Page 6 of The Magical Tea Shop
My heart.This time she thought about how important it was to make her customers feel welcome by serving them comfort food and drink, the wind once again blasting the town outside. At the ten-minute mark, she pulled out the first batch. Perfection. She had a rhythm going now, and the weather served as an accompaniment. A peace settled over her once again as she worked.
Thou who loveth,
Be blessed amongst us.
With breath bestoweth
Thy heart.
Humming and making up a little song for the blessing, she smiled. Had it ever been set to music? She grinned. That was something she could share with the Hazard Historical Society. If anyone knew it would be them, and if it hadn’t been done before, well, they would get a kick out of it. By the time she pulled the very last batch from the oven, the lights flickered once, twice, and out.
Ivy blew out a breath. She’d done it; she’d finished before the power gave out. She left her cookies to cool while she set out tea lights on little china saucers all around the kitchen, and cleaned up with only candlelight to see by. Once the kitchen was spotless even by Holly’s exacting standards, she reached for an antique tin that her aunt had given her for her last birthday. It was black, with a gold fleur-de-lis on the lid. Ivy packed up the now sufficiently cooled cookies and neatly arranged them. They fit perfectly in the large tin. She worked the lid closed and just like that, the power blinked back on.
“Well then.” Ivy gave a nod. She set the tin on a shelf, blew out her tea lights and put all the saucers away, carefully removing any of the evidence of her night of baking. She really didn’t relish the idea of explaining to her sister what she’d been doing after hours.
Ivy locked up her little shop, ready for the new day. Which, oh dear, had already started. A glance at the sky confirmed its arrival, with bands of gold and orange heralding the new morn. Her sister’s crew would be clocking in any moment to start their baking. Disinclined to provide an explanation as to why she was still in the shop, Ivy hurried to her car to drive home and catch a couple hours sleep.
Chapter Three
“Did you doit?” Seymour asked as soon as Ivy swung by his table and set down a frosted cinnamon roll on a little china plate for him. He always arrived promptly at eight, the others more inclined to straggle in over the next half hour.
Marjorie, her bright red hair newly styled in a chignon, popped in next and sat by Seymour. “Yes, did it work?”
Hazel came in chatting with Ivy’s aunt Lydia. They settled themselves at the table, hands folded before them. It was 8:05. All four pillars turned their expectant faces up at her.
Were they holding their breath? “I only just baked the cookies last night. So, we’ll see.” Ivy gave a little shrug, even as her eyes drifted to the tin. Their gazes followed hers. “I haven’t gifted them yet.”
“Ah,” they murmured in unison, veneration clear in the single drawn-out syllable.
“I made up a little song,” she added.
The four looked at her blankly. Hazel blinked several times. “A song, dear?”
Ivy nodded. “You know, to speak the blessing while I baked the cookies.”
Seymour glowered, his bushy, white eyebrows pinching down and together. He leaned toward Lydia. “Is that allowed?”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Ivy bit her lip. “Come on, hasn’t the blessing ever been set to music?”
Hazel frowned. “You should be careful. Deviation could have unexpected consequences.”
“Unexpected good? Or unexpected bad?” asked Ivy.
“Unexpected,” said Lydia with a solemn nod, “is unexpected.”
Seymour nodded sagely in clear agreement.
“Don’t look so upset. Expected doesn’t necessarily mean calamitous. It—could go either way,” said Marjorie, with an over-bright smile.
Ivy widened her eyes. Tepid tea! Her rule-breaking propensities would be her undoing, but—fun, she reminded herself. None of this was reallyreal, right? Fun was the important bit.
“Was it fun?” asked Lydia.
Ivy nodded and relaxed. “So. Much. Fun.”
“Then it’s good,” said Lydia.