan cradled the dragon in her lap like it was a precious baby. "I don't think I ever saw this until a few days ago. The attic was Ned's place. He was always puttering around up there." She looked at her watch. "We're going to be late, Riley. I think we should go."
"I'll carry the dragon, just in case."
"Just in case what, honey?"
"Whatever," he said cryptically, not wanting to worry his grandmother. Despite the fact that everything looked okay, his instincts told him something was off. He hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake by not following those instincts. He got out and walked around the car so he could open the door for his grandmother. As the women exited, Riley perused the garage, acutely aware of every sound.
A car came around the corner, its tires squealing on the cement. He immediately threw himself in front of Nan, blocking her with his body. As the car sped by, he saw two teenagers in the front seat; they barely gave him a glance.
"Good heavens, Riley," Nan said, straightening her dress. "You're strung so tight you'll snap if you're not careful. Maybe I should hold the dragon," she added, as he slipped it into a heavy canvas bag.
"I'll take it. Let's go." He'd feel better when they were out on the sidewalk.
Nan and Millie hurried along in front of him. They were both breathless when they reached the elevator that whisked them up to Union Square and the blessed sunshine.
"Everything okay now?" Nan asked as they paused to get their bearings.
"I wish you'd let me handle this on my own." He continued to look around as they made their way across the square.
"And miss the tea? Not a chance." Nan smiled at him and stopped walking. "Now, tell me, how do I look? Any lipstick on my teeth?" She flashed him a perfect set of white teeth.
"Beautiful," he replied. Nan was dressed in what she called her Sunday best, a navy blue dress, nylons, and low heels. Millie was a taller, more colorful version of his grandmother, dressed in hot pink pants and matching top, her bright red hair flaming in the afternoon sunshine. "You could both pass for at least sixty."
"Oh, you're such a charmer," Millie said with a wave of her heavily ringed hand. "I don't know why you're still single."
"Neither do I," Nan said. "I keep telling him I want to see some great-grandchildren, but he always pretends to be hard of hearing at crucial times. Isn't that right, Riley?"
"What did you say?"
"See," Nan said, exchanging a laugh with Millie.
"Let's go." Riley led them around the corner, past Saks, Neiman Marcus, and the St. Francis Hotel with its glass elevators that ran up the outside of the building. They walked past the cable car stop, where a group of tourists was snapping photographs of one another. The House of Hathaway stood proudly on the east corner of the square. At six stories, it was nowhere near the most imposing building in a city of tightly knit skyscrapers, but its Roman columns and ornate gold carvings over the front doors were impressive.
Riley held open one of the large glass doors, then followed Millie and his grandmother inside.
Nan paused, putting a hand to her heart. "Oh, my, isn't this grand? I haven't been here in years. I'd forgotten."
Riley wasn't a shopper, but he had to admit the store was amazing. It was cool, quiet, and well lit, with paintings on the walls, wide aisles between glass display cases filled with art objects, a thick carpet beneath his feet, and a magnificent central ceiling that reached up six stories and was capped by a stained-glass skylight. He felt as if he'd stepped into another world, one of money and culture, one in which he didn't feel particularly comfortable. .
"Look at this dollhouse," Millie said, moving toward a nearby display case. "It has miniature people and everything. And it costs ..." Her eyes widened. "Three thousand dollars. Can you imagine? I think we sold my daughter's dollhouse in a garage sale for two dollars."
"It's amazing what some people will pay for junk," Riley commented.
"Hush, now," Nan said. "One person's trash is another person's treasure."
"I guess that's why we're here." Riley was beginning to wonder just what his grandmother's dragon was worth.
"Mrs. Delaney?"
Riley turned and caught his breath as a beautiful young woman approached them. Her hair was long and blond, held back with an ornate clip at the base of her neck, her eyes a dark chocolate brown. She was dressed in a silk turquoise dress that clung to her breasts and hit just above her knees, showing off a nice pair of legs. He'd thought he'd lost the ability to feel sucker punched by an attractive woman, but apparently not. His breath seemed to be trapped in his chest, and he had the terrible feeling that his jaw had dropped low enough to hit the floor. He cleared his throat and forced in some air as his grandmother shook hands with the woman.
"And you must be Mr. McAllister." She offered him a much cooler smile than she'd given his grandmother. "I'm Paige Hathaway."
He should have figured that by the expensive jewelry and the hint of perfume that probably cost more than a month's rent on his apartment. Well, he'd always wanted what he couldn't have. Why should this be any different? "Miss Hathaway," he said curtly.
"Will you follow me? My father is waiting for us in the lab." She led them to a bank of elevators nearby. "We're so glad you could come," she said as they waited. "Have you been in the store before?"
"Not for some time," Nan replied. "It's a bit beyond my means, you know. But it looks lovely."
"I'd be happy to show you around before you leave. We offer a variety of items in our emporium on the third floor that are quite reasonably priced."
"That would be wonderful. I've heard so much about the tea. It's the talk of San Francisco, you know," Nan added as they stepped on to the elevator.
Riley was bothered by his grandmother's eagerness. She was soaking up Miss Hathaway's charm like a dry sponge desperate for water. He supposed it was understandable; his grandmother's life had been difficult in recent years. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken her out shopping or when they'd shared a meal that hadn't been at her house or at the cafeteria in the hospital his grandfather had been in and out of so frequently. He'd neglected her. He hadn't meant to, but he'd done it all the same. He'd have to do better in the future.
The elevator opened on the fifth floor. A set of glass doors labeled Executive Offices faced them, but Paige turned toward the right, leading them down a long hallway. Riley couldn't help noticing the discreet cameras in the hallways. There had been one in the elevator as well. Security seemed to be in good shape at the House of Hathaway. Paige punched in a code on the pad next to the door, then turned the knob. They stepped into an office with a desk and several chairs. The far wall was glass and looked into a lab area where two men were scrutinizing a vase. Riley noted a more sophisticated electronic keypad on this door.
Paige tapped on the window, and one of the men turned. He had Paige's brown eyes—or maybe she had his. Riley didn't need an introduction to know this man was a relative and more than likely her father. A moment later, the door buzzed, and the dark-haired man walked out.
"This is my father, David Hathaway," Paige said, offering introductions.
Handshakes were exchanged as David greeted them with a charming smile. But there was a distance in his eyes when he looked at Riley that showed his distraction, or perhaps his focus, which was on the canvas bag in Riley's hand.
"May I see the dragon?" he asked.
Riley began to reach into the bag, but David stopped him
"I'm sure you've handled it a great deal, but from here on out, I'd like to limit the number of hands that touch the piece."
Riley watched as David pulled a pair of thin latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them over his hands.
"We will be examining your dragon in what we call a clean room, an environment that we keep as sterile as possible to protect the art pieces," David said. "Our initial appraisal will run about one hour. Paige will take you to tea while you're waiting, and we'll meet after that."
"I think I'll stay and watch." Riley felt slightly annoyed by the look of relief that flashed in Paige's eyes. She would obviously be happy to get rid of him.
David didn't look nearly as pleased. "There's really nothing to see. We can't allow you in the clean room, and most of our work will not be visible from the window."
"Why can't I go inside?"
"Insurance, liability, you understand," he said with a vague wave of his hand. "Please enjoy the tea. It will be an experience you will not forget."
"Oh, come with us, Riley," Nan said. "I want to share this with you."
His grandmother slipped her hand through his arm, taking any idea of further argument out of his head. Before he knew it, the lovely Miss Hathaway was leading them back into the elevator and up to the top floor, where the tearoom was located.
When they stepped inside, Riley felt as if they'd just crossed the Pacific Ocean and landed in Beijing. The tearoom was filled with expensive mahogany tables, glass display cases showing ornate teacups and pots, paintings on the wall depicting scenes from the Far East. This dining room was a far cry from the restaurants where he got take-out potstickers and Mongolian beef.
A woman in an Oriental silk dress ushered them to a table in a corner surrounded on three sides by ornate screens painted with flowers, fruit, and birds. She disappeared as quietly as she had arrived, leaving them to seat themselves at the marble and carved wood table.
"Mr. Lo will be with us shortly," Paige said "He's a Chinese tea master, and he'll conduct a tea ceremony for you."
"There's such a thing as a tea master?" Riley asked.
"Absolutely. Although the Japanese tea ceremony called chanoyu is better known, the Chinese also have their own ceremony. Since your dragon is believed to have come from China, we thought you might enjoy the Chinese version."
Riley leaned forward. "We've already dropped the dragon off with your father; you don't have to give us the dog and pony show."
Paige bit down on her lip. Judging by the slightly chapped look of those beautiful pink lips, he suspected he'd just noticed another important detail. Paige Hathaway didn't always find it easy to say the right thing at the right time.
"According to legend," Paige said, turning her attention to Nan and Millie, "in the year 2737 B.C., an emperor named Shen Nung was boiling some hot water while he rested under a wild tea tree. Some tea leaves dropped into his pot, and when he drank the hot water, he found to his surprise that he felt rejuvenated. He believed the leaves were responsible for this feeling of well-being, which then triggered further experimentation. This was the beginning of tea drinking in China. Today there are more than fifteen hundred types of tea to choose from. While more than twenty-five countries cultivate tea, China is still the main producer."
"Really?" Nan said. "I never knew that. Did you know that, Riley?"
"I had no idea. Sounds like quite a coincidence, those tea leaves dropping into the pot."
"There are other stories to explain the origin of tea drinking, but that's the most popular one," Paige added. "What's important to understand is that tea still plays an important role in Chinese culture. It's part of daily life. Tea is believed to have benefits that affect the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of those who drink it."
"I better switch from coffee," Millie said with a laugh.
"What kind of tea are we going to have?" Nan asked. "I've heard of green tea, but I know there must be lots of others."
"Lots," Paige agreed with a smile, "but I'll let Mr. Lo explain them to you." She looked up as a stooped, old man with thick black glasses and only a single tuft of gray hair on his balding head sat down at the table with them. "Mr. Lo. May I present Nan Delaney, her grandson, Riley McAllister, and her friend, Millie Crenshaw."
"Welcome. I am Yuan Lo." He set down a tray upon which there were several items—a shallow lacquered box, four small cups shaped like spools of thread, and four additional drinking cups. A moment later a waitress entered with a pot of tea that she set on a decorative hot plate. More small cups were also placed on the table.
Everything was so miniature that Riley felt as if he'd entered a child's tea party. He squirmed uncomfortably on the narrow chair, which was also too small. He tugged at the tie that his grandmother had insisted he wear and wished he was anywhere but here. He should have stayed in the lab. At least then he could have been bored in more manly surroundings. And he could have kept an eye on the dragon, maybe gotten some insight on how much it was really worth. Instead he was about to partake in some ceremonious, sanctimonious, hyped-up tea party.
"Relax, Riley," his grandmother said softly, as if she'd read his mind
"This has no purpose," he muttered.
"Of course it doesn't. Not everything in life has to have a purpose. Sometimes it's just about a little fun!"
Riley McAllister didn't like their tea, Paige decided. He'd stopped listening completely about the time Mr. Lo had begun discussing the differences among black tea, green tea, and oolong. While he obediently sniffed the scent of the tea leaves, and tasted at appropriate times, he didn't appear to be at all affected by the sensuous experience. She, on the other hand, was feeling warm, and a little dizzy. From the hot tea, she told herself, not from sitting next to Riley.