Page 8 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
She entered the kitchen and paused in the doorway. In her mind’s eye she could see Gram standing at the stove, putting the kettle on and asking if Bethany wanted Irish Breakfast or blueberry tea that morning. Good gracious did she miss her.
She filled the kettle with water and placed it back on the stove then selected a cup. From the assortment of flowers, and gag gift mugs she decided it was a “nope, not today” type of morning. She measured a spoonful of Blueberry tea into a bag, tied it up and dropped it into her cup, then opened the next cabinet and pulled down a plate. Eggs, toast, and tea was her usual breakfast and just because this was one of the worst days of her life didn’t mean she couldn’t at least enjoy her breakfast.
Beth dropped one egg. Of all the clumsy things she’d ever done, she had never, not once, dropped an egg. It was a sign. It must be.
Way to go, Beth. You ticked another one off from your ‘never have I ever’ list.
As the tea kettle whistled, she felt the icy hand of doom creep across her shoulders.
No, No, No! Not today! Bethany had never believed in giving in to despair and she would not start now. That wasn’t what Gram wanted for her. She flipped her hair away from her face and poured the hot water into her cup, releasing the tea’s fruity aroma. There, that was better.
After two cups of her favorite blueberry tea, two eggs, and two slices of toast with honey, she was fortified and ready to face the day.
But if those blessed goldfinches could knock it off for five flaming minutes?
* * *
Beth stood in the living room staring outside the bay window. Across the street was an open field whose tall green grass was dabbled with wild flowers, bordered by a forest. Outside it was still a bright Spring day. And still too bright. Couldn’t nature see she was in mourning? Couldn’t it for just one day be dreary? One day? Is that really too much to ask for? She turned away, letting the curtains fall closed behind her.
She looked at her wrist to check her watch and realized she hadn’t put it on. There was no need to know the time consistently now that Gram was gone. The grandfather clock struck eleven, shattering the silence. Its gong was so loud she swore it reverberated inside her rib cage. She looked over at the clock as it continued to strike. Surely it must have gonged one hundred times by now.
Between the blazing sunshine, the chorus of birdsong, and the gong of the clock, her head was ringing. She rubbed her temples and behind her ears and breathed long and steady. Okay. Ready.
The ladies from Gram’s church group would arrive to coordinate the wake and Lauren would arrive any minute now to pick her up. Right on time as usual, the doorbell rang.
Beth opened the door. “Since when do you ring the doorb—” she stopped short, holding the doorknob. The door only half open.
“Sorry, should I have knocked instead?” asked Danny.
Why, no! We don’t expect common courtesy around here!
He was the last person she’d expected to see on her doorstep. It’s not like their date was a raving success. But here he was. “Hi, no, sorry. I thought you were someone else.” She opened the door wide and stepped aside, allowing him to pass. “You must have seen the obituary.”
“No, well, I might have, but you never told me your grandmother’s name. Why, has she died?”
“Today is her funeral.”
“I had no idea her funeral was today. I swear.” Even he didn’t buy his story. He waited for her to forgive him because Beth was like that. When she said nothing, he waited for another awkward moment then continued. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He patted her shoulder in an atta girl sort of way. “Also, I found this in my car.” He held up her book. “It must have fallen out of your purse …” Or he might have taken it from her purse to use as an excuse to see her again after the old woman died. “Do you always go on a date with a book in your bag?”
“Yes, but it’s nothing personal.” So, he hadn’t known today was Gram’s funeral? Yeah right. He’d had an entire week to return her book.
“This book has seen better days. Why don’t you toss it?”
“Because it’s my favorite!” She snatched it from his hand and clutched to her chest. This day was bad enough, must she lose her book too? “Thank you for bringing it to me.”
“I read the back cover. Why do you read that garbage?”
She blinked twice. First in disbelief then because she couldn’t stop the tears rushing in. She looked at the floor and closed her eyes. Everything was quiet, except for her racing heart and the goldfinches who were still going strong, until Lauren’s voice rang from outside.
“Beth? Somebody’s ugly BMW is blocking your driveway. I left them a note telling them to move it or it will be towed. Some people are so inconsiderate. God, my pantyhose are so twisted, I’m walking like John Wayne,” Lauren called out as she wobbled through the corridor. She walked through the house and into the living room, where she found her best friend staring at the floor, clutching a book like a life preserver. Lauren laid a hand on Beth’s arm. “Beth? What’s going on?”
“It’s my fault. I teased her about her book,” explained Danny.
Lauren’s concerned eyes snapped away from Beth to the source. Let’s see, ugly car and pretty blue eyes. It could only be Danny Scott. She tested what he was really made of. He was already at the bottom of her list. Nobody teased her best friend and got away with it. “And just who the hell are you?”
“I’m Danny with the ugly BMW.”
The arrogant jerk hadn’t even flinched. And exactly how many ugly cars did one person need? She propped her fists on her hips. “Danny, move your car.”
