“Which do you think would look better with the clotted cream?” Daisy asked.
“I think the slices would look best,” Tessa answered. “The gingerbread cuts well, and our tea guests can see that spicy goodness and apples along the outside edge of the slice.”
Iris nodded. “I think Tessa’s right. Not only that, but we won’t have as much difficulty transporting the cake pans. Ramekins can slide all over the place. Besides that, you’d have to make sure when you dump the gingerbread out of the ramekins that it’s a perfect shape. Slices make sense.”
“Slices it is,” Daisy said with a smile, then motioned Tessa to her office. “I have the menu on my desk. I was going to have Jazzi print off enough for Margaret’s guests when she comes in after school.”
Jazzi, Daisy’s sixteen-year-old daughter, earned money by helping at the tea garden after school and on weekends.
Her voice gentle, Tessa leaned close to Daisy to say, “I’ll bet Jazzi is looking forward to spending a weekend with Portia and her family.”
Tessa’s words caused a twinge in Daisy’s heart. Adopted, Jazzi had gone on a search for her birth mother a year ago and found her. Since then, there had been emotional ups and downs for all of them. Portia Smith Harding hadn’t known if she wanted to disrupt her life by telling her husband she’d put a baby up for adoption before she’d met him. She’d finally revealed her secret, which had caused marital issues. But now Portia and her husband seemed to be on stable ground and Jazzi was going to spend a weekend with the family. All were hoping Jazzi and Colton, Portia’s husband, could connect. Daisy didn’t want her daughter getting hurt.
Responding to Tessa’s comment, Daisy said, “Jazzi’s looking forward to it, but she’s nervous, too. She won’t admit it, but I think she’s afraid she’ll do or say something wrong. She doesn’t want to cause any more problems for the couple.”
“Jazzi would be a wonderful addition to any family,” Tessa said.
“I tell her the same thing,” Daisy agreed with a wide grin.
When Daisy had lost her husband to pancreatic cancer four years ago, she’d taken a year to try to balance her emotions and her life. Finally she decided moving back to Willow Creek from Florida with her two daughters would be the best decision for all of them. Violet, who was three years older than Jazzi, had been more vocal about her feelings. Jazzi had kept a lot of hers inside.
Iris peeked around the corner of Daisy’s office. “Vanna’s here and she’s upset. I think you should talk to her.”
Daisy checked her watch. Nine thirty. Vanna’s hours at the church were flexible. Daisy bet that more than a scone and a cup of tea had brought the church secretary into the tea garden this morning.
Daisy hurried from her office to the main tearoom, which had been painted a soft, welcoming green when she and her aunt Iris had renovated the Victorian. Her customers seemed comfortable with the glass-topped tables and mismatched antique oak hand-carved chairs. At the beginning of November, before the Thanksgiving season, a rustic bud vase with dried herbs, lavender, and a white mum decorated each table.
As Vanna moved forward to meet Daisy, Daisy could see that her friend was upset. Her hair was steel gray in a no-nonsense short cut. She was wearing a chocolate-colored pantsuit with no coat. She’d probably driven from church or from home. It was too chilly a day to be running around without outerwear. Vanna’s sturdy tan tie shoes clicked on the floor as she approached Daisy. Her hazel eyes brimmed with something akin to . . . frustration? Disappointment?
There was no point in guessing. Daisy motioned her into the adjoining spillover tearoom, which was painted the palest yellow. Its white tables and chairs always looked fresh. The seat cushions in blue, yellow, and green pinstripes added a whimsical look. This room, where they took reservations for and served afternoon tea on specified days, reflected the finest aspects of a Victorian with its bay window, window seat, diamond-cut glass, and crown molding.
Vanna followed Daisy into the room. As Daisy motioned to a table for two, she asked, “How about a cup of Earl Grey and a blueberry scone?”
Vanna let out a huge sigh. “The tea sounds nice, but I don’t have an appetite.”
Although Daisy wanted to know what was going on, she said, “I’ll be right back. Relax for a few moments.”
Daisy’s Tea Garden was all about relaxing, chatting, and appreciating different blends of tea as well as baked goods, salads, and soups. Daisy said to her aunt, “Two cups of Earl Grey. I’ll try to find out what’s going on.”
Returning to Vanna’s table, Daisy sat across from the church secretary. “You look upset.”
“I am upset. I recommended you to Margaret. I knew she could be difficult, but I didn’t want you to suffer for it. And now she’s thinking about canceling the tea.”
That was a surprise to Daisy. “Why is she thinking about canceling?” Daisy emphasized the first word, knowing the reason for Margaret’s state of mind could mean everything to Daisy figuring out what to do next.
Vanna waved her hand at the green room. “Her decision has nothing to do with you or your tea or your food. It’s about her, really, and it’s her own fault.”
“What’s her fault?”
Cora Sue, one of Daisy’s servers who worked full time and was as bubbly as the bottle-red hair curling in her topknot, brought a tray with two Royal Doulton teacups as well as a matching four-cup teapot. After she greeted Vanna, she unloaded
