Kissed a Sad Goodbye

and Kincaid sensed her relief at treading familiar ground.

One side of the table’s length held ranks of worn, tin tea caddies and plain foil bags; the other a neat row of rectangular, white porcelain dishes filled with mounds of loose tea, and another row of identical, white porcelain bowls. Gemma touched a finger to the tea in the last dish. “It smells good. What is all this?”

“The tasting table.” Teresa glanced at them and Kincaid thought they must have looked blank, for she frowned and continued, “We don’t sell just any tea. First it must be blended, and Hammond’s has been famous for its blends for a hundred and twenty-five years. We buy the tea at auction—mainly from India and Sri Lanka, but since the late seventies China has opened up to us again, and some tea is exported from Africa and even South America.”

“Sri Lanka—that used to be Ceylon?” Gemma moved round the table studying the tin caddies. “Some of these say Ceylon.”

“Teas from Sri Lanka are known as Ceylon teas in the trade. But in Sri Lanka alone there are over two thousand different tea gardens—those are the estates on which tea is grown—and each estate has a number of different pluckings, or harvests, a year, depending on its altitude. And the tea from each of those pluckings can vary in taste and quality.” Teresa lifted her hands, palms up, in a gesture that indicated the complications of the task.

Kincaid had never thought beyond a vague vision of India or China when he plopped a tea bag in his morning cup. “It’s exponential, then?” he asked.

“Theoretically, yes—in reality, no.” Teresa tucked a strand of straight blonde hair behind her ear and rubbed at the sweat beading her forehead. Although it was cooler in the warehouse than outside, it still felt like a tropical hothouse. “We’ve a history of dealing with certain gardens, and we tend to look for their produce. Annabelle … Annabelle visited some of the gardens in Ceylon and in India after university, but she wanted to go to China for their honeymoon.…” Teresa’s eyes filled with tears. Sniffing, she tugged a tissue from the pocket of her jeans and blew her nose. “Sorry. I just can’t … Some of our buyers didn’t take Annabelle seriously at first. It’s traditionally a male-dominated business, and I suppose they thought she was dabbling until she found something better to do.

“But the truth of it was that she loved tea. She’d been fascinated by every step in the process of manufacturing tea since she was a child, and she wanted to experience it firsthand.”

“And for that she had to go to China or India?” asked Kincaid.

“Yes. All tea is processed right after picking, on the estate where it’s grown. It has to be withered and rolled and dried within hours, or it loses its freshness. And the degree of fermentation must be perfect—if it’s overfermented the tea will taste flat; if it’s underfermented it can go moldy once it’s packed for shipping. The tasting and blending we do here is only the very last stage.” Her gesture took in the chests and the tasting table and the smooth boards of the old warehouse floor, polished from long use to a satiny sheen.

“Was Annabelle in charge of the tasting?”

“No, that’s Mac—Mr. MacDougal. Tea merchants have professional tasters, and Mac’s one of the best in the business. But Annabelle’s … Annabelle was very good, and some of the blends she and Mac created have increased our market share considerably. I simply don’t know how we’ll manage without her.” Teresa’s voice threatened to break and she pressed her lips together in an effort at control. She turned away and led them to racks of shelving against the far wall. “This new design is only part of Annabelle’s vision.”

Kincaid saw that the shelves held round tins bearing the familiar Hammond’s logo. The tins were an unusual shape, tall and thin, and of a striking cobalt blue and russet design, with the logo embossed in gold. He remembered seeing them in some of the more expensive gourmet shops, and at Harrods.

“They’re lovely,” said Gemma, turning a tin so that she could see the design all the way round.

“She chose the colors to please William—her father—after his favorite tea service. She—” Teresa closed her eyes. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Come sit down.” Gently, Gemma took her by the elbow and led her to the brightly cushioned grouping of rattan chairs positioned near the tasting table. “Let me get you some water.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Teresa protested, but she sank gratefully into a chair, shivering as if she were cold. “It’s just … I’m still not sure I’ve taken it in.”

Gemma sat beside her. “I think Mr. Mortimer said that Annabelle had assumed the running of the business from her father?”

“His wife was very ill, you know. Cancer. Then after she died, he wasn’t well himself for some time. From the shock, I suppose. Otherwise he’d never have given up control to anyone.”

“Could Mr. Hammond not step in again?”

Teresa’s brow creased in a worried frown. “It’s been five years since William was directly involved with the day-to-day running of the business, although he drops in at odd times of the day and night. I think he can’t bear to let it go altogether.”

“Then with his experience—”

“It’s more complicated than that. Annabelle was taking the company in directions William didn’t approve —”

“But if you’ve been successful, surely he’d want to continue as Annabelle intended.”

“No, you don’t understand. To William, it’s tradition that’s important. Even though his great-grandfather began the business as a gamble on the new tea estates in Ceylon, he can’t see that it was risk-taking that put Hammond’s on its feet in the first place. He wants things done the way they’ve always been—”

“Such as?” Kincaid asked, intrigued.

Sighing, Teresa sat back in her chair. “I don’t know where to start. Tea bags, for one. Until recently, Hammond’s has never sold tea in bags—there’s simply no comparison between our teas and the low-quality blends that are used in most mass-produced tea bags. But Annabelle was convinced that you could put fine tea in a bag, and that if you suffered some loss of quality in the processing, you made up for it by introducing consumers to better teas. A taste for tea needs developing, like a taste for wine, and Annabelle was sure we could switch the customer from bags to loose tea eventually.

“It was the same with flavorings. There’s a huge market for flavored teas, especially in the States, but William wouldn’t hear of it. Annabelle convinced the board that most tea drinkers start out with flavored teas and move on