Molly had suspected from the start that the older woman had felt sorry for her. She knew Zinnia had hired her in the middle of a recession out of compassion, not because she actually needed a counter assistant.
Molly had been determined that her new employer would not regret her act of generosity. She had plunged into the task of working full-time with the same energy and enthusiasm that she had once reserved for her studies. There had been no other option.
Within a week of working at Zinnia’s tea shop, Molly had realized that unless something was done, the business would not last the year. With it would go her job. After some research, Molly suggested that Zinnia add a full line of spices to be sold in bulk. Zinnia had gone along with the plan.
Seattle was what gourmets and restaurant reviewers liked to call a foodie town. Molly knew that exotic spices were of interest to a lot of people. After locating and contracting with various sources for a steady supply of everything from dried New Mexican chiles to Spanish saffron, Molly had turned her attention to packaging and advertising. The shop changed its name to Pipewell Tea & Spice.
Instead of opting for a trendy, Euro-modern image, which the espresso bars favored, Molly had chosen an old-fashioned, antique design for the shop. The result had been a store that captured the feel of an early nineteenth-century tea and spice traders’ dockside warehouse.
Business had picked up rapidly.
Molly expanded carefully. She offered a mailing service so that out-of-town customers would not have to carry their purchases home in their baggage. She provided recipe books and prepackaged dip mixes. She developed catalogs. She installed a tea bar in the front window.
Molly capitalized on the new research reports that promoted the healthful aspects of tea drinking. She pursued health food junkies and jaded coffee drinkers with clever marketing schemes. When that proved profitable, she started marketing to the New Age and meditation crowd. She hired an instructor to give lessons in the ancient art of the Japanese tea ceremony.
The bank got its money. Jasper borrowed more. Life went on. Somewhere along the line Molly realized that she was never going to go back to college to finish her studies.
Zinnia made Molly a partner in the business. With a view toward her own retirement, she had suggested that the name of the shop be changed to reflect the future. Molly had never forgotten the thrill of pride she had experienced the day the Abberwick Tea & Spice Co. sign had gone up over the door of the shop.
A year later, Molly bought out Zinnia’s half of the business. The lease was up for renewal. Molly decided to move to a new location. She chose spacious, airy premises midway up a broad flight of fountain-studded steps designed to channel tourists to the waterfront. It was a perfect location for attracting both the tourist crowd and the office workers who often ate their brown bag lunches on the steps.
Zinnia went on a long cruise.
Jasper finally managed to take out a lucrative patent on his industrial robot systems. At Molly’s suggestion he had licensed the rights to an aggressive young Oregon firm. Money had poured into the Abberwick family coffers.
There was suddenly so much money that even Jasper and his brother could not manage to blow it all before they were killed in their man-powered aircraft experiment.
Jasper left his daughters a sizable patent royalty income that promised to continue for years. He had left the huge headache that became known as the Abberwick Foundation to Molly.
Tessa busied herself brewing tea for the window service bar. “Tell me more about this hot date with Trevelyan.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Molly said. “I haven’t gone out with him yet.”
“Ruby Sweat is playing the Cave on Friday night,” Tessa said ingenuously. “You could take him there for an evening of fun and frolic.”
“Somehow I don’t think the Cave is Harry’s kind of place.”
“I still don’t get it. What made you decide to date—”
A thundering crash interrupted Tessa’s question.
Molly spun around to gaze at the closed door of her office. “Oh, no, not again.”
She rushed forward and threw open the door. Her sister, Kelsey, looked up from the wreckage of her latest prototype device, a gadget designed to dispense ground spice. Molly could barely see her through the cloud of powdery sage.
“What happened?” Molly demanded.
“There was a small problem with the design,” Kelsey gasped. “Cover your nose, quick.”
It was too late. Sage wafted through the air. Molly started to sneeze. Tears formed in her eyes. She hurried into her office and slammed the door shut behind her to prevent the spice from getting into the outer shop. She seized a tissue from the box on her desk and breathed through it while she waited for the finely ground sage to settle.
“Sorry about this.” Kelsey sneezed into a tissue. “I was real close this time. Next time for sure.”
Molly had heard those words a thousand times over the years. Her father and her uncle, Julius, had both used them like a litany. I was real close this time. Next time for sure. Molly had considered inscribing those words over the door of the Abberwick mansion as a sort of family motto.
The thing was, with an Abberwick, those infamous words occasionally proved true.
“Situation normal,” Molly muttered. She sneezed again. Her eyes watered. She sniffed loudly and yanked more tissue from the box.
Kelsey wiped her own eyes and gave Molly an apologetic smile. The perfect grin revealed the results of several thousand dollars’ worth of orthodontia, which Molly had sprung for a few years earlier. Molly briefly admired her investment. The family had not been able to afford such luxuries when she had been in her teens. The result was that Molly had two slightly crooked front teeth.
“You okay?” Kelsey asked.
“This will certainly clear my sinuses for the next six months.” Molly brushed sage powder off her chair and sat down. She gave the spice dispenser device a brief glance.
The machine was composed of a series of plastic tubes and levers designed to control the release of dried and ground spice. The small motor that powered the dispenser lay in smoking ruins on the corner of the desk.
“What went wrong?” Molly asked.
Kelsey bent over the wreckage with the air of a police pathologist examining a dead body. “I think the ground sage somehow got sucked into the motor and clogged it.”
“I see.” There was no point getting upset over this sort of thing, and Molly knew it. Failed experiments were a way of life for Abberwicks. She leaned back in her chair and studied her sister with a mixture of affection and resignation.
Kelsey had definitely inherited the family genius and a talent for tinkering. She had been fiddling with things since she was five. From her dollhouses to her bicycles, nothing was safe. Molly still shuddered whenever she recalled the day she walked into Kelsey’s room and found her little sister with a light bulb, an extension cord, and a pair of pliers. Kelsey had intended to turn her toy oven into a real, working model.
Although Kelsey had gotten the Abberwick curiosity and a flair for invention from her father, she had received her blue eyes and coppery red hair from her mother. She had also been blessed with Samantha Abberwick’s fine cheekbones and delicate jaw. The orthodontia had provided the pièce de résistance. Molly wished her mother had lived to see just how lovely her youngest daughter had become.
She also wished that her absentminded father had not been so preoccupied with his endless plans and schemes that he had failed to notice Kelsey following in his footsteps.
It had been up to Molly to try to fill in for both missing parents. She had done her best, but she knew a part of her would always fear that she had not done enough or done it right. She could only give thanks that Kelsey did not seem to mind her lack of proper parenting.
“I just need to design a filter.” Kelsey
studied the ruins of her spice dispenser. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Molly glanced around the office. “First you’d better figure out a way to clean up this sage powder.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll use the vacuum robot I installed in here last year.” Kelsey reached for a screwdriver. “What did T-Rex think of Duncan Brockway’s dippy idea for generating power from moonlight?”
Molly sighed. “You knew it was a dippy idea?”
“Brockway’s proposal was based on wishful thinking, not good science.”
“That’s pretty much what Trevelyan said. Why didn’t you tell me the proposal was unsound?”
“I didn’t want to rain on your parade. I figured that was Trevelyan’s job. It’s why you pay him.”
“Thanks a lot,” Molly muttered. “You’d rather I look like an idiot to Harry than clue me in?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t think you’re an idiot. He knows that technology isn’t your strong point.” Kelsey looked up from the injured motor. “Hey, what’s this? You’re calling him Harry now? For the past month he’s been T-Rex, Savage Predator. Destroyer of grant proposals.”
“I’m trying to break that habit before I go out on a date with him. It could be embarrassing.”
“A date.” Kelsey stared at her. “You’re going out on a date? With T-Rex?”
“His name is Dr. Harry Trevelyan,” Molly said primly. “And he’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”
“I don’t believe this.”
The phone warbled before Kelsey could recover from her shock. Molly sneezed as she reached for the receiver. “Abberwick Tea & Spice.”
“Molly, dear, is that you?”
“It’s me, Aunt Venicia.” Molly sniffed into the tissue.
“You don’t sound well. Do you have a cold?”
“I’m fine. Kelsey had a little accident with her new ground-spice dispensing device.”
“No harm done, I take it?”
“My sinuses will never be the same, but other than that, everything’s okay.”
“Well, that’s all right then.” Venicia dismissed the incident with the ease of long practice. She had, after all, been married to an Abberwick for thirty years before being widowed in the accident that had killed Molly’s father. “I wanted to ask you what you thought of green and gold?”
“Green and gold what?”
“For the wedding colors, dear. Aren’t you listening?”
“I’m listening. Green and gold sound lovely.”
“Silver might be better.” Venicia paused. “But somehow I can’t see green and silver together, can you?”
“I’ve never actually thought about it.” Molly brushed sage powder off the morning mail and began to sort through the stack of envelopes and sales brochures.
Venicia launched into a detailed analysis of the virtues of pairing gold rather than silver with green. Molly listened with only a portion of her attention. She was very fond of her aunt, but it was quite possible to do two things at once when Venicia talked about the plans for her upcoming wedding.
Kelsey gave her a sympathetic grin when Molly carefully slit open an envelope.
“…I told Cutter that would be fine,” Venicia said. “There’s no problem, is there, dear?”
Molly realized she had missed something. “What’s that, Aunt Venicia?”
“I said I told him that I was quite certain you would be able to join us for dinner on Friday night. Weren’t you listening, dear?”
“Yes, of course, I was.” Molly exchanged a wry look with Kelsey. “I was just checking my calendar. It looks like I’m going to be busy on Friday.”
“At night?” Venicia sounded startled.
“I know, it’s a shock to me, too, but I’ve actually got a date.”
“Why, dear, that’s absolutely wonderful. I’m so pleased. Anyone interesting?”
“Harry Trevelyan.”
“Your consultant?” Much of the enthusiasm vanished from Venicia’s voice. “I thought you didn’t care for Dr. Trevelyan.”
“I’ve discovered there’s more to Trevelyan than I first thought.”
“Well, I suppose that any sort of date is better than nothing at all.” Venicia did not sound entirely convinced. “Heaven knows that I’ve been quite concerned about your lack of social life for some time.”
“That’s the spirit, Aunt Venicia. Look on the bright side.”
“Oh, I am, dear, I am,” Venicia assured her. “I’m so glad to hear that you’ve got plans for tomorrow night. Who knows where it might lead? Why, when I first met Cutter on that cruise, I never dreamed we would fall in love.”
“I’m not planning to fall in love with Harry,” Molly said quickly. “We’re not really each other’s type.”
“One never knows, dear. Opposites attract.”
Molly winced. “I’ve never really believed in that old saying.”
“Listen, I’ll ask Cutter to arrange to have dinner with us some other evening. How about Saturday?”
“Saturday will be fine.”
“Wonderful. Have fun tomorrow night, dear.”
“I’ll do that.” Molly replaced the receiver with a sense of relief.
Kelsey did not look up as she unscrewed the motor housing. “What’s the latest on the wedding plans?”
“Green and gold.”
“What happened to blue and gold?”
“That was last week’s color scheme.” Molly slit open another envelope and removed an order form that had been torn out of her newest catalog. “I’ll be glad when this wedding is finally over.”
“I know. Aunt Venicia is kind of obsessing on it, isn’t she?”
“I’m glad for her.” Molly studied the list of spices that had been ordered by a customer in Arizona. “After all those years with Uncle Julius, she deserves a nice, attentive man like Cutter Latteridge.”
“A nice, comfortably well-off man like Cutter Latteridge,” Kelsey amended dryly. “That house on Mercer Island and that yacht of his didn’t come cheap.”
“There is that.” Molly placed the order form in a stack on her desk. “At least we don’t have to worry that he’s marrying her for her money. But the important thing is that he pays attention to her. She deserves it.”
“Uncle Julius wasn’t so bad. He was a lot like Dad.”
“Exactly.” Molly reached for another envelope. “Half the time Dad forgot he even had a wife. Uncle Julius wasn’t any better. Aunt Venicia told me once that in the entire thirty years of their marriage, Uncle Julius never once remembered their wedding anniversary, let alone her birthday.”
Kelsey gazed deeply into the guts of the clogged motor. “Just like Dad.”
Molly said nothing. Kelsey had said it all. Years of benign neglect were summed up in that simple statement. Jasper Abberwick had loved his family in his own way, but he had always loved his work more. Even the wonderful mechanical toys that he had built for his daughters years ago had been designed primarily as prototypes for the robotic devices he later developed.
Molly loved the old toys. They were stored in the basement workshop. Every six months she faithfully checked the special long-life batteries that Jasper had designed for them. At one time she’d thought that her own children would play with them some day. But lately that possibility had begun to seem more and more remote.
The office door opened. Tessa peered warily around the corner. “Everything okay in here?”
“I think we’ve survived another of Kelsey’s experiments,” Molly said.
“Great.” Tessa walked into the office. There was a determined gleam in her eyes. “In that case, it’s time we talked about your hot date with T-Rex.”
Molly slit open another envelope. “What’s to discuss?”
Kelsey put down her screwdriver. “Tessa’s right.
We need to talk. It’s been a long time since you went out on a real date. Since you stopped seeing Gordon Brooke, in fact.”
“That’s not true. I had dinner with Eric Sanders just last month.”
“Eric is your accountant,” Tessa pointed out. “It was a working dinner. You told me the two of you spent the evening discussing your tax returns.”
“So?”
Kelsey frowned. “He didn’t even kiss you good night, did he?”
Molly blushed. “Of course not. He’s my accountant, for heaven’s sake.”
“I knew it.” Kelsey looked at Tessa. “She’s a naive, innocent little lamb.”
Tessa made a tut-tut sound. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us before we can risk letting her go out on a real date.”
Molly eyed them both cautiously. “What are you two talking about?”
“It’s a jungle out there,” Tessa said. “But don’t worry, Kelsey and I will give you a crash course in surviving modern dating.”
Harry saw the strange black box sitting in front of Molly’s door as soon as he got out of the car. Absently, he shifted the yellow roses he had brought with him to the crook of his left arm. He studied the box curiously as he went toward the front steps of the ramshackle mansion.
His first thought was that someone had tried to make a delivery earlier and had left the box in front of the door when no one had answered the bell.
His next thought was that if no one had answered the door, it could only mean that Molly was not home. She had forgotten the date.
Fierce disappointment gripped him. He should have called her again this afternoon to confirm, he told himself.
And then he saw the black wire. It ran from the cover of the black box to the doorknob. The top of the box would be yanked off when the door was opened.
Harry wondered if the arrangement was someone’s idea of a practical joke. Perhaps a jack-in-the-box puppet on a spring would pop out when the lid was removed.
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