Shades of Earl Grey (23 page)

“Are you saying I don't know how to make fresh lemon curd?” Haley demanded with a crooked smile.

“No, I'm just saying it's a tricky proposition at best.”

“Proof's in the tasting,” said Haley as she held up a wooden spoon with a swirl of yellow gracing the end.

Obediently, Drayton tasted the dollop of lemon curd. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “This
is
good. Sweet but subtly tart, too. Layers of flavor.”

“My grandmother's recipe,” explained Haley. “And if it's any consolation to you, those are the same things
she
said. Awfully tricky, got to get the proportions just so, and a double boiler is a must.”

“But you mastered it,” said Drayton, still impressed.

“Of course.”

“And you plan to serve it with . . .” prompted Drayton.

“There's a couple pans of shortbread in the oven,” said Haley. “But lemon curd keeps for a good month once it's refrigerated, so when we do cakes for afternoon tea, it'll make a great topping.”

“Morning, Theo,” Drayton called as he heard the back door click open. “How was the concert last night?”

“Yeah,” called Haley, “I bet it was great, huh?” Theodosia stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen and nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful.” She didn't have the heart to tell them she'd listened halfheartedly to the first half, then spent the second half outside, trading cat burglar theories with Jory Davis.

“Timothy was playing first violin, I take it?” said Drayton as he grabbed a silver tray and followed Theodosia into the tea shop.

“And doing a masterful job,” Theodosia assured him.

“I'm baffled as to how the man does it,” said Drayton. “Poor Timothy is worried sick about the public opening of the Treasures Show tomorrow night, yet there he was playing with the symphony,” said Drayton. “He's really quite remarkable.”

“I agree,” said Theodosia as the two copper tea kettles Drayton had put on to boil just minutes earlier began to sing their high-pitched duet. “So what's on tap for this morning?” she asked him.

Drayton reached overhead and pulled down tins and jars of loose tea. “I thought I'd do pots of Earl Grey and Assam, which are nice and mellow and traditional, although this particular Assam
is
a trifle malty. Then I'll mix things up with a couple blends, perhaps a cinnamon spice and a ginseng plum. Of course, if someone has a special request, we'll oblige them as always.”

“Wonderful,” said Theodosia. She still felt a little discombobulated from last night. After her intense discussion with Jory Davis, she'd had dreams about cat burglars all night long.
Got to get my head in the game,
she told herself as the door swung open and the morning's first customers came drifting in.
Stop worrying about creepy cat burglars.

“Oh,” said Haley as she sped past Theodosia with plates of shortbread topped with her still-warm lemon curd, “I forgot to give you this.” She handed over a large brown envelope. “I guess someone must have slipped it under the door. Anyway, it was lying on the floor when I opened up this morning.”

Theodosia took the envelope from Haley and glanced at it curiously. The envelope was a number ten, business size, made of brown craft paper. Glued to the front was a white label with a single typed word,
Theodosia.

“Wonder what it is?” she said.

Haley, who was busy gathering napkins and placing forks on plates, shrugged. “Don't know,” she said, unconcerned. “Maybe a thank-you note from someone who attended yesterday afternoon's reception?”

Theodosia grabbed a butter knife, slipped it under the gummed flap of the envelope to open it. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfurled it. As she began to read, her brows knit together and a frown creased her normally placid face. It was a note all right, but not of the thank-you variety. Instead, a very strange message had been laser-printed on a sheet of plain white paper.

“What is it?” asked Haley, suddenly aware that Theodosia had gone silent.

Wordlessly, Theodosia handed the note to Haley and watched as she read it.

Haley's face changed from polite interest to utter confusion. “What the heck . . . ?” she said. “Is this crazy little ditty supposed to mean something?”

“It's a passage from
Alice in Wonderland,
” said Theodosia.

“Yeah, great. Fun kids literature and all that. But why send it to you? And without a signature yet. Is this supposed to be some kind of inside joke?”

“I'm not exactly sure,” said Theodosia. “But I get the feeling that it might be . . . it could be . . . some kind of challenge.”

“Holy smokes!” exclaimed Haley, realization starting to dawn. “Because you've been poking around . . . Hey, Drayton!” She motioned frantically for Drayton to come over to the counter.

Drayton came hustling over immediately. “What's wrong?” he asked, taking in the very sober looks on both their faces.

Haley thrust the mysterious note into Drayton's hands.

“Take a look. I found it stuck under the door this morning.”

“Addressed to Theodosia?” he asked as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and slid them onto his nose.

They both nodded.

Drayton studied the note intently. Finally, he looked up and met their gazes. “It's a passage from Lewis Carroll's
Through the Looking Glass,
” he said.

Haley bobbed her head eagerly. “That's what Theodosia said. Gosh, you two are so incredibly well read. Makes me want to change my major back to English lit.”

“Haley . . .” warned Drayton with an owlish look. “I don't think this was intended as a lighthearted little note.”

“Theodosia called it a challenge,” Haley told him.

“Indeed, it could be,” said Drayton. “Witness the teatime reference that clearly relates to us.”

“And what about the
little bat
business and
up above the world you fly?
” asked Haley.

“I don't know,” said Drayton. “It's strange, I'll give you that much. I get the feeling they're slightly left-handed inferences as to what's been going on around here lately. Flying around, looking around, something like that.”

“Mm-hm,” said Haley, not completely absorbing all of Drayton's words.

“In other words, a taunt,” said Drayton, heavily enunciating the
t
's.

“You mean someone might be
daring
Theo to take them on?” asked Haley. “Someone being this cat burglar guy?”

“I suppose one could interpret it that way,” said Drayton.

“Whoooa,” said Haley. “Ain't that a kick.”

“It means you've struck a nerve,” said Drayton, looking directly at Theodosia.

Theodosia managed a thin smile. “Gulp,” she said. She meant her remark to be humorous, but nobody laughed.

Drayton refolded the note, handed it to Theodosia. “We'd better talk about this when we're not so busy.”

Theodosia was still standing at the counter with the folded note in her hand when Aerin Linley came bustling in a few moments later.

“Hey there,” she greeted Theodosia. “Can I get a couple cuppas to go? Anything you've got ready is fine. As long as it's not sweet.”

“Absolutely,” said Theodosia, sliding the note across the counter and putting a little green Staffordshire teapot on top of it for safekeeping.

“You okay?” asked Aerin.

Theodosia looked up sharply. “Pardon?”

“Oh, you looked a little worried there for a moment. I would think you'd be doing handsprings right about now. Folks really went ga-ga over your T-Bath products yesterday afternoon. I hope you've called in a big reorder to your supplier.”

“Don't worry,” said Theodosia as she poured streams of freshly made Assam tea into dark blue take-out cups. “That's at the top of my to-do list today.” Aerin's good humor was contagious and Theodosia was suddenly caught up in her enthusiasm. “I'm so glad you and Brooke were able to stop by.”

“You know, I was perfectly serious about the TV show idea,” Aerin said as she cocked her head and smile at Theodosia. In her pink cotton crewneck sweater, khaki slacks, and beige leather slip-on shoes, she looked very sporty, far younger than her thirty-six or thirty-seven years. “You'd be great on-air,” Aerin said with encouragement. “You're so pretty and vivacious, I'm sure you could deliver a great segment.”

“Actually,” said Theodosia, warming up to the idea, “I'd
love
to do a tea segment. A few folks are still under the illusion that tea is the drink of choice for blue-haired ladies in pillbox hats. Nothing wrong with blue-haired ladies in hats, of course, but tea's really come into its own as a contemporary drink.”

“You're darned right it has,” said Aerin. “When kids are chugging premixed chai like water, you know tea has hit mainstream! Ohh . . .” she exclaimed as Haley rushed by with another tray of short bread and lemon curd. “Is that lemon curd?
Real
lemon curd? The kind you slave over a hot stove for?”

So, of course, Theodosia had to fill a small, square jar with lemon curd for Aerin to take along with her.

 

Jory Davis didn't call until they were caught up in the whirlwind that was lunch. “Hello?” said Drayton, deftly balancing the phone, a tray stacked with fruit and cheese plates, and a pot of tea.

“Hi, Drayton,” said Jory. “Is Theodosia around?”

Drayton peered out over the tearoom and crooked a finger at Theodosia. She caught his meaning and signaled back. “She'll be with you in a second,” Drayton told Jory.

Theodosia hurried across the room and snatched the phone up. “Hello?”

“Hey there,” said Jory Davis.

“Hey there, yourself,” said Theodosia. “You realize everyone here thinks I was soothed by music from
Rigolletto
and
La Traviata
last night.”

“Well, you almost were,” he said. “And admit it, wasn't snuggling under a full moon better?”

“You'll get no argument from me. Like I said last night, I can always listen to it on CD.”

“Say,” said Jory, “I know you're busy, heck, we're
both
busy, but I was able to work in some fast investigating this morning.”

“Terrific. What did you come up with?” she asked.

Jory Davis sighed. “Nothing.”

“Even on Graham Carmody?” Theodosia asked with surprise.

“Nada,” said Jory. “No record. The guy's clean as a whistle.”

“That's weird. I had a feeling there might be something.”

“I couldn't even find an unpaid parking ticket,” said Jory. “He's a model citizen.”

“Hmm.” Theodosia gazed out over the tea shop, noting that every table was filled and that Drayton and Haley were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Listen, why don't you come by for dinner tonight.” She wanted to clue Jory in about the note that had been slipped under the door this morning, but right now wasn't the best time.

“Great!” said Jory.

“Hold on,” said Theodosia. “I'm thinking about inviting Drayton and Haley, too.”

“Oh, a
working
dinner,” said Jory, with no less enthusiasm.

“When we get this cat burglar thing figured out,” said Theodosia, “I promise dinner for two. With a full complement of candlelight and wine.”

“And I shall bring the roses,” laughed Jory. “Although I think I'll bring wine tonight as well. What time shall I plan to arrive on madame's doorstep?”

“Eight. And since you volunteered to bring wine, kindly make it white.”

“I'll spend the rest of my day pondering the merits of a fine Vouvray versus a Chenin Blanc.”

“Bye bye,” she told him, laughing.

 

“My gosh,” said Drayton, “I must have looked like the juggler in Cirque du Soleil, what with teapots in one hand and fruit and cheese plates in the other. Sometimes I yearn for the good old days when we only served tea.”

“Adding a lunch service really has livened things up,” agreed Theodosia.

“And contributed nicely to our bottom line,” added Drayton.

Theodosia was keenly aware that they had run in the red for more months than she cared to think about. Now, this last year, they had clearly been in the black, with the last six months veering toward very respectable profits.

“Today will be a push from now on,” declared Haley. “Friday afternoons are never all that busy. I guess people must take off early or go shopping or something. Anyway,” she looked over at the three tables that were still occupied, “they're not here.”

“How would the two of you like to join me for dinner tonight?” suggested Theodosia.

“Really?” squealed Haley. “I'd love to. I didn't have anything special planned.”

“What about you, Drayton?” asked Theodosia. “I've invited Jory Davis to dinner, too.”

“I'd be delighted,” he said. “May I bring anything. Or do anything?”

“That goes for me, too,” said Haley.

“Drayton, you just get yourself to my place by eight o'clock. Haley, if there's some leftover shortbread and lemon curd, maybe you could package it up and bring it along for dessert.”

“Oops,” said Haley, cupping a hand to her mouth. “We just served the last piece of shortbread. But there's still tons of lemon curd to use as topping. How about if I pop a cake in the oven?”