The Teashop Girls

by Laura Schaefer

  My mind wandered to a birthday party Louisa threw for me a few years ago. Each year, she closes the shop and throws an elaborate tea party for my friends and me; it’s our special traditon. Each party is unique… sometimes she arranges it like a Japanese tea ceremony. Sometimes she decorates the Leaf like a Russian tearoom, complete with the exact right china. The one I am remembering now was just like afternoon tea at the Plaza. The Plaza, explained Louisa at the time, is a very hoity-toity hotel in New York City. Apparently they really know how to do afternoon tea. It’s practically world-famous.

  Louisa put her best table right in the middle of the shop, with a crisp white tablecloth and fresh flowers and everything. She had a copy of the official tea menu from the Plaza and served us finger sandwiches, clotted cream, homemade jams, and delicious petit fours. The pastries were like angel pillows and the chocolates were fit for princesses. Genna, Zoe, and I thought we had died and gone to heaven. That day, we all wore nice clothes and were extra careful with our manners, taking pains not to spill crumbs on the floor like we usually did. Louisa wore a dramatic black asymmetrical dress, just like someone in New York. She lent us all pink lipstick for the occasion as well. I didn’t tell my mom that part.

  “Dahling, please pass the sugar,” Genna said, pretending to be a wealthy socialite who always had afternoon tea at the Plaza. Zoe snickered and did as she was asked. “Isn’t this savory pastry to die for?” Gen continued. “I simply must tell my servants to learn the recipe.”

  Genna snapped her finger at an imaginary waiter as Louisa smiled at her. Louisa always thought my “girls” were wonderful. I couldn’t help but agree. Zoe ate her sandwiches neatly as always, sighing contentedly and thanking Louisa for about the millionth time.

  “Our waiter is soo very, very dashing. Don’t you just want to swoon, darlings?” Genna asked, leaning back in her chair in a dramatic faint. Even at ten, she was boy crazy. She could conjure romance on a whim, probably because she was already addicted to daytime television.

  “Oh yes,” agreed Louisa without missing a beat. “Hans is our most popular waiter here at the hotel. In fact, today was supposed to be his very first day off in a whole month, but when he heard that Miss Annie was coming in for her birthday, he insisted on working so that he could see her. Isn’t that lovely?” My grandmother winked at me as all three of us dissolved into giggles. We had four different pots of tea at the table that day, just like we would if we were really at the Plaza: jasmine blossom, lemon spice, peppermint, and English breakfast. We tried all of them, of course. Genna liked the lemon spice the best; Zoe the peppermint; and my favorite has always been English breakfast.

  It was nice. I still remember the stacked plates of goodies and how special it felt to have the shop to myself with my best friends. Louisa had once done the same thing for my sister, Beth, on her birthday, but the tradition only stuck with me. Louisa said I have tea in my soul.

  Anyway, this year, my party didn’t happen. Genna’s family was on vacation in Europe that week, and Zo got the flu at the last moment. Louisa and I still had a very nice tea together, but I hoped that the tradition wouldn’t fade away. As soon as I learned the finer points of how Louisa ran her store, I promised myself that this year I’d arrange a very special tea for my grandmother. After all, I was getting old enough to do it for her. The thought warmed me up. I’d read up a bit on famous tea services and surprise her as soon as I could. I wondered where one could find truffle mayonnaise.

  I was snapped out of my daydreaming by someone on the patio making faces in our front window. As I got closer, I saw that it was Zach Anderson. His annoying popped collar and preppy faux-hawk made me grimace, even from a distance. He put his open mouth on the glass and blew his face up, getting slobber everywhere. What was he doing here? On my first day! Louisa didn’t notice him because she had returned to Meg’s table for more guidebook flipping. I decided I would handle my first workplace crisis by myself. I grabbed a white towel from our sink and went outside.

  “What is wrong with you?” I said to Zach, swatting at him with the towel.

  “Green! Is that an apron? Are you working?”

  “If you must know, yes, I am.” Even with Zach Anderson in my presence, it was hard not to smile. I was just so happy to be there. And proud of my apron, if you want to know the truth.

  “Aw. It’s so sad when people have to use child labor to keep their businesses open. Don’t you get an allowance?”

  “Not everyone was born into the Trump family, stupid,” I answered, wishing I had more time to give him a proper lecture on wasteful extravagance and the starving children in the third world.

  “Well, I suppose if you did have an allowance, you’d just spend it on something dumb, like tea.” He mimicked sipping out of a teacup with his pinky out.

  “Tea isn’t dumb, you diseased amoeba. If you aren’t going to buy anything, go stink up someone else’s patio.” I was getting good and warmed up now.

  “Touchy, touchy!” he taunted.

  “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Why are you always around?” Why was he always around? “Go slobber on some other window!”

  “Fine. I’m telling everyone this place has E. coli. See ya!” He hopped on his thousand-dollar bike and sped off, leaving me steaming. I wiped up his disgusting spit and went to the sink to wash my hands. Three times.

  A couple of moments later a customer who looked as if she had just stepped out of a salon came in and asked for a noncaffeinated tea, something fruity. I suggested one of the popular herbal varieties, called Mango Blossom.

  “That sounds perfect, I’ll take a cup to go,” she replied. I was so proud, I hadn’t even needed Louisa’s help to complete the order and ring it all up.

  Luckily, I know my tea. I understood that black and green had caffeine while herbal did not. Actually, herbal tea wasn’t really tea because it didn’t come from the tea plant. Did you know that? It’s true. I knew chamomile was good for soothing stress, and ginseng was good for strengthening the immune system. I planned to become, like my grandmother, extremely healthy and filled with positive energy thanks to spending time here (well, positive as long as Zach didn’t show up again). It was exciting. For me, tea was more than tea. It was tradition. It was family. Soul medicine, Louisa and I liked to say. She returned to the area behind the counter.

  “We do a tea of the day now, which is discounted. That was Jonathan’s idea.” Louisa pointed to a blackboard near the register. Today it was Peach Paradise. He was smart and cute.

  “So, um, where is Jonathan?” I asked, not looking directly at Louisa. “He seems very nice.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t work today.” Even though I could tell that Louisa probably suspected my crush, she decided not to say anything. She was wonderful like that. “Anyway, the key thing is remembering the customers’ preferences. Now, I’ve been doing this for a very long time and I still forget on occasion. And believe me, they take it personally. I’ll show you my cheat sheet.” Louisa grinned conspiratorially and pointed to a little index card under the register. It had amusing descriptions of the regulars, along with their drink of choice. Some had names; some did not. “Mustache man: Decaf green.” “Yoga lady: Raspberry blend.” “Tan nose (Greg): Double espresso.”

  Practically everyone in the whole neighborhood knew Louisa and remembered my grandfather. Grandpa Charles had been a professor in the botany department at the university, where he specialized mainly in ancient herbs and their medicinal properties. He and Louisa opened the shop almost exactly thirty years ago, after his sabbatical in Japan. Louisa had fallen in love with the Japanese teahouses and wanted to bring a small part of that culture home with her to Madison. When my mom was a teenager, she worked here. The teashop has always been primarily Louisa’s baby, but my grandfather was the driving force in getting prominent Madisonians to come in and bring their friends. I know my mom worried a lot about how having him gone was affecting the shop. Louisa was extremely warm and friendly but she wasn’
t quite as gregarious as her late husband had been. She could often be found meditating quietly instead of out on the town.

  “‘Tan nose’?” I giggled.

  “You’ll see. Ooh, look, your second customer. Go to it!” Louisa stepped back and pretended to rearrange some cups. I smiled at the young mother standing before me with her toddler.

  “Hello. What can I get for you today?”

  “Hi there. I’ll take a large iced tea to go and one order of cucumber sandwiches,” she said to me. Then, “How are you, Louisa?”

  “I’m doing very well, thank you, Ling. I’d like to introduce you to our newest barista, my granddaughter Annie.” I smiled and we shook hands. “And how is little Hieu?” The toddler was looking around but probably wouldn’t be quiet for very long. I remembered where the iced tea was brewed and easily filled up a large cup. Louisa prepared the sandwiches without even looking as she chatted. I waved at Hieu, who stared at me uncertainly.

  “Oh, good. But with him walking now, I feel as if I’m constantly trying to keep a mini tornado in one place,” Ling replied, sounding tired.

  “I remember those days. You always have to watch out for those angelic-looking ones.” Louisa handed Ling her sandwiches and bent down to talk to Hieu.

  “Now, you be a good boy for your mama, young man,” she said, cooing to him as he stared back innocently, blinking his big eyes. I noticed she placed a small cookie into his eager hand at no charge. Ling gathered her sandwiches and her son and headed back out, looking refreshed as she sipped her tea.

  It wasn’t hard at all to be a barista. I was already loving the fact that I could make someone’s day better with a cookie or cup of tea… no wonder the Leaf’s chi was so positive! My grandmother continued with her instructions. “There are a few special customers, as you know. There’s an elderly couple who comes in almost every day dressed in matching outfits. They order one pot of Earl Grey and strike up conversations with young people.”

  “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Kopinski, sure. Last time I was here, I talked to them about the bike trail. They got matching bicycles at Willy Street.”

  “Lovely,” Louisa replied. “Oops, here’s some more customers for you.” I poured coffee for two retirees and wiped up the counter, which was already spotlessly clean. It had only been two hours, but I already loved my job.

  Another customer stepped up to the counter. “Medium extra-whip, soy chai latte.” Whoa. I looked at Louisa in a panic.

  “Isn’t this weather lovely?” Louisa could steam milk and talk meteorology at once. I tried to absorb what she was doing with the scary machine behind the counter.

  “It sure is,” the customer replied. “I’ll take a hundred more days like these.”

  “Okay, here’s your drink, Ray.” He took it with a wave and headed back outside.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, my sweet.”

  We chatted amiably and as things quieted down, Louisa asked me about Gen and Zoe. I promised they would come in for a visit soon.

  Our elderly book reader came in, this time holding a copy of something called A Moveable Feast. I decided to officially introduce myself. It wouldn’t do for the Steeping Leaf’s regular customers to think of me just as “the owner’s granddaughter,” now that I was a proper barista and all.

  “Hello, sir. I’m Annie, Louisa’s granddaughter and the newest barista.” I presented my hand and he took it. His grip was firm yet gentle.

  “Charles Shanahan’s granddaughter! Why I’ll be… I’m Frank Silverman. How do you do?”

  “I’m great, Mr. Silverman. Nice to meet you.” I smiled at him.

  “You know, I was once good friends with your grandfather. We traded books for, oh, I’d say twenty years.”

  “Really? He gave me books, too, when I was little. What are you reading today?” It pleased me to think that my grandfather’s library of books had homes on shelves scattered throughout Madison.

  “Oh, one of my favorites,” he said as he showed me the spine. “Hemingway. It’s about Paris. My second-favorite city.”

  “Your second favorite? What’s your first?” Louisa brought over Mr. Silverman’s usual, a steaming cup of oolong, and smiled at both of us. I could see she was pleased I was chatting with Grandpa’s old friend.

  “Why, this one of course. What’s your favorite?” he asked.

  “Madison too. But I haven’t been that many places yet.” Just Florida to see my other grandparents and Chicago a few times.

  “Oh trust me, you will. But you’ll always love your home.” He sipped his tea and smiled at me. I knew that he probably wanted to start reading his book, but I couldn’t resist one more question. I’m like that sometimes.

  “So how many times have you been to Paris?”

  “Too many to count! I have an apartment there. In the Latin quarter. In fact, there’s a shop there that is much like your grandmother’s here. Si parva lecit componere magnis.”

  “Wow! That is amazing.” I looked at Mr. Silverman quizzically and he translated his Latin for me. The phrase, from the poet Virgil, meant “if one may compare small things with great.” It made me so happy to think there was another place like the Leaf all the way across the globe, in a spot as glamorous as Paris. Wait till I told Genna! She’d want to do a Teashop Girls field trip. My mom would love that. Not.

  I cleared a table of a pot and two empty cups. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone behaving impatiently at the counter, tapping his foot and looking for something… or someone. He had an official look about him—kind of like an annoyed school vice principal. He held a document in his hand and wore a scowl on his face.

  I rushed over to the register to take his order. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you today?”

  “Louisa Shanahan?”

  “That’s my grandmother. I think she’s out back. Can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to the shop’s owner.”

  I was trying my best to be super helpful, but nothing could placate him. Just then Louisa appeared behind me.

  “I’m the owner.”

  “You’re Louisa Shanahan?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is an eviction notice. You have thirty days to pay your back rent or you must vacate the premises.”

  Tea balls are a way of packaging tea into small, spherical bags. You can still buy packaged tea balls today, or you can put your loose tea into a little round mesh metal tea ball. They make ones that are big enough for a whole pot or small enough for just a cup.

  Chapter Six

  Remember the tea kettle— it is always up to its neck in hot water, yet it still sings.

  —AUTHOR UNKNOWN

  I rushed back to the storeroom once the last of the customers had gone. There were no windows in the back, so I had to be careful not to run into anything. Crates of inventory were still scattered all around from yesterday. It seemed things were worse than just one unpaid electricity bill. I wonder if my mom knew. I felt scared, not sure what to do at all. I cleared my throat when I entered Louisa’s office.

  “Um, Louisa? Is everything okay?” I asked very softly. I didn’t know exactly how things worked when you rented a building, but it seemed there had to be a mix-up. They had to come over and get this straightened out right away. “Did you call the property owner? This has got to be some terrible mistake. Louisa? Louisa?” My grandmother was making no move to call anyone, even though I was holding out the phone feebly.

  “Oh, Annie. I miss your grandfather.” Louisa said this very quietly. I took a seat by awkwardly placing some manila folders on the floor and squeezing onto a chair. Even though some meditation music played quietly, neither one of us was very soothed. It was so strange to see an adult so sad. I had always figured middle school was the worst, and it pretty much got steadily better from there. Maybe not.

  “I miss him too.” I paused. It felt good to remember him out loud like I had with Mr. Silverman; Louisa and I hadn’t talked about him in a long time. From t
he look on Louisa’s face, I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it was clear there would be no calling the landlord. At least not right away.

  “You know, even after he died, I could feel his presence here with me. We shared so many good times in the shop that I was always able to believe he was just around the corner, checking in back for a new shipment of rooibos or out on the patio chatting with a favorite customer.” I knew Louisa was in her shop practically from the time she got up until the time she went to bed. “But now … I’m starting to lose that feeling. And, as it turns out, the shop as well.” Louisa sighed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I shouldn’t be burdening you with this on your first day. I thought things would have turned around by now.”

  “Louisa, you can tell me anything, really.”

  “The truth is, the Steeping Leaf is in big trouble. We can’t pay our bills or our rent. I had no business hiring you, dearheart.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “It’s been wonderful to have you here—even for just a day.” Louisa smiled and seemed to gather herself. “Annie, I know I’ve explained to you many times how to live like a river, clear and undisturbed as things unfold. The shop’s struggle is a rapids we must flow around. We cannot know what the future will bring.” She was oddly serene.

  “I don’t understand …” The river stuff made sense to me when we were talking about dealing with mean people at school, but I wasn’t feeling very peaceful about the idea of the shop closing. I didn’t see how my grandmother could be so calm about it.

  “There will always be tea, dear. Perhaps there will not always be the Steeping Leaf. But there will always be tea. And maybe this is just a sign that it’s time for me to do like other people my age and move to a warm spot. Approach a new phase in life.” I looked at her in horror. Louisa leave Madison … there were no words. As my mind raced anxiously, she rustled for something in her desk. “I found something for your handbook.” She handed me a rare tea card, an advertisement that looked to be many decades old. I took it happily but couldn’t shake my frown over my grandmother’s Zen calmness.