Shades of Earl Grey

those grapes,” she snapped. “Right there in the basket.” She shook her head good- naturedly, knowing she was a perfectionist and sometimes a little too hard-driving for her own good. For anyone’s good. “What would you guys do around here without me to keep up my constant barrage of browbeating?” she added.

“Haley,” said Drayton, who was now scrambling to place grapes on plates and slide plates onto trays, “I don’t mind saying that sometimes you employ the iron-fisted tactics of a Prussian general.”

She grinned as she topped each square of quiche with a bright sliver of roasted red pepper. “Why, thank you, Dray-ton. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Like hotcakes,” marveled Theodosia. “Your quiche just went like hotcakes. How many pans did you bake?” she asked Haley.

“Three,” said Haley, who was standing behind the counter, ringing up a final take-out order.

“So there were, what? A dozen servings in each pan?” asked Drayton.

“Yup,” said Haley as she handed change across the counter. “Thank you so much,” she told her customer. “Come back and see us again.”

“Three dozen lunches in the course of an hour or so,” said Theodosia. “And that’s not counting the tea and scone orders. We don’t usually do that many.”

“Better get that permit for outside tables,” chided Dray-ton.

“You’re right,” said Theodosia. “I’m definitely liking the way business is shaping up.”

“Wait until the T-Bath products go on sale,” warned Haley. “Business will be bonkers.”

“You really think so?” asked Theodosia. She was hopeful the T-Bath products would take off, but then again, you never know. Business could be a real crap shoot.

“I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised,” said Haley. She stretched her arms high above her head, bent slightly to the left. In her rust-colored long-sleeve T-shirt and long, filmy skirt of rust and blue, Haley looked like a ballet dancer, lithe and limber.

“In case you guys haven’t noticed, tea is big business these days,” pronounced Haley. “Look at all the green tea candles and tea-scented perfumes and lotions out there on the market. And every time you go into a gourmet shop or kitchen boutique, you find tons of teapots and tea infusers and boxed teas.”

“She’s right,” said Drayton. “And while we may not always like some of the bottled teas or premixed jars of chai in the supermarket, someone is buying them. Which I guess is good for us.”

“Speaking of business and products flying off the shelf,” said Theodosia, “how exactly are we going to display the T-Bath products when we launch on Thursday?”

“I’ve got that covered,” replied Drayton. “I found a marvelous old secretary at Tom Wigley’s antique shop. Wooden, a little scuffed, but it still retains most of its original shelves. Not too deep, either. I believe it will fit flush to the wall over near the fireplace and work perfectly as a display case.”

“Kind of like the wooden cabinet Delaine has in her store,” said Theodosia. “The one holding scarves and purses and such.”

Drayton furrowed his brow, trying to recall what was in Delaine’s shop. “Something like that, yes. Tom said he’d bring the piece round tomorrow.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Brooke Carter Crockett and her associate, Aerin Linley, were back in the tea shop that afternoon.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d see me again so soon,” laughed Brooke. “But we just had to come by for another cuppa.”

“Dear lady, twice in one day is an absolute delight,” assured Drayton. “Now let me share with you a Castleton estate tea. Still an Indian black tea, just not as buttery as your beloved Goomtee. This one is slightly fruity, but kindly reserve judgment until you’ve given it a fair shake.”

“Who’s minding the store?” asked Theodosia, as Dray-ton went off to prepare the pot of tea.

Aerin waved a hand. “Oh, business was slow, so we just hung a sign on the door. You know, one of those hand-scrawled notes that says, Back in twenty minutes.”

Theodosia nodded. It wasn’t unusual to see signs like that up and down Church Street and at the little shops throughout the historic district. People were always running out for tea or coffee or a quick visit. It was one of the little quirks that made the neighborhood so charming and fun to be part of.

She was also glad that Brooke and Aerin had just casually dropped by. As Theodosia well knew, repeat customers are the bread and butter of any small business.

The importance of generating repeat business was also one of the main reasons Theodosia tried to maintain a database of all her regular customers’ names and addresses. If you mailed out postcards on luncheon specials or invited folks to promotional events like the T-Bath open house they were staging Thursday, customers would continue to return.

“Say, Theo,” began Brooke. “I was telling Aerin about our little talk this morning. You know, when you asked about people just dropping by Heart’s Desire and offering items for sale? She remembered someone acted somewhat strangely while I was away in New York.”

“That’s right,” said Aerin. “It was a woman who came in a few weeks ago with a very pretty brooch.”

“There was something unusual about her behavior?” asked Theodosia.

Aerin Linley paused. “She just seemed nervous, a little on edge. I remember thinking it was odd at the time, but then I dismissed it.”

“Did you buy the piece from her?” asked Theodosia.

“Yes, we did,” said Aerin. “I knew our inventory was low and it was a rather lovely piece. An emerald cut citrine surrounded by ten small diamonds. Not a huge piece, mind you, but fairly tasty. Fine craftsmanship and it definitely had some age on it.” She hesitated. “Now, thinking back, I guess I’m a little nervous about the entire transaction.”

Brooke leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “I think you even know the seller, Theo. Claire Kitridge?”

“Claire from the Heritage Society?” asked Theodosia.

Claire? Theodosia thought to herself. The Claire that always seems so buttoned up and straitlaced? The same Claire that collects antique linens?

“Ladies,” said Haley, arriving with their tea. “May I present Drayton’s fabled Castleton estate tea. And one of my blackberry scones for each of you. The blackberries, I might add, are from a recent crop grown on nearby Saint John’s Island.”

There were oohs and aahs from the two ladies as Haley set teacups, teapot, and accouterments on the table and they began helping themselves.

“Enjoy your teatime,” said Theodosia as she slipped away. “I’ll chat with you again later.” Slightly unnerved, she went to the display shelves and began rearranging the antique teacups she had placed there just yesterday. In her heart, she knew Brooke and Aerin had to be mistaken. Claire Kitridge was above reproach. She’d worked at the Heritage Society for three or four years now. She’d even heard Timothy Neville, in one of his rare instances of magnanimity, praise Claire for her hard work and dedication.

“Oh no,” said Haley under her breath. “Not him.”

Burt Tidwell had just pushed his way through the door and seated himself at one of the smaller tables.

Theodosia squinted across the room at him. Tidwell didn’t usually just show up unannounced unless he had something on his mind. The question was, What was on the old boy’s mind today?

“Detective Tidwell,” said Theodosia, trying her best to manage a lighthearted greeting. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

Tidwell arranged his mouth in a reasonable facsimile of a smile, but the vibes weren’t particularly warm. “Tea and the prospect of polite conversation have drawn me to your little establishment today.”

What a maddening oblique manner he has, she thought to herself. Studied, slightly formal, but still with that cat-and-mouse attitude he was so famous for. Very well, she decided, I’ll play along for now.

Hastily brewing a pot of uva tea, a delicate, slightly lemony Ceylonese tea, she put a stack of madelaines on a plate and carried everything back to Tidwell’s table.