The Tea Shop
Bernadette Marie
Contents
The Tea Shop
Acknowledgments
Other Titles by Bernadette Marie
The Tea Shop
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Epilogue
Preview
Chasing Shadows
About the Author
Other Titles from
The Tea Shop
Bernadette Marie
This is a fictional work. The names, characters, incidents, and locations are solely the concepts and products of the author’s imagination, or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real.
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5 PRINCE PUBLISHING & BOOKS, LLC
PO Box 16507
Denver, CO 80216
www.5PrinceBooks.com
Digital ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-213-2
Print ISBN-13:978-1-63112-214-9
THE TEA SHOP. Bernadette Marie Smashword edition
Copyright Bernadette Marie 2018
Published by 5 Prince Publishing
Cover Credit: Tilted Tiara Designs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles. For any other permission please contact 5 Prince Publishing and Books, LLC.
First Edition 2018
To Stan,
I saw you in my dreams and you appeared.
I love you forever and a day!
Acknowledgments
To my dream man: Thank you for always believing in all the strange and weird things I see!
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To those I dreamed of: Being your mom is the greatest dream come true.
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To my dream family: I’m lucky to have been raised in a house with love and compassion.
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To my dream team: So you all left me for Australia and Brazil. Still love that you keep me grounded and focused on what I love to do.
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To my dream readers: You make me want to continue to dream up new and exciting stories.
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To the little boy in the footed PJs: I think of you.
Other Titles by Bernadette Marie
THE KELLER FAMILY SERIES
The Executive’s Decision
A Second Chance
Opposite Attraction
Center Stage
Lost and Found
Love Songs
Home Run
The Acceptance
The Merger
The Escape Clause
A Romance for Christmas
* * *
THE WALKER FAMILY SERIES
Walker Pride
Stargazing
Walker Bride
Wanderlust
Walker Revenge
Victory
Walker Spirit
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THE MATCHMAKER SERIES
Matchmakers
Encore
Finding Hope
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THE THREE MRS. MONROES TRILOGY
Amelia
Penelope
Vivian
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THE ASPEN CREEK SERIES
First Kiss
Unexpected Admirer
On Thin Ice
Indomitable Spirit
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THE DENVER BRIDE SERIES
Cart Before the Horse
Never Saw it Coming
Candy Kisses
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ROMANTIC SUSPENSE by BERNADETTE MARIE
Chasing Shadows
The Tea Shop
Bernadette Marie
Chapter 1
“Carson, this is absolutely delightful.” Ellie Winters placed her napkin in her lap as she looked around the quaint tea shop. “This is exactly what this town needed,” she said. “It’s gotten filled up with sock stores and fancy eating places that I don’t want to go to. Tea shops with linens is a nice nod to the way things used to be.”
Carson chuckled at Mrs. Winters as he crossed one leg over the other and took in the view himself. It was quaint and cute. He was sorry, though, to hear she didn’t like the fancy eating places that were popping up. Perhaps in their past outings, she’d missed the part where he’d let her know he was an investor in three of them.
What did it matter really? Ellie Winters was eighty-two years old and Carson certainly valued her opinion of the town where she’d raised her family.
Conversation halted when the woman who had seated them came back to the table with a tray holding a silver teapot that steamed, two dainty antique teacups, and a few other items he was sure she was going to explain to them.
She, Carson thought, was as cute as the quaint cafe Mrs. Winters was taken with. He watched as she set the antique cups and saucers in front of them and explained the pattern, of all things.
“These cups are RS Prussian. They date back to 1869,” she said as she added a silver spoon to each of their settings. Next, she set down a plate as dainty as the cups between them, with two strange contraptions. “These are your tea strainers.”
With an open hand, and not pointing with her finger, she gestured to the one closest to Mrs. Winters. “You chose peppermint tea.” Then she gestured to the other and looked at him as she spoke. “And you, Earl Grey.”
He gave her a slow nod as she set another bowl on the table. “Sugar cubes for your tea, and of course, cream,” she offered as she set the small pitcher on the table between them. “I’ll have your sandwiches right out.”
The woman turned and walked away, and Carson noted that Mrs. Winters smiled after her.
“She is delightful,” she said as she turned back to the table. “This is beautiful. Carson, I do enjoy our afternoons.”
“I do too. You let me know where you want to go next and I’ll get that set up as well. If I’m not mistaken, you have a birthday next month. Where would you like to celebrate?”
Her cheeks pinked, and that brought him joy. She might be edging into eighty-three, but she soaked up life—every minute of it.
“Let’s see how this goes. They have a dessert tray we didn’t order. Maybe we can have that next month.”
How could he not agree to that? His monthly outings with Ellie Winters brought him as much joy as they did her. And wouldn’t it be nice to take in the view again, he thought as the woman came back to the table with a tower of plates delicately stacked with sandwiches and little cakes.
She expertly arranged the table so th
at the tower would sit between them. Again with her open hand, she gestured. “We have an array of delightful sandwiches and cakes for you today. Here we have a cucumber sandwich, egg salad on rye, and my favorite; a goat cheese, walnut, and roasted pepper sandwich.”
Mrs. Winters’ eyes opened wide, and Carson was sure she swooned.
“Oh, now doesn’t that sound delightful, Carson?”
“Positively,” he said, looking up at the waitress who caught his eye then quickly diverted her attention back to the tray.
The woman swallowed hard, then licked her lips, which had his stomach tightening.
“For the desserts we have eclairs, a delightful lemon tart, and raspberry and dark chocolate tarts. Then, of course, we have scones on the bottom plate, and your clotted cream is on the table.”
Mrs. Winters placed her hand on her chest. “My, this is a lot.”
The woman smiled. “I’m happy to box up any leftovers you might have. They’ll make for a wonderful tea tomorrow afternoon as well.”
“That sounds perfect,” Mrs. Winters agreed.
“Let me know if I can get you anything else,” she said with a smile.
Carson eased back in his seat again. “What is your name?” he asked, and watched as her eyes went wide.
“Abigail.”
“This is your store, isn’t it?”
Her cheeks filled with color, not out of embarrassment, but certainly out of pride. “Yes. We opened a few months ago. It’s only myself and my cousin, Clare, at the moment. We make everything right here. We also arrange for high tea to go, if you’re ever in need,” she’d offered as she turned her attention to Mrs. Winters who had reached her hand out and touched Abigail’s arm.
“You’re going to do well here, my dear. I should know. I’ve lived around here for eighty-two years. Almost eighty-three.” She laughed that warm laugh that always brought a warmth to Carson’s soul. “I’ll tell everyone I know.”
“I appreciate that.” He noticed the shake in her voice, and her lips that trembled as they tried to smile. “Are you celebrating today?” Abigail asked.
Carson shook his head. “I take this beautiful woman out to lunch each month, and have for ten years now.”
Mrs. Winters reached her hand across the table and patted his, as she often did. “He takes good care of me.”
Carson noticed Abigail’s smile fade, but only briefly before she forced it back to her lips. “I’ll let you two enjoy your tea. Please let me know if I can bring you anything else.”
He watched as she walked away, and then was drawn back to his guest when she slapped his hand. “Don’t you go looking at her like that,” Mrs. Winters said as she pulled an egg sandwich from the tray and set it on her plate. “She’s a nice girl.”
Carson uncrossed his legs and moved in to take a cucumber sandwich for himself. “Now why do you say it as if I shouldn’t be interested in a nice girl?”
Mrs. Winters brushed her hand through the air. Her bracelets jingled, and her many rings caught the light. “You should be interested in them. And you should marry yourself one. I saw that last woman you dated,” she warned, holding up a finger. “Oh, Carson, she was nothing but trouble looking for a good time.”
Yes, she was, he thought to himself as he took his first bite of the delectable little sandwich. Susanna Morris was high maintenance, and he’d lost interest quite quickly. She, on the other hand, nearly had them married. The very thought made him sweat under his collar. Carson came from a well-off family, and he’d had his own financial success. He invested in businesses he thought would increase his portfolio nicely, and they had. Then there was the matter of his little dot-com business, which he’d started in college, and it had been bought out by a bigger dot-com. That had seeded what had become a fortune of his own.
Though he enjoyed lavish things, nice vacations, and spoiling a certain old woman, his mind hadn’t gone to marrying anyone. Perhaps he was afraid they would want him for the wrong reasons. That's why he'd gone into real estate developing. Not only did it fulfill his passion for building things, but it also kept him much too busy to go searching for a woman.
Movement at the counter caught his eye, and he watched as Abigail helped a customer who had walked in and then served another table.
There was something about her that had his mind wandering to places it shouldn’t be. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She’d had little, if any makeup on at all. The simple cotton dress she wore beneath her frilly apron wasn’t designer, and neither were the flat shoes she wore to work in. But when those crystal blue eyes had looked at him, he was sure there had been some kind of jolt that zapped his chest. He’d never been into her quaint little store, she wasn’t his type, but he couldn’t help but think that he’d seen the woman before.
“Drink your tea,” Mrs. Winters scolded. “It’s going to get cold while you watch her work.”
He chuckled. “I’m not watching her work.”
“Hmmm,” she made the noise at him as any grandmother would to a grandchild. “I think I would like to have lunch here for my birthday next month. Make sure to make reservations before we leave.”
“I will do that,” he said as he sipped his perfectly sugared tea. “Which cake is your favorite? I’ll get you a box to take home as well.”
“You’re too good to me, Carson.” She smiled brightly. “I like the lemon one.”
Chapter 2
Abigail watched from the kitchen as the man and the older woman left the store. They had boxed up the leftover sandwiches and scones from their tea, and then he’d ordered her a box of lemon cakes to take home.
It had delighted Abigail that the woman had fussed over the box, tied with ribbon. That was exactly the kind of reaction she wanted from her customers. Everything they sold was wrapped up like a special gift. After all, why buy something you liked if it didn’t feel just like that—a gift.
The tip the man had left her was more than generous. Part of her had thought to chase after him and refuse it. After all, it was nearly as much as the total tea and extra cakes. She was sure he could afford it. The custom-made suit, polished shoes, and diamond encrusted face on his watch would have told anyone he was well-off. Not to mention the nicely-groomed haircut which had certainly caught her eye when he’d looked up at her with those dark, chocolate eyes.
Though she didn’t get the impression he looked the way he did to flaunt his money. She assumed he liked fine things—and he could afford them. It also made a nice package to look at, she mused to herself. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed that she’d indulged in such a thing as looking at him while he had his tea with his companion.
“Hey, you okay?” Clare nudged her out of her trance. She’d gone on too long watching the man walk the woman to the black Audi and help her inside before walking around the car to the other side and climbing in himself.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She turned and rinsed the dishes off in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher.
“He’s a fine looking man,” Clare looked out the window, then went back to making the egg salad for tomorrow’s lunch.
“Who? Oh, the customer with his grandmother?”
“Yeah, him. And are you sure it wasn’t his date?” Clare humored.
Abigail shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Clare watched her as she finished the dishes. Abigail knew there was more coming, so she turned slowly to face the questions that were going to be asked. Clare was finely tuned into Abigail’s moods.
“You had a premonition about him, didn’t you? Or about her?” Clare asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “ Why do you let them touch you?”
“Sometimes people just touch people. Like old ladies. They reach out and touch people.”
“You get all wigged out when you have a premonition. I know that’s what happened.”
“I don’t get all wigged out.”
“Like hell you don’t. For having a gift like that your whole life, I
’m surprised you don’t handle it differently. You saw something.”
Abigail wanted to argue with her cousin, but she knew there was no use. She’d been able to see the future or predict things her whole life. She’d always known when there was going to be a test in school, even before the teacher told them about it. There were a few times she found lost pets. She had told her mother to take a different route to the store the day that the semi carrying cars ended up rolling through the intersection and going through the front of the post office. Luckily, her mother had taken her advice, or she would have been at that intersection at that very moment.
It had been a game really, but the older she’d become, the more serious the premonitions became.
Her grandmother had a tumor, and she’d told her to have the doctors look for it. The visions and dreams had been very specific. When she held hands with her grandmother, Abigail would become ill, and pain would surge through her where she told her grandmother she thought they should check. Of course, her grandmother thought nothing of it, then died from the tumor Abigail had known was there. When Katie Meadows, the fifth-grade sister of a boy she’d grown up with, vanished in the night, Abigail told the police she thought they should look in the river, downstream. It was there they’d found her, caught on a branch in the frozen water.
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