Dragonwell Dead

Fayne’s anger seemed to suddenly crumble. Her eyes filled with tears, her chin quivered. “Of course not. How could you even think I had something to do with that?”

“You have no idea what happened?” pressed Theodosia.

“No,” wailed Fayne.

Theodosia stared at Fayne, trying to detect any degree of deception in the girl’s demeanor. But her emotions appeared genuine. Fayne just seemed unhappy. Supremely unhappy.

“The fire marshal still might want to talk to you as a witness,” said Theodosia.

“But I didn’t see anything,” protested Fayne. “Really, I didn’t. My being there was just a bad . . .” She struggled to find the right word. “. . . coincidence.”

“Are you going back to work today?” Theodosia asked her.

Fayne bobbed her head and brushed at her eyes. “Yes. Probably.”

“Okay,” said Theodosia. She wasn’t sure what to do now. Obviously the girl was upset, but Theodosia didn’t think she was lying. Was pretty sure she wasn’t. “I appreciate your talking to me,” she added.

Fayne gave a tight nod.

Theodosia had turned and was heading back to St. John’s when Fayne called after her, “Did she read the notes?”

“Pardon?” said Theodosia, stopping in her tracks. She was, perhaps, ten or twelve feet away from Fayne.

“Did Mrs. Congdon see the notes?”

Theodosia stared back at a somewhat confrontational Fayne Hamilton. “Not yet,” she said.

“You have them, don’t you?” said Fayne. “I know you do.” Fayne gave an involuntary shudder, as though the day had suddenly turned cool. “Are you going to tell her?” Now there was a slight challenge in her eyes.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” said Theodosia.

*   *   *

The graveside service at Magnolia Cemetery was more of the same. Prayers, hymns, floral arrangements, final tributes. Finally, when that twenty-minute service concluded, Theodosia got in line at the tail end of the mourners who were filing past Angie, offering their last words of comfort. Teddy Vickers, looking serious in a dark suit, was right in front of Theodosia. Drayton, Delaine, and Bobby Wayne were directly behind her.

As the line gradually shuffled forward, Theodosia was struck by how monumentally beautiful Magnolia Cemetery was. It was an old cemetery that had borne the ages.

Established in the 1850s, Magnolia Cemetery served as the final resting place for Civil War veterans, prominent southern politicians and planters, a few bootleggers, and ordinary folk, too. Crumbling brick tombs, wrought-iron crosses, and elaborate stone monuments were set against a dramatic backdrop of gnarled live oaks shrouded with moss.

So taken was Theodosia by an intriguing vista of marble obelisks and a hidden lagoon, that she barely paid any attention to the conversation going on between Teddy Vickers and Angie.

But Theodosia’s ears perked up when she suddenly heard the words reasonable offer.

What? she wondered. What’s Teddy saying to Angie? Theodosia took a step forward and tried not to appear as though she was eavesdropping. Even though she really was.

“Why do you keep pestering me about this, today of all days?” questioned Angie. Her voice was low and hoarse and she was visibly quivering, obviously deeply upset by Teddy’s words.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” responded Teddy as he shifted about nervously.

Angie shook her head and swiped at her eyes with a linen hanky. “This is all too much,” she murmured.

“My apologies,” said Teddy, sounding downright unapologetic but still trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. “But I thought this might afford you some relief. Help you escape the pain of making so many difficult decisions.”

“But this would be the toughest decision of them all,” responded Angie. Her shoulders slumped, her voice dropped low and cracked.

“Fine,” came Teddy Vickers’s cool reply. “But please understand, my offer is good only for the next forty-eight hours. After that . . .” Teddy shook his head and stomped off.

“Angie,” said Theodosia, stepping forward to put an arm around her friend. “Are you all right?” Actually, she thought Angie looked like she was on the point of collapse.

“I’m in shock,” whispered Angie.

“Of course you are,” said Drayton, coming forward to join them. “It’s been an awfully trying day.” He cleared his throat, trying to smile but managing only a nervous tick. “Really, a trying week.”

“No,” said Angie, shaking her head as if to clear away cobwebs. “This is something totally new. Something completely unexpected.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Drayton.

“What is it, honey?” asked Theodosia, as Delaine and Bobby Wayne, realizing something important was taking place, clustered about, too.

“On the way to the cemetery . . .” began Angie, her hands flailing helplessly.

“Yes?” said Bobby Wayne.

“In the limousine . . .” stammered Angie. “And then again just now . . .”

They all stared at her, waiting for her to finish.

“Teddy Vickers made an offer to buy the Featherbed House!”

14

“Why is the Needwood out?” demanded Drayton. He and Theodosia had hurried back to the Indigo Tea Shop and now he was fretting over pots of tea that were steeping.

Charlie regarded him with a fearful look. “I was just . . .” she began.

“This is hardly our best Ceylon black tea.” He snatched up the silver tin, hurriedly snapped the lid back on.

“But a customer requested it,” said Charlie. “Asked for it specifically because it’s organically grown.”

“Well,” said Drayton, tapping the lid with his fingertips, “that’s entirely different now, isn’t it? You should have mentioned that.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “You really didn’t give me time.”

“Hey, tough guy,” said Haley as she brought a glass pie keeper heaped with fresh-baked scones up to the counter. “Ease up, will you?” She cast a sympathetic glance at Charlie. “He doesn’t mean it, you know. Drayton’s really a sweetie.”

“Sure he is,” muttered Charlie, as she fussed with the steeping teapots.

“You remember how to set up an individual tea tray?” asked Drayton, in a slightly kinder tone of voice. “Teapot, timer, cubes of raw sugar, sliced lemon, small spoon, linen napkin folded just so?”

“You showed me yesterday,” said Charlie. “But if it’ll make you feel any better, you can show me again.”

“Maybe we should go over it one more time,” said Drayton. “And did I mention we’ll be doing a tea tasting this afternoon?”

“You sure did,” said Charlie, obviously struggling to maintain a cool composure.

“What’s your major again?” asked Drayton.

“Biology and chemistry,” Charlie told him.

“Chemistry,” sniffed Drayton. “What does chemistry have to do with working in a tea shop?”

“Everything,” replied Charlie. “In fact, baking is really food chemistry.”

Shaking her head, Haley wandered over to where Theodosia was clearing a table. Miss Dimple, their freelance bookkeeper and sometimes helper, was busy restocking display shelves nearby. With the luncheon rush almost over, the tea room was now only partially filled.