The Peacock Emporium(54)

“So, this is it!” she exclaimed, several times, in the doorway. “Aren’t you clever?”

“Hardly,” said Suzanna. “It’s only a few chairs and tables.”

“But look at your lovely colors! All these pretty things!” She bent and examined the shelves. “They’re all exquisite. And so nicely arranged. I did want to come by—but I know you don’t like to feel we’re all breathing down your neck. And the couple of times I did come past you looked like you were busy . . . anyway. The Peacock Emporium,” she said, slowly reading a label. “Oh, Suzanna, I’m so proud of you. It really is like nothing else around.”

Suzanna’s burst of warmth evaporated. It was as if, she thought, Vivi could never gauge the correct level of emotion: her overenthusiasm left the recipient unable to accept it gracefully. “Do you want a coffee?” She motioned to the blackboard listing, in an attempt to disguise her feelings.

“I’d love one. Do you make them all yourself?”

Suzanna fought the urge to raise her eyebrows. “Well. Yes.”

Vivi sat carefully on one of the blue chairs and gazed over at the cushions on the pew. “You’ve used that fabric I gave you from the attic.”

“Oh, that. Yes.”

“It looks much better here. It could be almost contemporary, couldn’t it, that print? You’d never think it was over thirty years old. An old boyfriend gave it to me. Am I all right here? Not in anyone’s way?” She was holding her handbag in front of her with both hands, in the manner of a nervous elderly lady.

“It’s a shop, Mum. You’re allowed to sit anywhere. Oh, Jessie, this is my mum, Vivi. Mum, Jessie.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ll do your coffee,” said Jessie, who was behind the machine. “What would you like?”

“What would you recommend?”

Oh, for God’s sake, thought Suzanna.

“The latte is nice, if you don’t like it too strong. Or we do a mocha, with chocolate in it.”

“A mocha, I think. I’ll treat myself.”

“We’ll need to top up on the chocolate flakes, Suzanna. Would you like me to get some more?”

“It’s okay,” she said, acutely conscious of Jessie’s new formality. “I’ll get some.”

“No problem. I can go now.”

“No, really. I’ll get them.” Her own voice sounded wrong, too insistent—like someone’s boss.

“It really is stunning. You’ve completely changed the look of it. And you’ve got such an individual eye!” Vivi was gazing around her. “I love the smells, the coffee, and the—what is it? Oh, soap. And perfume. Aren’t they beautiful? I shall tell all my friends to get their soaps here.”

Normally, Suzanna noted, Jessie would already have seated herself beside Vivi, bombarding her with questions. She was instead focused on the coffee machine, her bruised hand now hidden under an overlong sleeve.

Vivi’s hand reached to take Suzanna’s. “I can’t tell you how wonderful I think it is. Well done, darling. I think it’s just marvelous that you made it happen all by yourself.”

“It’s early days yet. We’re not in profit or anything.”

“Oh, you will be. I’m sure you will. It’s all so . . . original.”

Jessie handed over the coffee with a muted smile, then begged to be excused so that she could unpack some jewelry that had just come in. “If that’s okay with you, Suzanna?”

“Of course it is.”

“This is delicious. Thank you, Jessie. Definitely the best coffee in Dere.”

“That wouldn’t be hard.” Suzanna attempted a joke, hoping Jessie would smile. She didn’t think she could bear any more of this.

Suzanna turned to Vivi, her face animated. “Guess what, Mum. We’re going to play Cupid. Jessie’s idea. We’re going to get two local lonely hearts together without them knowing it.”

Vivi sipped carefully at her coffee. “Sounds exciting, darling.”

“I meant to tell you, Jess. I bought these. I thought you could use them—you know, like you said.” She reached behind the counter and pulled out a small gold-wrapped box of chocolates. Jessie looked at it. “It was a really clever idea. I think you should do it. Pop them over there, you know, just before she leaves this evening. Or maybe first thing tomorrow.”

Jessie’s eyes held just a hint of a question, and some mute understanding passed between them.

“What do you think?”

“These are perfect,” Jessie said, with her old, unguarded smile. “Liliane will love them.”

Suzanna felt something in her relax; the shop itself seemed to breathe out, and brighten a little. “Let’s all have a coffee,” she said. “I’ll make them, Jess. Some of Arturro’s biscuits. Cappuccino for you?”

“No, I’m fine.” She placed the chocolates back under the counter. “Better hide these in case he comes back in. There, you’re in on a secret here, Mrs. Peacock. You’re not to say a word.”

“Oh, I’m not Mrs. Peacock,” Vivi said benignly. “That’s Suzanna’s married name.”

“Oh? So what’s your last name?”