Catt knocked loudly on her Landlady's half-open door. She couldn't see the old woman through the gap, but the knock elicited a response from deeper in the apartment.
"Coming, coming."
The old woman's face appeared, framed by her snowy hair and crowned by her velvety antlers.
"Hello, Ms Bethen," Catt said. "I brought you the rent."
"Ms Zago! Please come in dearie! Take some tea with me."
Catt entered, and gave Ms Bethen the coins for this week.
There was a round slate table with two chairs and two placemats. Catt made herself comfortable in one chair.
Ms Bethen busied herself finding cups and saucers. "How has life been treating you, dearie?" She asked.
Catt spied the jar of cold-brew tea by the window, and got up to fetch it. This was not the first time she had been invited to have tea with her Landlady, and she knew the routine.
"Well enough, thank you," Catt answered, bringing the jar to the table. "I feel healthy, and I'm enjoying my work."
"That is good," said Ms Bethen, placing the cups and working the jar lid. "And how is your spiritual life?"
Catt understood this to be a follow-up to their conversation from last week, when Catt had shared some of the things she had been reading about recently.
Catt replied, "I'm still learning. There are so many gods, and even when you focus on one, there seem to be so many ways of thinking about them."
Ms Bethen poured the tea. It looked brown in the jar, but took on a faint greenish hue in the cups. "What about your own goddess, dearie?"
"I still don't know if she sees me or not," Catt said. "One of my fruit seeds sprouted this week. I've been giving them water before I add the tincture, like you suggested."
"Sugar?" Ms Bethen asked.
"Just a little," Catt said.
Ms Bethen added more than just a little sugar to Catt's cup. Catt didn't complain. She took the offered spoon, but just set it aside rather than stirring.
Ms Bethen added even more sugar to her own cup, and then stirred studiously, with an expert steady hand that rarely allowed the spoon to ring against the porcelain.
"How is your love life, dearie?"
Catt stopped with the cup almost to her lips. This was a new question. She had been expecting Ms Bethen to launch into the usual report of neighborhood gossip.
Catt returned the cup to the saucer. It was the sort of question that she normally would have brushed aside, or maybe even answered flippantly, but instead she felt as if the question was like a breath, rekindling the ember of ache in her chest. Catt found that she wanted desperately to talk about it. She hadn't told anyone about the King's invitation. She hadn't even mentioned it to Lemmy.
Ms Bethen put down her spoon, and holding the cup with both hands, looked keenly at Catt over the rim.
Catt looked down at the surface of her own tea. It rippled gently as her fingers touched her cup.
"I... ran into someone I fancy a few days ago," Catt admitted. "She invited me to dinner."
"Ah!" Ms Bethen smiled. "Did you go?"
"Not yet…" Catt said.
"Oh? When is it?" Ms Bethen pried.
Catt looked away at the window. "It wasn't for any specific day," Catt said.
"Hmm…" Ms Bethen sipped her tea, and then declared, "An open invitation is serious! It means this person is not dining with anyone else. She is waiting for you."
Catt looked back at the old woman. "Does it mean that?" Catt said.
"Oh, indeed it does, dearie," said Ms Bethen with a level of confidence that Catt thought was unwarranted.
Catt shrugged a little and took hold of her tea again.
"But how long will she wait? That is harder to say. How do you feel if you wait too long and the door is closed for you?"
Catt finally tasted the tea. It was good– strong, but not bitter. "I guess I would regret it."
"Regret, young one, is a terrible thing to have in your past," said Ms Bethen, shaking her head slowly. "But regret in your future can be an asset. Knowing it is ahead of you means you can see the way to avoid it."
Catt's eyes had been wandering, but at this, she looked directly at Ms Bethen.
Ms Bethen continued. "I've a few regrets in my past, but so many more that I managed to sidestep, sometimes quite narrowly." She was smiling a little, as if taking pride in this fact.
"Maybe I should go and meet her…" Catt conceded.