Chapter 4 - LAVENDER AND BURIED ASHES
The noise of breaking crystal echoed across the high ceilings of the Gilded Cage, causing heads to turn at neighboring tables before Thompson quickly motioned for the floor staff to intervene.
Terrified, the Waitress dropped directly to her knees among the pool of water and broken glass.
"I'm sorry," she gasped out, her hands shaking violently as she reached down toward the sharp fragments. "I'm so sorry... I'll clean it... I'll replace it..."
Her bare fingers hovered an inch above a large piece of shattered glass, then locked up entirely.
Floating up through the damp air beneath the table was a delicate, distinct scent. It was not the expensive perfume of the restaurant’s wealthy patrons, nor the harsh industrial floor cleaner used by the staff. It was a soft, pure aroma of lavender baby soap and milk.
The scent hit her nervous system like an electric current.
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A rapid succession of soundless visual flashes burned across her mind: white curtains blowing in a sea breeze, a quiet nursery lit by late afternoon sun, the weight of three tiny bodies resting against her collarbone. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, ragged gasps as her eyes dilated in realization.
Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her head from the shattered floor, raising her eyes to look directly into the high chairs.
