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

Drayton turned a sympathetic gaze upon her. “You okay?” he whispered.

No.

Theodosia nodded instead. Yes, okay. She had to be okay. After all, what choice did she have?

It turned out to be a lovely, simple service with fine words, heartfelt testimonials, and emotions running fairly high. Parker’s brother, Charles, spoke at length about their growing up together, what a caring and socially conscious person Parker had been, and how he’d created such a successful and popular restaurant. When Charles finished, his voice nearly cracking, he stepped back to his seat and put his arms around Shelby in a warm embrace.

Drayton let loose a quiet
hmm
in the back of his throat, while Theodosia tracked the girl’s movements with her eyes.

And then the service was concluded. Charles carried the urn down the aisle, while Shelby and the relatives followed him in a monochromatic flying wedge of white faces and black clothes. The carillon’s bronze bells let loose their ringing notes for a second round, this time
Pastoral Symphony
from
Messiah
by Handel.

“Short and simple,” Drayton declared, as they waited their turn to ease into the aisle. “Just the way I’d like my memorial service to be.”

Theodosia nudged him. “Don’t talk so gloomy,” she said. “You’re a long way from that.”

Drayton hesitated as he turned kind gray eyes upon her and said, “That’s what Parker thought, too.” Then, when he saw sudden pain flare in her eyes, he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t,” said Theodosia. “But you’re right. I guess most people
don’t
see it coming.”

“No, they don’t,” said Drayton.

Which set Theodosia to wondering again. Had Parker seen the end coming? He must have. That was why he’d fought, why he’d struggled so valiantly. He knew what was happening and fought with everything he had. If only…

Theodosia let loose a deep sigh, suddenly realizing she’d been off in a daze, locked in place, not budging an inch. Pretty much everyone else had filed out of the church already.

“You okay?” Drayton asked again. He’d waited patiently for her to regain her composure.

“Let’s go,” she said, stepping out into the aisle. “I want to talk to Shelby.”

“I thought you might,” he said.

The line for paying condolences snaked down the front steps and out onto a grassy plot, which gave Theodosia ample opportunity to get a look at the other mourners who’d shown up today. In fact, there was Joe Beaudry, smiling and chatting with an attractive woman.

“Beaudry,” said Theodosia.

“The lawyer,” Drayton sniffed. He said the name as if he were referencing bubonic plague. “What’s he doing here?”

“Good question,” said Theodosia. Was Beaudry feeling a twinge of guilt for leading Parker on about financing? Or was something else afoot?

Theodosia and Drayton took their places in the condolence line. It wound its way slowly past Charles Scully; his wife, Monica; and several other relatives. They murmured kind words, shook hands, and said all the proper things you’re supposed to say to the bereaved.

Finally they got to Shelby.

Theodosia didn’t bother with a handshake or an
I’m sorry
. Instead she said, “He left it all to you.” Her tone was filled with grit and veered toward the accusing.

Shelby looked suddenly stricken. “It’s not what you think,” she whispered. “Really, I can explain.”

Theodosia aimed a level gaze at her. “I’d so love to hear your explanation.”

Shelby seemed to consider this, then said, “Meet me later? We’ll talk?”

“I think we’d better do that,” said Theodosia, moving past her. “I’ll call you. I’ll be out all day, but I’ll call you.”

As Theodosia walked beside Drayton, on the way to her car, she turned back and gazed at the group of mourners who were still circling like some kind of oceanic gyre. She noted that Peaches Pafford was in the group. And, oh yes, there was David Sedakis. Looking quite composed.

Was Tidwell lurking somewhere? Theodosia certainly hoped he was.

They were back
at the Indigo Tea Shop by ten fifteen.

“How was the service?” asked Haley. She was hunkered in the kitchen, packing plastic tubs of crab salad, chicken salad,
sliced cucumbers, and wedges of Brie cheese into the large, industrial-strength metal coolers they used for theiroff-site catering jobs. A basket stuffed with French baguettes sat nearby, ready to go.

“It was very sad,” said Theodosia.

“Mournful,” Drayton echoed.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” said Haley, “but I wanted to get everything set for Aunt Libby’s event.”

“And is it?” asked Drayton.

“Of course,” said Haley, not missing a beat.

“How are things out in the tea shop?” asked Drayton, inclining his head. He was fretting over Miss Dimple and her brother, just as Theodosia and Haley had predicted he would.

“Miss Dimple and her brother are doing a bang-up job,” Haley told him. “She’s preparing and serving tea and he’s delivering scones.”

“And our customers appear happy?” asked Drayton.

“Of course, they are,” said Haley. “And if you guys can stop obsessing for one minute that this place is going to go bankrupt, then you could start toting this stuff out to the cars so we can take off for Cane Ridge.”

“My my,” said Drayton, “aren’t we wound tight today.”

“Yes, we are,” said Haley. She glanced at Theodosia. “We’ll load all the food into your Jeep and I’ll drive out separately in my car?”

“Works for me,” said Theodosia. She was anxious to get going. Anxious to have something else occupying her mind besides Parker’s death and funeral.

The three of them spent five minutes ferrying everything out the back door. Then, just as they were ready to take off, Drayton decided he needed two more teapots. So he ducked back inside.

“Drayton’s gonna have a coronary,” Haley observed. She was wearing her white chef’s jacket over a pair of blackleggings.
She’d removed her tall chef’s hat and was twisting it in her hands.

“Don’t say that,” said Theodosia. “He’s just being mindful.”

“I brought three, just in case,” said Drayton, slipping out the back door, juggling his precious cargo in a cardboard box.

“Good thinking,” said Theodosia, while Haley just rolled her eyes.

Drayton loaded his final box, then turned to Theodosia and Haley, almost reluctant to leave. “You really think Miss Dimple and her brother can hold down the fort?”

“Of course, they can,” Haley snapped. “It’s a limited menu. Just tea, scones, zucchini bread, and soup. All they have to do is ladle, slice, pour, and serve. Basically, it’s idiotproofed.”

“They’re not exactly idiots,” Theodosia reminded her. “Miss Dimple is our bookkeeper, and her brother used to be an English professor at the College of Charleston.”

“Apologies,” said Haley, “then let’s just say the food service has been greatly simplified. Is that better?”

“Much,” said Theodosia.

“You know what?” said Haley, her eyes starting to twinkle. “When Miss Dimple told me she had an elf to help out, I didn’t think she literally meant an elf!”

“Excuse me,” said Drayton, “you’re talking about her brother?”

Haley nodded.

“The man is merely short of stature,” said Drayton.

“But did you see his shiny head?” Haley giggled. “Did you see his pointy ears?”

“Nonsense,” said Drayton.

Haley nodded sagely. “Miss Dimple was right. He is an elf.”

Built in 1835 on
Horlbeck Creek, Cane Ridge was a former rice plantation that now served as the genteel home for Theodosia’s Aunt Libby Ravelle and her companion and housekeeper, Margaret Rose Reese. The property was set high on a vantage point overlooking a quiet pond and marshland, and the surrounding low flat fields, once crisscrossed with dikes and sluiceways, were now thick with brush and forest and blended effortlessly with South Carolina’sold-growth piney forests.

The main house was a fanciful Gothic Revival cottage replete with soaring peaks and gables, a steeply pitched shingled roof, and a broad piazza extending around three sides. Anow-unused stable, a smokehouse, and smaller outbuildings were adjacent and accessed via a rocky path.

“You’re here!” Aunt Libby, tiny, silver haired, and always energetic, rushed out to greet the Indigo Tea Shop gang. “Theo, my darling. And Drayton!”

“You’re looking lovely as always,” said Drayton, bending down to give Aunt Libby a chaste peck on the cheek.

“And Haley!” Aunt Libby continued. She swept her arms open wide, and Haley rushed to greet her.

“Aunt Libby!” said Haley, giving her a gentle squeeze, “it’s been ages!”

“Too long,” Aunt Libby cooed. Then she straightened up, squared her narrow shoulders, and gave a delighted grin. But you’re all here now and just in the nick of time. We’ve already had a few guests show up.”

“This early?” frowned Drayton, who was struggling to lug two of Haley’s metal containers.

Aunt Libby waved a hand as if to dispel his nervousness. “But don’t worry your head over them. They’re chatting away on the front lawn, enjoying the lovely view. I had my dear neighbor, Mr. Bohicket, bring in ahalf-dozen tables with chairs and they’re all set up to allow for a grand view of the pond.” Aunt Libby chuckled. “The cedar waxwings are out there right now, doing their aerial ballet to entertain.”

Aunt Libby was a bird lover of the first magnitude. She went throughfifty-pound sacks of cracked corn, sunflower seeds, and thistle like they were popcorn at a James Bond movie. And she could instantly recognize birds by the shape of their bill, tail, and wing bars, much the same as aviation addicts delighted in identifying aircraft.

“Come along, come along,” Aunt Libby urged. “Bring everything into the kitchen and have at it.” Then, as Drayton and Haley trudged past them, Aunt Libby said to Theodosia, “How was the funeral? I assume you went?”

“I did,” said Theodosia, “and it was sad, as are all funerals.”

“But you’re holding up.”

“Because I’m keeping busy,” said Theodosia.

“Ah,” said Aunt Libby, a gleam in her eye.

While Haley quickly
unpacked her coolers and began to assemble tea sandwiches, Drayton set about brewing tea.
Theodosia, nervous about seating and serving, ducked out the front door to check the arrangements. But just as Aunt Libby had promised, tables were scattered across her front lawn, which swept down to the pond like a carpet of green velvet. A separate tea table, draped in white linen, had also been set up for the staging of their outdoor tea service.

Aunt Libby had been quite right about the view. Thesun-dappled pond shimmered and rippled as flocks ofwell-fed birds cawed their greetings and wheeled in circles across the sky. Truly a wondrous sight!

“How are the sandwiches coming?” Theodosia asked, as she popped back into the kitchen.

“Coming along great,” said Haley. Her butter knife was fairly flying across the slices of bread that she’d laid out.

“How many guests are we expecting?” asked Drayton.

“There were thirty as of yesterday,” said Theodosia. “But there’ll probably be a fewdrop-ins.”

“No problem,” said Haley, “we’ve got plenty of food.”

“Oh, my gosh,” said Theodosia, as Haley grabbed a large bread knife and began slicing off crusts with the skill of a samurai warrior. “You’re using the silver Tiffany trays?”

“That’s what Aunt Libby gave us,” said Haley. “She said they hadn’t been used for a couple of years and were just sitting on her sideboard looking pretty but gathering dust.” She paused. “Except we dusted them.”

“Always nice to enjoy the good pieces,” said Drayton. Even though he owned a fine, almostmuseum-quality collection of tea ware that included teacups by Shelley, Spode, and Royal Winton, he wasn’t averse to pulling them out and using them for a simple cup of Assam.

“I see her point,” said Theodosia. “If this isn’t enough of a festive occasion, what is?”

“So how are we going to work this?” asked Drayton, draping an apron around his neck.

“We’ll serve the walnut scones first,” said Haley, “with the
maple pecan butter.” She quickly scooped her discarded crusts into a large silver bowl for later distribution to the birds. “Then our second course of quiche.”

“Just quiche?” asked Theodosia. She had a sneaking feeling that Haley had something extra up her sleeve.

“Okay, okay,” said Haley. “So I made my famous mushroom mornay sauce to drizzle on top.”

“Yum,” said Drayton. “And a fine sauce it is.”

“After the quiche,” said Haley, “we’ll placethree-tiered trays on each of the tables. Tea sandwiches on the top and middle tiers, of course, brownie bites on the bottom tier.”

“You’re always so well organized,” said Theodosia.

Haley nodded, “I am in theory. But nothing ever goes off without a hitch.”

But this tea did.

As her guests arrived, Aunt Libby greeted them and led them around front to the tables. After air kisses and exuberant hellos were exchanged, everyone settled in expectantly for their fancy tea luncheon.

That was when Theodosia and Drayton snapped to the business at hand. Theodosia carried out the first round of scones, passed around footed crystal dishes filled with Devonshire cream and sweet honey, made sure everyone was properly served, and then chatted with the guests, many of whom she knew through Aunt Libby. Drayton, armed with two teapots, threaded his way among the tables, pouring tea, answering questions, and doling out little tidbits of information on tea.