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"Broke her arm in two places when she tried to stop him from beating me. He twisted it - that was the first break - then he knocked her down and stomped on it with his work boots. That's when I knew I had to do something. I left that night when he was drunk. Thank God he died less than six months later, driving into a tree. I leave flowers there all the time. To thank the tree for killing him. " She shook her head. "God, I'm sorry. You didn't need to hear all that. You just. . . " As he turned his head toward her, Tina couldn't finish the thought. You just have the face of a man who can handle hearing anything. Who would take care of anything. And she suspected, for all her reserve, that Marguerite could use that. Maybe every superhumanly strong woman could.
"Take your seats, ladies. " As she stepped out of the private tearoom, Marguerite noted with some concern the conversation going on between Tina and Tyler. She raised her voice high enough to interrupt it. "If you can be patient another moment or two, we'll talk about the tea ceremony and then start our tea. " The children moved as a herd, swarming around the three tables.
"Miss Marguerite?"
She stopped, her hands on the spindles of her chair. She realized that while she'd accomplished her objective of cutting short the possibility of Tina sharing information about the history of her relationship with Marguerite that Marguerite did not wish Tyler to know, she'd also drawn his attention back to her. She eyed
him warily. "Yes, Mr. Winterman?"
"With all due respect, I think you overlooked one very important point of etiquette for a tea party, if a gentleman is present. "
It was on the tip of her tongue to indicate that one was not. The message must have clear on her face, for Tina coughed over a laugh. Marguerite schooled her expression to polite impassivity. "And that would be?"
"If a gentleman is in the room, he should assist the ladies into their chairs. " And to demonstrate, he stepped to Debra's chair and pulled it out, gesturing to her to take her seat with a flourish. She blushed but complied, sitting down and looking self-conscious but pleased as he brought her up to the table.
"Me, me!" He honored the clamor, repeating the act for each child present, as well as Tina Moorefield when the children demanded she stand back up so he could go through the same ritual. He saved Natalie for nearly last. The birthday girl gave him a beatific smile, spread her skirts out and perched. She'd donned a pair of ruby slippers with two-inch heels and now she hooked them on the top rung of the chair's frame to accommodate herself in the adult-sized chair.
"Miss M, you have to wait, too. He said it's etket. Et. . . "
"Etiquette. "
Marguerite stopped, caught in the act of trying to seat herself before he noted that she was the last one standing. As if he had not been aware of that all along, she reflected, with an irritated glance at his amused expression.
He moved behind her with an exaggerated reproving look that made the little girls giggle and pulled out the chair for her.
Marguerite turned her head toward him in a gracious movement but the look she shot him once she wasn't looking toward the girls was pure venom. He seemed unperturbed, his fingertips caressing her back, the tips of her hair as he guided her into the chair. Marguerite took her seat, felt his warmth and strength behind her as he guided the chair up to the table. "Thank you," she said.
"I know who you think is the prettiest girl here," Natalie announced, pinning him with a knowing look.
Tyler grinned. "That would be the birthday girl, of course. " Natalie shook her head, her curls swinging. "You're just saying that because it's my birthday. You think Miss M is the prettiest, because you're in love with her. " There was a clatter as Marguerite knocked one of her fortunately empty teacups across the table. She grabbed at it but it rolled over the edge, skittering away as if possessed. Before she blinked, Tyler had caught it in his open palm.
He brought it back to the table, sitting it down next to her hand, meeting her flustered gaze. "I handle delicate objects very well," he said, low, as the girls exclaimed over the fortunate catch.
She stared at him. He passed a knuckle over her cheek. "All right?"
"Fine. " She drew her head back. Cleared her throat. "Thank you for that important lesson, Mr. Winterman. If you could take your seat now, we'll go on with the tea. " Marguerite waited until he found his chair, trying to still her racing heart, chastising herself for being so ridiculous about his presence here, the amused and knowing looks Tina and Chloe were exchanging, the intuition of the children. She was feeling invaded on all sides and she placed the blame squarely on his shoulders for appearing in her day when he had not been invited. But this was Natalie's party, she reminded herself. That was her focus and her salvation. Just like with Brendan.
Immerse herself in the details and the seas moving turbulently within her would calm, even under the unsettling gaze of Tyler Winterman.
"Now, girls, let's talk a little bit about the tea ceremony itself. The chairs we are sitting in were made in 1850 by a master craftsman, Thomas Wilkenson. He put his initials in the design work of each one, in the left arm. You can run your fingers over it, feel it, his promise that each one was hand-crafted. His wife did the brocade work which, while it eventually had to be replaced, was reproduced as she did it. By hand and with the same pattern, by her granddaughter. That's what a tea ceremony emphasizes. The detail and perfection. The care. Imagine it's a hundred years ago and there's so much going on in your daily life. Well, even now. You have very busy days, don't you? Tell me what you do all day. "
"School. "
"Soccer. "
"Dance. "
"Homework. "
"Piano. "
And the list went on. When it ran down, she nodded. "So you see, we are all so very busy. Now, imagine if you set aside thirty minutes of your day for this. A quiet oasis of time, where you could set a mood or tone just by how carefully you planned the ceremony, the enjoyment of those who you might invite to attend, every detail, from flowers, candles, colors. . . you can do this for your friends, your parents, your sister. . . " She held the girls riveted, bringing alive a way of life that had been all but forgotten and perhaps had never existed as perfectly as it was imagined now. But in just the couple of times he'd been here, Tyler could tell how much these details meant to her, as if they were tiny stitches that kept her life perfectly sewn together, so what was inside didn't burst out.
He loved watching her move, speak, but he especially liked her stillness. That was when he felt the energy rolling off her in waves most strongly. Like now. She wore black heels with that cheongsam, a very sexy and yet elegant choice for a woman of her stature and coloring, the formfitting skirt stopping just above her knee. When she'd had her back to him, he'd lingered on the three reminders of even the strongest woman's vulnerability, her fragility. The nape of her neck, the small of her back and the slender anklebones, so similar to and perfectly aligned with the slim heels of her black dress shoes. He wondered how she would react if he touched his lips to that anklebone, caressed it with the heat of his mouth. Then he thought he might better turn his thoughts elsewhere, for if Chloe or Gen asked him to get up to help with anything, he would not be in a suitable condition to be at a children's birthday party.
After the proper amount of time for the seven-year-old attention span, Marguerite concluded her stories about the tea ceremony. The girls had a half-hour to sip their tea,
eat their cookies and blow the candles out of their teacakes before Tina agreed that her daughter could begin opening her presents. In a move that was typical for a child without a father but no less capable of tugging at his heartstrings, Natalie commanded Tyler to sit by her while she was doing so. As she compelled him to admire each gift, the other little girls joined her in doing what little girls did naturally, trying out flirting skills that would be honed to dangerous proportions by their early teens but were simply charming now.
