Page 94 of Honey Drop Dead

“Good,” Drayton said. “You can settle that once and for all.” He glanced at his watch and said, “Gracious, it’s gotten late. Shall we take a quick walk in the garden with the dogs?”

“Love to,” Theodosia said.

They cleared the table, left everything sitting on the kitchen counter, and walked outside. The moon was just rising, and gazing at it over a stand of bamboo, Theodosia felt as if she’d been magically transported to a garden in Kyoto, Japan. She’d visited Kyoto once and been transfixed by its temples, gardens, and abundant parkland. In fact, with the city’s tiny restaurants, shops selling tea wares, incense, and yukatas, and grand vistas of the Higashiyama mountains, the whole city cast a Zen-like spell.

She remembered in particular a walk she’d taken up Kiyomizu-Zaka, a picturesque, narrow lane that led to the wondrous Kiyomizu-dera Temple. Built in the early sixteen hundreds, Kiyomizu was an enormous wooden structure constructed without a single nail. Surrounded by forests and mountains, it was a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And when Theodosia had visited in late autumn, the surrounding woods had been aglow with fire red maples.

A scuff of stones at her feet and a gentle bump told Theodosia that Honey Bee and Earl Grey were having a great time bounding about and playing their little doggy games. Over on the patio Drayton had picked up a clipper and was snipping errant fronds from one of his bonsai trees. Up in the sky the moon seemed smaller but brighter, a harbinger, hopefully, of better things to come.

Which all made Theodosia finally relax and heave a sigh of contentment.

29

On Saturday mornings the Indigo Tea Shop generally offered a prix fixe cream tea. Today, there were two options. The first was a maple scone with Devonshire cream, a citrus salad with fresh strawberries, and a chicken salad tea sandwich. The second option was a Parmesan scone with honey butter, a slice of mushroom quiche, and a ham salad tea sandwich.

And even though Theodosia never formally advertised their prix fixe tea—which was actually a kind of brunch—they were generally mobbed.

Today was one of those days.

“Holy catfish,” Drayton exclaimed as he worked furiously behind the counter brewing multiple pots of tea, “I can’t believe how busy we are this morning.”

“We’re busy every Saturday morning,” Theodosia reminded him as she gathered up a stack of clean teacups. “It means it’s good to be in business. You remember, good-old fashioned capitalism?”

“Thank you for the economics lesson. Now can you please pass me that tin of Irish breakfast tea?”

Theodosia passed him the tea. “Take heart,” she said. “You only have to hold out until one thirty. Then we close.”

“Unless we’re blessed with late arriving guests. You tend to be awfully lenient when it comes to Saturday hours.”

“Today I’m sticking to my guns,” Theodosia promised.

“Speaking of guns. What did you ever do with my pistol?”

Theodosia looked up and pushed her hair back. “Oh man, I forgot all about that. I stuck it in my tailgate storage bag.”

“At some point I should probably get it back.”

“Because you’re a one-man militia,” Theodosia laughed. “Armed and dangerous.”

“No, the gun simply has sentimental value.”

Theodosia grabbed a teapot of Darjeeling. “Why do I have trouble believing that?” She was feeling upbeat today. She’d gone home this morning to take a shower and change clothes, feed Earl Grey, walk him, and dispose of the fish. Earl Grey’s dog nanny, Mrs. Barry, would be dropping by this afternoon to walk him.

As Theodosia was pouring tea for Brooke Carter Crocket, a jewelry shop owner from down the street, Haley came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“We just ran out of maple scones,” Haley said, looking worried. “I—I don’t know what happened. I must have underestimated or something.”

Theodosia blinked as she thought for a few moments. “Oh, shoot, Haley, it’s my fault. The Lady Goodwood Inn called in a humongous takeout order and I packaged up the scones and then forgot to tell you. But could we... I mean, do we have an alternative?”

“How about strawberry scones?” Haley asked. “I just whipped up a triple batch and stuck them in the oven. But I thought I’d better check with you first.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Come on, Haley, you know we don’t play the blame game around here. Stuff happens—to all of us. And the strawberry scones are perfect. I just have to remember to tell customers there’s been a change.”

“A switcheroo,” Haley said, relieved now. “Hope they don’t mind.”

“They won’t,” Theodosia said as the front door opened and a group of four women came fluttering in. They looked around with such anticipation on their faces that Drayton hastily slid out from behind the counter, greeted them, and shepherded them to a newly cleared table. Then the front door popped open once again and Holly Burns walked in.

With one eye on Holly, Theodosia continued pouring refills. Then, when her pot was empty, she dropped it off for Drayton to refill.

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