Teacup Novellas 01 - Tea With Emma (7 page)

“I’m stuffed to the gills,” Jonathan added, “but that does sound awfully good. I might have to happen by around lunch time tomorrow.” He danced his unruly eyebrows up and down with delight.

Nana’s half-smile lifted as her eyes twinkled. “You know you’re welcome to stop by anytime, Jonathan. And I’m quite sure we’ll need another taste-tester, won’t we, Madeline?”

“Of course!” Maddie scratched above her brow, trying to remember her train of thought. “Where was I before I got distracted with that recipe? Oh! I know. I was just going to say that by the time we get the minor renovations finished, we should be ready to go.”

“For the record, I vote for these chess squares to be on the menu.” Jonathan helped himself to another of the gooey golden bars.

“Jonathan, I think I speak for all of us when I say we couldn’t do
any
of this without your sophisticated and experienced palate,” Maddie teased, drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. “As for these, we’ll dub them ‘Spencer Chess Squares’ in your honor.”

“Well now!” Jonathan beamed.

“Back to the task at hand, honey. Lanie’s going to help you with the marketing, printing, that sort of thing?” Nana inquired.

“Yes. She’s a whiz at layout and already has tons of ideas for advertising, don’t you, Lanie?”

“You’ll love what we come up with, Nana. I promise. It’s going to have a very English feel to it, top to bottom. And I’ve got a friend helping me design a simple website. Gotta have a web presence, you know.”

Maddie jumped back in. “Then I’ll do the decorating—tablecloths, window treatments, even personalized aprons for all of us. I can see it all in my head—it’s just a matter of pulling it all together. It’s going to be
fabulous!
”

Lanie took another sip of tea, then set the cup back on the delicate saucer. “Back up a sec, Maddie. Nana’s got a good point. What’s the rush?”

“Yes, Maddie, why the hurry?” Jonathan asked. “We definitely want this to be done right, so where’s the fire?”

Maddie wiped her mouth with her cloth napkin, blushing at the question. “No fire. Just a—I don’t know—a driving desire to do it.
Now.
I’ve been searching for years for something to pour myself into. I’m not sure I can explain it. I just feel such an urgency on so many different levels about this. Ever since our trip to England, it’s as if I’ve been
called
to do it—almost like a ministry. That probably sounds crazy, but it makes perfect sense to me. I guess I’m just asking you all to indulge me a little here. The sooner we open, the better.” She punctuated her request with an asking smile.

“Then that’s what we shall do,” Nana responded. Extending her hand to Jonathan, she instructed him, “Whatever it costs, whatever she needs, Jonathan. And you heard her—the sooner, the better.”

He wrapped her good hand in his, leaning over to kiss it. “Then, as Rachel so aptly put it, that’s what we shall do, ladies.” He patted her hand then turned to Lanie and Maddie. “We’ll get started right away on the remodeling in here and in the kitchen. And I know just the man for the job—Brad Chapman. He’s a contractor. Dependable, trustworthy, and he gets the job done.”

“I think I know who he is,” Lanie said. “Big guy? Nice tan? Thick black hair? Dimples?”

Maddie slowly tracked her attention. “So Lanie. Quite the information source on the new handyman, are we?”

“Stop with the insinuations, Maddie. I saw him at Home Depot a few weeks ago. It was no big deal. I happened to follow him out of the store and saw him get into a pickup, one of those big fancy kinds with a sign painted on the door—‘Brad Chapman Construction.’ No mystery, no romance, so put away your Cupid arrows, girl.”

Maddie cocked her eyebrow anyway. “All the more reason to get this ball rolling!”

Ian leaned back in his chair, pushing away from the desk. His head ached from too many hours pouring over his notes. He knew he could teach this subject in his sleep.
So why all the frustration?
Grabbing the crutches, he went through the routine, lifting himself from the chair and limping down the hall toward the kitchen. He stood in front of the large stainless steel refrigerator with the door open, welcoming the cool air against his skin. He reached for a chilled bottle of Pellegrino and closed the door. Moments later, seated on a wicker chair on the wide front porch, he tried to ignore the humid night air and just relax. 

Resting against the soft padded cushions on the wicker, he pulled out the bottle and took a long swig of the sparkling water. The bite of the cold, bubbly liquid refreshed him instantly. He looked around, taking in the nighttime sights and sounds of the neighborhood. A dog barked in the distance. A whiff of fried chicken drifted from somewhere, and he realized he’d forgotten to eat.

When he finally allowed his eyes to venture across the street, he noticed extra cars in the driveway and lights in the front room on the left side of the house.
Must be dinner guests.
He couldn’t make out any more than that through the sheers, only several folks sitting around a table appearing to have a good time.
Discussing nuclear physics, no doubt.
He chuckled at his sarcasm.

A breeze rustled the leaves above him, a sound Ian found soothing along with the faint chirping of crickets. He let his eyes close and crossed his arms across his chest. In a matter of moments, he drifted off to sleep.

He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when a commotion across the street woke him. The guests were apparently leaving—an older gentleman getting into a newer model Cadillac, and a younger, shorter one heading for a nondescript sedan parked at the curb.
Ah, the other partner in crime.

Ian scooted down in the chair, hoping they wouldn’t see him sitting on the dark porch. He could see—
Madeline, was it?
—standing at the top of her porch waving goodbye to them. When they drove off, she started back toward the front door, then did a double-take looking straight across the street at him.

“Don’t see me, don’t see me,” he whispered, willing her back into the house. As if on cue, she paused a moment then stepped into the house. Ian blew out the breath he’d been holding, thankful she hadn’t seen him.

Just as he was beginning to relax a few moments later, her door opened. Before he could move a muscle, she was half-way across the street.

“Hi neighbor. Warm night, isn’t it?”

Please don’t come over here and—

“I don’t know where my manners are, Dr. Grant. We had guests for dinner, and I should have invited you as well.”

He could see something in her hands as she gracefully walked up the steps to his porch. She was wearing a white sleeveless blouse over a pair of faded blue jeans. He couldn’t help noticing how nice she looked in that blouse, her curls bouncing off the collar’s edge.

“No need to apologize. I couldn’t have come.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” She sat down on the wicker swing adjacent to his chair.

“Tell me, Miss—”

“Maddie Cooper. Remember?”

“Of course. Tell me, Miss Cooper, are all American women as forward as you?”

She smiled, and he hated the way it warmed him.

“I don’t consider myself forward at all, Dr. Grant. Or may I call you Ian?”

He had no clue how to respond so he didn’t.

“I’m not forward, Ian. Just trying to be hospitable. Neighborly. You’re in a new country, in new surroundings, all alone . . .” She pointed to his foot propped up on the small wicker table. “You’re infirmed—”

“Thanks to you and your accomplice.”

She dipped her head briefly. “Point well taken. All the more reason I should have invited you to dinner. But since I didn’t, the least I can do is share a few of our leftovers. I hope that’s not considered bad manners in England?” Her eyes sparkled even in the moonlight, accompanying her hopeful smile.

“Well, I . . . it’s not considered . . . but—”

“Good. Then I shall leave them with you. Just pop the Chicken Crescents in the microwave for about a minute. There’s also a Waldorf salad—apples, nuts, celery—and a couple of chess squares. I hope you like them. I’ll put this in the kitchen for you then you can eat whenever you like.”

With that, she disappeared inside the house.
The audacity. She just walks in like she owns the place. These Yanks have a lot to learn about etiquette.
Moments later she returned.

“It wasn’t necessary. You needn’t have bothered.” He tried to sound pleasant enough but somehow it didn’t come out that way.

She made her way to the top of the steps and began her descent. “Goodnight, Ian.”

He blinked, unsure what to make of her, what to say. She turned her head, casting one final smile before crossing the street.

Goodnight . . . Maddie.

Chapter 6

M
addie lifted the kettle of hot water to fill the Spode teapot to warm it properly. Carefully sloshing the water inside before pouring it back out, she then measured the loose tea leaves into the infuser filling the air with a delightful aroma. Taking the kettle of gently boiling water again from the stove’s burner, she refilled the teapot.

“There. Now we’ll let it steep for six minutes then give it a try. Are you ready?”

Nana smiled, visibly happy to be Maddie’s guinea pig as she practiced her new skills. “Ready when you are.”

Maddie picked up one of the delicately painted teacups. “Aren’t these beautiful?”

“They truly are. Who could have known that my little hobby, collecting teacups from around the world, would some day come in handy for you like this?”

“Are you sure you’re okay with us using them? You know there’s a good chance a few might get chipped or broken.”

“Good heavens, yes. What good are they stored away in the attic or collecting dust around here? And a chip here and there only adds character—to teacups
and
old ladies,” she mused, pointing to her useless left arm.

“You’re a character, all right. I’ve known that my whole life,” Maddie teased.

“I’m only trying to keep up with
you,
young lady.” Nana laughed again, her crooked smile as enchanting as ever.

“I’ve got a couple dozen new ones on order from that little shop in Chawton. The place where I found that gorgeous cup and saucer I brought back with me?”

“I love the deep, rich shades of red on that one. Plus, you know I’m always partial to the ones with gold touches. It’s absolutely stunning.”

“Isn’t it though? Although the ones I’ve ordered are a variety—all different kinds. No two alike.”

“That makes each one so special.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get back to work here. Is your cup still warm? According to my research, the best ‘cuppa’ is one that is served in a warmed teacup.”

“Warmed and ready to go,” Nana obliged. “What flavor are we having today?”

“This is an English Breakfast Tea. Pour your cream first, Nana. That’s the proper way—
before
I pour the tea.”

“I know. I remember.” Nana poured a splash of cream into her cup then set the chilled creamer back on the table. “Hope we finish this before the workers get here. They’re like a bunch of bulls in a china shop.” She chuckled. “A
real
china shop, in this case.”

Nothing pleased Maddie more than the sound of her grandmother’s laughter.  Coming from one who could have chosen never to laugh again, it was music to her ears. She checked her watch. “Six minutes exactly. Any longer and we risk a bitter tea. That’s because the longer it steeps, the better the chance for Tannin to be extracted from the tea leaves. ‘Bitter stuff, that Tannin.’”

“I was wondering when the accent would show up,” Nana feigned.

“Hush. This is a Taylors of Harrogate tea. Their teas were voted
Best Cup of Tea in England
. I’ve decided to use them exclusively. And if I’ve done my homework correctly and made this pot to specifications, it should be superb.
Utterly superb.”

“Yes,
Eliza.”

“Only the best for our customers, right? Okay, here we go.”

Maddie poured from the hand-painted teapot, first into Nana’s cup, then into her own. Following each sip, they discussed the flavor and quality of the tea giving today’s sample two thumbs up. Maddie added their comments to the list of other flavors they’d sampled over the past week.

Finally, she sat back to read over her notes. “Seems we both enjoyed the Earl Grey, the English breakfast, the Lemon and Herb Tisane, and the Scottish Breakfast tea. I liked the Peppermint Tisane, you did not. You liked the Raspberry and Rosehip Tisane, I did not. And we both
loved
the Yorkshire Gold. And during the holidays we’ll offer the Spiced Christmas tea—remember how good it smelled?”

“My goodness, what a lot of teas to keep up with. How will your customers—”

“
Our
customers.”

“How will
our
customers know what to choose?”

“Lanie will include a description of each flavor we offer on a page in our menu. She’s already doing a mock-up for us. I’m hoping she’ll bring a rough draft when she stops by after work. I found some gorgeous watercolors of teacups and English gardens, that sort of thing, by an art student at UT. She was thrilled when I offered to pay her for the prints to use on our menu. We’ll write a blurb about her on the back. Remind me to show those to you later, will you?”