“Lord have mercy!” Sienna gasped. “‘This place will do,’ she said. I guess Lynne meant for something other than just having a ladies afternoon tea party.”
“Meet the Parents teas, more like, for several elite schools. Mother’s Day at one of the most prosperous churches in the area. And two legislative meet and greets, one for mental health awareness and another on care options for elders with dementia.”
“Lord, have mercy,” Sienna repeated. Peter opened the front door and raised his eyebrows. She set down the bags and put the phone on speaker. “Tovah, tell Peter how much business you just booked.”
Tovah repeated it. Peter balanced on one leg with his crutches tucked under his arms and clapped. “Way to go, ladies.”
“And all because Sienna refused to hold a grudge. She was kind to some very influential women today. Listen, I think I hear grocery bags crinkling, which means Sienna finally went to the store after a month. I’ll let you go, and we can discuss this in the morning. Peter, give that woman a kiss for me!”
“I’ll make it a good one, Tovah,” Peter laughed. “Take care.”
Sienna ended the call and put the phone in her pocket. She grinned at Peter. “Not bad for a day’s work.”
“Not at all.” Peter leaned forward and pecked her cheek. “Now, will you come inside so I can make good on my promise to kiss you proper?” He stooped and grabbed up two of the grocery bags.
“Peter! Your leg.”
“I’m balanced. Besides, you can’t deny me this opportunity to demonstrate my chivalry. Especially when I intend to let you cook for me.”
“How generous of you.”
“Oh, I’m very generous.” He winked at her as they carried bags through the living room side by side. “I’ve even arranged for dessert.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a surprise.” He hobbled ahead of her and managed to set the bags down in front of the sink without clunking them.
“I like surprises.”
“I know.”
The dogs ran in from the backyard and snuffled Sienna’s jeans, licked her hands, and nosed the grocery bags.
“No treats in there unless you want butternut squash,” Sienna said to Jonquil. Pogo licked his lips and whined a little when he sniffed out the cheese bag. “That’s not Pogo cheese. That’s people cheese.”
“Here, Pogo! Jonquil!” Peter called. He held up two peanut butter dog biscuits to catch the dogs’ attention. “Go get it!” He threw them into the yard, one toward the fence, one toward the middle. Jonquil and Pogo raced outside, tails wagging. Peter smiled after them and laughed to himself when the sound of happy crunching came through the open door. He half turned to Sienna, keeping his eyes on the yard. “This weather is perfect. Not so cold we have to close the door at twilight, not warm enough for lots of bugs.” He looked at Sienna, and the smile dropped off his face. “What is it?” He hobbled toward her and pulled her close.
“I had forgotten this,” her voice was thick. “How great a team we are. The little ways. I put up groceries while you distract the dogs from the cheese. I used to love it. I didn’t let myself think…” She trailed off.
“I’m here now.” Peter held her tightly against his chest and braced her neck with his warm hand.
“I always said to myself that you would be such a good father, that we would be great parents, because of how well we work together. Then I made myself forget it. When Susan… it was too painful. To lose her and to lose that vision of us.” She raised her face to her husband and looked into his kind dark eyes. “It’s like I had amnesia.”
He kissed the top of her head and wiped her tears with his thumb. He kissed her eyes and sighed. “We all have amnesia, Sienna. It’s always like this.”
She raised an eyebrow in question.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think and pray lately. And to visit with some pretty holy people. One of the things Father Max said stuck in my spiritual craw.”
Sienna smiled. “You always find new ways to get your craw jammed up.”
“Well, this was a good craw stick. He said he would remember me at the liturgy. And I asked him to tell me about the liturgy, what with me not having a high prospect of going at the time. Or so I thought.” A low laugh. “He used the word anamnesis, remembering. The opposite of amnesia. We remember in the prayers and give thanks. We were interrupted before he could go into detail, but it stuck with me, like I said.”
“In your craw. Excuse me, your spiritual craw.”
“Yes.” He kissed her hair and continued, “And I started to remember. How would it be if you loved someone, if you really knew them, and they you, and you forgot, but they didn’t? And then one day you start to come back to yourself, and you know enough to remember that you were in love. How do you regain the intimacy and make it even better than before?”
“You mean, us, me? When I was depressed?”
“We were both terribly sad, Sienna, don’t blame yourself. But I’m talking about even bigger. Like with humans and God. We used to walk with him in the cool of the evening, so in love that there were only two rules in all of creation— be fruitful and don’t eat the fruit of one tree. Breaking those rules gave us amnesia, but God gave us a way to remember.”
“The liturgy?”
“The whole life in Christ.”
She nodded under his chin.
“And you and I are part of it, too. Our marriage is a place of recollection.”
“Our marriage and our kitchen.”
“Yes.” He laughed and leaned down, holding her from him so he could look into her face. “I want to remember with you, Sienna. Always. Even when it hurts.”
“And give thanks no matter how much it may hurt. Peter, I don’t ever want to forget you again.”
He kissed her. When they came up for air, his unbalanced crutch fell over with a clatter onto the counter. “How about I put away the cabinet things and you do the fridge?”
They fell into an easy rhythm of housekeeping. At length, Sienna paused, a jar of marinated feta in her hand. “I don’t mind, you know. I like our parish, but I don’t mind. A.C. said God gets our attention where he can, and maybe that’s all that was attracting us to Orthodoxy. Maybe he’s right, but maybe there’s more there. If it cures amnesia?”
Peter sat clumsily in a wooden kitchen chair and propped his hurt leg catty corner to the next chair. “I think I’d like to explore it. It’s just a hunch right now, but I think it might be the way we’re called.”
“I agree. Only, I worry. Are we running from our parish because we don’t want to face the grief we experienced there?”
“The way it seems to me, Sienna, is that the little tastes we’ve had of Orthodoxy have helped us face grief better. But not alone. Facing grief while looking into the face of God. That’s not running away.”
“I guess not. Every person who has spoken to us from that tradition has only helped us remember things, not run from them. Like Bethel Bailey helping me. Susan was here. It’s so simple, but that was such a healing day.”
“I want to go with you. Record all the places she was with us.”
“Smile into the camera in all the corners where she laughs.”
Peter nodded and turned to face the garden. A breeze brought the rich fragrance of late-season herbs into the room.
“They go together, Peter. Thanksgiving and remembering. But not necessarily one before the other. I remembered Susan and felt really grateful for her life. Like the thanks made a place apart from the fog of grief where I could be so happy she was here. And you. I gave thanks for you, and then you came back to me. I mean, yes, you were healed and came back to me. But also, I gave thanks and could embrace you again. I remembered you.”
The dogs came in then, dragging with them the scent of thyme and chocolate mint. The mint was present in more than scent, Jonquil having caught some in her tail. Peter ruffled the fur behind the dogs’ ears while Sienna cooked dinner. They fell into happy banter until the food smelled al
most done.
“I’d better go wash up,” Peter said. He hitched himself up and made his way to the powder room, the dogs following on his heels.
Alone, Sienna watched herself stir the sauce in front of her while her mind wandered. She thought of each spoon in her kitchen, starting with the wooden one in her hand, and touched them each with thanksgiving. She thanked God for the robin’s egg blue teapot, for every frail cup and sturdy mug, for the jar of clotted cream in the fridge door, and for the bricks on the patio that loved to warm in the sun. Peter came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I thank God for you, Beloved,” he said into her ear.
She put down the spoon and turned into his embrace. When she looked up, he was smiling at her. “What?” She matched his mischievous smile with a curious one. “Peter Bannock, what are you up to?”
“Just thinking of dessert.”
She laughed. “I think I know what you were thinking. But about dessert. I bought you pears. And I hope you don’t mind, but I bought the canned whipped cream. They were out of the good whipping cream at the store.”
“And I found the jar of dulce de leche I had been saving for you.”
“Wonderful. It will go with the dessert tea.”
“It will go with dessert.”
“What do you mean? The pears—”
“We can have the pears, too.”
“And?”
“And these.” Peter pulled two small silver teaspoons from his pocket. They were antique, authentic, and perfectly polished so that the bowls shone but the pattern had patina.
“Oh, my!” Sienna reached for a spoon, but Peter held it just out of her reach. “And what did you plan to do with those spoons?”
“Feed you caramel with them, one bite at a time.”
“Oh?”
“By candlelight.”
“Mmm.” She nuzzled closer to him.
“But first,” Peter stood straighter and sniffed the air. “Dinner.”
Nina rushed in two minutes late the next morning. She looked at the clock and groaned. “Almost!”
“Trouble with your ride again? Is your family okay?” Sienna relaxed when she saw the happy flush on Nina’s face.
“Oh, no, Miss, it’s just that I thought I could get here on time by taking the bus. There’s a stop by Father Greg’s house. Only, I was wrong. Two minutes late.”
“Or the clock is fast.”
“No. I set it. I’m late.” Nina seemed exhilarated at the prospect. “But it shows that the buses are almost on time, so I can tell my aunt to use the bus without worrying. She leaves early for everything anyway.”
“Things are going well with your family now?”
“We have the papers at hand for my parents and me, and Tamsin agreed to sponsor my sister for citizenship.”
“Tamsin?”
“Father Greg’s wife. She’s back.”
“Oh.” Sienna felt a small jealous twinge. It annoyed her, but she knew herself well enough to observe the feeling without believing it. “That’s great. When did she come back?” She heard the hard edge to her voice and hoped Nina did not misattribute her discomfiture. She was annoyed with her own jealousy, not with Greg for reconciling with his wife.
“A couple of days after we got there. I think Mamá talked to him. Not many people can resist Mamá’s wisdom. She won’t let you. She’s Mamá to everyone, whether they like it or not.” Nina smiled, and Sienna matched her expression. She was pleased that Greg had found the mother he needed in a healthy way. “What is it, Miss? Why are you smiling like that?”
“I’m just so glad that everything is going so well. Your family is getting the help they need, and your Mamá helped out a very wounded man.”
“Mamá says he’s a good man, but he needed someone to remind him. Like he had forgotten himself, and she showed him a mirror.”
Sienna stopped and leaned on the counter, taken aback by how closely Nina’s words echoed her conversation with Peter the night before. “Nina, has anyone ever told you that you have a gift for truth telling?”
“Um?” The girl reddened.
“It’s also called evangelism. Telling good news. Speaking good words.”
“Like a preacher?”
“Like a wise woman.” She patted Nina on the shoulder. “Now, tell me what you’ve been planning with Cleotis Reed.”
“Tovah told you about the overflow site? Well, Mr. Reed says that if we don’t get the crowd to need it right away, he will offer a raffle for people to play against him in a match, even if they aren’t registered for the tournament.”
“That will attract a lot of people for sure. Yesterday there were twenty or more people here just to watch him play; only a handful dared to challenge him.”
“But the raffle, Miss, Mr. Reed says that he will donate the proceeds to the shop.”
“What? Why? That’s so kind.”
“He says he has a vested interest in seeing us succeed. Says he won’t discuss it further with us till after the tournament, but he does not plan to take no for an answer.”
“Speaking of which, we will need a lot of extra food laid up. We can’t do most of the food ahead of time, but we can freeze quiches, scones, and thumbprint cookies. Today, when we’re not too busy, I’d like you to make quiches. I’ll make a double set of mini scones when I prep for the afternoon tea crowd.”
Nina nodded and turned sharply toward the door to the front of the shop, where Tovah leaned in. “Did Nina tell you, Si? We’re going to need another samovar to serve the tea at the tournament. I’m going to send Jessie to get one this afternoon.”
“Tell her to get two. We’ll do an Earl Grey and a breakfast blend in each location.”
Tovah narrowed her eyes at Sienna and Nina. “The two of you look a bit piqued. Get in here and have some breakfast.”
They complied and walked to the tea counter, where Tovah and Lettye grinned over a small chocolate cake with three lit candles. Nina smiled shyly.
“I read your personnel file,” Tovah said. “Happy nineteenth birthday! Happy birthday to you!” she sang. Sienna and Lettye joined in. When they were finished, Nina blew out the candles while the others clapped and laughed.
“We got you something.” Lettye slid a glossy page across the counter toward the birthday girl. Sienna knit her brows in question. Lettye mouthed, “You’ll see,” and nodded toward Tovah. If the two had been in on the present together, Sienna was sure the gift would be perfect.
“Thanks,” Nina said. She lifted the paper and read. Her brows rose, her face brightened, and finally her mouth dropped open in surprise. She jumped up from her seat and hugged Tovah, who was nearest. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! My own cooking classes? Is this really happening?” She waved the poster in the air a little. “You’re advertizing for me?” The poster had the shop logo, Mexican breads, sugar skulls, and a beautiful candid photo of Nina smiling behind the tea counter. It advertized a cooking class in traditional Mexican sweet breads in preparation for celebrating el Día de los Muertos. “But we have to do churros, too. You can’t tell someone about Mexican pastries without churros.”
“Did we give you enough time to prepare?” Tovah asked.
“Oh, sure. Do you think it would be okay if my cousin comes to help, too? He’s a real baker. His sister-in-law bought a tortillería and bakery, and everyone on that side of the family works there during the busy times.”
“If you’d like,” Tovah said. “But I don’t want you to feel as though you are not enough. We’ve seen you work. You’re competent and clear as a communicator. I think you teaching this class will be a great experience for everyone.”
“Thanks, Miss.” Nina’s eyes filled with tears.
The women ate cake and drank an astringent Assam fixed with cream and unrefined lump sugar. Everyone was excited about the upcoming changes and expansions of the business. They fell into brainstorming.
“What about you, Sienna?” Lettye asked. “Do yo
u think you could teach people about how you choose teas for them?”
“Only if it’s a prayer group,” Sienna laughed. “Seriously. I could probably teach a small class on blending seasonal ingredients into a few standard tea blends. Like, which leaves to use along with lemon and mint or basil for summer iced teas. Or how to make spiced teas strong enough in winter with no artificial ingredients. But I can’t really take credit for the gift of knowledge.”
“I see what you mean. It’s a combination of your skills and experience and direct spiritual insight,” Lettye said.
“Or what some people might call a powerful intuition,” Tovah added.
“Why don’t you teach a class on setting up an afternoon tea?” Nina offered.
“Now that, I can do.”
“You can print out your scone recipe on cotton cards from the store,” Tovah said. “Use our logo stationery so there’s no mistaking it. Then if someone wants to pass the recipe on, it advertizes for us.”
Lettye nodded eagerly. “And you can show them how to make good tea from what they have available. If they can’t take custom teas home from here, show them how not to oversteep a bag or understeep some of the weaker teas.”
“The decaf teas are tricky,” Nina agreed. “If you don’t show people, they always mess it up and complain.”
“My scones, the teas, and what else? Do people really need to be shown how to make sandwiches?”
Lettye laughed. “You have clearly never met my ex-husband. Which is to say, yes. A lot of people, and not just men, cannot make sandwiches. How do you think McDonald’s keeps in business?”
“True. Sad, but true,” Tovah said. “We should show how to make a basic butter-based sandwich, plus one of our chevre sandwiches, and Lettye’s chicken salad, maybe.”
“Oh, yes. The tea ladies always love that chicken salad,” Nina said. “I always have to bring those groups of ladies another plate of just the chicken salad sandwiches.”
“Do you think I should show them the thumbprint cookies, too?”
“No. Just give them the recipe. Those take too long, with the refrigeration and everything. I’ll print that one on the same cardstock. But we should keep Lettye’s recipe a shop secret. Give them something to talk about and bring their friends in to try.”
Tea and Crumples Page 22