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Theodosia hurried back to the counter, where lots more customers had lined up. More teacups and tea tins were hurriedly wrapped while Drayton gave explicit directions on steeping times.
One guest, Cordelia Sadler, who chaired the Friends of the Opera Society, wiggled a finger at Theodosia.
“Yes?” Theodosia said, leaning forward.
“Have you ever catered a Mad Hatter Tea?” Cordelia asked. Known to her friends as Cricket, she was petite with a frizzle of dark brown hair, and was dressed in a peach-colored tweed jacket and matching skirt. Both wrists clanked with real-deal fourteen-karat-gold bracelets.
“Not yet.”
“Would you like to?” Cricket asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Theodosia asked, more than a little intrigued.
“The Friends of the Opera plan to host a black-tie charity ball, a fundraiser for the Opera Society, and we’d like to do something a little out of the ordinary. Our initial thoughts were of a Mad Hatter Tea, but a truly elegant affair held outdoors, in the evening, by candlelight, with actors dressed up as the Red Queen, the Mad Hatter, and, of course, the White Rabbit.”
“I not only adore your idea,” Theodosia said, “but please believe me when I say I desperately want to work with you on this.”
“Come to our planning meeting next week?” Cricket asked.
“Count on it!”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the Poetry Tea was all over except for the cleanup.
“The thing to do now is move,” Drayton said as the lights were turned back up to full power and they surveyed the detritus in the tea room. Candles had guttered down in their holders; dirty dishes and crumpled napkins were strewn across tables. “Let’s leave this to chance and see if we can find a pristine new location.”
“Nonsense,” Miss Dimple said. “We can have this place picked up and set right in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe one of yours but certainly not mine,” Drayton said.
But Miss Dimple was as good as her word. She stacked the dirty plates, teacups, and saucers in blue plastic tubs, carried them into the kitchen, then came back for more.
“She’s an Energizer Bunny,” Drayton remarked as he collected his teapots.
“She’s priceless,” Theodosia said, as she pitched in to help Miss Dimple clear the tables.
Which was a good thing because five minutes later, Helene Deveroux walked in with Lewin Usher, the executive producer, on her arm.
“Is it too late for tea?” Helene asked as she looked around the tea shop expectantly. She was dressed in distressed blue jeans that had probably been hand-slashed by a famous designer and a form-fitting jean jacket covered in seed pearls.
“You just missed the tail end of our Poetry Tea by about forty-five minutes,” Drayton said.
“A what?” Usher said. Today he wore a seersucker suit with a pink shirt and tie that perfectly matched his face.
His inquisitive look told Theodosia that he was interested, so she quickly explained the workings to him.
“That sounds wonderful,” Usher exclaimed. “Poetry and tea. How very creative and symbiotic.”
“It’s just one of many event teas that we host,” Theodosia said.
“What are some of the others?” Helene asked.
“Oh, we’ve done Mystery Teas, Victorian Teas, Chocolate Teas, Lavender Teas, Glam Girl Teas, and Pretty in Pink Teas,” Theodosia said. “You name it, we’ve probably done it or are planning to do it.”
“This Friday we’re hosting a Breakfast at Tiffany’s Tea,” Drayton put in.
“How about just regular afternoon tea?” Usher asked. His eyes flicked over to the glass pie saver that sat on the counter. It was stacked with scones.
