by Diane Moody
But for Maddie, all she ever knew was the love of her adoring grandmother, and that was enough. Rachel Cooper was there for Maddie when she learned to ride a bike, when she had her tonsils out, when she shopped for her first bra, and when she sang her first solo in the Christmas program. She was right there when Maddie struggled with peer pressure in high school, when she eventually graduated with honors—and when her college sweetheart found someone new, leaving her heart shattered.
When Nana suffered a massive stroke just weeks after Maddie graduated from UT, there was no question in Maddie’s mind who would take care of her. Never looking back, she learned the necessary skills to care for a stroke victim paralyzed on one side, otherwise known as “unilateral” paralysis. She learned to bathe her, to use the automated lift to get her in and out of bed. She helped her exercise, hoping to help her regain the use of her left arm and leg. And more than anything, she tried to return the gift of love—a lifetime of love.
“So what’s this big decision you’ve made?”
Nana reached for her hand and Maddie gave it willingly. “No one could have cared for me better. Most children, let alone grandchildren, would just shut their loved ones away in some institution, but you stayed with me. I’ll never forget it, sweetheart. But the time has come for you to move on.”
“No! Stop talking like that.” Maddie pulled her hand back, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “I don’t think I like the direction this is going.”
Nana laughed easily. “Well, if you think I’m offering to check myself into some old folks home, you’re wrong. I’ve simply decided to ask Gretchen to stay on with us. To live here with us. I want her to take care of all those mundane tasks—the bathing, the dressing, the lifting here and there, the cooking and cleaning—and let you simply be my granddaughter again. My live-in granddaughter, of course.”
A whoosh of air rushed from Maddie’s lungs. “Oh, is that all?” She grabbed Nana’s good hand. “I thought you were kicking me out! Good heavens, don’t ever do that again. You scared me half to death!”
“I think it’s the best of both worlds. I already love that dear girl like she’s one of my own. She’s efficient and cheerful, and we get along famously. And oh my, how she loves the Lord. We’ve shared the dearest prayer times together. Besides, I hate for you to have to do all those things for me. You need a life of your own. We should have done this years ago. And it will free you up so that you can open your tea room—”
“Our tea room.”
“Yes, of course. Our tea room. So what do you think?”
“I think it’s smashing, my dear. I think it’s extraordinary.” Lacing her words with her contrived English accent, Maddie jumped up, lunging for another hug.
“Oh dear, here comes the accent again,” Nana moaned, buried in the exaggerated embrace.
Maddie leaned back. “Yes, and do get used to it, love, for I shall practice it day and night to put myself in the proper mindset for our very proper English tea room.”
“And just what have you decided to call this very proper English tea room?”
“What do you think of The Chawton Tea Room?” Maddie studied her grandmother’s face.
“Named for Jane Austen’s home? I think it’s perfect.”
“Do you? Given, that’s where the idea first occurred to me?”
“Absolutely. Then The Chawton Tea Room it is. And Maddie, don’t forget to pray about all this, dear. Remember what the Bible says—‘In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your path.’ Give this tea room to Him and see what He has in store for you.”
“Not to worry, Nana. God is all over this. I’m sure of it.”
“He’s across the street? Right now?”
Lanie and Maddie peeked out the living room window at the stately brick home across the street. The last traces of sunlight cast golden shadows across the four white pillars bedecking the spacious front porch. “Where else would he be? He’s on crutches. And I feel terrible about it, Lanie. It’s all our fault. We never should have run off like that. What were we thinking?”
“Doesn’t bother me in the least.” Lanie continued snooping, hoping for any sign of movement. “That’s what he gets for being so rude to us. What a jerk. That reminds me—I almost forgot . . .” Lanie reached for her purse and dug out the copy of The Daily Texan. “Get a load of this, will you?”
“Oh my goodness.” With Lanie leaning over her shoulder, Maddie scanned the headlines of the school newspaper. “‘Texas Welcomes Dr. Ian Grant’ . . . And look, there’s our very own Scrooge in a flowing black robe walking across Oxford’s historic campus. Do you believe this?” Maddie’s voice trailed off as she stared at the second picture, a head shot of the professor. “He’s much better looking than this, don’t you think?”
“That’s what I told Amanda, which, of course, sent her into vapors. She’s already asked me to introduce him to her.”
Maddie lowered the paper. “Your boss wants you to introduce her to him? Not gonna happen. She way too flirtatious for him.”
Lanie shot her a questioning glance then peeked back out the window. “He must be some kind of big cheese in the English literary field. Everybody’s talking about him.”
“Ooh! Right up our alley. He’s probably an expert on Jane Austen. We should drop by for a chat sometime. Better yet, invite him to our next book club meeting.” Maddie wiggled her eyebrows.
Lanie’s face deadpanned. “I think not. Are you out of your mind? Have you already forgotten how rude he was to us on that plane? Never mind that we broke his foot. The farther we stay from him, the better, Maddie. Besides, I probably shouldn’t mention this, but—”
“But of course you will because we keep no secrets,” Maddie finished, still staring at the picture of Ian Grant.
“Okay, but just remember—this is nothing but gossip, so there’s a good chance it’s bogus at the very least.”
“Out with it.”
Lanie moved to the sofa, kicking off her shoes. “I can’t believe I’m repeating Amanda’s gossip. Oh well. Apparently, a few years ago, our dear Dr. Grant was jilted at the altar. As in, literally at the altar. Rumor is he’s a bit of a stuffed shirt because of it.” She smirked a half-smile. “At least we know that part is true.”
Maddie took a seat in the easy chair, staring off into space as her mind chased a romantic rabbit.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lanie chided. “I know that look in your eyes. Don’t even think about it, Maddie.”
“Think about what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. Just forget it.”
“But don’t you see? He needs us. He needs our help to find him that special someone who can take away the hurt and show him what real love is all about. It’s what we do best.”
Lanie covered her face with her hands, moaning. “Leave me out of this. You’re asking for nothing but trouble. Big trouble. He’s a lose-lose, any way you figure it.”
“He just needs a little TLC, that’s all. I could tell this morning when we talked. He’s covering for something. I could see it in his eyes. He tries to come across tough and uncaring, but it’s just an act.” She poked the paper with her forefinger. “And now we know why.”
Lanie tilted her head. “Wait. You talked to him this morning?”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you. I went out to get the paper, and there he was, across the street doing the same thing. Only he’s on crutches! Crutches that we put him on, Lanie.” Maddie looked toward the front window, nodding her head as if bearing the heavy mantle of guilt for them both.
“Phhhht, don’t pull me into your little pity party. I feel no guilt whatsoever. So what did he say? Was he still mean and grizzly?”
Maddie faced her again. “No, though I think I scared him a little.”
“You? Imagine that.”
“Stop it. I simply offered to help him up the porch steps, which he refused. But get this—when I came back in, I peeked through the sheers and sa
w him peeking back at me through the blinds of his living room! How funny is that?”
“Our Mr. Scrooge? Playing look-see through the window? Well, what do you know.”
Maddie brushed the wrinkles out of her apron then stood up again. “It’s just a matter of time, Lanie. Just a matter of time. They’re all putty in my hands, you know.”
Lanie smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Not again. Maddie, when are you going to learn? Reading Emma does not qualify you as some sort of love guru. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but girl, you are not a matchmaker.”
Maddie planted fists on hips. “I am too! Need I remind you about Jana and Doug? Hmmm? They married exactly six months after I introduced them.”
“And divorced a year later. Not exactly a successful match, if you ask me.”
Maddie waved her off. “What happens after they marry is not my concern. Now stop trying to dampen my spirits.”
“Thank goodness I found Jeff on my own, without your help. Did I tell you he called last night? We talked until two in the morning. Maddie, he was so wonderful comforting me about Mr. Darcy. I was so distraught, I couldn’t stop crying. I kept seeing his furry little body, all limp in that box we buried him in. That poor little guy . . . he didn’t deserve it.” Lanie’s eyes grew shiny with tears as her chin began to tremble.
She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her thumbs, then looked back up at Maddie. “But Jeff—he just let me talk and cry, and then he knew exactly what to say. It was like he was right there hugging me or something. I think I could really fall for this guy. He’s everything I’ve been looking for. He really is.”
Maddie didn’t miss the dreamy look in Lanie’s eyes. “But the fact is, he wasn’t there. He was across the country. He’s just a cyber romance, Lanie. Nothing more. I don’t understand you at all. You don’t even know this guy. He could be some—”
“Okay, okay. I’ve heard your lecture before. Same song, same verse. Give it a rest. Besides, how dangerous can he be? I met him in a Jane Austen chat room. Not exactly predator territory.”
“Like that means anything? You don’t know! He could be some major pervert just stalking the chat room. And even if he is a Jane fan, you have to admit—most of those guys are seriously needy geeks. Think about it. Have you ever met a good looking guy with a decent personality who would even consider watching a Jane Austen flick with you?”
Lanie peeked back out the window, avoiding eye contact with Maddie. “Did I mention he sent me flowers today? Last night I actually got my feelings hurt, thinking he was working or something as we talked. I could hear him typing on his keyboard. Turns out he was online ordering two dozen roses for me. They were delivered first thing this morning. They’re so beautiful, Maddie.”
“Like perverts don’t know how to charm a girl?” Maddie rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Lanie. Don’t be so gullible!”
Lanie plugged her ears with her forefingers. “I’m not listening anymore,” she answered in sing-song. “Can’t hear a word you sa-ay!”
“Fine!” Maddie shouted. Then realizing Lanie was still singing, she walked over and pulled the plugs on her friend. “Stop being a baby and come help me finish getting dinner ready. Jonathan will be here any minute.”
The sing-song continued as Lanie followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll be glad to he-elp, but no more lec-tures, ‘cause I don’t wanna hear the-em!”
Chapter 5
“Maddie, that was positively scrumptious.”
Jonathan Spencer’s compliment pleased Maddie as she cleared the dishes from the dining room table. “Why, thank you, Jonathan. Always a pleasure to have you join us.” She tossed a wink at Nana.
“You’re as good a cook as Rachel, but don’t tell her I said that,” he whispered loudly.
“I heard that,” Nana jested, right beside him.
Lanie gathered the remaining dishes from the table. “We all know Maddie stole all Nana’s recipes so we know precisely where the credit lies. Right, Nana?”
“Goodness knows I have no use for them,” Nana quirked with a laugh. “I’m just pleased Madeline does them justice. Which brings us back to our discussion. Jonathan, do you really think Madeline’s business endeavor can be up and running in just two or three months? Seems awfully fast to me.”
“I see no problem with the zoning permit,” Jonathan answered. “This section of the neighborhood is transitioning to homes with businesses—Crayton’s Antique Shoppe, The Book Nook—all similar concepts with proprietors living on the premises. But as for the fast track schedule, I suppose that all depends on Maddie.”
Maddie refilled everyone’s teacups before joining them again at the table. She’d honored Jonathan tonight by setting her new favorite at his place, the cup and saucer she’d brought home from England. She would forever associate the set she bought in Chawton village with her dream; its deep red and gold design and tiny flowers on a pristine white background, a visible reminder. She smiled as she sat back down, still admiring the cup even as Jonathan stirred sugar into it.
“Nana, I know we can do it. I’ve already ordered my books on English tea. I’ll study everything I need to know as fast as I can. I’ve already scoured the internet for information, recipes, that sort of thing. I’ll only be making a few of the pastries initially, experimenting with some new ones and making some of your favorites as well. The finger sandwiches are a cinch. Oh, remind me to let you sample my cranberry chicken salad panini tomorrow. I found the most amazing recipe. It calls for dried cranberries, chopped walnuts, chopped scallions, and several other things, mayo of course. Then you layer it on some sourdough bread with a sassy little smear of Brie and of all things, apricot preserves. Oh my goodness, the flavors just explode in your mouth!”
“I’m stuffed to the gills,” Jonathan added, “but that does sound awfully good. I might have to happen by around lunch time tomorrow.” He danced his unruly eyebrows up and down with delight.
Nana’s half-smile lifted as her eyes twinkled. “You know you’re welcome to stop by anytime, Jonathan. And I’m quite sure we’ll need another taste-tester, won’t we, Madeline?”
“Of course!” Maddie scratched above her brow, trying to remember her train of thought. “Where was I before I got distracted with that recipe? Oh! I know. I was just going to say that by the time we get the minor renovations finished, we should be ready to go.”
“For the record, I vote for these chess squares to be on the menu.” Jonathan helped himself to another of the gooey golden bars.
“Jonathan, I think I speak for all of us when I say we couldn’t do any of this without your sophisticated and experienced palate,” Maddie teased, drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. “As for these, we’ll dub them ‘Spencer Chess Squares’ in your honor.”
“Well now!” Jonathan beamed.
“Back to the task at hand, honey. Lanie’s going to help you with the marketing, printing, that sort of thing?” Nana inquired.
“Yes. She’s a whiz at layout and already has tons of ideas for advertising, don’t you, Lanie?”
“You’ll love what we come up with, Nana. I promise. It’s going to have a very English feel to it, top to bottom. And I’ve got a friend helping me design a simple website. Gotta have a web presence, you know.”
Maddie jumped back in. “Then I’ll do the decorating—tablecloths, window treatments, even personalized aprons for all of us. I can see it all in my head—it’s just a matter of pulling it all together. It’s going to be fabulous! ”
Lanie took another sip of tea, then set the cup back on the delicate saucer. “Back up a sec, Maddie. Nana’s got a good point. What’s the rush?”
“Yes, Maddie, why the hurry?” Jonathan asked. “We definitely want this to be done right, so where’s the fire?”
Maddie wiped her mouth with her cloth napkin, blushing at the question. “No fire. Just a—I don’t know—a driving desire to do it. Now. I’ve been searching for years for something to
pour myself into. I’m not sure I can explain it. I just feel such an urgency on so many different levels about this. Ever since our trip to England, it’s as if I’ve been called to do it—almost like a ministry. That probably sounds crazy, but it makes perfect sense to me. I guess I’m just asking you all to indulge me a little here. The sooner we open, the better.” She punctuated her request with an asking smile.
“Then that’s what we shall do,” Nana responded. Extending her hand to Jonathan, she instructed him, “Whatever it costs, whatever she needs, Jonathan. And you heard her—the sooner, the better.”
He wrapped her good hand in his, leaning over to kiss it. “Then, as Rachel so aptly put it, that’s what we shall do, ladies.” He patted her hand then turned to Lanie and Maddie. “We’ll get started right away on the remodeling in here and in the kitchen. And I know just the man for the job—Brad Chapman. He’s a contractor. Dependable, trustworthy, and he gets the job done.”
“I think I know who he is,” Lanie said. “Big guy? Nice tan? Thick black hair? Dimples?”
Maddie slowly tracked her attention. “So Lanie. Quite the information source on the new handyman, are we?”
“Stop with the insinuations, Maddie. I saw him at Home Depot a few weeks ago. It was no big deal. I happened to follow him out of the store and saw him get into a pickup, one of those big fancy kinds with a sign painted on the door—‘Brad Chapman Construction.’ No mystery, no romance, so put away your Cupid arrows, girl.”
Maddie cocked her eyebrow anyway. “All the more reason to get this ball rolling!”
Ian leaned back in his chair, pushing away from the desk. His head ached from too many hours pouring over his notes. He knew he could teach this subject in his sleep. So why all the frustration? Grabbing the crutches, he went through the routine, lifting himself from the chair and limping down the hall toward the kitchen. He stood in front of the large stainless steel refrigerator with the door open, welcoming the cool air against his skin. He reached for a chilled bottle of Pellegrino and closed the door. Moments later, seated on a wicker chair on the wide front porch, he tried to ignore the humid night air and just relax.