by Nancy Naigle
She’d stop by the paper after her visit.
It was only a couple of turns, but the address that Daphne had given her ended up being on the outskirts of town.
Savannah turned onto Nickel Creek Road. The trees, in all their summer glory, hung over the road like a canopy. The road was paved, but narrow and with no painted lines. She’d learned to drive on a road like this. Momma would cling to the door handle, swearing she was hugging the ditches. Dad had way more patience, and thank goodness, else she might never have learned to drive. She zipped around the next corner in her Mini Cooper, knowing her mom would have been terrified in that car. Momma had always driven a big car. She liked lots of metal around her, and she thought her daughter should be the same way, which was why when all her friends were getting their first cars, small economical rides, she was saddled with Momma’s old Buick that only got, like, eleven miles to the gallon. She hadn’t driven a big car since.
After nearly two miles of nothing but trees and fields of crops, a house came into view. White vinyl fencing marking off pastures that nestled right up to a white clapboard rancher with a red tin roof. The long porch ran the entire length of the house.
A sign sported the name ROCKING R, but the house number was still thousands off from the address Daphne had given her.
The houses seemed few and far between.
“Am I ever going to get there?”
Then the road came to a stop sign and right in front of her was a neat little brick rancher up on a rise. Bright-red geraniums overflowed from baskets that hung between the white columns on the front porch. On a cooler day, sitting out on the porch in those rockers would be so nice, but today was too hot for that.
Before Savannah even got out of her car, Daphne was out on the porch waving.
“Hi,” Savannah called out. “I didn’t have any trouble finding it, but that’s one long road.”
“Yes, it is. There’s another way to get here quicker. Carolanne could have told you how to come that way, but the way you came is the easiest.”
Savannah got out of the car. “What a lovely home.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said. “Come on in.”
Savannah climbed the three stairs up to the porch and followed Daphne inside.
Tea was already set out on a table in the living room. “That tea set is exquisite.” Savannah stooped to pick up one of the delicate cups. The soft pink china was edged in gold, and full cherry blossoms filled the sides of the cups and their saucers. “There’s even a cherry blossom inside. I love those kinds of details.”
“Thank you. I figured since you live near DC, the cherry blossoms would make you smile. It’s my favorite.” Daphne tittered. “Who am I kidding? They’re all my favorites. Let me pour our tea and then I’ll show you my whole collection.”
“That would be lovely.” Savannah wondered where the heck that came from. She never talked that way, but somehow it seemed fitting with the formal tea setting and all.
Daphne poured the tea.
Savannah took a sip of the floral blend. It reminded her of her mother’s favorite tea. “When I was a little girl my mother would have tea parties for me. All the girls in the neighborhood would put on their best Sunday dresses to come over—even the tomboys.” Her nose tickled and her eyes felt glassy. “I remember being so excited that I wouldn’t sleep the night before. Just the thought of everyone dressed up and using the real dining room and delicate china . . . it was so exciting. I can still remember the china pattern my mom had. A lovely mint green with delicate flowers in the center.” Her heart ached, but it wasn’t quite as painful as it used to be.
“Your mother shared her love of tea with you. That’s very special, but it’s not so much about the tea itself as much as it is the coming together with others and the time spent sharing. Having only a son, I never got to do that, but that sweet boy of mine did accompany me to high tea when we went to Bermuda.”
“I bet that was fun. I’ve always wanted to go to the islands.”
“You should. So lovely, and high tea British-style was quite an experience. But I’m not that snobby about teatime. Don’t you think it’s the people we share it with that makes it extra special?”
“I do.” Savannah smiled. “Mom loved planning those afternoon tea parties for me. I loved it too. We’d bake all kinds of goodies and make finger sandwiches together. Those hours in the kitchen were great.”
“You haven’t done that in a while, have you?” Daphne’s expression softened. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Savannah lowered her gaze as she set her teacup down on the table. “No, ma’am. My mother passed away when I was eighteen.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard. What was she like? Your mother.”
“She was the best.” Even now, after all these years, Savannah had to fight the tears. She never talked about her mom and dad. Never. It was still too hard, but somehow here, now, it felt right. “She was so beautiful, and she always seemed so happy. I don’t think I ever saw her cry. Not once.”
Daphne smiled gently. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.”
“Her smile could light up a room.”
“Like yours.”
“Thank you. She was a stay-at-home mom. I don’t think she ever missed one single event. Not a homeroom party, a sporting event that I cheered, a softball game I played, or even a dance recital. Everyone loved Momma. You could talk to her about anything.”
“Had she been ill?”
“No.” Savannah sucked in a breath. “No. It was unexpected.”
“Oh, goodness. Well, I’m so sorry to bring that up, but I’m sure she was a very beautiful woman, because you are quite stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be meeting up with some other gals on Friday to prepare some treats for a fund-raiser. I’d love it if you’d join us. We’re going to meet up at the church.”
Savannah started to say no. A knee-jerk response. But really, why wouldn’t she help out? It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. She enjoyed Daphne’s company, and the thought of working side by side with a bunch of ladies in the kitchen had an unexpected appeal to it. Besides, she might find out some neat details. “I’d enjoy that.”
“Great. Why don’t I just pick you up? You’re right on the way. Around six o’clock on Friday.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Daphne.” Savannah felt an overwhelming swirl of joy inside. Evelyn had been her protector, in a sense, since she hit DC, but their relationship was different. Just a few moments with this woman and she felt like she was with Momma. There was a soft kindness about her, slow and purposeful, that made Savannah feel like she’d just slowed down for a school crossing compared to her highway-speed life . . . and it felt good.
“We’ll be baking cookies and brownies, that kind of thing. If you have a favorite recipe, bring it along. If not, I’ll hand over one of mine for you to make. Of course, you’ll have to promise to never share it with anyone.”
“Of course. Your family secret will be safe with me.” But her wheels were already turning. Could she remember how to make Momma’s special shortbread cookies?
“Let’s talk about something happy.” Daphne patted Savannah on the leg.
Daphne sounded just like her mother. Fill your space with happy and you will always be, she’d say. “Let’s. How about those teapots? Carolanne and Jill went on and on about your collection. I’d love to see it.”
“Yes, I collect teapots like some girls shop for shoes. I adore them. It’s silly. I should sell them. I started the collection years ago. I’d always said when my sweet Tom retired that I was going to open a tea shop in town. He bought me one for every occasion.”
“What happened?”
“He died, and I just couldn’t imagine doing it without his help. He’d probably be disappointed that I didn’t follow that dream
. He’d always encouraged me to do it. Now I’m just getting too old.”
“You are not too old. He must have really believed you’d be a success.”
“Together he and I could have made anything work. He loved buying those teapots. I’m not sure if it was really because he wanted me to open that shop, or if it just made for an easy go-to gift for any occasion. You know how men are about buying gifts. If you tell them exactly what you want, you’ll get exactly what you want. That’s what I always say, but I never picked a single one of these out that he gave me. He did all the legwork to hunt them down. I haven’t added any new ones in a while.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Daphne reached out and squeezed Savannah’s hand. “It’s okay, dear. God has his own plan. Doesn’t have to make sense to us.”
Savannah knew about loss not making sense, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever face God and ask why again.
Tears danced in Daphne’s eyes. “I still miss him, though. It’s been five years and it still feels like yesterday.” Daphne’s expression softened. “Tom used to love estate sales, so quite a few of these teapots had probably been in families for generations.”
“I’ve never been to an estate sale, but I bet that would be fun.”
“They have them all the time around here. Guess it’s not really the kind of thing they do much of up there in the big city.”
“Maybe. I don’t really know.”
“I can’t wait to help you with your book. I guess you can really do that from about anywhere.”
“Yes, I’m mixing in a little fun with work on this trip. That’s a nice perk.”
“It sure is.” Daphne moved toward the dining room. “I’m glad you landed in Adams Grove.”
“Me too.” Savannah followed her. The dining room had wall-to-wall shelving with just a table in the center of the room. Each shelf displayed a tea set, or a few, in some cases. Some housed complete sets, others just the teapot.
“Oh. My. Goodness. Now this is a collection!”
“Thank you.” Daphne’s cheeks flushed.
“Not one speck of dust here either. You must spend all your extra time dusting.”
Daphne let out a hearty chuckle. “They do require a little dusting now and then, but I don’t mind. They all bring back such good memories. I just do a few each day and work my way around the room eventually.”
Memories. Some memories were easier to just push aside.
Daphne lifted a small blue porcelain teapot from the shelf. “This one is extra special. Tom gave this to me on Mother’s Day one year to thank me for our son.” She hugged it to her chest like a treasure. “Isn’t that so sweet? He’d think to thank me for giving him what’s already the most precious gift in my life. Tom and I were so blessed to have that child.” She stepped closer to Savannah. “See here. The pot has Romans 15:13 in gold on it. May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace.”
“The cups have ‘joy’ and ‘peace’ on them.” Savannah lifted the cup that had JOY scripted on it. “No wonder you love the set so much. What a great memory.”
“It is. That’s why it’s so hard to pick a favorite. Each is tied to something just as special as the next.”
“You and Tom were married a long time. Do you think that couples in small towns have longer marriages?”
Daphne thought for a moment. “You know, I wonder. I’ve never really thought about it, but I don’t know many people who have been divorced. Maybe the small town does have an impact. Let me think about that. This is for your book, isn’t it?”
“Yes, a little research,” she said.
“How fun.” She turned her attention back to her collection. “Do any of them strike you as extra special?”
“They’re all so different.” Savannah scanned the shelves. “You’re right. It is hard to pick one over the others, and I don’t even know the stories behind them.” She stopped and looked closer at a small teapot with a purplish base. The pretty purple swooped up the handle. On top of the handle was an intricately detailed butterfly lighting on wildflowers against a blue sky. “This one. This one might actually be my favorite.”
“One of my favorites too. Tom got that for me on my fiftieth birthday. It’s hand painted by the artisans of Franz. Look at the detail work on it.”
“Stunning.” The memories tied to the abundance of teapots of all shapes, sizes, and materials filled the room. She suddenly longed to have that many good memories in her life someday. She still had a storage unit back in Belles Corner with all of her parents’ things. There was no way that she could deal with any of it back then, and ever since it seemed easier to push to the side. For sixty bucks a month she could just pretend her parents were traveling abroad, which was what she still told people when she didn’t want to deal with the discussion.
Savannah felt her mood dip, and she really didn’t want to ruin what was starting out as a good day, so she changed the subject. “I know those silver sets on the top shelves are a lot of work.”
“Friends from church come over once a month and we put a little shine on them together. Everyone brings a dish to share and we make an afternoon of it. Makes fun work of it.” Daphne bumped Savannah’s arm playfully. “And it’s a good time for all of us to catch up on what’s been going on around town. You should join us next week.”
“I’d like that. If I’m still in town I might take you up on that.”
A timer sounded from the kitchen, and Daphne bounced to attention. “Oh, I made us some treats to go with our tea. Don’t let me ramble on about those silly teapots. I could tell those stories all day.”
“I love your stories.” Daphne’s memories touched Savannah in a way she hadn’t expected. She was here trying to get more information about the town, something a little edgy she could use in her column, but instead she was being tugged to a place that she’d held at arm’s length for a long time. A place like home. She followed Daphne to the kitchen, where Daphne pulled out a tray of mini quiches from the double wall oven.
The room filled with savory scents, and suddenly Savannah felt hungry.
Daphne tenderly plucked each bite-size morsel from the baking sheet and placed it just so on a serving dish. She picked up a covered plate with her other hand and headed out of the kitchen.
“Let me carry one of those,” Savannah offered.
“I’ve got it. Will you grab the napkins and silverware from the counter?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She swept the cloth napkins and silverware into her hand and followed Daphne into the living room.
Daphne lifted the tray to Savannah to offer her a quiche. “Please have one.”
“If these are as good as those deviled eggs, I know I’ll love them.” She helped herself to one from the plate and took a bite. She was tempted to mention her granny’s deviled egg recipe to Daphne. She suddenly felt very guilty that she might have given away the secret ingredient.
“Don’t you worry. If you don’t like it, I have some egg salad. Same recipe as those deviled eggs, although folks swear it’s different. I put it on my homemade poppy seed rolls and everyone goes on and on about them. I think it’s the roll that makes it taste different.”
“That sounds good.”
“Mac has been dying to get his hands on my poppy seed roll recipe. I might just have to leave it to him in my will!” Daphne grinned. “I’ll pack you some to go. You can have them for lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh, you don’t have to go to that trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I love doing stuff like that. Did you have any brothers or sisters, Savannah?”
“No. I was an only child.”
“Do you want children?”
She picked up her teacup, resting the saucer in her lap and took a sip of her tea. “I haven’t really thought about it much. I work a lot. I guess that probably means no.”
“It’s not really on my radar. A special someone or children.”
Daphne patted her leg. “When the right one comes along, you’ll know the answer to that question.”
Savannah’s whole body tingled under Daphne’s gentle words and touch. To love like that was a gift, but it also came with a cost. When it was taken from you it was the worst sorrow imaginable. Nearly unbearable. She’d promised herself she’d never feel that way again. So far, she’d held love off. Keeping family and friends at a safe distance so she didn’t risk falling into that trap. She wasn’t going to break her lucky streak, no matter how appealing Daphne made it sound. But Daphne would never understand that. “Tell me more about the tearoom. You’re an amazing cook. You have all the equipment and place settings; why haven’t you done it?”
“My son always asks me the same thing. I think I’ve waited too long now. It’s a lot of work for a woman my age. No one else has any interest in a tearoom.”
“He sounds supportive. That’s nice that y’all are so close. I think it would be a blast to own a tearoom. Too bad I don’t live here. I’d help you in a hot second.”
Daphne’s eyes danced, and Savannah felt warning flags snapping in the make-believe breeze.
Savannah righted the course of the conversation. “But then I’ll be moving on in a week or so.” She paused and took a sip of her tea to give that time to sink in. “You could always just be open four days a week. Maybe focus more on special planned events rather than daily hours. Whatever you can handle. I think you’d be a huge success. I bet those church gals who polish your silver would pitch in too.”
“Really? Do you think young people would appreciate a nice tea?”
“There are several tearooms in the DC area. I think tea is one thing that never goes out of style. It’s timeless.”
“Timeless Tea!” Daphne practically screeched it.