Page 13 of A Spot of Tea
Eliza wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she knew she was the Mary. Studious but tedious, aspirational but too plain and awkward to be effective.
It didn’t matter how hunky Joey was – and he was plenty hunky – he couldn’t turn a Mary into anything but a slightly spruced-up Mary.
That was the second problem with the 90s prank theory. Why would someone place a bet on a boring Mary? And why would Joey agree to take the bet?
Eliza kept her head down for the rest of the week, making tea, baking scones, and avoiding indulging in any grandiose thinking.
Then the entirety of Saturday came and went without any sign of him.
As she got ready to close the shop, Eliza realized he had probably been messing with her from the start.
Then, ten minutes before closing time, the front door bell jingled.
“Got any leftover cupcakes you were planning to throw away? Because I’d be happy to take them off your hands.”
Eliza peeked up from behind the cash register. He stood there, hands in his coat pocket, grinning at her.
She stood, smoothing her apron. “I usually take our leftovers to the food bank, but if you’d like to steal a cupcake from a baby, sure, I can grab you one.”
He paused, then flashed a smile, dimple engaged. “Yeah, forget those kids. Hand over the cupcakes.”
Eliza laughed and he rushed to add, “I’m just kidding. Please don’t give me one. I wasn’t aware of that and now I’ll probably never eat one again.”
“What about something else? I made a batch of ham and cheese scones that aren’t up to par. You could have them.”
“Now there’s a deal.” He stuck out his hand, palm up. “Scone, please.”
Eliza smiled and waved for him to follow, leading him into the kitchen and pointing at the plate of misshapen scones. The edges of each scone were lined with char. “Have at it. Sorry they’re terrible.”
Without a word, he stuffed half a scone into his mouth. “This is sogood.”
She shook her head. “It’s burnt.”
“Is it?” Joey chewed slowly. “Nah. It’s good.”
She rolled her eyes and packed the rejected scones into a bag for him.
He accepted it. “Thank you. Are you in a hurry? I’m sorry I’m here so late. I had lots of flights today, but I was hoping we could still sit down and talk out a plan.”
“I never agreed to be part of your scheme.”
“You’re here, though, aren’t you? Waiting to get the rest of my pitch?”
“I work here.” She crossed her arms. Hopefully her ears weren’t glowing red, betraying her. “I wasn’t waiting for you.”
“Aw, man. You’re not even a little bit curious?” He frowned. “You’re putting me out here. I was really hoping to get that money so I could buy my own plane.”
Eliza turned, picking up the tea kettle and hiding a smile. “Do you want some tea?”
“I don’t want to make you work off the clock.”
“Tea is never work.” She pulled the lid off of a tea tin. “Another pot of the hot cinnamon spice?”
“Yes, please!”
She made up a teapot and gathered a pair of her favorite cups.
“I can carry that,” Joey offered, then added, “Whoa, these are nice.”
