“Even if they’re just my personal suspicions?”
“Especially if they’re just suspicions. It would be grossly unfair to all the people concerned.”
“Okay,” Theodosia said. “I guess I can see that. Just one more thing, then.”
Both agents looked askance at her.
“What do you want to know?” Hurley asked in a tentative voice.
“Do you think the robbery of the emerald necklace at the opera last night is connected to the Heart’s Desire robbery?”
“And you know about that robbery . . . how?” Zimmer asked.
“Because I was there,” Theodosia said. “Me and about half of Charleston. So I suppose there are a whole lot of people wondering what’s going on. If the two crimes might even be connected.”
Red-faced and smarting, the FBI agents clammed up completely. Theodosia decided if they weren’t going to play nice and share, then she wasn’t about to grace them with complimentary tea and scones. They’d reached a mountain of an impasse and there was nothing that could be done. After a few minutes of conversation that was polite verging on brittle, she ushered them to the door.
“You certainly didn’t show your warm and fuzzy side to those two,” Drayton observed once Zimmer and Hurley had left.
“That’s because they weren’t particularly open with me.”
“They’re the FBI,” Drayton said. “What do you expect? They have a long and storied history of not being open or friendly. Of demanding answers but never giving any in return.”
“Still,” Theodosia said, “they could have been a little more gracious.”
“Maybe you should have invited them to the tea tonight,” Drayton smirked. “You could have seated them next to Professor Shepley. Then sat back and watched the sparks fly.”
“You know,” Theodosia said. “I thought about that. But then I wouldn’t have the fun of questioning Shepley myself.”
20
“Drayton,” Haley sang out, “did you remember to bring in your Russian samovar?” She was standing in the middle of the tea shop, looking around expectantly.
Drayton leaned around the counter. “If you glance to your left, my dear Haley, you’ll find that it’s sitting right there on the pecan sideboard.”
Haley looked over her shoulder and saw the elaborate silver-and-brass samovar. “Oh. I guess you did remember. Then how about the bouquets?”
“They’re in my office,” Theodosia said. “Gerbera daisies and red carnations. You can start bringing them out if you want.”
It was five o’clock in the afternoon and preparations for their Romanov Tea were finally winding down. Haley had been rattling around in the kitchen for the last two hours, cooking beef Stroganoff in creamy mushroom sauce, as well as blinis and borscht. Theodosia had busied herself with decorating the tables, laying out blush-colored linens, and then setting out their Cobalt Net china by Lomonosov.
“You know I borrowed several sets of glass teacups,” Drayton told her.
“Show me,” Theodosia said.
Drayton promptly produced a small glass, and then popped it into a gilded metal holder with a lace design. “We have three dozen of these. Perfect for our Russian tea, yes?”
“And so authentic,” Theodosia said. “Our guests are going to eat this up.”
“Along with the food,” Haley said. “Which really is the whole point.” She looked around at the tables. “So what else?”
“Well, the flowers,” Theodosia said. “And we borrowed some of those little Russian nesting dolls to liven things up.”
“No bronze busts of Lenin or Trotsky?” Haley asked. “No Socialist posters on the walls?”
“Nooo,” Drayton said, picking up a bright-pink box from the counter. “This is more of a czarist tea. Which is why I had the Toulouse Bakery make us a batch of cake and candy Fabergé eggs.”
Haley reached out anxiously. “Ooh, let me see.”
Drayton handed over the box. “Be careful, now. Those little cakes are fragile.”
Haley flipped open the lid and gingerly removed one of the eggs. There were an even dozen pink, blue, and cream-colored eggs inside the box, all decorated with swaths of colored frosting and dots of candy that approximated pearls and gemstones. “These are absolutely precious. So I should just set a couple on each table?”
“That should do it,” Drayton said. “Only let’s display them in those enameled Khokhloma bowls we found at Ladybug Gifts down the street. It’ll show them off better.”
“Will we be serving Russian caravan tea?” Theodosia asked. “Or have you come up with something else?”
“I’m going to brew the Russian caravan tea in traditional teapots,” Drayton said. “And then we’ll serve a black tea spiced with cinnamon and cloves out of the samovar.” He smiled. “One to appeal to tea purists and one for those with more of a sweet tooth.”