The Traveling Tea Shop

by Belinda Jones

  Though I have to edit myself out of the collection for the agent, I’m happy to have so many personal memories to treasure.

  Popovers in New Hampshire. Then Maine. I loved that dinner I had beside the hearth with Ravenna. I wish I had a picture of that. Whoopie Pies galore. Oh, and then that gorgeous drive through the White Mountains, weaving up to the Mount Washington Hotel. Look how happy everyone is in the veranda collection—Ravenna glammed up and radiant, Pamela and Charles comfortable now with being photographed entwined, Harvey and I having just shared a slapstick afternoon baking gold-bar-style Pound Cake. The champagne toast before the glass shattered.

  I sigh, leaning back on the banquette. For a moment I just stare up at the rather unusual green-glass chandelier above me, following the looping curves of its arms. I remember joking with Pamela about the Vanderbilt chandelier crashing down on us. How I wish I could rewind to that day at Marble House and that things had played out differently.

  Timing is indeed everything.

  I look back at my laptop. The next picture is of the Trapp Family Lodge. Then Maria’s Linzertorte. And that beautiful view from the kitchens. From these pictures you wouldn’t have an inkling of all the emotional wrangling that was going on behind the scenes. And that’s exactly how it should be for the agent. Only a few people will ever know what really went on during this past week or so.

  Chapter 54

  When I arrive at the Cliffside Inn, Gracie is busy loading up the boot of Charles’s car with covered trays.

  I take a peek. “Wow—that’s a lot of cupcakes.”

  “This is nothing,” she clucks, “most of the goodies have already gone over to the wharf on the bus. I just was finishing the frosting on these.”

  “You guys have been busy!”

  “Pamela and Ravenna were up all night.”

  I nod at the significance of this, not just of them working side by side, but also how motivated Ravenna must have been to redeem herself for the last bout of baking here.

  “Okay, all we need now is the grand prize and we’re good to go.”

  I raise a brow. “Grand prize?”

  “It was Charles’s idea—he said we should come up with something special to auction off. They’ve stored it for us in the kitchen of the main house.”

  We cross the layered lawn and head up the steps of the lovely cream and sage Victorian mansion, distinctive wrought-iron filigree adding a lacelike trim to the rooftop.

  I peer into the parlor room while Gracie is chatting to owner Nancy and see that teatime involves a selection of one-off vintage teacups and an ornate silver urn to dispense the custom-blend Harney & Sons tea. Very nice.

  “Laurie, come and look!”

  Gracie beckons me into the kitchen and reveals a huge tableau of a cake. Or should I say cakes, for there are seven individual sections making up all the states in New England, plus New York, and each is shaped accordingly—Rhode Island is a teeny slither, Maine a great slab, Massachusetts the most fiddly, complete with Cape Cod extension.

  “She was thinking of making the individual cakes from the recipes we sourced on location, but it got tricky with the Popovers and Johnny Cakes, so she went with different-flavored sponges and buttercreams—rums and maple syrup, nutmeg and cranberry; you get the idea.”

  “Amazing,” I coo, admiring the different colors and textures she has created for each top layer. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Pamela do such intricate work.”

  “She didn’t. This is all Ravenna.”

  “What?” I gape.

  “Start to finish. She did the whole thing.”

  “How is this possible?”

  “Oh, she always had the gift, ever since she was a little girl. It’s just been a long time since she’s used it.”

  “I’m stunned!”

  “You and me both.”

  • • •

  We’re lucky to find parking at the wharf—the place is heaving.

  “Can you believe the response?” Gracie surveys the crowd.

  “All these people are here for the tea?”

  She nods.

  “They’ll never fit on one boat.”

  “We’ve got five going out now—Harvey spoke to some of the locals and they’ve been great. You can go on the rumrunner with him and Ravenna.”

  “Oh no-no,” I recoil. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You have to, or you’ll mess up the schedule.”

  My eyes narrow at her. “Squeezing in one last meddle?”

  She gives an innocent shrug. “I’m just saying it’s all arranged.”

  I sigh. “Do they have life jackets on board?”

  “She won’t throw you over.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “You’re bigger than her, you can stand your ground.”

  Great.

  “Laurie!” It’s Pamela waving over to me. I eagerly scoot to her side.

  “Everything looks phenomenal!” I cheer, taking in all the cake-laden boats. “What a success!”

  “I know!” she pips. “I just did an interview with the local radio station—they’re going to do a piece on my book when it comes out and then syndicate it!”

  “Fantastic!”

  She beams at me. “You’ve been an absolute star, Laurie. Truly.”

  “Well, it’s been my pleasure. I just feel bad—”

  “Don’t feel bad.” Charles steps up behind me. “If you’re going to be part of this family, you have to accept that we’re none of us perfect.”

  I could cry, right here and now! He said family!

  A low whistle sounds.

  “It’s time to set sail.”

  Before I know it, I become part of the surge toward the rumrunner.

  It’s a low, long boat of golden wood, open at the front, canopied at the back. I feel a dip of nerves as I spy Ravenna and then Harvey. They are both turned away from me, facing out to sea, so I scurry starboard and busy myself with arranging the cakes and greeting our guests. At least they are pleased to see me, if only for my “genuine English accent.”

  And then I hear someone addressing me as “first mate.”

  I turn and see Harvey.

  I feel too self-conscious to reply, but it is the best feeling ever to connect with his eyes. That’s all I needed.

  “Ravenna!” I startle as she appears in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind me being on the same boat as you, it wasn’t my suggestion.”

  “I know. It was mine.”

  “What?”

  “I need to talk to you,” she pulls me off to one side.

  I’m not sure if I’m ready for what she has to say, so I start babbling about the brilliance of her prize cake—the design, the execution, hopefully the flavor. “You’re giving your mum a run for her money!”

  Ravenna pulls a face. “I think I’ve had enough to do with her money, don’t you? Time to make some of my own.”

  My eyes instantly well up with pride. “Really?”

  “Well, I have got an idea about running Traveling Tea Shop tours, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” She takes a breath. “I’ve been thinking about your sister . . .”

  Oh gawd.

  “What if you meet up with her and it’s a complete and utter nightmare, even worse than you thought.”

  I blink back at her.

  “I mean, what if that’s it between you two? Suddenly you don’t have a sister.”

  Is this supposed to be helping?

  “So you’d have room for a new one. And I always wanted one so,” she wheedles, “I could be your backup sister. You know, if this one doesn’t work out.”

  I don’t know what to say. I did not see this coming.

  “Or have I been too much of a nightmare?” Ravenna’s bro
w furrows.

  “You been a nightmare? What about me?”

  “If I’m going to forgive everyone else, I might as well forgive you too.”

  I laugh, still a little thrown. And then I realize she’s genuinely waiting for an answer. “You know, people can have more than one sister.”

  Her face lights up. “That’s true.” And then her face falls. “Oh no! I’ve just realized this isn’t going to work.”

  I knew this was too good to be true. She’s reeled me in, now she’s going for the stinger.

  “Why not?” I dare ask.

  “Because then you’d be kind of related to Harvey, and we can’t have that.”

  “Oh no,” I fluster. “I won’t . . . We haven’t . . .”

  “Yes you will. With my blessing.” She gets to her feet and, in front of all the assembled tea guests calls, “Harvey! Did you hear that? You need to start kissing Laurie again!”

  My hands fly to cover my face. She didn’t just do that! I can’t believe it! I peer out between my fingers and see Harvey saluting her with an “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  I reach out and drag her back to a sitting position.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I was thinking about this too—we’ve both made bad relationship decisions in the past, now we have an opportunity to make good ones: I have to stay away from Eon and you have to spend more time with Harvey.”

  I feel a little dizzy. “How did your heart get to be so huge?”

  She shrugs, sending a happy glance over to Charles on the neighboring boat. “I am my father’s daughter.”

  “And your mother’s too,” I remind her.

  “Yes. And my mother’s. And I wouldn’t be either right now if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Oh!” I swat away her words. “You would have worked it out without me sticking my oar in.”

  “No I wouldn’t. That day at Tiffany’s in New York? No one has ever spoken to me like that. Of course Granny is always muttering stuff under her breath, but no one has ever been that direct. I had every intention of running off, of screwing up the whole trip, but there was just something about the way you spoke to me. That’s why I came back—I knew you’d always tell me the truth.”

  “Oh dear, that didn’t go so well.”

  “At least the truth about my behavior. And how I needed to change. Even with the whole family deception, which I know you were opposed to, you’ve been the most honest person to me that I’ve ever known.”

  Again my eyes sheen. “Thank you.”

  She opens her arms and we fall into a hug.

  “Hey, you’d better cut that out,” Harvey teases, now standing before us. “You’ll get Marc all jealous.”

  “Who’s Marc?” Jeez! I leave these people alone for one night!

  “The hottie-yachtie.” Harvey points over to a young chap now taking the helm—total Tommy Hilfiger ad, all tanned and glowing and energized. The polar opposite of Eon.

  “You know, he’s totally into you but too shy to ask you out,” Harvey whispers to his sister.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ravenna flushes, hand instinctively going to her hair. “I only met him an hour ago.”

  “Well, I’ve already vetted him and I approve—”

  “Oh, you approve?” she hoots.

  “Hey, I’m looking out for you from now on, sis. Okay?”

  I see the relief in her eyes—he means it. No more Eon types. I never have to go through that again.

  “Okay,” she nods, then looks back at Marc. “Did he really say he liked me?”

  “The guy would fight pirates for you.”

  She heaves a sigh. “Maybe I’ll go and talk to him.”

  “They look good together,” I acknowledge as their slender forms and big smiles mirror each other.

  And then Harvey slips an arm around me and I think, we feel good together.

  He turns to face me. “I like it so much better when we’re in the same place.”

  “Me too,” I smile.

  “Won’t you stay? At least for the summer? It’s too hot in New York anyway.”

  “Yes you do get a nice breeze around these parts,” I say as my hair binds around my face.

  “You should have brought your hair doughnut!”

  I laugh out loud. “Well, I’ll know next time.”

  “Here, let me untangle you.”

  Oh-so-gently, he eases the strands of hair from my face, smoothing them back into a ponytail, held in place with his hand.

  “Are you going to stay like that for the whole trip?”

  “Well, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a swim?”

  “A swim? As in jump off the boat?”

  “Well, we do have a ladder, but jumping is definitely more fun.”

  “What about the tea guests?”

  “They’re welcome to join us—everyone was invited to bring swimwear.”

  “But I’m not exactly dressed for it,” I pull at my dress.

  “Oh, the fish don’t mind, I assure you.”

  It’s a dare. And it feels like the biggest chance of my life. Something deep inside me is saying yes. Do it!

  “Okay!”

  Harvey gives a little cheer and then he takes my hand and—“Ready?”—together we make the leap.

  Down I go into the cool, swirling blue, water rushing and burbling at my ears, tugging and twisting at my dress. As I pull back up to the surface, I feel as if I am wriggling loose of all my former heartaches and disappointments and striving upward to something bright and new.

  I gasp for breath, blink the salty water from my eyes and then grin at Harvey.

  “This is heaven!” I say, dipping my head back and feeling my heart surge with exuberance. “I love it here! I love being with you!”

  “Then have this life with me.” He swims closer, just a foot-swish apart now. “Be with me.”

  I answer with a kiss. And then I keep kissing him. What can I say? This man is yummier than any cake I ever tasted!

  EPILOGUE

  My eyes were puffy for a whole week after meeting up with Jessica. The tears started the instant she walked in the room. I did look at her and see my mother, just as I had feared, but that actually gave me a rush of compassion, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced in years. I hugged her right there and then, which took both of us by surprise. I think one of the reasons I moved so swiftly toward her was that I could see the drugs were gone. She looked like herself again—instead of some dark being crouching behind her eyes, they were clear and bright and hopeful.

  She told me about the rehab program she had been attending and the new man in her life who is all vegan-tofu-yoga-crystals, so now I can despair of her in a whole new (but much healthier) way. We were holding hands so tightly as she spoke, like we were making up for lost time and trying to show each other that there would never be such a chasm between us again.

  When she said she was sorry for everything that had happened, I felt such a sense of release. That little word, when heartfelt, can mean so much. Suddenly the burden of grief was no longer exclusively mine. We would bear it together, and blame would be edged out with love and understanding. Just as my mother would have wished.

  “You know I tried to find him? Our father?” she said at one point.

  “And did you?”

  She nodded. “He wasn’t even that far away. Just the next town over. But he didn’t want to meet up. He said his life had moved on and that I needed to do the same.” She shook her head. “When I think of all the years I took out my hurt on you and Mum, the people who were actually there for me . . .” And then she took a breath. “So now I’m in the mode of making amends. And the only way I can think of to make it up to Mum is to make it right with you.”

  And the funny thing is that in that moment all I f
elt was grateful. For a while there I had lost my mum and my sister. But now I’m back in touch with the one person who knew all my mother’s delightful ways as well as me, the one person who knew what it was like to grow up in her care and call her Mum—the person who could trigger a million happy memories. And so that’s what we did. We brought her back to life with our conversation.

  And now I feel her with me all the more.

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