When the last of the herbs were crushed and gone, Mom bowed in front of me, her hands pressed prayerfully together in the classic pose. After a long moment, she raised her head and smiled at me.
I was surprised the ritual was over. “That was pretty sedate, Mom, but I enjoyed it. Thanks.”
“Oh, we’re not finished.”
Uh-oh. I watched her nervously. “What else is there?”
At this point, I expected her to throw her arms up and wail some crazy singsong chant about Krishna’s belly button or something equally nonsensical. That’s usually how her rituals ended. In happy dancing chaos.
Instead, she closed her eyes and began to sway back and forth in front of me. With each deep breath she took, she raised her arms to the sky, then lowered them over me. Her hands skimmed down and framed my face as she whispered some sort of prayer I couldn’t quite make out. Something about gods and power and protection. She repeated the actions and words three times, summoning the power of all the gods in all the heavens to watch over me.
I snuck a glance at Dad, who wore a serious frown. China was sitting forward in her chair as though she might leap up and rush to my rescue. Did I need rescuing? What was up with Mom being so serious all of a sudden?
Derek reached over and held my hand. Good heavens, was everyone so concerned about me? Where was my happy, frolicking mother? Why wasn’t she whooping and laughing and spin-dancing like the carefree Deadhead hippie she’d always been? What kind of crazy ritual was this?
After another minute or two of silent swaying, Mom uttered one gentle moan and stopped moving.
Now what? I wondered.
She opened her eyes and stared into mine with so much intensity, I knew she could see straight through to my soul. After a long moment, it was too much and I had to blink and sever our connection. She smiled then and picked up the bundle of smudged sage. Holding it over my head, she tapped at the loose singed bits.
Sage ashes whirled around me like a mini-tornado. I closed my eyes and absorbed the odd moment. And felt more calm, alive, and happy than I had in days.
*
Two nights later, Derek and I walked into Arugula, ready for dinner and our chaperone assignment with the chefs. The restaurant was closed on Mondays, so the eight of us were the only guests.
The main dining room looked beautiful tonight. There were clusters of small candles on every table. Subtle ceiling lights cast a warm glow on the walls and the blond wood floors. Down the center of the main dining table were small glass vases from which all sorts of pretty pink and blue flowers rose gracefully. In between the vases, thin willow branches and strands of ivy were entwined around tiny white blossoms. It all resembled a still-life painting.
I was so proud of my sister. She had spent years trying to figure out what to do with her life. She’d taken a few cuisine classes at the Sonoma Institute of Art, then bummed around for a while. Finally, at a friend’s suggestion, she had enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.
After graduating, she spent a year in the Loire Valley at the famous Maison Troisgros near Roanne, where she was hired as an apprentice chef. She came home and worked in a number of Bay Area restaurants, then moved to Point Reyes, in the wilds of Marin County. There she planted an acre of her favorite greens, mostly arugula, which she distributed to restaurants all over Northern California. Finally, she came home to Dharma and opened Arugula, and the rest was history.
Glancing around, I noticed that the other chefs had dressed up for the occasion, so I was glad I’d decided to wear one of my more elegant outfits: black silk pants and matching jacket, a burgundy satin blouse, and sparkly diamond hoop earrings. Derek looked ridiculously handsome in his navy Armani suit, crisp white shirt, and burgundy tie. Did we look like proper, serious chaperones? I hoped not! But I thought we looked good.
Tonight I was excited and a little antsy after two days of relaxing since Mom’s protection ritual. I’d been taking naps and going on long walks through the vineyards. The urge to delve into Baxter’s murder investigation had subsided. But now it was back with a vengeance.
It was as if I’d been on a tropical vacation too long and was desperate to get back to reality. Except in this case, I had no idea what reality I wanted to return to. I just knew I wanted something to happen. I wanted action.