“So that party at your friend’s last week was pretty fun, Annie. Sorry I couldn’t stay long.”
“Uh, yeah. It was good.”
“Where are your friends today? The Teashop Girls? I thought they came here every time you had a shift.” He smiled and I frowned. There were no Teashop Girls.
“I don’t know.” It came out more sharply than I meant it to.
“O-kay …” He backed away a little bit.
“Sorry, I’m just a little stressed about things. The Steeping Leaf is closing.”
“Yeah, Louisa told me. I know. I’m sorry, Annie.” He seemed to try to find something else to say, then gave up. “So, are these all the fliers?”
“Yes.” He grabbed the stack and the staple gun and strolled out the door. I watched him go, a pang in my chest. I was starting to understand that no matter what, Jonathan was never going to look at me as anything but an overambitious coworker. He would never care about my thoughts on world peace or my reasons for thinking avocadoes were the world’s most perfect food or my well-developed opinions on why tea was better than coffee. I was just a kid who made him put up fliers all the time for a tiny place he probably cared very little about. I sighed.
I called all the newspapers and magazines in the area to get the Steeping Leaf party placed on their calendars. I also made sure to remember to invite all the longtime customers and our neighbors.
“Are you Annie?” A hurried-looking elderly woman rushed through the shop door, five-year-old in tow. “This is Tameeka. Louisa arranged to watch her for a few hours?”
“Yes, hi there. I’m Annie Green. Nice to meet you.” I shook hands with Tameeka and made an effort to grin. It wouldn’t do to take out my frustrations on a cute little kid. The little girl moved shyly behind her great-aunt’s legs.
“Would you like to have some tea and cookies with me? It’s almost four o’clock. That’s when the Queen has her tea and cookies.” Tameeka came out of hiding and nodded. Her great-aunt smiled and hurried off, assuring me that the little girl would be picked up by her mother at seven.
“What’s that?” Tameeka said, pointing at Genna’s Popsicle painting.
“That’s bad art,” I answered with a serious expression.
“What’s that?” she said again, this time looking at a chessboard set up neatly on a coffee table in front of a couch. She carefully picked up one of the pieces, decided she liked it, and grabbed a whole handful of others. I rushed over.
“That’s a chess set. Let’s leave those here right now.” I placed Tameeka on a chair and pushed it close to the table so she would have a hard time getting out. I poured her some lukewarm sweetened tea and arranged a plate of small cookies.
“So, Tameeka, what are you learning in kindergarten?”
“Spelling. And shapes. An oct-o-gon-o-don has eight sides.”
“Wow, you must be the smartest kid in your class.”
“I am,” Tameeka said seriously. “I know how to spell ‘Saturn’ and I know how to add ten plus two and I know where babies come from!”
“That’s impressive.” I had no wish to discuss where babies came from with a five-year-old, so I changed the subject. “Have you ever had tea before?”
“Um, um, yes. No.” Tameeka spilled a little and ate a cookie in one big bite.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. But I like the cookies more. How old are you?”
“I’m thirteen … well, I’m going to be fourteen soon.”
“That’s old.”
“I know.”
“I’m five.”
“That’s how old I was when I first started coming here with my friends.”
“Really? What are their names?” Tameeka asked with crumbs flying.
“Zoe and Genna.” I stopped.
“I have two best friends, too. Their names are Jackie and Kaitlyn, and we do everything together all the time.” Tameeka happily jabbered on about all the fun things she liked to do with Jackie and Kaitlyn. I missed being together with my two best friends. I really, really, really missed them. I rarely remembered anything from that far back, but suddenly an image of the three of us filled my mind. We were sitting near the same table Tameeka and I were now, coloring and eating muffins while our moms chatted nearby. Genna had dropped her muffin on the floor and started crying. I had split the rest of mine with her … or had it been the other way around? I looked at Tameeka. “My friends had a special club called the Teashop Girls.”
“I want to be a Teashop Girl!”
“You do, do you? Okay.” I stood up and got a piece of paper and some tape. I carefully cut out the shape of a heart and drew a picture of a teacup on it. I taped it to Tameeka’s shirt. “I hereby declare you an honorary member of the Teashop Girls.”
“Yay!” Tameeka clapped her hands.
“Yay!” I said in response. And got an idea.
The Steeping Leaf Traditional Chai Iced Tea
* * *
INGREDIENTS
1 quart water
½ cup black tea leaves
4 star anise, ground
½ tablespoon powdered vanilla
½ teaspoon clove powder
¼ teaspoon chopped cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
½ to 1 cup unrefined cane sugar
Ice cubes
1 pint coconut milk
* * *
Bring the water to a boil.
Place the tea, anise, vanilla, clove, cinnamon, and ginger in a big teapot.
Pour the water over the tea and spices and let steep until cool. Add sugar to taste.
Strain into a clean covered pitcher. Let the tea finish cooling to room temperature, then refrigerate until ready to serve.
Fill 4 tall glasses with ice cubes and add tea to three quarters full.
Add ½ cup coconut milk to each glass and serve with a straw.
Serves 6
Chapter Twenty-Six
Perhaps you would like some tea as soon as it can be got.
—JANE AUSTEN, MANSFIELD PARK
Annie, it’s Genna. Call me back.” Genna had started leaving a message every day on my family’s phone. I was having a tough time explaining to my mom why Genna and I were no longer friends.
“Look, Mom, I think she’s a bad influence. I’ve got other friends!”
“I just don’t understand, Annie. She calls here sounding sadder every day. What happened?”
“Nothing, Mom. We’re just growing apart.”
“Uh-huh. You went from attached by your dangly earrings to growing apart in one week?”
“It happens.” I wandered out of the living room, leaving my mom looking confused. Both of my parents were giving me a lot of concerned looks since hearing about the fate of the Leaf. My mom was more worried about me than she was about Louisa. I guess my grandmother knew a lot more about “being the river” than I did. She was serene, whereas I was a ball of upset. Fortunately, I had other things to think about. Making Tameeka an honorary Teashop Girl had been super inspiring. Before the farewell party, I had a hundred pink buttons and stickers made up for all the little girls in the Leaf’s neighborhood. We handed them out in the shop during our last week. They loved them. Girls seemed to adore the idea of teatime because it meant pretty dishes, lovely foods, nice drinks, and sharing stories. Even the very little ones seemed to understand right away how fun it could be to stop everything at four o’clock and have a warm drink and a tiny sandwich with the crusts cut off.
Zoe came in to keep me company before the big party. She even put on a skirt (white, of course) for the occasion, which is something Zoe had not done willingly—off the court—in a very long time. I was wearing a new sundress. Beth, who was being very nice since she heard about the Leaf closing, had helped me do my hair. It was very curly and there were a few little flowers in it, above my ears. Louisa had everything set for food; people would be arriving in less than a half hour. Invitations had gone out to dozens of Louisa’s friends. Combined with
the hundreds of fliers floating through campus and the Vilas neighborhood, it was sure to be an impressive gathering. We had even decided to borrow some extra folding chairs from a restaurant a few blocks over, just in case. Some of Louisa’s friends weren’t exactly young anymore, even if they did do yoga.
I had to break the news to Zoe that the Steeping Leaf would be closing the following week. I just blurted it out, not really knowing what to say. Zoe couldn’t believe it at first. Despite her usual matter-of-fact demeanor, her eyes welled up and she touched all the shelves of tea wistfully. Both of us sat quietly for a few moments, being sad for our special place, the broken up Teashop Girls, and the fact that, like it or not, things didn’t stay the same. It was kind of strange to spend so much time with only Zoe. I realized that it had usually been Genna and I, with Zoe joining us when she could. I knew that our fight made Zo very sad, and that made me feel worse about it, torn between my two friends. Ahem, I mean friend and ex-friend. After a little while, I scooted my chair closer to Zo, who hugged me fiercely and tried to get herself together. After all, the party that night was to be a celebration of good memories.
“I’m going to miss this place.”
“Me too.”
“So you know how my stepdad likes his car cleaner than an operating room?” Zoe sniffed and changed the subject as I brewed some fresh iced tea and straightened the huge banner that said WE LOVE YOU, STEEPING LEAF. She was plopped down at the counter, awkwardly pulling on her skirt.
“Yeah?”
“Well, my mom asked me to go with her to pick up some groceries last week, so we took his car as usual. We have to be all careful to wipe our shoes before we get in and stuff and make sure we don’t leave any fast food wrappers. So we go grocery shopping, bring the bags in, and that was that.”
“So?”
“Well, that would be the end of the story had we not forgotten a cantaloupe in there. It rolled out of the grocery bag, I guess, and nestled in a tight spot behind the jumper cables. It had been in there for four days. In the heat, all through the storm and everything. My mom opens the trunk this morning and starts laughing. The cantaloupe had burst open and it was everywhere. So we pull the car out of the garage—thank God my stepdad is out on the motorcycle—and get to work picking about a million seeds and rotten melon bits out of the trunk. I’m thinking, ‘He’ll never have to find out, we’ll get this all cleaned up even if it takes two hours.’ I’m hanging out of the trunk, butt in the air, when who should come home early but him.”
“Oh, no.”
“Eh, he was actually really nice about it. But my mom says she gives it three days before he starts shopping for a new car. We couldn’t get all the seeds. What’re these?” Zoe picked up all of my pink Teashop Girl buttons. I giggled at the thought of Zoe hanging out of a trunk trying to Shop-Vac melon seeds. It almost put me in a good mood.
“I’ve been giving them to the little girls who come in with their parents. They’re going nuts for them. Louisa says she wished we would have started this months ago.”
“These are Teashop Girl buttons.”
“Yeah.”
Zoe was silent for a minute.
“What?”
“It’s just that it bums me out. You’ve, like, franchised us even though the Teashop Girls are history.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Seriously, Annie. We were the Teashop Girls. You, me, and Genna. You can’t just let all these other people in after you’ve kicked a founding member out.”
“Zo, they’re, like, five. They love it.”
“I don’t care. You should’ve gotten our permission.”
“Oh.” I paused. “I’m really sorry, Zo. I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, you should have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Call Genna. Invite her to the party. You can’t make every kid in Madison a Teashop Girl if the original Teashop Girls are in shambles. It wouldn’t even mean anything then.”
“No.”
“Annie, don’t you remember? It was Genna’s idea to start the Handbook. And it was Genna’s idea to do the sidewalk chalkings and the free samples at school and the spa trip. She’s done more for the Leaf than I have. By lots! It was just a stupid fight. Neither one of you meant what you said, and you know she loves you. Now stop being stubborn and call her.”
“No,” I said, but my voice was very small. Zo made a pretty good point. Regardless of what Genna planned to do this summer, she had done everything she could think of to help the shop. I remembered our gleeful chalkings during Phase One and suddenly felt really bad for how selfish I was being. Still, I was too confused to admit it.
“Call Genna, or I’m leaving, too, and taking your buttons with me… .” She narrowed her eyes.
“Okay, okay.” I reached for the phone. “She can come to the stupid party. I don’t care.”
“Good.”
I called Genna, whose number, I admit, I will probably remember until I die.
“Hello? It’s me. Yeah. Okay. I know. Anyway, are you doing anything tonight? Well, there’s a party …”
True Friends
A Zen story
as told by Annie Green
Many ages ago in China, there lived two best friends who were very close, just like me and Genna and Zoe. One friend played the harp with great ability, and the other friend listened with great ability.
When one played about a mountain, the other would say, “I can see the mountain!”
And when one played about the stream, the other would say, “I can hear the running water!” It was amazing.
The listening friend got very sick and eventually died. The first friend cut his harp strings and stopped playing forever. Ever since, cutting the harp strings has been a symbol of special friendship.
Louisa just gave me this story for the Handbook. I think she and Zoe are in cahoots. —Annie
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.
—HENRY JAMES, THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY
The Steeping Leaf was aglow. Small lanterns dotted the windows and flickering candles sat high on top of the shelves—safely out of the grasp of the many children present. Outside on the patio, I had placed small bouquets of flowers on each of the tables and put white lights from my parents’ Christmas decorations box into the bushes. Even people strolling by who knew nothing about the party were coming in to find out what all the excitement was about. The place was packed, an irony I noted sadly.
Two reporters from the Wisconsin State Journal snapped pictures, including several shots of kids holding up pink buttons. One came over to me.
“What can you tell me about this Teashop Girls club?”
“It’s a friendship club. For girls. There are rules … like Teashop Girls don’t keep any secrets from each other and never say anything mean on purpose …” I stopped. I could feel someone looking at me. Genna had quietly entered the shop and was waiting with an uncertain look on her face. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” I scooted away from the reporter and felt a wave of remorse. I’d been unfair to Genna, and I knew it. Now that she was here, in the Steeping Leaf, I desperately wanted to fix things between us. The shop, I realized, was a building. What had happened in the shop, however, didn’t have to end. I hoped it wasn’t too late.
“Hi, Annie.”
“Hi, Genna.”
“Listen—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m the one who should—”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” She smiled a little.
“I shouldn’t have overreacted.” We stood looking at each other for a moment, not sure what to do. We both hated sitcoms where people hugged and made up at the end, but there didn’t seem like anything else to do.
“I missed you,” I said sheepishly. “Hanging out with my little brothers isn’t nearly as fun as reading self-help books w
ith you.”
“I missed you, too. I just—when you got the job here, I felt … kind of left out.” She admitted this in a quiet voice. I was shocked. Genna? Left out? The world revolved around Genna. It always had. What on earth was she talking about? “I mean, you just seemed so grown-up all of a sudden.” She waved her arm around, taking the shop in. “It was stupid of me to say we couldn’t save the store. We almost did! I’m sorry.”
“Genna, I’m the one who is sorry. So, so sorry. I got scared because you and Zo have other friends, and I … I’ve always had just you guys. Which was perfect! I didn’t want things to change.” I put my hand on her shoulder, still totally disbelieving. It seemed we had both been feeling weird lately. Being our age was not for wimps. We just needed to be more honest with each other.
It had been brave of Genna to come into the shop tonight, and it meant everything to me that even after the way I had acted, she wanted to make things right between us. I was very, very lucky to have a best friend like her.
“I know. I’m scared too. But even if I do make other friends, we’re the Teashop Girls. That’s like a whole other word for friendship. It’s on a different level, you know?”
“I do know.” I smiled, feeling very relieved. “I’m sorry I said theater camp was dumb. It’ll be awesome. Forgive me?”
“Only if you forgive me, too. I’m just … a little lost sometimes, and when I get like that I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
“Me too.” I still couldn’t get the surprise out of my voice. We hugged. Zoe clapped solemnly. We pulled her over and made it a group hug.
The Teashop Girls Page 14
