by Diane Moody
Resting against the soft padded cushions on the wicker, he pulled out the bottle and took a long swig of the sparkling water. The bite of the cold, bubbly liquid refreshed him instantly. He looked around, taking in the nighttime sights and sounds of the neighborhood. A dog barked in the distance. A whiff of fried chicken drifted from somewhere, and he realized he’d forgotten to eat.
When he finally allowed his eyes to venture across the street, he noticed extra cars in the driveway and lights in the front room on the left side of the house. Must be dinner guests. He couldn’t make out any more than that through the sheers, only several folks sitting around a table appearing to have a good time. Discussing nuclear physics, no doubt. He chuckled at his sarcasm.
A breeze rustled the leaves above him, a sound Ian found soothing along with the faint chirping of crickets. He let his eyes close and crossed his arms across his chest. In a matter of moments, he drifted off to sleep.
He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when a commotion across the street woke him. The guests were apparently leaving—an older gentleman getting into a newer model Cadillac, and a younger, shorter one heading for a nondescript sedan parked at the curb. Ah, the other partner in crime.
Ian scooted down in the chair, hoping they wouldn’t see him sitting on the dark porch. He could see—Madeline, was it?—standing at the top of her porch waving goodbye to them. When they drove off, she started back toward the front door, then did a double-take looking straight across the street at him.
“Don’t see me, don’t see me,” he whispered, willing her back into the house. As if on cue, she paused a moment then stepped into the house. Ian blew out the breath he’d been holding, thankful she hadn’t seen him.
Just as he was beginning to relax a few moments later, her door opened. Before he could move a muscle, she was half-way across the street.
“Hi neighbor. Warm night, isn’t it?”
Please don’t come over here and—
“I don’t know where my manners are, Dr. Grant. We had guests for dinner, and I should have invited you as well.”
He could see something in her hands as she gracefully walked up the steps to his porch. She was wearing a white sleeveless blouse over a pair of faded blue jeans. He couldn’t help noticing how nice she looked in that blouse, her curls bouncing off the collar’s edge.
“No need to apologize. I couldn’t have come.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” She sat down on the wicker swing adjacent to his chair.
“Tell me, Miss—”
“Maddie Cooper. Remember?”
“Of course. Tell me, Miss Cooper, are all American women as forward as you?”
She smiled, and he hated the way it warmed him.
“I don’t consider myself forward at all, Dr. Grant. Or may I call you Ian?”
He had no clue how to respond so he didn’t.
“I’m not forward, Ian. Just trying to be hospitable. Neighborly. You’re in a new country, in new surroundings, all alone . . .” She pointed to his foot propped up on the small wicker table. “You’re infirmed—”
“Thanks to you and your accomplice.”
She dipped her head briefly. “Point well taken. All the more reason I should have invited you to dinner. But since I didn’t, the least I can do is share a few of our leftovers. I hope that’s not considered bad manners in England?” Her eyes sparkled even in the moonlight, accompanying her hopeful smile.
“Well, I . . . it’s not considered . . . but—”
“Good. Then I shall leave them with you. Just pop the Chicken Crescents in the microwave for about a minute. There’s also a Waldorf salad—apples, nuts, celery—and a couple of chess squares. I hope you like them. I’ll put this in the kitchen for you then you can eat whenever you like.”
With that, she disappeared inside the house. The audacity. She just walks in like she owns the place. These Yanks have a lot to learn about etiquette. Moments later she returned.
“It wasn’t necessary. You needn’t have bothered.” He tried to sound pleasant enough but somehow it didn’t come out that way.
She made her way to the top of the steps and began her descent. “Goodnight, Ian.”
He blinked, unsure what to make of her, what to say. She turned her head, casting one final smile before crossing the street.
Goodnight . . . Maddie.
Chapter 6
Maddie lifted the kettle of hot water to fill the Spode teapot to warm it properly. Carefully sloshing the water inside before pouring it back out, she then measured the loose tea leaves into the infuser filling the air with a delightful aroma. Taking the kettle of gently boiling water again from the stove’s burner, she refilled the teapot.
“There. Now we’ll let it steep for six minutes then give it a try. Are you ready?”
Nana smiled, visibly happy to be Maddie’s guinea pig as she practiced her new skills. “Ready when you are.”
Maddie picked up one of the delicately painted teacups. “Aren’t these beautiful?”
“They truly are. Who could have known that my little hobby, collecting teacups from around the world, would some day come in handy for you like this?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with us using them? You know there’s a good chance a few might get chipped or broken.”
“Good heavens, yes. What good are they stored away in the attic or collecting dust around here? And a chip here and there only adds character—to teacups and old ladies,” she mused, pointing to her useless left arm.
“You’re a character, all right. I’ve known that my whole life,” Maddie teased.
“I’m only trying to keep up with you, young lady.” Nana laughed again, her crooked smile as enchanting as ever.
“I’ve got a couple dozen new ones on order from that little shop in Chawton. The place where I found that gorgeous cup and saucer I brought back with me?”
“I love the deep, rich shades of red on that one. Plus, you know I’m always partial to the ones with gold touches. It’s absolutely stunning.”
“Isn’t it though? Although the ones I’ve ordered are a variety—all different kinds. No two alike.”
“That makes each one so special.”
“Okay, okay, let’s get back to work here. Is your cup still warm? According to my research, the best ‘cuppa’ is one that is served in a warmed teacup.”
“Warmed and ready to go,” Nana obliged. “What flavor are we having today?”
“This is an English Breakfast Tea. Pour your cream first, Nana. That’s the proper way—before I pour the tea.”
“I know. I remember.” Nana poured a splash of cream into her cup then set the chilled creamer back on the table. “Hope we finish this before the workers get here. They’re like a bunch of bulls in a china shop.” She chuckled. “A real china shop, in this case.”
Nothing pleased Maddie more than the sound of her grandmother’s laughter. Coming from one who could have chosen never to laugh again, it was music to her ears. She checked her watch. “Six minutes exactly. Any longer and we risk a bitter tea. That’s because the longer it steeps, the better the chance for Tannin to be extracted from the tea leaves. ‘Bitter stuff, that Tannin.’”
“I was wondering when the accent would show up,” Nana feigned.
“Hush. This is a Taylors of Harrogate tea. Their teas were voted Best Cup of Tea in England. I’ve decided to use them exclusively. And if I’ve done my homework correctly and made this pot to specifications, it should be superb. Utterly superb.”
“Yes, Eliza.”
“Only the best for our customers, right? Okay, here we go.”
Maddie poured from the hand-painted teapot, first into Nana’s cup, then into her own. Following each sip, they discussed the flavor and quality of the tea giving today’s sample two thumbs up. Maddie added their comments to the list of other flavors they’d sampled over the past week.
Finally, she sat back to read over her notes. “Seems we both enjo
yed the Earl Grey, the English breakfast, the Lemon and Herb Tisane, and the Scottish Breakfast tea. I liked the Peppermint Tisane, you did not. You liked the Raspberry and Rosehip Tisane, I did not. And we both loved the Yorkshire Gold. And during the holidays we’ll offer the Spiced Christmas tea—remember how good it smelled?”
“My goodness, what a lot of teas to keep up with. How will your customers—”
“Our customers.”
“How will our customers know what to choose?”
“Lanie will include a description of each flavor we offer on a page in our menu. She’s already doing a mock-up for us. I’m hoping she’ll bring a rough draft when she stops by after work. I found some gorgeous watercolors of teacups and English gardens, that sort of thing, by an art student at UT. She was thrilled when I offered to pay her for the prints to use on our menu. We’ll write a blurb about her on the back. Remind me to show those to you later, will you?”
Nana pushed the lever to roll her chair back. “I will, but for now you must excuse me. I think I’ll go rest for awhile.”
“I’ll help you lie down,” Maddie followed, taking their cups to the sink.
“You’ll do no such thing. Gretchen will be happy to help me. Gretchen?” she called, rolling into the hall.
“Right here, Rachel. Ready for your morning nap?”
Maddie watched as the plump, cheerful nurse greeted Nana with a ready smile. In the weeks since her return from England, she’d come to love the newest member of their family. Gretchen’s warm personality made for a relaxed atmosphere despite the chaos of all the renovations. Maddie couldn’t imagine how they’d managed without her all these years.
“Sweet dreams, Nana. I’ll go over our sandwich menu with you after lunch, okay?”
“Howdy, Miss Cooper.”
“Oh!” Maddie turned as Brad Chapman walked through the back door. “Oh, hello, Brad—I didn’t hear the door open. You gave me a start! How are you this morning?”
Clearing the table, Maddie took a good look at her contractor. He was definitely a man to behold—tall, muscular, tanned, and unusually polite. Quite the gentleman, in fact.
“Fine, thank you. And you?”
“Fine as well,” she answered playfully. “Would you like a cup of tea? I have a delightful English Breakfast tea that’s quite good.”
Brad’s face broadened in a smile. “That’s kind of you to ask, Miss Cooper. But no, I’ll have to pass. I want to finish that built-in hutch this morning before I start in here. The industrial refrigerator and stove should be delivered today.”
“Oh, that’s great! I can’t wait to see how they’re going to fit.”
“They’ll fit real good, Miss Cooper. You have my word. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll head on into the dining room to work. The rest of the crew should be here any minute.” He tipped his ball cap, a gesture she always found amusing, and disappeared into the hall.
Yes, Mr. Chapman, I do believe it’s time I arrange a little rendezvous for you with Miss Lanie Morgan . . .
As Maddie continued washing the dishes, she remembered how Lanie had scoffed at her the first time she mentioned setting the two of them up.
“Are you crazy? A guy like that? Interested in a girl like me? What are you, blind? Besides, Maddie, I think I may be falling in love with Jeff. He says, and I quote, he’s ‘crazy about me.’ Isn’t that incredible? And he writes the most romantic emails. I’ve saved every one of them. I’ve never met anyone quite like him.”
“That’s because you’ve never met him!” Maddie recognized the love-struck look in Lanie’s eyes, and it made her shudder. She wasn’t about to let her best friend fall for some nerd permanently affixed to his computer. “C’mon, Lanie, don’t be ridiculous. Online romances are a joke. Brad Chapman is the real deal. Not to mention the fact that he’s here, not off in cyberspace oblivion. I mean, c’mon, Lanie. Have you looked at the guy?”
Maddie knew best, if only Lanie would listen to her! She’d initiated several “coincidental” meetings between Lanie and Brad, inviting her to stop by on the way home from work knowing Brad would still be working. She’d insist they sit down for a cup of tea together before he left. His deep voice and quick sense of humor always made for a good time. Gradually, over the course of time, Lanie had warmed to the idea, responding to Brad’s good manners and easy laugh.
No overtures of romance yet, but that will come if I do my part. Her mind wandered along a similar path until it landed right across the street.
And then there’s the elusive Dr. Grant. There’s got to be someone I can send his way. Maddie hadn’t seen much of her new neighbor. Occasionally she’d wave as he left the house for the campus. He had traded his crutches for a cane, still limping as he made his way down the sidewalk. Sometimes he returned her wave, but most often not. She had ventured over to visit him a couple of times, but he’d maintained the same wall of defense. Several times she’d left a basket of cookies or muffins on his porch table. She would send him an invitation for her grand opening, but doubted seriously he would show up. Unless . . . unless I can find someone to accompany the stodgy professor?
Maddie snapped out of her musings and dried her hands on her apron, acknowledging the smile on her face. Her thoughts skipped back to Lanie and Brad, the vision of a candlelit dinner . . .
“You ’n me, God. We’re quite a team.”
Several weeks later, Maddie crossed the commons of the UT campus headed for Perry-Castañeda Library. In an hour she would meet with Lanie on her lunch break to go over advertising copy for the tea room. Until then, she hoped to do some research about Chawton to verify what she’d learned while touring Jane Austen’s quaint English cottage. Knowing the library’s layout, she quickly made her way to the sixth floor which housed the English literature section.
Browsing the familiar shelves, she found a couple of books then looked for a table. As she rounded the corner, she was startled to see her neighbor seated at a long table, pouring over a thick volume beneath a green desk light.
“Why, hello Ian,” she greeted nonchalantly. Depositing her books across from him, she pulled out a chair and sat down.
Deep in thought, he finally looked up. “Oh, yes well, hello.” His eyes darted around, much like those of a trapped animal, then back to his book. Maddie noticed a blush creeping up his face. He sighed impatiently then grunted, “What brings you here, Miss Cooper?”
He remembered my name. “Just doing some research for my tea room. I’ve decided to name it The Chawton Tea Room in honor of—”
“For your beloved Miss Austen’s home in Chawton, just outside of Alton, Hampshire.” He never looked up, tossing the comment at her like discarded change. “Big surprise there.”
Maddie wasn’t sure what to make of it. You’re not going to provoke me, Ian Grant. “Regardless, I wanted to tell you I’ll be sending you an invitation once we’re ready to open. Probably sometime in early November.”
Ian turned a page, clearly attempting to ignore her.
“I hope you’ll join us. And, just so you know, you’re more than welcome to bring someone.”
Nothing.
“A friend. A date. Whatever.”
He leveled his eyes at her, shutting the thick volume with a loud thud. “A date? Miss Cooper, I am not—”
“Oh, why must you keep playing the martyr? I’ve apologized every way I know how. I’ve made every effort to show my remorse.” She paused for effect, then folded her hands on top of her open book. “I simply want to be friends. Is that too much to ask?” she added quietly.
“Why on earth would you care to be friends with me? Just because I’m residing across the lane from you does not demand we be chummy.”
Maddie pushed her hair out of her face. “Because I can sense your loneliness. I see the sadness in your eyes, and I want somehow to make you feel more at home here.”
Ian stood, grabbing his book. “Is that a proposition, Miss Cooper? You think I’m so lonely, I’d accep
t your company just so I won’t be ‘lonely’ anymore? You’re even more delusional than I thought.”
“No, wait! That’s not what I meant at all!” Maddie whispered loudly, standing as he started to walk away. “Please! This is exactly what I’m talking about—why must you still be so angry with me? And why must you reject my gesture of friendship—and that’s all it is, Ian. Nothing more, I assure you.”
He paused, then turned to look at her. Maddie felt his blue eyes bore into her soul, but she fought the urge to look away. Why oh why must he be so handsome? As he stepped toward her, she felt her heart pounding inside her chest.
Finally, standing mere inches from her, he opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. His eyes searched hers as if conflicted. Then his stern countenance softened before he broke eye contact and blew out another sigh. “Look, Miss Cooper—”
“Maddie.”
A sad smile attempted to reach his eyes. “I don’t wish to be rude. But I’m not . . . you see, it’s simply that . . .” He exhaled, standing straighter. The vulnerability vanished. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m much too busy. Good day.”
She watched him limp away, somewhat relieved to see he no longer used a cane, but disappointed in the exchange. Oh, what must I do to reach you, Ian Grant? And how can I help heal your wounded heart if you won’t break down that wall and let me in?
Let someone else in, that is.
Chapter 7
Ian Grant gathered his papers from the podium. “Test on chapter eight tomorrow. Papers on Samuel Johnson are due next Friday. And yes, that is the day after Halloween, but I’ll make no exceptions for hung-over ghosts and goblins. Consider yourself warned. Good day.” His students filed out of the lecture hall, the usual cluster of those wishing for his attention gathering around him. Normally, he would try to spark the students in debate about his lecture, but today he had plans.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I’ll be available in the conference room for further discussion after three o’clock this afternoon. Now if you’ll make way, please.”
The chatter followed him out of the classroom and down the hall, gradually dissipating as he stepped into his office. His assistant, Jennifer Simms, stood as he rushed by her desk.
