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Even though I have better things to do. And right now I’d better grab those teapots off the counter before Drayton gives me the evil eye for letting his tea steep too long and release tannins.
But things have a way of working out, and by the the time Miss Dimple came flying into the shop, Theodosia had everything under control.
“Hey, pretty lady,” Theodosia called to Miss Dimple.
Their still-spry octogenarian bookkeeper grinned at her from under her cap of pink-tinged curls and sped to the front counter. “I was thrilled when I got your call,” she said. “You know how much I love coming in to help serve. Makes for a fun break—sometimes tallying columns of numbers and making out payroll checks gets a little old.”
“We love having you, dear lady,” Drayton said, which made her smile even more. In Miss Dimple’s eyes, Drayton was the perfect Southern gent who could do no wrong.
“What do you want me to do?” Miss Dimple asked. She was plumpish, barely five feet tall, and sharp as a tack. She spoke in a breathy voice and used old-fashioned phrases such as my heavens and bless me.
“Make the rounds with seconds and tally up checks,” Theodosia said. “Most of our morning tea customers are getting ready to leave, so then we can clear the tables and kick it into high gear. Do some decorating.”
Miss Dimple blinked as she gazed around the tea shop, which was about three-quarters full. “And you’re hosting a Wind in the Willows Tea at noon? Did I get that right?”
“You did indeed,” Drayton said.
“So cute and inventive,” Miss Dimple marveled. Then she grabbed a teapot in one hand and a pitcher of ice water in the other and took off.
***
Theodosia had thought long and hard about the decor for their Wind in the Willows Tea. So she’d gone to a craft shop and bought all the packages of dried moss that she could find. Now, with the tables finally cleared, she was ready to see if she could bring her vision to fruition.
First, she placed a carpet of green moss on each table. This was followed by a crystal vase filled with yellow daffodils. Then she added a few Wind in the Willows picture books, followed by an array of plush animals that she’d borrowed from Leigh Carroll, the owner of the Cabbage Patch Gift Shop.
“It’s Mr. Toad,” Miss Dimple said, suddenly snatching up one of the plushies. “He’s my favorite. But I see you’ve got the entire cast of characters on display.” She touched a hand to her ample chest to express her joy. “I love it.”
“We’re not done yet,” Theodosia said. “I managed to borrow a bunch of Royal Albert plates from Miss Hattie’s Antiques.” She set down her stack of plates on one of the tables and handed the top plate to Miss Dimple.
“This is amazing,” she exclaimed. Who would have guessed there are actually Wind in the Willows–themed plates?”
“Probably because the book is that much loved.”
As Miss Dimple set out the plates, cups, and saucers, Theodosia added stalks of dried lavender tied with ribbons and small boxes of Walkers shortbread cookies as favors for her guests. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Yes,” she declared, a glow of satisfaction lighting her face, “this will do nicely.”
***
At the stroke of twelve noon (or eleven fifty-four, per Drayton’s perpetually slow-running watch), their guests began to arrive. There were two couples who’d come from the nearby Featherbed House B and B (on the recommendation of Angie, the proprietor) and a mom with two daughters who were interested in learning more about tea service. There was a flock of tea regulars, as well, that included Jill, Kristen, Judi, Jessica, Monica, and Linda.
Theodosia greeted everyone with a warm hello and gently handed them off to Miss Dimple, who escorted them to their various tables.
As the trickle of guests began to slow and Theodosia was about ready to give up on Delaine, there was a high-pitched, boisterous cry. Then Delaine burst through the door, all the while delivering a loud, running commentary to her two guests about the history of Church Street and wasn’t it extraordinary that a historic old building had been converted into such a charming little tea shop?
Then Delaine looked up and shouted, “Theo!”
Theodosia squared her shoulders as she went to greet Delaine. But Delaine was already babbling away.
“Theo, this is my dear, dear aunt Glorene, who’s come for a visit, a short visit.” Delaine glanced sideways at the sixty-something, silver-haired woman as if delivering a coded message.
“Lovely to meet you,” Theodosia said.
“And this...” Delaine almost shoved her other guest forward. “This is Mignon Merriweather Claxton.”
“Mrs. Claxton,” Theodosia said, extending her hand. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you,” Mignon purred back but with a twinkle in her eye. “How very kind of you.”
