“To warm the teapot. Temperature is critical in brewing tea. Then we dump out this water, add our scoop of Darjeeling—always using the freshest tea leaves available—and add in our fresh hot water.”
Keyes peered into her teapot. “Those leaves are jumping around like crazy in there.” He gestured toward the camera. “Get a shot of this, Harry. Folks, take a look.”
Theodosia tilted the pot toward the camera. “That’s called the agony of the leaves. The tea leaves are twisting in the hot water, releasing their aroma and flavor.”
“It certainly smells wonderful,” Keyes said. “Very fragrant.”
“I like to think of tea as aromatherapy,” Theodosia said. “The scent of the tea, the lovely aromatic steam, it’s all very conducive to relaxation.”
Keyes pointed to her plate of scones. “Those biscuit things look pretty tasty, too.”
Theodosia picked up a scone, dabbed on a puff of Devonshire cream, and handed it to Keyes. “Try one of our fresh-baked strawberry scones.”
Keyes took a huge bite, bobbed his head, and said, in a muffled voice, “Absolutely delicious. Mmn . . . and we’ll be right back once I polish off the rest of this scone.”
“And we’re out,” Alicia said.
Still chewing, Keyes turned to Theodosia and said, “When we come back from commercial break, you’ll have twenty seconds to promote your event.” He peered at her. “You do have an event to pitch, don’t you?”
“Our Romanov Tea?”
“Sure, honey, whatever.”
Tara was suddenly standing at Keyes’s side, sponging at his makeup, spritzing on an extra layer of hair gel.
“Easy there,” Keyes said, waving his hands. “You put any more of that tanner on my face and I’m gonna look like a bronze statue.”
“Ten seconds,” Alicia called, and then silently counted down.
Keyes stuck his face right into the camera and ratcheted up the charm again. “Tell me, tea lady, what marvelous event do you have coming up?”
“Our Romanov Tea is tomorrow and . . .”
“I’ll bet it’s in honor of that fancy Fabergé egg that’s coming to town, right?”
“I suppose you could say that,” Theodosia said.
“And there are still tickets available?”
“Yes, there are. And our Full Monty . . .”
“Thank you, Theodosia!” Keyes boomed. “And thank you, Charleston. I hope you’re all having a Southern sunshiny day!” He leaned into the camera and said, in a conspiratorial voice, “Next up, a doggy fashion show you won’t want to miss!”
That was it. Theodosia’s TV career was over in the blink of an eye. She could barely remember what she’d mumbled, or if she’d even bothered to light a candle. She glanced back at the set. Alicia was haphazardly tossing everything back into her box, while a parade of poodles, schnauzers, and miniature collie dogs, all bundled up in colorful knitted sweaters, suddenly converged on the set.
“Here you go,” Alicia said, shoving the box into Theodosia’s hands. “Thanks so much.” She backpedaled away. “Gotta set up for the next segment.”
“Thanks for your help,” Theodosia said. “Have a Southern sunshiny day yourself.”
? ? ?
Outside, the wind had finally quieted down by the time Theodosia reached her Jeep.
Weird, she thought. What a totally weird experience. Like being in a car accident, but being so frightened you don’t really remember getting hit.
A dose of chipper whistling caught her ear.
Theodosia shoved her box into the backseat, spun around, and scanned the parking lot.
“Hey there!” Lionel Rinicker called out. He was striding across the lot toward her, looking shockingly upbeat and dapper in a navy-blue suit and red rep tie.
“Mr. Rinicker?” she said, caught by surprise.
“Lionel, please,” he said. “I thought that might be you with all that fiery auburn hair. You fit right in with this autumn day.” He glanced at the building. “I bet you were here doing a TV gig.”
“I’m afraid so. Although it felt more like riding a speeding roller coaster.”
“Isn’t that always the way it is when you have to appear in front of a camera or do some public speaking?” He stuffed both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m doing a segment here, too.”
“No kidding.” This was a surprise.
“The Heritage Society is keen on publicizing the opening of our Rare Antiquities Show,” Rinicker said. “Especially since it kicks off on Sunday for public viewing.”
“Well, good luck with that.” Theodosia wondered if Timothy had given his blessing to this bit of propaganda. Or had Rinicker set this up all on his own?
“My friend Grace says they’ll try to put makeup on me,” Rinicker said.
“Probably.”
Rinicker tipped his head back and laughed. “Everything I’ve always wanted, then.”
He certainly was a charmer, Theodosia thought.
A sudden puff of wind rattled dry leaves across the parking lot.