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With an inward shrug, Helen answered. “It’s true. Your tea takes ages—the better part of a year—to reach London. Its quality…” She shook her head sadly.
“We’re at the dining table, it’s true, but I assure you that my family is not faint-hearted. They’ll find your descriptions to be of great interest. I believe you said that the tea we imbibe is adulterated. Containing…”
Embarrassed but refusing to show it, Helen sat up straighter. “The inferior tea that reaches you now is in part tea leaf, sawdust, dye, plaster, twig, pebble…Elijah, what have I missed?”
“Mold. You missed the blooms of mold that spread while the tea languishes in the holds of the bloated East Indiamen.”
Pen twisted her face. “Atrocious!”
Elijah snapped his fingers. “The Millers will save you, Penelope. Watch my ship’s sails catch wind on Thursday, and in less time than an English merchant takes one-way from China, you’ll see chests of first-of-the-season tea fly overAlacrity’sgunwales as they’re unloaded.”
Nicholas lifted his goblet, drawing Helen’s gaze to how his fingers held the lucky goblet. “Hear! Hear!”
By the fourth course—a Greek dish of roasted lamb seasoned with oregano, garlic, and lemon—Helen had eaten so much she could only take a few bites of the succulent meat. Elijah ate without reserve, complimenting heartily.
“Good!” Sirena replied to his latest praise. “Eat! You must be strong for your journey, eh?”
An extravagant number of forks and goblets had made up each place setting, but after hours of conversation and dining, they dwindled. Staring at her lonely dessert fork, Helen mused aloud that she would have been a poor guest at Houqua’s palace, for she couldn’t imagine eating another bite.
Pen smiled, a hand placed delicately over her midriff. “One day, when I am hostess of a dinner party, I shall invert the order of the courses and pay no heed to the scandal! Imagine enjoying dessertfirst—before the senses are dulled from this herb and that seasoning. Before one is stuffed.”
Helen laughed. “Anyone who would complain should not be invited to return!”
“Indeed! Whatisfor dessert tonight, Mama?”
“Lokumandkaymakli kayisi tatlisi.”
Nicholas’s eyebrows rose, making Helen wonder what they were to be served.
Vassilis rubbed his hands together. “Many delicacies were served tonight, but we shall finish the meal as a family ought.”
“My husband means that these Turkish desserts are not as fancy as Frenchpâtisserieor English cakes. But they are dear to our family, and we hope you’ll enjoy them!”
Vassilis nodded wholeheartedly. “It’s been too long! Especially for thekayisi.Very good you’re with us tonight,Nikolaos.”
Pen’s eyes widened.“Mama, what made you think of servingkayisi? I can’t remember the last time we had them.”
Sirena waved her hand in an elegant circular motion. “I thought of Vassilis’s favorite dessert to celebrate the commission. Nicholas, your favorite as you invest in the Millers’s tea venture and bring us new friends.”
That answer didn’t satisfy Pen, who stared at Helen, as if wanting to say something.
While dessert was served, Vassilis gazed at the table with the enthusiasm of a boy. “My favorite!Lokum!Turkish delight,” he added for Helen’s and Elijah’s benefit.
Pastel squares in various colors, dusted in powdered sugar, filled a silver platter.
Sirena pointed to the large oval porcelain dish. “For my son! His favorite—apricot!”
Helen’s eyes opened as huge as Pen’s as she took in the cream-stuffed fruit, studded with crushed pistachios.
Nicholas made a low, deep-throated sound. “It’s been far too long. Thank you, Mama.”
Pen met Helen’s eyes even as she addressed her brother. “I’d forgotten your fondness forapricots, Nicholas.”
“Fondness?” Sirena shook her head, laughing. “Oh, no.Weaknessfor them, eh? You’re not one for sweets, Nicholas—except these apricots.”
Sirena herself served the Turkish delight first, offering and transferring each person’s selections using a pair of silver tongs.
“Rosewater, please,” Helen requested distractedly, trying not to look at Nicholas.
