Shades of Earl Grey

“Claire Kitridge?” said Theodosia. For some reason the name just popped into her head and she blurted it out.

“Nope. Cooper Hobcaw.”

“Really?” said Drayton with a frown.

“Oh, yeah,” said Haley. “He was leaning across the counter, kind of flirting with that woman, Aerin, who works for Brooke. At least I think he was flirting. They had their heads together, talking awfully close.” Haley paused. “I thought Cooper Hobcaw was sweet on Delaine.”

“So did I,” said Theodosia. She turned toward Drayton, raised her eyebrows as if to say what’s up? But he appeared equally surprised.

“As far as I know, Cooper Hobcaw has been squiring Delaine around to various social functions,” said Drayton. “They were at an art opening last week for that new painter who’s showing at the Wren Gallery. And of course, Coop was her guest at the engagement party and the ill-fated Heritage Society members’ party.”

“So you don’t think he’d two-time her?” said Haley.

“Honestly, Haley,” said Drayton, “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

It wasn’t until Theodosia was in her office later, unpacking the last of the T-Bath products, that she realized how heartsick she suddenly felt for Delaine. If her hunch or odd feeling or whatever it was about Cooper Hobcaw proved true and he did turn out to be a thief, it would be a devastating blow to Delaine. And if Cooper Hobcaw was merely getting cozy with Aerin Linley in anticipation of possibly dumping Delaine, she’d be equally traumatized.

Theodosia propped her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands, thinking. Cooper Hobcaw, the lanky, soft-spoken fellow who jogged through the historic district late at night, was a strange duck. Had he charmed Delaine in order to get closer to people and places of wealth in the historic district?

Was he flirting with Aerin at Heart’s Desire because she might be a way to unload expensive merchandise? As one of Charleston’s top attorneys, he wouldn’t be viewed with suspicion if he waltzed into Heart’s desire with expensive jewelry. It would just be assumed they were old family pieces.

Theodosia rubbed her eyes tiredly. Okay, what about all those printouts she’d grabbed from Graham Carmody’s back alley last night? She hadn’t even mentioned them to Drayton and Haley yet. But she’d have to. In fact, she wanted to. She’d lay out what she knew, what she suspected, what appeared to be evidence, and get their opinions. After all, three heads were better than one!

Chapter 17

“Don’t get the seaweed wet!” warned Drayton. “If you do, the entire California roll will be soggy and completely inedible. And be sure to wrap cellophane around them so you can roll them snugly. Otherwise the darn things just crumble apart on you.”

“I’m not going to blow the California rolls,” scoffed Haley. “And stop being so futsy.” She slapped the back of Drayton’s hand as he reached over to poke an avocado and check its ripeness. “The rice has been cooked perfectly, the crab is delightfully pink and fresh, and the avocados are ripe. And by the way, Mr. Conneley, who appointed you chief cook and bottle washer in my kitchen? Theodosia!” Haley called at the top of her lungs. “Will you pleeease put Drayton to work somewhere else? He’s making me crazy!”

“Drayton,” said Theodosia, “I really could use your help out here.” She scanned the room, noting the positions of the tables.

“What?” he said grumpily, emerging from between the green velvet curtains.

“What with all the moving about of tables, the proportions seem a little out of whack,” she said. “Can you work some of your magic?”

Somewhat mollified by her request, Drayton scanned the room with an appraising eye. “Well, there’s your problem right there,” he told her. “You’ve got two tables absolutely jammed against the fireplace.” He threaded his way through the mazes of tables, pulled two of them away from the fireplace. Then he looked about the room and made a few more adjustments. Tables were angled, chairs pushed in, the head table also angled slightly.

“Now for the bonsai,” he said as he bent down and pulled bonsai trees from the two large black plastic trays he’d used to transport them. “Let’s place the small Japanese junipers and dwarf birches on the smaller tables.” He quickly began arranging pots of bonsai. “And the larger bonsai, like this elm forest and this taller tamarack, on the larger tables.”

“It looks wonderful,” said Theodosia once he’d finished his arrangement.

“What time do the guests arrive?” Drayton asked for about the fiftieth time.

“The invitations specified three. Of course, some folks always arrive a little earlier; a few will dash in late as usual. If we plan on serving our Japanese tea and goodies from about two-thirty to four, we should be right on.”

“Maybe I should check on Haley again,” said Drayton.

“Oh look,” said Theodosia as the door to the shop swung open, “here’s Hattie with your ikebana centerpiece.”

And as Drayton rushed to greet her, Theodosia breathed a sigh of relief and thought to herself, Saved by the bell.

By three-fifteen, the reception was in full swing. Delaine had been the first to arrive, bringing with her Cordette Jordan, the woman who owned Griffon Antiques over on King Street.

Brooke Carter Crockett and Aerin Linley followed on their heels, and shortly thereafter, Miss Dimple and Jessica Sheldon from Pinckney’s Gift Shop came rushing in.

There was about a five-minute lull and then a second influx of guests poured in. Angie Congdon from the Featherbed House, Lillith Gardner, one of the partners at Antiquarian Booksellers, Nell Chappel from the Chowder Hound Restaurant, and at least two dozen more friends from in and around the historic district.

Drayton was in his element, alternately pouring tea, answering questions about bonsai, and doing a major amount of schmoozing.

Theodosia stayed near the front door, where she could serve as official greeter, and Haley was kept busy restocking tidbits of sushi and kushiyaki on the main buffet table, in between dashing to the cash register to ring up sales on their new T-Bath products.

The din of conversation rose, as did the clink of cups and the squeal of voices.

“Did you really design this cunning packaging?” asked Nell Chappel. She held up a package of T-Bath Green Tea Soak with its elegant celadon green wrapper and typography done in a Japanese dry-brush style. “It’s so elegant and Zen-like,” she exclaimed.

Then, just when it looked as though they couldn’t squeeze one more person into the Indigo tea Shop, an entire jitney packed full of tourists stopped in front of the shop and a dozen women came tumbling in for tea.

Theodosia met them at the door. “I’m sorry, but we’re having a reception here today.”

They crowded around her, peering curiously over her shoulder.

“We were looking forward to a spot of tea,” said one lady with a pouf of blue hair.

“Of course you’re welcome to come in and help yourself to tea,” Theodosia said, “but I’m not sure I can offer you a table and a quiet respite today.”

“What’s your reception for?” asked another lady and Theodosia quickly explained the concept of the T-Bath products.

There were cries of How wonderful! and Can we buy, too? and the ladies came pouring in to join the ranks of the already jostling throng.

“Theo!” cried Delaine. She waved frantically from across the room as she clutched a sweetgrass basket filled with T-Bath products. “I simply adore your new products,” she said, making extravagant mouth gestures as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“Thanks, Delaine,” said Theodosia. “Your praise is much appreciated.” She hadn’t been able to speak privately with Delaine earlier and decided to take the opportunity now. It was funny, she thought, sometimes