Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (10 page)

“Yes, she’s having a cup of soup and a scone,” said Drayton. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“No,” said Theodosia. “I don’t think so. At least I hope there isn’t.”

Peaches Pafford was
one of those women who pretty much looked like somebody’sfun-loving, amiable aunt. But she wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination. True, Peaches had pinkish blond hair worn in a dated shag, and a broad, flat face with carefully rouged lips, and she was the requisite twenty pounds overweight in a pink tweed Dior suit that seemed to stretch and strain at the seams. But Peaches was one tough nut. She was a woman who’d become a widow at forty, a business owner byforty-three, and awell-heeled, slightly feared tyrant two years after that.

Still, Theodosia bounded up to her table and greeted Peaches and Delaine with great enthusiasm.

“Theo!” cried Delaine, “I was beginning to wonder where you were. I so want to introduce you to Peaches.”

“Lovely to finally meet you,” Peaches enthused. She grabbed Theodosia’s hand and gave it several hearty pumps. Then her eyes got serious, her mouth puckered into a downward cast, and she said, “I was very sorry to hear about your friend Parker. I understand you two had been very close.” She patted Theodosia’s hand. “In fact, he told me you two were practically engaged.”

“The two of them were thick as thieves,” Delaine chortled.
Then she quickly blotted her lips with her napkin, as if realizing the inappropriateness of her remark.

But Theodosia saw her chance and grabbed it. “I understand you were fairly close to Parker, too,” she said to Peaches.

“Oh?” said Delaine, suddenly looking interested. Delaine was a woman who greatly prized any and all nuggets of gossip.

Peaches flashed a radiant smile at Theodosia. “I was always quite taken with Parker’s restaurant and thought, at one time, I might like to add it to my roster.”

“You pitched him on the idea rather recently,” said Theodosia. “Really just a matter of a few weeks ago.”

Peaches gave an imperceptible nod. “Yes.”

“But he was resistant to selling,” said Theodosia. She sat herself down in the chair directly across from Peaches.

“Resistant,” said Peaches, her smile slipping. “Ha ha, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Though I’ve been told you’re quite persuasive,” said Theodosia.

Peaches gave her asharp-eyed look and said, “I can be,” in a cool, even tone that seemed to underscore her iron will.

Delaine, sensing a sharp, prickly feeling beginning to develop between the two women, suddenly piped up, “I brought that list you wanted, Theo.” She fumbled in her bag, this time a red tote with clanking chains, and set a sheaf of papers on the table.

Theodosia reached over and towed the papers toward her using her index finger. But not before Peaches got a gander at it.

“Ah,” Peaches said, “the guest list from Sunday night’s aquarium debacle.”

“That’s right,” said Theodosia.

“Looking for suspects?” Peaches asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Just looking,” said Theodosia. Every once in a while
Peaches had a slight lisp, which led Theodosia to believe those perfect front teeth might be plastic veneers.

“Don’t be surprised if you find my name on that list,” Peaches told her. “Since I donated generously.”

Delaine’s face lit up. “You certainly did!”

Peaches lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips and tasted delicately. “Such a shame about young Parker. And how awful to have ouropening-night donor party ruined. Shattered, really.”

“Awful,” echoed Delaine.

Peaches enjoyed another spoonful of soup, then glanced at her watch, an enormousRolex—the midsize, not the ladies’model—rimmed in diamonds. “Goodness, look at the time! I absolutely must run!”

“Your quiche is just coming out of the oven,” Theodosia told her.

But Peaches had already grabbed her bag and leaped to her feet. “No time,” she said, tugging at her suit jacket. “I have to finalize plans for my big Oyster Fest this Saturday night, then I have to interview a new pastry chef.”

“Good luck with that,” said Delaine.

Peaches fastened her gaze directly on Theodosia and gave a measured smile. “Unless, of course, you’d like to give me yours.”

“You want to hire Haley?” said Theodosia. “Then I suppose you’d have to make her an offer.”

Peaches’s smile never wavered. “Perhaps I’ll do that.”

Even though Theodosia
was still fuming over Peaches’s little power play, she shrugged it off. The Indigo Tea Shop’s late luncheon trade had revved up like crazy, and the three sets of tables and chairs that Drayton had moved onto the front sidewalk were suddenly occupied. Clutches of locals, as well as tourists, still clattered at the tea shop’s door, eager to grab a table, anxious to taste whatever smelled so heavenly.

Haley, careful planner that she was, had baked eight pans of quiche and cooked something like six gallons of soup. It stretched as far as it could, but by two o’clock, the food was gone.

“The cupboard is virtually bare,” Haley cautioned Theodosia and Drayton. “So baked goods only from here on.” She had a smear of flour on the tip of her nose, and her hair was tied back in a pink bandanna.

“By the end of the day we won’t have a single crumb left,” Drayton predicted, as he fussed at the front counter, brewing what had to be his umpteenth pot of Assam tea.

“Then we’re doing everything right,” said Theodosia. She fanned herself slowly as she sipped from a glass of lemon verbena sweet tea. “After all, leftovers don’t contribute to our bottom line.” She was still mindful that the economy was turgid at best. The Indigo Tea Shop was humming nicely, but many of her fellow shopkeepers up and down Church Street had experienced huge downturns in business.

“Still,” said Drayton, “it’s always lovely to take home a leftover scone or brownie.” He popped a red gingham tea cozy onto ablue-and-white rice pattern teapot and handed it to Theodosia. “This goes to table three,” he told her, then glanced sharply over her shoulder as the front door swung open. “Well, hello there,” he suddenly enthused to their new visitor. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the pleasure.”

Theodosia whirled about quickly and immediately recognized Harry Dubose, the genial beekeeper who produced all the jars of Dubose Bees Honey that they stocked in their gift area. Her face crinkled into a welcoming smile.

Harry Dubose was short, jolly, and fifty with red hair fading to light gray. He wore his usual apiary garb of khaki trousers, khaki shirt, and khaki vest. A large white box that could only contain a couple dozen more jars of his precious wildflower honey was balanced in his hands.

“Honey direct from the grower,” said Theodosia, as Drayton lifted the teapot from her hands and carried it to table three himself.

Dubose smiled.

“That’s just grand,” said Theodosia. “And I hope you’ve got time to enjoy a nice cup of tea and a slice of almond cake?”

Dubose slid his package onto the counter and waved a chubby hand. “I gotta keep moving,” he told her. “I’ve got an appointment over at Silver Butter Knife, that new gourmet grocery on Calhoun Street. It looks like they’re interested in carrying some of our products.”

“Congratulations,” said Theodosia.

“You know,” said Dubose, pressing both hands flat on the counter and leaning in toward her, “we’re still waiting for you to come down and see our operation firsthand.”

“I’d like to come,” Theodosia told him. Truth was, she just hadn’t had time.

“After all,” said Dubose, “you’re not only one of our biggest retailers, you’re probably our biggest booster, too.”

“How do you figure that?” asked Theodosia, oddly pleased by his words.

“People slather our honey on your fine scones and breads and they pretty much get hooked!” Dubose declared. “So they buy a couple of jars here and then order even more from our website.”

“I’m thrilled you’re doing so well.”

But Dubose wasn’t done with his little pitch. “Maybe you could even drive down this week. Fact is, we just finished our spring harvest and we’re rolling out our new melon honey.”

“Sounds positively luscious,” said Theodosia.

“What we did,” Dubose explained, “was plant Catawba melons in the fields surrounding the hives. As the blossoms ripened, the bees took a liking to them and sipped their nectar. The end result, of course, is that our new crop of honey has been imbued with a lovely melon flavor.”

“That’s so amazing,” said Theodosia.

“You gotta come down,” Dubose urged again.

Theodosia thought for a few moments. She was always looking for new and unusual products for her shop and her website.
Maybe…
“On the melon honey,” she said. “Would you be able to give me athree-month exclusive?”

Dubose chewed at his lower lip. “We could probably work something out.”

“So maybe if I drove down Friday,” said Theodosia. “I could get the plant tour?”
And some melon honey.

“We’ll keep a look out for you,” said Dubose, pleased.

“Theodosia. Telephone,” said
Drayton.

Theodosia stopped stacking jars of cider cinnamon jelly and blueberry jam and hurried to the front counter. “Theodosia here,” she said, grabbing the phone.

“Dear girl!” came a familiar voice.

“Aunt Libby!” said Theodosia. Aunt Libby was her only living relative and the dearest, sweetest human being one would ever want to meet. She was also a woman who had a soft spot in her heart for all creatures andsingle-handedly fed and loved every bird, deer, fox, chipmunk, raccoon, and baby opossum in athirty-mile zone. Aunt Libby’s own personal TMZ.

“I just heard!” Aunt Libby cried. “About Parker. How awful for you!”

“I know,” said Theodosia. “It was a total shock for all of us.” For some reason, she was suddenlytongue-tied. Probably because, at one time, she and Parker had been close to getting married, and Aunt Libby had been a big booster of that union. Parker had also been incredibly kind to Aunt Libby and, on more than one occasion, had sent a car to pick her up so she could enjoy dinner with them at Solstice.

“So a terrible accident?” asked Aunt Libby.

“The police are still, uh, looking into things,” said Theodosia. She didn’t want to upset Aunt Libby with talk about murder.

“And if I know you,” said Aunt Libby, “you will, too.”

Theodosia hesitated. “We’ll see. But we’re still on for tomorrow. That hasn’t changed.” Tomorrow Aunt Libby was hosting a special tea party at her home at Cane Ridge Plantation and she, Drayton, and Haley were providing tea, treats, and sweets.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Aunt Libby cooed. “I’ve got tons of people coming.”

“Excellent,” said Theodosia. “And we’ll be bringing tons of food.”

Just as Theodosia set the phone back in its cradle, it rang again. She gave a distracted shrug and snatched it up. “Indigo Tea Shop.”

“Do you have a pressing engagement or can I drop by?” came a low growl.

Theodosia stiffened. It was Tidwell. “You know something!” she said in a hurried whisper. “You found something out!”

Tidwell didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I’ll stop by in a half hour or so.” Then the phone clicked in her ear. No politegood-bye, no hint of what news he might be bringing her. Maddening, to be sure. But at least he was keeping her in the loop. Not being so boorish and standoffish, as he had been yesterday.

With many of the guests departed now, Theodosia corralled Drayton and Haley at one of the front tables. “We need to run through the plans for tomorrow’s tea party at Cane Ridge,” she told them. “I just spoke with Aunt Libby and she’s got umpteen guests coming.”

“What’s this for again?” asked Haley.

“It’s a benefit for an animal rescue group over in Colleton County,” said Theodosia.

“Isn’t it heartwarming,” said Drayton, “how people step up to the plate to help out these small charities?”

Theodosia grinned. “You won’t find it quite so heartwarming if I tap you to go along with me on Thursday night’s scavenger hunt. As you recall, the tea shop is competing to help win funds for Tuesday’s Child.”

“Oh no!” Drayton exclaimed, staring at her with a deer-in-the-headlights gaze. “A scavenger hunt?” He looked like he’d just been told he had to attend a Jay-Z concert. “Surely your friend Max will have returned by then, so he can serve as your trusty sidekick. Or you can take Haley.”