Page 7 of The Magical Tea Shop
They all beamed.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, dear.” Marjorie recentered the day’s jaunty orange daisy in the center of the table.
“I’ll just get your tea. Today’s blend is black Irish tea with blackberry leaves and pineapple skin. I’m calling it I Pine For You.” Ivy scurried away as Holly said at her ear, “Question for you.”
Ivy jerked. “Why do you do that?”
Holly gave her a blank look.
“Just pop in and scare me. You have your own business to run.”
Holly’s lips quirked in a sideways smile. “I like to check on yours. Your tea shop adjoins my bakery. Wesharea kitchen. What you do in yourlittle business,” she said in her lofty, patronizing tone, “reflects on myverysuccessful business, which runs like clockwork. Everything in its place, all my employees working diligently.”
“In fear of you cracking your whip.”
“They’reemployees. I pay them to work hard and make it look easy. They like it. They take pride in a job well done.”
“I do, too.” Her eyes wandered to her tin.
Holly frowned. “So, what exactlywereyou doing here at four thirty a.m.?”
“Wait, why do you care? Were you spying on me?”
“My early crew of bakers saw you in your car.”
It shouldn’t matter what she was doing, but Holly was waiting, foot tapping just the tiniest bit to highlight her impatience. Aware of her sister’s scrutinizing gaze but reluctant to share the truth, Ivy hedged. “I couldn’t sleep, what with that crazy windstorm. I wanted to check on the shop.”
“What windstorm?”
Ivy blinked. “That wild cyclone last night. It rattled the whole building and knocked little branches off the trees in the square. You can’t have slept through that.”
“There was no wind last night. I’m sure of it. The weather report was clear.”
“Well, a storm gusted here at the shops.”
“But not across town where we live. So, the question remains, how could you have even known?” Holly narrowed her eyes.
Ivy hopped into motion. “Sorry, I need to get this out to my customers. She hefted the tea tray for the historical society, overloaded with pastries of all kinds, along with a lilac-flowered teapot with a hand-crocheted tea cozy in deep violet. The cups rattled with purpose as she carried them out. She struggled a little, afraid she might drop the tray. But she didn’t dare goof up with Holly’s critical eyes on her. She’d never hear the end of it.
She plunked the tray down on their table, and Hazel twitched at the noise.
“Sorry, it’s a little bit heavy.” Serious understatement, that. “But I wanted you to be able to sample everything. We have several special offerings today.” Seymour’s eyes lit up. His weren’t the only ones. Even Marjorie’s eyes brightened at the selection of raspberry scones, glazed cinnamon rolls, and molasses crinkles. The four dived into the offerings with gusto.
“Love these.”
“Oh, these are the best.”
“Hum,” said Hazel, with a mouthful of raspberry scone.
Ivy blinked. Had she said Yum, or Hum? “I’m sorry?”
Hazel swallowed and waved her arthritic hand. “Your tune, for the blessing, hum it.”
“Oh, okay.” Ivy started, made it through about three notes and stopped, trying to remember how it went. She started again and gave a nod as she hummed. Yes, she had it this time. Then, the tune vanished from her mind. “That’s odd. I hummed it all last night. Now, I can’t remember how it goes.” She gave a pouty frown. “I guess I’m tired.”
Seymour glowered in disappointment.
Ivy shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll remember. I promise I’ll share it when I do.”