by Nina Barrett
“Looks good.” Cinna took the muslin bundle Magdalena was holding out and balanced it on her hand. “So what are you putting in them?”
“Eight tea bags. I thought about putting a scone, but since we don’t use preservatives I wasn’t sure how well they’d keep. I put in two bags of our British blend, a Darjeeling, and an oolong, along with a green tea and a white one and a couple of our new Celestial Harmony mix.”
Cinna ruffled the ribbon with a finger. “Maybe we could add a coupon for a breakfast bun or a scone if they visit the shop.”
Magdalena stopped what she was doing to look at her, her eyes widening. “What an idea! Promote our foot traffic and give them a chance to shop.”
Cinna moved over to the worktable, picking up a roll of ribbon, and pulling out a length. She studied it and found a pair of pinking shears.
“You look a million miles away.” Magdalena held out a hand as she cut the ribbon. “Bad news?”
“No, just complicated. The call was from Rosemary.”
“Oh, your sister.”
“Yeah, the It girl.”
“Cinna!”
“Well, you know her. Do you disagree? Tall, blonde, stacked. Skin to die for. Rose got the beauty, Sage got the brains, and me…” She shrugged. “The leftovers.”
“Who was it that graduated with honors and a place on the homecoming court?”
“Come on. Prairie State was so small we practically took turns for things. Next to Rose, I’m the Ish girl. Blondish hair, bluish eyes, shortish. Now you can add thirtyish too.”
“Don’t put yourself down. You’d have plenty of male attention if you weren’t stuck here with me working 24/7 in our tea convent. What could we call it? St. Cinnamon’s House of Perpetual Steam?” She giggled as Cinna rolled her eyes.
“That sounds like something on one of those nauseating fliers they try to hand out down on the Strip.”
“Well, it’s not like SpecialTeas attracts a big male clientele here. So, what’s happening with Miss American Beauty Rose back in Chicago?”
Cinna cut another length of ribbon and made a face at her partner.
“That’s the complication. She’s not in Chicago. She’s on her way here.”
“Here? To Vegas?”
“Yeah, funny isn’t it how the universe works? There’s some kind of medical get together or seminar out here she wants to go to. I was so stunned I pretty much blanked out. I mean I’ve been here for almost a year now and this is the time she decides to come visit.”
“Wow, and you’re dating her old hometown heartthrob.”
“Mags, we’re not dating! This is strictly a one-time deal, believe me. I’m just going to that dinner with Tom because he wants, well, not arm candy, but maybe…arm company.”
“Sure.” Magdalena drew out the word as she nodded.
“Actually I’m rethinking the whole thing.” She twisted the ribbon around a finger, avoiding looking at her partner. “Rose and Tom didn’t part on good turns. If she’s going to be around this weekend maybe I should…” She lifted a shoulder.
“Cancel out? Cinna! You don’t want to do that.” Magdalena looked aghast.
“I know, I know, I know. Think about the business.”
“I don’t want to sound crass, but this could be our break here, girl. Tom Marco is Jim McMasters’ main man. And Gentleman Jim is the chairman of the board of the Imperial, an 800 room upscale property just full of potential tea drinkers. And being a Brit, he probably has Earl Grey running in his veins. Getting a standing order from the Imperial? This could make or break us.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and massaged the back of her head. Things had gotten a lot more complicated since she’d opened up that morning.
“I’m not asking you to do anything other than just be friendly with Tom. Smile, be pleasant, and let our products speak for themselves.”
She nodded.
“I know you’ve got doubts about him, but people do change. It’s just the one night. Go to the awards dinner on Saturday and talk up SpecialTeas to everyone. Meanwhile, we’ll be giving the Imperial a chance to sample our product line with these little babies.” Magdalena waved a bundle in her direction.
“Right. Right.”
“Honestly, this could be our foot in the door. Even downtown where we are, Las Vegas real estate is pricy. We’re making up the shortfall in proceeds every month out of our dwindling savings. You know what getting this business going has entailed.”
Cinna opened her eyes and picked up the scissors again. “Rose did say they’d be staying somewhere on the Strip. Maybe I can keep the two of them apart so she doesn’t have to run into Tom again.”
“They’d? So she’s not coming alone?”
“No, there’s some other medical-type person with her, I think. I really didn’t pay much attention. I don’t know if he’s another dentist or what.”
“Maybe a nail technician?” Magdalena giggled. “What’s the name of your sister’s business?”
“It’s Masterpiece Manor now. They decided against Tooth and Nail once they had other beauty aestheticians involved. Now they have massage therapists, hairdressers, and a dermatologist along with a relaxation guru and a plastic surgeon. Rosemary’s practice is cosmetic dentistry. Whitening, porcelain veneers, invisible braces.” The harmonious blend of facial form and function, her sister’s advertising proclaimed.
“Your family has always had a wicked sense of humor.”
Yeah, it was something Fred and Ginger Smith had been known for, but right now their middle child wasn’t laughing.
Chapter Two
Cinna balanced her canvas tote bags and shook her head at a flower vendor offering the usual plastic wrapped bouquets for sale. She wove her way through the crowd already gathering to watch the Fremont Street Experience. The light and laser show featuring streams of jet fighters, galloping buffalo, a space odyssey, and, because it was Vegas, dancing girls, was projected several times nightly onto the ninety-foot latticework steel mesh canopy that arched over the pedestrian part of Fremont Street. Hopefully, some of the assembled crowd would find their way to the Fremont Street Extension mini-mall afterward and refresh themselves with a cup of fresh-brewed tea.
“Excuse-moi, m’lle.” A juggler on a unicycle circled around her.
The Imperial Hotel-Casino stood on Ogden Street, a block north of Fremont. It hadn’t been worth the bother of getting her car out. The area was historic for being the site where the east and west rail lines had connected, along with having the city’s first traffic signal, telephone, and paved street, as well as boasting its first casino.
On Ogden the crowds thinned. She shifted her bags and crossed the street. Magdalena had Googled James McMasters and the Imperial Hotel for her shortly after Tom had mistakenly entered SpecialTeas. It had been hard not to be impressed. The Imperial’s principal investor, McMasters was a former RAF officer, still ramrod straight at eighty plus. During his former career as an engineer, he had developed patents on energy-saving equipment for cars. A widower seeking a sunnier climate than his native Britain, he’d arrived in Vegas several years before.
Magdalena said rumor had it that one night he’d fallen into conversation with an assistant barkeep and then taken him to see a north Vegas property he had looked at earlier that day as an investment possibility. The following week McMasters had returned to England, lined up investors, bought out the management of the failing Outpost Hotel Casino, and back in Vegas, hired Tom, his bar acquaintance, to help him with reinventing the property.
The renovated Imperial Hotel Casino dominated its block. A limousine was pulled up under the porte-cochere while an old-style London taxi stood under the green and white awning at the side of the building, probably ready to provide shuttle service for guests. Magdalena had said a number of investors had urged the implosion of the original property and then rebuilding on the site, but McMasters and Tom had opted to scour and polish the original nineteenth century structure as well as ad
ding on. Windows and façade sparkling now in the bright sun, it looked like they had made the right choice.
“Ma’am.” A doorman in top hat and white gloves got the door for her.
She caught her breath as she entered. Should she have changed her clothing before coming over? Upscale? Oh, yes. And she was still wearing her “Have a cuppa” T-shirt and wrap-around skirt from the shop. She lifted her chin and crossed the marble parquet floor to where several people stood behind a desk.
Wouldn’t dressing up for the occasion have sent the wrong signal to Tom?
As if he cared.
At the check-in counter, a woman wearing a blue blazer looked up from her computer screen. Full-figured with shoulder-length, graying black hair, her nametag read Dolores Rivera Ruiz, Assistant Manager.
“Hello, how may I help you?” she asked giving her a warm smile.
“Hi, my name is Cinnamon Smith. My partner and I own the SpecialTeas shop in the Fremont Street Extension Mall. I have a delivery here for Tom Marco. He had asked us to bring him some samples of our products for you to try.”
“Oh, great. Aren’t you prompt?” The woman’s smile broadened. “Tom just told me about it earlier. I think I’ve seen your store. Isn’t it close to the jeweler’s over there?”
“Right, Jailhouse Rock Jewelry. They’re just next door to us.”
“I’ve been in there. I bought a turquoise-inlaid bolo for my husband’s birthday. They have so many unique one-of-kind things. I guess they make a lot of it themselves.”
“Yes, Adam was a geology student at UNLV and his wife has a degree in fine arts. They prospect for garnet up around Ely.”
“Well, I’ll stop by for a cup of tea the next time I’m over that way. Mr. Marco is away right now on errands, but let me see if I can track down Gentleman Jim for you.”
So she wouldn’t be seeing Tom again. That was good, wasn’t it?
Cinna boosted her sacks up onto the desk and watched the lobby as Mrs. Ruiz picked up a house phone and hit some numbers with practiced taps of her manicured fingers. After the walk through the crowded streets, the air conditioning was a relief. The lobby was a show in itself. Below the crystal chandelier, a fountain was spraying water. As it fell, it cascaded down through a series of rocks where multi-colored fish wove changing patterns between lily pads.
“Miss Smith?”
She turned back to the desk.
“Gentleman Jim has just concluded his daily whist game in our Exeter Club and would like to meet you for an aperitif in Draughts. It’s our informal bar. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the way. Eric, can you carry Miss Smith’s bags for her, please?”
“Of course.” A young man tending to one of the lobby’s overflowing pots of tropical blooms put down his clippers and moved to collect her things.
“I don’t want to impose. I could just leave all this here for him.”
“Please, it’s no bother. Mr. McMasters would love to meet a friend of Tom’s.”
“Well, we’re not really…” The words were on her lips before she choked them off. Remember, this could be our chance at the big time. Magdalena had reiterated the sentiment several times before she had left. Be friendly. No one else needed to know what the relationship, or lack of one, was between her and Tom.
She followed Mrs. Ruiz as she made her way around the staircase and past a cashier’s cage that looked like an antique, brass bank teller’s cage. It had been conveniently positioned across from the action of the casino area. She stopped for a moment with Eric while the assistant manager had a word with a housekeeper in an old-fashioned, ruffled maid’s cap.
A low murmur of British invasion music came from the entrance to the bar. Draughts had apparently been designed to resemble a British pub with mahogany and cherry fixtures and massive beams. Above the beveled glass behind the bar, a television was quietly showing an English football match. From a corner table, an older white-haired gentleman raised a hand to wave as Dolores wove her way between the tables.
Cinna gave him her hand as he stood and Dolores introduced them.
“So delighted to meet you, my dear. Cinnamon, what a perfectly delicious name!” He covered her hand with his other.
“I guess my parents thought so.” It hadn’t been the easiest of names when growing up in Des Moines.
“So is there a whole spice set? Spice girls and boys?”
“Just three of us—Rosemary, Cinnamon, and Sage.” Fortunately, her parents’ third child had been a boy since Nutmeg had been a possibility for another daughter.
“Capital, capital. And your T-shirt…how droll! Don’t you think so, Dolores? Have a cuppa. Marvelous.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. Eric, why don’t you put Miss Smith’s things down over there?”
“Oh, yes, do. Thank you both for escorting Cinnamon here. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? You Americans are so casual.” Tom’s boss moved to hold a chair for her.
“Please do.”
“Just a topping name,” James McMasters said reseating himself. “Of course, around Vegas I’m known as Gentleman Jim which I do admit I rather like. Now you must tell me all about your business. Young Thomas has been most keen on your enterprise.”
“Well…” Were her cheeks reddening? She drew a breath as her courtly white-haired host leaned forward, clasping his hands and smiling encouragingly at her.
“We’ve been open now for eight months. I came out about a year ago. My friend Magdalena was already living and working here. The business was her brainchild. Our shop is in the Fremont Street Extension mini-mall. We have a few tables in the front, but most of our business is carryout. We develop and serve organic teas along with a variety of items such as scones, muffins, and buns. We’re pretty small. It’s still just the two of us.”
She could feel her heart racing. Was she babbling? She wasn’t coming on too strong, was she?
“Wonderful. I have high hopes of persuading Thomas away from that sludge he calls his morning coffee into a taste for the civilized life.”
“I don’t know about that, sir. He’s been a good customer, but I don’t think we’ve converted him.”
“Oh, Jim, please. Her Majesty hasn’t knighted me yet. Obviously, he’s found something to his liking at your establishment.” McMasters reached over to pat her hand.
She bit her lip. Was the strain of dealing with her host’s well-meant pleasantries showing?
A waiter appeared in period Edwardian costume in response to McMasters’s raised hand. Black armbands encircled pushed up puffy sleeves.
“What would you have, my dear? Pasqual can bring you a fruit juice or lemonade, if you please. Perhaps a nice gin shanty? We also carry our own micro-brewed draft beer and the usual pub grub—fish and chips, bangers and mash. Are you hungry?”
“Lemonade will be fine, thank you.”
“With ice, yes? You Americans do like things chilled, don’t you? Another one of these please.” McMasters lifted his glass. “With a hair of the dog as you Yanks put it. I feel somewhat American myself. My late wife’s sister married an American airman when he was over on our side during the war. Harriet and I were at their home outside Atlanta many times. Lovely area, but a bit humid for me. When I was knocking about, looking for a bit of sun, I came out west. Dryer, you know. So, Cinnamon, Thomas tells me you first met back in your hometown.”
“More or less. He…” It wasn’t his hometown. He’d just appeared one day, moving in with a relative, she thought, and stayed long enough to date and dump Rosemary. “He went to school for a while in Des Moines.”
“Yes, the great Midwest. Tom has quite a background. Quite a varied background and not always, perhaps, the happiest. But, hopefully, all that is in the past now. We do so appreciate his work here. Thank you, Pasqual.” He swapped glasses with the barman and held up his as she took her own.
“Cheers, my dear.”
“Cheers.” She took a sip. The tartness was refreshing.
“So how did
you come to move out here and start a business with your friend?”
“Magdalena was my college roommate back in Iowa. After graduation, I worked for a small pharmaceutical company in Cincinnati and she came out here to try and get into show business. She was dancing in the chorus line at the Silver Strike.” One of the girls keeping her clothes, such as they were, on.
“I’m acquainted with the Silver Strike. Thomas and I took in most of the hotels in town after I made the decision to stay. Seeing what the competition was and how we could better it.”
“She was tired of doing three shows a night. She called me back in Cincinnati, where my job was being cut, with an idea for opening a business offering teas and pastries. She thought it would be the first of its kind here.”
“I see. Yes, indeed, quite unique. So you weren’t a dancer?” McMasters asked.
At five-two? Not even on tiptoe.
“No, not me. My degree is in chemistry and I was working in research and development in the medical field. Now I do some of the research on our blends, their properties, chemical compositions, that kind of thing. Magdalena has the educated palate to really put things together.”
“Thomas tells me you’ve come up with some exotic concoctions. I look forward to sampling them.” McMasters smiled genially at her.
“He’s tried a few.” It had become a kind of perverse pleasure watching his face as he sampled some of Magdalena’s more adventurous combinations.
“So tell me what you’ve brought for us today.”
“We’ve put eight of our varieties in each sample bundle along with a coupon good for a visit to the shop.” She pulled out one of the muslin bundles from her bag, untied it, and took out the different teas.
Her stomach growled as a waiter carrying a loaded tray passed their table. It had been a long time since she and Magdalena had grabbed a quick lunch. She pressed a hand against her midsection. Hopefully, the Imperial’s chairman wouldn’t notice anything.