“Of course,” Theodosia said, hustling them along. “And I have a reserved table for the two of you right over here.”
“Oh, we get our own special table,” Delaine exclaimed. “How romantic. With flowers and candles and everything.”
“Looks like we’ve got a full house,” Theodosia said to Drayton as she surveyed the tea room.
Drayton consulted a clipboard. “I can’t believe we packed forty-two warm bodies in here. I think it’s a new record.”
“Forty. We still have two empty seats.”
“Oh dear, I wonder who hasn’t . . . ?”
The door banged open loudly as Sabrina and Luke Andros came charging in.
“Looks like we won’t be stuck with two empty places after all,” Theodosia murmured.
“We’re so sorry,” Sabrina babbled to them. “We apologize for being late, but we had a last-minute meeting with a client.”
“A prospective yacht buyer?” Theodosia asked as she took Sabrina’s coat.
Luke nodded. “That’s exactly right. It’s a funny thing about wealthy people . . . as soon as they make up their mind they want something, everybody else has to instantly drop what they’re doing and tend to their needs.”
“I know the feeling,” Theodosia said.
? ? ?
Once Theodosia and Drayton had filled everyone’s teacups, once the air hummed with conversation and the candles flickered enticingly in the darkened tea shop, Drayton stepped to the center of the room.
“Welcome,” he said, “to our Romanov Tea. Tonight we plan to turn back the clock to the romantic era of the Russian czars and dazzle you with a sampling of excellent food and tea.”
Theodosia stepped forward to join Drayton. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that you’ve all been served tea in small glasses set in elegant metal holders. This is the traditional way tea was served back in that era.” She paused as there were murmurs of approval. “We’ve also created a traditional Russian feast for you tonight. Our appetizers consist of hot beet borscht and blinis with smoked salmon. We have a chilled potato-and-herring salad for you, and your entrée will be a rich beef Stroganoff. For dessert we’ll be serving Russian tea cake cookies as well as a tarte tatin, which is a caramelized apple tart.”
“For those of you who chose our Russian caravan tea,” Drayton said, “I urge you to also try our spiced tea served from a traditional Russian samovar. I think you’ll definitely find it to your liking. For, as an old Russian saying goes, ‘Where there is tea, there is paradise.’”
As Drayton’s melodic words hung in the flickering light, with the strains of balalaika music playing over the sound system, Haley suddenly appeared carrying an enormous silver tray. Drayton whisked it from her hands, and then he and Theodosia circled the tables to serve their first course.
“This is traditional borscht,” Drayton told the guests. “Served with a cool dollop of sour cream to compliment the soup’s heat and zest.”
From that point on, Theodosia and Drayton were frantically busy. Even as they accepted high praise from their guests, they removed dishes, served the blinis and salad course, and then took those dishes away and moved on to the entrée.
“This is a madhouse,” Drayton said when he met up with Theodosia at the counter. “We can barely keep up.”
“We should have asked Miss Dimple to come in and help,” Theodosia said.
“Let’s at least get the old girl in here tomorrow night for our Full Monty Tea.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Theodosia said. “And who was the genius who decided to hold three event teas in one week?”
Drayton pointed a finger at her. “You.”
“Well, you have my permission to smack me upside the head if I ever suggest it again, will you? Because this is downright crazy.”
“Hold that thought,” Drayton said. “While we hurry up and serve dessert.”
Their desserts, Russian tea cakes and tarte tatins, were met with a chorus of praise and compliments. And as forks clinked against china plates, as more steaming tea was sipped and enjoyed, as conversations became ebullient, Drayton stepped in to say a final word.