“And what’s the menu for that?” Drayton asked.
“Haley says it’s going to be a variation on lunch with a few extras tossed in.”
“Goody,” Miss Dimple said, practically clapping her hands.
“So in order to get our tables set up, we need to send our luncheon guests merrily on their way by one thirty at the latest,” Theodosia told them.
Miss Dimple nodded. “What should we do? Just shoo them out?”
“Nothing quite that obvious,” Theodosia said. “But it works wonders if we send Drayton over to glower at them.”
“Drayton doesn’t glower,” Miss Dimple said. “That’s just his serious look. He’s a serious sort of gent.”
“Gent.” Theodosia was amused. “That’s a funny word. Kind of old-fashioned.”
Miss Dimple looked pleased. “But that’s exactly what Drayton is. Courtly and polished and a little old-fashioned.”
Drayton popped the top on a Brown Betty teapot. “If you say so.”
? ? ?
Theodosia spent most of the lunch doing the heavy lifting. That is, running back and forth, grabbing luncheon plates, then clearing away dishes. She let Miss Dimple wander through the tea room with a pot of tea, dispensing compliments, advice, and refills.
“Have you decided which teas to serve this afternoon?” Theodosia asked Drayton. She knew he liked to ruminate over what might be the most suitable teas for all their events.
“I’m thinking a Prince of Wales tea and an Irish afternoon tea,” Drayton said. “Prince of Wales is always such a popular choice in England and it has a light, slightly delicate flavor. And the Irish afternoon tea is more full-bodied and brisk.”
“And both work well with milk or sweetener. Good choice.”
Theodosia pulled out their set of Staffordshire dishes as well as two Limoges porcelain figures. There’d been no need to worry about the luncheon guests leaving on time, because they simply had. By one thirty they’d all cleared out, as neatly as if Haley had swept the leaves away from the front door.
“Let’s put out the glass teapot warmers,” Theodosia told Miss Dimple. “And I’ll grab a box of votive candles.”
“What about these flowers?” Miss Dimple asked. “What if I cut the stems and popped them into your short, white ceramic vases?”
“Go for it.”
Theodosia was pleased with how the tea room was shaping up. They had . . . what? Maybe twenty-eight people coming today? Not as big a group as last night but still enough guests to keep them hopping. And keep them in business, too, since that was the whole purpose of serving tea.
Oh, is it really? she thought to herself. Is that why I do this?
Well, no. Theodosia knew her purpose was really to be master (or mistress) of her own destiny, enjoy the freedom of being a small-time entrepreneur who reported only to herself, and do something that she was passionate about.
And she was definitely passionate about the Indigo Tea Shop. She loved it more than anyone would ever know. This was what dreams were all about. Have a vision, build on that vision, and work hard to make sure it all came to fruition.
The front door creaked open, pulling her out of her introspection. It was Detective Tidwell.
He peered around, his broad face registering surprise at seeing the tea shop empty, yet all set up for tea service. “Are you open?” he asked in a bold voice that seemed to resonate a little too loudly in the empty shop.
Theodosia tucked one hand on her hip. “It depends. Are you here for a late lunch or are you arriving early for our Full Monty Tea?”
Tidwell’s eyes glowed expectantly and he was suddenly interested. “There’s a special tea? A . . . excuse me, what did you call it?”
“A Full Monty Tea.”
“Ah. You must have named your event in honor of the venerable field marshal Bernard Montgomery.”
“That’d be about right.”
“I believe I might enjoy your Full Monty Tea.”
“I’m sure you would, since Haley’s come up with quite an extensive menu.”
Tidwell did everything but smack his lips and tuck a napkin down his shirtfront. “I understand old Monty always enjoyed a full complement of rations at breakfast.”
“And at teatime, as well,” Theodosia said. “Even when he was in the field commanding his troops.”
“Or sitting safely at the rear,” Tidwell said.
Theodosia led Tidwell to a table and pulled out a chair for him. “Am I to surmise you’re a student of history?”
“Most definitely. In fact, I’m a bit of a World War Two buff.”
“I would have pegged you for more of a Civil War buff,” Theodosia said. “Maybe even one of those fellows who wander around old battlefields with a metal detector, looking for uniform buttons and minié balls.”
Tidwell’s jowls sloshed. “That’s definitely not my style.”
Theodosia brought him a cup of tea and then sat down next to him. “So what’s new? What do you hear about the rock-hammer guy?”