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“Oh my, yes,” Drayton said with a satisfied smile. “I think this tea should do the trick nicely.”
5
“We need to talk about lunch,” Theodosia said to Haley. She was standing in their postage stamp–sized kitchen watching Haley spread honeyed chicken salad on two dozen slices of bread, add crisp lettuce, top it with another slice of bread, then expertly cut off the crusts and slice the sandwiches into quarters.
“Besides these tea sandwiches I’ve got corn chowder, white bean cassoulet, and a bacon and goat cheese Bibb lettuce salad,” Haley said.
“You never fail to amaze me, Haley,” Theodosia said. Haley managed to turn out baked goods as well as creative bistro-style luncheons day after day.
Haley grinned. “Sometimes I amaze myself.”
There was a CLUNK at the swinging door and Beth Ann came in. She was five years younger than Haley, slim with dark hair, and a junior at Clemson, where she was majoring in marketing. But Beth Ann had taken this quarter off. “A gap quarter,” she’d explained. “Instead of a gap year. To get some practical experience.”
“I need two more cream scones and a container of strawberry jam,” Beth Ann said.
“Coming right up,” Haley said. “Hey, are you having fun out there?”
“You know, I am,” Beth Ann said. “I never understood how a small business operated until I started filling in here.”
“You mean lean and mean?” Theodosia asked. “Since we do tend to run things on a shoestring.”
“It’s more your coordination and the planning that intrigues me. How you develop concepts for your various event teas, market them, then make them actually happen. All while still managing your day-to-day work. I have to say it’s pretty cool.”
“So you’re learning a few things,” Theodosia said.
“Lots,” Beth Ann enthused.
“What would you say if I asked you to handle the craft services table on set tomorrow? I’d help you arrange things, but then I have to hustle back here for our Poetry Tea.”
Beth Ann looked thoughtful. “At Brittlebank Manor? Where that guy was killed?”
“Look at it this way,” Haley said. “The probability of another murder occurring in the same place is off the charts. You’ve been pre-disastered.”
Theodosia and Beth Ann both chuckled at Haley’s remark. Because it was, in a strange way, absolutely true.
“Okay,” Beth Ann said. “I’ll give it a shot.”
* * *
Back outside in the tea room, Theodosia was setting tables for their luncheon crowd when their octogenarian bookkeeper, Miss Dimple, came flying in.
“Bless me,” she said, registering surprise at seeing Theodosia and Drayton. “Aren’t the two of you supposed to be on set today?”
“The operative words are supposed to be,” Theodosia said. “But with yesterday’s murder…”
Miss Dimple’s smile collapsed. “Oh, that’s right. How awful. I read about it in this morning’s Post and Courier. I think the word they used was heinous. Was it heinous?”
“It was indeed.”
“So what’s going to happen now? Will they call it quits with the movie?”
“Apparently it’s not only Broadway where the show must go on,” Theodosia said. “We were told that the assistant director would be doing location shoots around Charleston today. You know, footage to use for the opening, a few transition shots, and footage for when they roll credits. I think they call it B-roll.”
“And then what?” Miss Dimple asked. She was a grandmotherly type with pink-tinged hair and apple cheeks. Old-school all the way, she often tossed out quaint phrases such as whoops-a-daisy and tickety-boo.
“And then, hopefully by tomorrow, Peregrine Pictures will have a replacement director,” Theodosia said.
“It’s that easy? You just call Hertz Rent-a-Director and ask for a new one?”
