products with natural ingredients, is taking off like crazy, and I think soothing tea products would fit right in.”
“So do I,” agreed Drayton.
They batted ideas back and forth for the better part of an hour, Theodosia taking notes like mad, finally switching to her laptop computer because, she contended, she could get the ideas down faster.
At five o’clock, Haley came in.
“I’m going to lock up, okay?” said Haley.
“Sure, fine,” waved Theodosia, completely out of her funk now. “Have a terrific evening.”
“You, too,” said Haley. “Bye, Drayton.”
“Good night,” he called.
Theodosia and Drayton sat quietly for a moment, listening as Haley snapped off lights, then exited the front door, locking it behind her. The only light on in the tea shop was the glowing Tiffany lamp that sat on Theodosia’s desk.
“Drayton,” said Theodosia slowly, “Timothy Neville
He stared at her patiently.
“Timothy mumbled something about ‘right church, wrong pew.’ I think he was referring to the Dixon-Cantrell feud. You’ve heard about that?”
Drayton nodded. “Dribs and drabs over the years.”
“That’s what I was talking to Detective Tidwell about today.”
“That’s kind of what Haley and I figured. You think Ford Cantrell...?”
Theodosia shrugged. “Maybe . . . You saw how irate he was at the picnic.”
“Howling mad,” agreed Drayton.
“Of course, Timothy could have been trying to send me off in the wrong direction, too,” said Theodosia.
“That doesn’t sound like Timothy,” said Drayton. “He usually prides himself on being rather insightful and precise.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“So,” said Drayton,
Theodosia’s blue eyes were as lovely and unpredictable as the nearby Atlantic. “Count on it,” she told him.
Chapter 9
“Isn’t it a cunning little piece? See how the light
catches the gray green glaze? I’m so hoping it was crafted by one of the Edgefield potters.”
Theodosia carefully placed hot blueberry muffins on her serving tray and listened to that voice. She knew that voice. At least she
Parting the curtains and stepping out into the tea shop, she was mildly surprised to find Giovanni Loard, cradling a teapot in his hands and talking animatedly with Drayton.
“Yes,” Drayton was saying, “the Edgefield provenance is correct, and I’d definitely date it to the early nineteenth century.”
Theodosia noted that Drayton had allowed his glasses to slip halfway down his nose and was speaking in what Haley called his Heritage Society voice. Timothy Neville may have loved to be called upon to lend his expertise, but Drayton wasn’t far behind.
“Good morning,” Theodosia greeted the two men after she’d dropped off pastry baskets at the various tables. Drayton smiled absently while Giovanni Loard jumped up from his chair and eagerly took her hand.
“Miss Browning, so nice to see you again,” Giovanni gushed. “And so lovely to finally visit your tea shop.”
“Delighted to have you,” she replied. “My condolences again on the death of your cousin.”
Giovanni’s smile crumpled. “Thank you. It’s been a difficult time for all of us. Especially Doe. Thank goodness for small kindnesses from people like you.”
“Look at this,” said Drayton, delivering a sturdy little ceramic into Theodosia’s hands.
“Your absolutely brilliant colleague here has been kind enough to take a look at this teapot,” said Giovanni. “He’s quite sure it’s an Edgefield.”
Edgefield pottery came from a rich supply of heavy clay found in Edgefield County, northwest of Charleston and located along the Savannah River. In the 1800s, Edge-field potters had crafted pitchers, storage jars, bowls, and teapots as well as little jars with faces molded into them.
“Lovely,” said Theodosia as she turned the little clay vessel over in her hands. “These things are getting hard to find. Did you just pick this up for sale in your shop?”
“Oh, no,” said Giovanni, “it was one of Doe and Oliver’s wedding gifts. Poor girl can’t bear to even look at any of these objects now. It breaks her heart to have them in the house. She’s kindly asked me to handle the sale of several pieces for her.”
“I’m sure she’s utterly shattered,” said Theodosia, even though she found it strange and almost improper for Doe to be selling off wedding presents so soon after Oliver Dixon’s death. For goodness sake, the man’s funeral wasn’t until tomorrow!
“There hasn’t been any forward progress in determining what happened to Oliver,” Giovanni said with a long face. “Everyone’s clucking about what a terrible accident it was. But, of course, I suspect the pistol was tampered with. So does Doe.”
“The police are investigating, are they not?” said Dray-ton.
“Yes,” said Giovanni slowly. “And I have asked them to take a rather hard look at Ford Cantrell. He’s a rotten egg, that one.” Giovanni shifted an earnest gaze at Theodosia. “Thank you again for your quick action at the picnic.”
Theodosia waved a hand. She would have done the same for anyone.
“Let me keep this teapot for a day or two,” offered Drayton, “and I’ll consult with an acquaintance of mine. He collects Edgefield pieces and might be able to provide us with some idea on price.”
“That would be wonderful,” murmured Giovanni Loard. His face eased into a smile as Haley approached their table, bearing a pot of tea. “Hello,” he greeted her.
“Ah, here’s the tea now,” said Drayton. “Thank you, Haley.” He poured cups of munnar tea for Giovanni, Theodosia, and himself.
But Haley didn’t budge, and Giovanni continued to smile warmly at her.
“Giovanni Loard, this is Haley Parker,” said Theodosia.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Haley. “Could I offer you a sweet? I have some lemon tarts I just took out of the oven.”
“That would be lovely,” smiled Giovanni, and Haley dashed off to fetch the pastries.
“Pretty girl,” remarked Giovanni as he took a sip of tea. “Oh, this is excellent,” he exclaimed. “And I know nothing about tea. I couldn’t tell you if this was Japanese or Chinese.”
“Actually,” said Theodosia, “it’s from India.”
“You see, what did I tell you,” said Giovanni. “Oh my!” he exclaimed as Haley returned and set a plate of pastries in front of him. “You all are just bowling me over with your care and hospitality! I can’t believe I didn’t find my way to your tea shop sooner.”
“You recently purchased a house nearby, didn’t you?” asked Theodosia. She’d recalled that Delaine had said something to her about it.
“Yes,” said Giovanni. “Over on Legare. It’s one of those old Victorian single houses. You know... charm, carved balustrades, and absolutely
“I’m familiar with that particular row of houses,” said Drayton. “Most of them have lovely gardens.”
Giovanni nodded eagerly. “The garden has been my saving grace. The brick patio, small fountain, and
