Sweat Tea Revenge

by Laura Childs

  Theodosia stared at what was one of the most innovative and delicious-looking food displays she’d ever seen, and couldn’t help but smile. Haley had created a veritable ocean of espresso cookies, lemon bars, and . . . wait a minute. Were those really cake pops?

  “You made cake pops?”

  Haley nodded happily. Cake pops were a hot new trend: delicious little rounds of cake that were dipped in frosting, decorated, and then served on a stick.

  Theodosia plucked one from the colorful display and said, “How on earth did you find the time?”

  Haley shrugged. “Sandwiched in between everything else. I whipped up a triple batch of cake batter and baked them a batch at a time, using a set of special little cake pop baking molds. Then I stuck ’em on little wooden sticks and added my frosting.”

  “You also rolled some in powdered sugar and crushed pecans,” said Theodosia. She was amazed by the artistry in Haley’s work.

  “And look, some also have buttercream frosting with bits of maraschino cherries,” said Haley, taking pride in ownership. “And some of the chocolate ones are rolled in sea salt.”

  “Haley, they’re gorgeous! You worked like a dog on this!”

  Haley ducked her head. “No. Well . . . yeah. Maybe.”

  “You did,” said Theodosia.

  “The champagne buttercream frosting was a little tricky,” Haley admitted. “And the milk chocolate cake pops were putsy. But, hey, I just wanted everything to be super nice.”

  “You’re the one who’s super nice. Working at the tea shop all day and then whipping these up like it was nothing at all.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” said Haley. “You shouldn’t be stuck with honchoing this whole event.”

  “I probably should have just called in a caterer and sent the bill to Delaine,” said Theodosia.

  Haley clapped a hand to her chest as if she’d just taken a bullet. “A rival caterer! Ah, Theo, you’d never do that, would you?”

  “Not if it’s going to give you a case of apoplexy.”

  “Well, it would,” said Haley. “I really think it would.”

  “Theo!” called a voice. “Theo! I need you, dear!”

  “Delaine,” said Haley, just as Delaine rushed into the kitchen. Her hair was swirled atop her head, her heart-shaped face was perfectly made up, and she wore a floor-length white gown that looked like something a Grecian goddess would have worn to a fancy party on Mt. Olympus.

  “Wow,” said Theodosia. “Look at you. All glammed up.”

  “If I’m going to play hostess it’s the least I can do,” said Delaine.

  “That’s funny,” muttered Haley, “I thought we were the hostesses.”

  Delaine spun on her and her eyes glinted. “Well, you are, of course. You’re my two dessert hostesses. But I’m the official meeter and greeter.”

  “That’s quite a dress,” said Theodosia, trying to steer the conversation into more neutral territory.

  “Vintage,” Delaine confided. “Halston couture.”

  “It’s not from Simone’s shop, is it?” asked Theodosia.

  Delaine looked horrified. “Definitely not! Besides, you know I carry my own rack of vintage clothing at Cotton Duck. Vintage is one of the hottest things going, kind of a fashion insider’s secret. I’m sure you’ve noticed a few big-name Hollywood stars wearing vintage gowns on the red carpet? In fact, ever since I expanded my shop, I’ve made a conscious effort to increase my vintage collection.”

  “Where on earth do you find all your pieces?” asked Theodosia. Was there a time warp somewhere she didn’t know about? A tear in the fabric of the universe where all the vintage dresses were stored?

  “Here and there,” said Delaine, looking both mysterious and evasive. “I have a couple of contacts in Miami Beach, a pair of darling ladies in Beverly Hills, and a stylist in New York City.”

  “Sounds like you’ve developed quite a network,” said Haley.

  “Obviously,” said Delaine.

  “What do you think of Haley’s cake pops?” asked Theodosia, gesturing at the rather grand display.

  Delaine gave a cursory glance. “Lovely. Now shouldn’t the two of you be transporting everything outside to the serving table? We’re minutes away from throwing open the front door, and we wouldn’t want to keep our guests waiting.”

  “We were just about to do that when you came dashing in,” said Theodosia.

  “I’m sure it’s going to be a lovely dessert table.” Delaine smiled at Haley. “What do you call your little pastries, dear? Cake plops?”

  “Cake pops,” said Haley.

  * * *

  Once the candles were lit, the tea samovars filled, and the dessert trays set on the large serving table in the back garden, Theodosia was able to relax. White linen tablecloths covered the tables that were scattered about the patio. Moody, low-level lights lit the stone paths that wove through the gardens. The harpist Delaine had hired was plucking away.

  “This is gorgeous,” said Haley. “We do good work.”

  “We do,” said Theodosia. “Even though Delaine was in charge of the cleaning, gardening, and party rental crews.”

  “Well, it all looks positively grand,” said Haley, as guests began filtering into the backyard. “And look, people are actually helping themselves to tea and desserts.”

  “And strolling through the garden,” said Theodosia. They’d experienced a few hairy moments along the way, but everything seemed to have worked out nicely.

  “And look who just showed up.”

  “Angie!” said Theodosia, as Angie Congdon, cute, petite, with strawberry blond hair, strolled toward her on the arm of a tall, good-looking man. “I haven’t seen you . . .”

  “In ages,” finished Angie. She was the proprietor of the Featherbed House B and B, located a few blocks from the Indigo Tea Shop.

  “Or at least a few weeks,” said Theodosia.

  “It’s our busy time, don’t you know?” said Angie. “We’ve only just recovered from the Spoleto Festival and now we’re into peak tourist season, so our rooms are rented to the rafters.” She paused and said, “Theo, Haley, I’d like you to meet a dear friend of mine. This is Harold Affolter.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Theodosia, shaking his hand.

  “Pleased,” said Haley, nodding.

  “Harold and I are . . . seeing each other,” said Angie. She grinned widely and blushed.

  “That’s wonderful,” said Theodosia.

  “Cool,” said Haley. Angie’s first husband, Mark, had been killed a few years ago, and it had taken her a long time to finally begin dating again.

  “I take it you two ladies are responsible for all this?” said Harold, gazing out over the patio and gardens.

  “Just the tea and treats,” said Theodosia.

  “Still,” said Angie. “I imagine it was a formidable task.”

  “But oh, so delicious,” said Theodosia. “So please help yourself.” She’d just spotted Allan Grumley out of the corner of her eye. “Please enjoy yourselves and hopefully we’ll get a chance to chat later.” She moved off hastily, wanting to buttonhole Grumley before Delaine did.

  Speeding across the patio, Theodosia hooked Grumley’s arm and said, in no uncertain terms, “A word, please?”

  Grumley stared at her. “What do you want now?”

  “I want you to start extending some professional courtesy to Delaine. I know she has another meeting scheduled with you tomorrow and I’m hoping this one will go better than the last one.”

  “She’s hired an attorney,” said Grumley.

  “Yes, she did. On my advice.”

  “You didn’t think you were a skillful enough advocate?”

  “Advocate, yes. But I’m not schooled in the letter of the law. And Delaine needs to have some important questions answere
d.”

  “We’ll take care of all that,” said Grumley.

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Grumley cocked his head and gazed out across the garden, where leaves rustled and flowers bobbed in the evening breeze. “This is such a magnificent property.”

  “It is lovely,” Theodosia responded. She glanced sideways at him. “Are you interested in buying it?”

  Grumley dodged her question. “I’ve always loved this place. As you well know, my partner possessed impeccable style and taste.”

  “That’s what Delaine always says,” said Theodosia. “About herself.”

  “Then the two of them were well suited for each other, weren’t they?”

  “Were being the operative word,” said Theodosia.

  Grumley lifted his teacup to his mouth and took a sip. “Excellent tea.”

  “You enjoy tea?”

  “Depends on the occasion,” said Grumley.

  Theodosia gazed at Grumley and thought to herself, You’re a real slicko, aren’t you? And, for a brief moment, she wondered if Allan Grumley might have been the one pawing through Granville’s house last night. Pulling open drawers, looking for . . . whatever.

  Or, wild card candidate, had it been Delaine after all? But no, Delaine would never sneak in like that. It wasn’t her style. She would have gone barreling in, flipped on all the lights, and searched top to bottom, very methodically. And when it came to fleeing the scene, Delaine wasn’t any kind of runner. She was more of a . . . Theodosia racked her brain, trying to figure out what exercise Delaine enjoyed. Pilates. That was it. She was more into Pilates.

  * * *

  An hour into the event, just when Theodosia was beginning to think they’d pulled off a major coup, Delaine came flying into the kitchen.

  “Theo!” she cried. “That hag Simone Asher just showed up! She’s wandering around the living room as if she’s the empress of China!”

  This was the last thing Theodosia needed—a hysterical, crying Delaine on her hands. Hoping to defuse the situation, Theodosia said, “China doesn’t have an emperor or empress anymore, remember? That all ended with Mao and company.”

  Delaine ground her teeth together and her eyes blazed demonically. “Theo. If you’re any kind of friend to me, you’ll shoo that woman out of this house!”

  “We can’t just toss her out on her ear,” Theodosia reasoned. “Simone obviously purchased a ticket for the tour.”

  “I don’t care if she holds a season pass!” said Delaine. “I don’t care if she’s got an engraved invitation from the grand poobah of the garden club. Just get rid of her! Please!”

  Theodosia put her hands on Delaine’s shoulders and attempted to steer her out the back door. “You be a good girl and go outside, okay? Promise me you won’t make a scene and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  But when Theodosia went back inside, there was no sign of Simone anywhere. Theodosia thought Simone might have decided she didn’t want to mix it up with Delaine so she just up and left. But, somehow, a quick hit-and-run didn’t seem in keeping with Simone’s personality. Simone was a lot more aggressive than that. Pit bull aggressive. So that meant . . .

  Theodosia glanced around the living room, where people were filtering through on their way to the backyard garden. And suddenly she wondered if Simone hadn’t maybe taken a detour upstairs. But why? To upset the apple cart and annoy Delaine even more? Or just have a last nostalgic look around?

  Easy enough to find out.

  Theodosia raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When she reached the second-floor landing, she stopped. No sign of anyone here. But that didn’t mean Simone wasn’t snooping around where she wasn’t welcome.

  Walking purposely down the hallway to the master bedroom, Theodosia pushed open one of the double doors. And found . . .

  “Simone!”

  Simone whirled around to face her, a mixture of surprise and shock on her face.

  “What are you doing here?” Theodosia demanded.

  “Nothing,” Simone said in an airy tone. “I’m just . . . looking around.”

  Dressed in a tailored white pantsuit with snappy navy trim, Simone looked cool and calculating. Theodosia decided Simone might even be enjoying this impromptu confrontation.

  “Were you looking for something in particular?” Theodosia asked. Did Simone, like Delaine, want something of Granville’s to remember him by? Some sort of touchstone or link to him?

  “Really, Theodosia,” said Simone. “You’re just brimming with curiosity, aren’t you?”

  “Not as much as you are,” said Theodosia. She wondered if Simone had wandered up to see if her clothes were still safely tucked away in Granville’s closet. “Did you come to retrieve your clothes?”

  Simone gave a surprised look. “I don’t have any clothes here.”

  “Those aren’t your clothes hanging in the closet?” asked Theodosia.

  “Really,” said Simone. She let loose a haughty sniff and brushed past her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And then she was out the door and gone.

  Still not convinced, Theodosia ducked into the walk-in closet to take another look at the small assortment of women’s clothing. There were maybe ten things on hangers, all crushed together at the back of the closet. Did they belong to Simone, even though she denied it? Or were they the property of some other lady friend?

  Ready to chalk up Simone’s visit to pure curiosity, Theodosia turned to leave. As she did, her eyes caught sight of a linen jacket. A beige linen jacket with nubby, almost fringed edges on the collar and sleeves.

  She paused, stared at it, and thought, Could the thread I found at Ravencrest Inn have come from this jacket?

  She pulled her iPhone from her pocket and scrolled to the picture she’d snapped of the thread in the window frame. Then she held her phone next to the jacket. Could the thread have come from this same jacket? Stranger yet, was this the jacket Simone had worn to the wedding? Maybe. Possibly.

  But if it was the same jacket, what on earth was it doing back here?

  23

  “Where did you disappear to?” Haley asked when Theodosia returned to the kitchen.

  “Just checking on a few things,” said Theodosia.

  “Drayton’s here,” said Haley. “Looking all spiffy and debonair in his seersucker suit. In fact, he was just looking for you.”

  “Where is he now? Out back in the garden?”

  Haley nodded. “Taking tea, I presume. Gosh, I hope he likes what we did.”

  “Haley,” said Theodosia. “You know he will.”

  Theodosia pushed her way through the butler’s pantry, past cans of soup and sacks of flour and sugar that, with Granville’s passing, would probably be donated to a local food shelf now, and exited the side door. Then she walked around the house, following a bumpy cobblestone path. With the yard lights on; the lawn trimmed so short it looked like a putting green; beds of coneflowers, candytufts, and roses in full bloom; and dogwoods perfectly pruned, the garden looked absolutely amazing. At the last minute, Delaine had placed small candles along all the paths and around the pool, so the effect was pure magic. It was just too bad Granville wasn’t here to enjoy the admiring gazes and soak up all the compliments.

  Just before she got to the tea table, Theodosia ran into Delaine and Millie Grant.

  “Is she gone?” Delaine hissed. “I ran into Millie here and was just telling her about Simone Asher. What colossal nerve that woman has!”

  Millie nodded. “I can see it made for an aggravating situation.”

  “Simone’s gone,” said Theodosia. “She’s out of our hair.”

  “Really?” said Delaine. “There were no problems? No major confrontation?”

  “None whatsoever,” Theodosia said in a r
eassuring tone, smiling inwardly at her little white lie. “In fact, she left rather quietly.”

  “Okay, then,” said Delaine. She sounded a little disappointed. “That’s good. A happy ending, I suppose.”

  Theodosia smiled at Millie. “It’s nice to see you again.” The harpist had just begun a rendition of “Bridge over Troubled Water.”

  “I wanted to come and show my support for Delaine,” said Millie. “She was very game to take on this project at the very last minute. Plus, she’s got her big meeting tomorrow.” She smiled at Delaine and touched her hand shyly. “The office was all abuzz today.”

  “I’m sure everything will work out just fine,” said Theodosia.

  “I’ve got my fingers crossed,” said Millie. And to Delaine, “You know I’m here for you.”

  “That’s more than I can say about Nadine,” said Delaine. “My sister didn’t even bother to show up tonight.”

  “Maybe she’ll come tomorrow night,” said Millie.

  “Huh,” said Delaine. “Maybe.”

  They all grabbed a cup of tea and a couple of cake pops, then looked around for a place to sit. That was when Theodosia spotted Drayton, already seated at one of the black wrought-iron tables. And, lo and behold, who was sitting with him but the Beckman boys, Charleston’s resident ghost hunters! Or at least they were for the rest of the week.

  “Here we go,” said Theodosia, leading the way. “We can sit with Drayton and the boys.” They all clustered around the table, then dropped into chairs while Drayton hastily introduced Millie to Jed and Tim Beckman.

  “Ghost hunting,” said Millie, giving Jed a look of mingled amusement and awe. “I’ve watched some of those TV shows where they creep through old houses, but I’ve never met any real-life ghost hunters before.” She gave a mock shiver. “It’s kind of fun.”

  “Drayton was just telling us about some of the ghosts that reside in Charleston,” said Jed.

  Delaine’s brows pinched together, and she shot Drayton a quick look. “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I don’t, really,” said Drayton. “But the legends and lore are highly entertaining.”