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“I know you’ve all had time to peruse some of the poetry books stacked on your tables,” Theodosia said. “Now Drayton and I would like to share a couple of our favorite quotes about tea.” She ducked her head and said, “Drayton?”
Drayton looked around the tea room with a warm smile. “I think the American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson was definitely on to something when he said ‘Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.’ ”
“And the English novelist Jane Austen summed it up brilliantly,” Theodosia added, “when she said ‘But indeed, I would rather have nothing but tea.’ ”
“And one more,” Drayton said. “The novelist and critic Henry James was quoted as saying ‘There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.’ ”
There was silence for a few moments, then applause broke out.
“I think they liked it,” Theodosia whispered to Miss Dimple, who was also clapping with gusto. “Especially when Drayton speaks.”
“He’s got that rich orator’s voice,” Miss Dimple said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I think he could sell crushed ice to the devil himself.”
“It’s from all the work he does at the Heritage Society,” Theodosia said. “Drayton’s not just a board member, he very often conducts lectures and seminars.”
But the tea didn’t end there. Even though two or three people took off after the dessert course, most remained to linger and talk over a final cup of tea. And shop.
Because it was no coincidence that Theodosia had recently stocked the Indigo Tea Shop with all sorts of goodies. There were tea cozies, jars of honey, tins of tea, honey sticks, cups and saucers, Yixing teapots, tea caddies, mugs, and sets of small celadon cups. Theodosia’s own line of T-Bath products was available, including Chamomile Mist, Sweet Tea Feet Treat, and Honey Jasmine Scrub.
Theodosia was inundated with questions as she cashed people out and wrapped purchases in their trademark indigo blue tissue paper. She’d just gift wrapped a small red glazed teapot and popped it into a blue bag when Drayton nudged her in the ribs and said, “Who invited that fellow? Have we interjected some sort of Western theme that I don’t know about?”
Startled, Theodosia looked up to see the cowboy staring at her, a curious expression on his face.
11
Theodosia hurried over to greet the cowboy. “Excuse me, is there a problem?” she asked. She was suddenly worried that Beth Ann had run out of food or had made a misstep and was in some sort of trouble.
“Kinda dark in here,” was the cowboy’s laconic reply.
“Moody,” responded Theodosia. “Now if you’d please tell me what…”
“You were at Brittlebank Manor this morning,” the cowboy said, interrupting her. He hitched his thumbs in his belt and gave Theodosia an inquisitive look.
“That’s right,” she said. The cowboy wasn’t acting as if something terrible had happened. So maybe this was supposed to be a friendly visit? But why? For what purpose?
“My name’s Quaid Barthel and I’m a personal assistant for Mr. Adler, the director?”
“Yes, yes.”
“The thing is, Mr. Adler is absolutely crazy about your cinnamon coffee cake.” Quaid dipped his head as if he were slightly embarrassed now. “So he sent me over here to pick up another pan.”
Theodosia let out a breath. Not a problem per se, just a director with a sweet tooth.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any more coffee cake. This morning I brought two pans of it for the craft services table, so that was pretty much it. That’s all we baked.” Theodosia made a kind of helpless gesture with her hands. “And right now, as you can probably see, I’ve got my hands full.”
Quaid Barthel leaned around Theodosia to inspect the tea room. “Looks like a full house. You having some kind of tea party?”
“An event tea. A Poetry Tea.”
“Huh. Never heard of such a thing. I guess women like a fancy tea?”
“For the most part, yes they do.”
When Quaid made no move to leave, Theodosia reached up, put a hand on his shoulder, and tried to spin him in the direction of the front door. He was your basic large, immovable object, but she was finally able to get him headed in the right direction. Which was back out the door.
“Tell Mr. Adler that we’ll be sure to bring an extra pan of cinnamon coffee cake tomorrow morning, okay? One reserved just for him.”
Quaid turned and touched his hand to his cowboy hat in a kind of salute. “Will do.”
