The Tea Shop

by Bernadette Marie

  "Mom, sit down," he said as he stood and moved to the door. "I want to talk to you about something."

  His mother watched him carefully as he closed the door. "Oh, you didn't have another argument did you? Carson, what's wrong with…"

  "No argument, Mom. Sit down. I want to show you something."

  Hesitantly, his mother moved the bag from the chair and sat down. Carson moved to his desk and opened his center drawer. He pulled out a ring box and slid it across the top of the desk.

  His mother's eyes went wide. "What is that?"

  "Open it. I want to know what you think."

  He saw his mother's hand shake as she picked it up and opened it.

  A moment later he saw the tears pool in her eyes and begin to leave trails down her cheek.

  "Now, why are you crying?" he asked as he pulled a tissue from the box on his desk and handed it to her.

  "This is for Abigail? You're going to give it to her?"

  Carson walked around his desk and stood in front of his mother before he sat on his desk. "I was thinking about it."

  "Oh, Carson. This is… I mean…" She pressed the tissue to her nose as she looked at the diamond set in rose gold. "It's lovely. She's going to adore it."

  He took the box back from his mother and looked at it. "I hope she does."

  "You're going to ask her to marry you?"

  With a nod and a smile, he looked at his mother. "Yes. I love her. I know it's quick, but I…"

  "You know it's right. Oh, Carson," she said as she stood and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so happy for you."

  As his mother stepped back, he closed the box. "Now, don't go telling anyone."

  "Lips are sealed," she said as she mimicked zippering them.

  "I called her mother this morning and arranged a time to talk to her father on Skype. I won't do anything until I have their blessing."

  "Don't you think you should go out there and meet them."

  Carson pursed his lips. "I thought about that. I'm sure she would want me to do that too. But I don't want to wait to ask her."

  His mother rested her hand on his cheek. "You always were a go-getter. I'm very happy for you. I love her, and you know I love you."

  "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

  Picking up her gift bag, she turned and let out a sigh. "I can't tell your father?"

  Carson narrowed his gaze at her, and she laughed.

  "I won't tell him. You're right. He can't keep a secret."

  She blew him a kiss as she let herself out of the office. Carson put the ring back into his drawer.

  With a smile on his face, he got back to work. He was very grateful for his mother's reaction. Everyone loved Abigail. He was one lucky man.

  The pumpkin and witch-shaped cookies, which Clare had made that morning, had sold out by noon. She'd already started her next batch as Abigail cleared a table for a walk-in tea.

  In the past two weeks, Abigail noted, business had picked up significantly. Perhaps she'd been wrong when she told Patricia Stone that she and Clare could handle everything. They just might have to hire someone after all.

  "I can clear tables in ten minutes," Clare said as Abigail set up a tray for the walk-in.

  "Thanks. I don't know if we got onto some website, or if people are just getting out and about lately. I don't think we've ever been this busy."

  Clare laughed. "Maybe it's your future mother-in-law. She's got her book club here. How much did she spend here this morning?"

  "I'm not going to brag about that," Abigail said as she lifted the tray and dropped it back to the counter as she pressed her hand to her chest and fought for breath.

  "Abi!" Clare moved to her. "Oh, God! Are you having a heart attack? What's wrong?"

  "I'm fine. I'm fine!" Abigail scolded as she caught her breath. "I just couldn't breathe. My head is a little fuzzy, and I can't catch my breath."

  "You need help," Clare said as she moved to the phone.

  "Don't you call anyone. I'm fine," Abigail argued as she gained control.

  Clare studied her for a moment. "You're color is coming back. Did you eat breakfast or lunch?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you have a cold?"

  "No."

  Clare's eyes grew wide as she moved to Abigail and took her hands. "Are you pregnant?" she whispered.

  Abigail pulled her hands back and brushed them off on the front of her apron. "I got my period two days ago. No. I'm not pregnant."

  She went back to fixing the tray under Clare's watchful eye. She was steady as she picked up the tray again and carried it out to the table. No one beyond the kitchen was any the wiser, and Abigail served tea and scones with a smile. But even she had to wonder what that was all about.

  Chapter 31

  Because Carson's house was still not fully finished, though the kitchen was coming along, they'd agreed to stay at Abigail's.

  She'd stopped and bought groceries and had planned a nice meal. Though not much of a cook, she could roast a chicken just fine with potatoes and vegetables.

  The audible appreciation was heard from Carson the moment he walked through the door. "God, that smells good," he said as he closed the front door and walked into the kitchen.

  Abigail opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips went straight to her neck, and she relaxed against him. "I'm glad you're home."

  "Me too. It was a long day," he said as she handed him one of the glasses and took the other for herself. "You're doing okay though?"

  Abigail set her glass on the counter and turned to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Only asking."

  "Who told you what?"

  He sipped his wine before setting his glass next to hers and taking her hands. "Clare called me, and before you get mad," he held waited for her to relax and not speak. "I'm glad she did. I think you're stressing a lot at work and about us. I thought maybe we could take a long weekend and you could take me home with you and show me around."

  "No," she said quickly and hoped that it carried the right tone to make her point.

  Carson continued to hold her hands as he processed her answer. "Don't you think your family would like to see you?"

  "They will at Thanksgiving when they come out here. I'm not going back, Carson. Not now. Not ever."

  She turned from him hoping he'd leave it at that, but when he turned her back to him, she knew that wasn't going to hold him.

  "I know that the people there treated you poorly. I get that. But, seriously, enough that you won't ever go back?"

  Abigail felt the tears burning in her throat, and she fought them back. "No. Not ever. Now, I've made us a delightful dinner. Can we enjoy our wine and our dinner?"

  Carson pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

  "I love you, too, and I need you to understand."

  "I'm trying." He stepped back but kept his hands on her arms. "Tell me you're not sick. Tell me you're not stressed. And tell me you're okay, and I'll believe you."

  "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong with me. I just got dizzy at the store. We are super busy, but I'm not stressed. Is that good enough?"

  "I guess it will have to be. I'd still like to take a weekend, just you and me."

  Abigail rested her hand on his chest. "It'll have to wait until the beginning of the new year. The holidays will be very busy for us."

  "Okay. I'll make some plans for the new year."

  She pressed her hand to his cheek and felt as though she had his word. He would let her be until then.

  * * *

  Carson decided not to push the issue of what Clare had told him for the rest of the night. Abigail seemed content to serve dinner, take the offered help to clean up after, and then to sit and watch When Harry Met Sally on TV. As he listened to Harry and Sally reminisce about how they met, Carson thought about his house and her house. Neither was big enough for four kids, but just because he was
told they'd have four kids, no one said they'd all come at the same time. If she did accept his proposal, he had to assume they'd move into her house, and eventually, he'd contract to have his finished. The thought humored him. Maybe when they were ready for a bigger house, he could have a hand in building it.

  There was no denying that he was a bit disappointed when Clare confirmed that Abigail wasn't pregnant. He never thought that a slip up like that would be welcomed, but it most certainly would be.

  She looked up at him when he realized he'd given her a squeeze with his arm as she cuddled up to him.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked. Her voice soft.

  "Our future. I think about it a lot."

  "Me too. And I think Mrs. Winters is right. Ellie is a nice name for a girl."

  He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "You'd do that? Name a daughter Ellie?"

  "Of course. What better story to have than to tell people you're named after the woman to brought your parents together."

  Carson pulled her to him even tighter now. "I think we should tell her our plans. I think it'll lift her spirits.”

  They planned their special visit to Mrs. Winters for early the next morning, before work. When they arrived, they found her, again, surrounded by people in the dining hall having her breakfast.

  She rose, and walked to them, enveloping them both in a hug, which Abigail felt surge through her.

  "What a wonderful sight. I'm done with my breakfast. Let's take a walk to the game room. It has a nice view." Mrs. Winters hooked her arm through one from each of them and started toward the game room. "I had a feeling you two would come today, and I'm so glad you did."

  "So not a huge surprise, huh?" Carson patted her hand which was hooked on his arm. "You're no fun at Christmas are you?"

  Mrs. Winters laughed. "Oh, it's fun for me. You've never bought me something I didn't love. How do you suppose that happened?"

  "Until this moment, I assumed I was a good gift giver."

  Abigail laughed at his expense, and he shifted a glance her way.

  Mrs. Winters rested her head against his shoulder as they walked down the hallway. "I talk to you, too, when you sleep. You just don't know it either," she said, and Abigail wondered if she talked to her, too. Lately, Mrs. Winters had been on her mind a lot. She wanted to ask her about the dizzy spells and the black cloud vision, but not in front of Carson. With it being the only vision she had with Carson, she was sure it was bad.

  They walked into the room, with the western view of the mountains, and sat down at one of the card tables. The room was empty since it was still breakfast.

  "I designed this part of the facility myself," Carson said as he looked around. "Donated most of the games, too."

  Mrs. Winters patted his hand. "I'm sure that's why they chose this facility to put me in. I miss my house though." She pulled back her hand and adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. "Glenn says it's going to be a great while before it's livable. I think he's full of horse crap," she offered, and Abigail stifled a laugh.

  Carson leaned back in his chair and crossed a leg over the other. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because I'm old. I'm losing my mind. And I'm going to die. He doesn't want me to do that in my house."

  The laugh that had been present shifted and nearly choked Abigail when she heard that. "This is a wonderful facility," she added hoping that her voice hadn't shaken as she felt it had.

  "It's nice. I'll die here," Mrs. Winters said as she looked around the room. "I've seen it." The words were so nonchalant Abigail wondered if she were already ready to pass on. She didn't look it or sound it. Would she too get to that point sometime in her life?

  Carson shook his head. "I hope for the first time, you're wrong."

  Mrs. Winters simply gave him a grunt. "Why did you come this morning?"

  Carson reached across the table for Abigail's hand. "We've been talking."

  "You didn't propose. I can tell."

  He smiled. "No. But we've been talking about the future. I know she's in it," he said with a wink in Abigail's direction that had her heart flutter. "I've been told we will have four children too."

  Mrs. Winters again gave him a grunt which worried Abigail. Was that a wrong premonition? Or was four not enough? That was one thing she didn't even want to know about.

  The smile on Carson's mouth widened. "Anyway, we both agreed that when we have a daughter, we will name her Ellie, after you."

  Mrs. Winters clapped her hands together, causing her bracelets to chime on her wrists. "Oh, that makes me so happy. She'll be spirited. I promise you that."

  Carson gave Abigail's hand a squeeze. "I have no doubt," he said.

  Mrs. Winters reached for Abigail's free hand, and Abigail saw a flash in her eyes. The worry that clouded them was quickly covered by a smile. "Your grandmother would like one named after her too. Gwendolyn is a beautiful name."

  The tears that had threatened earlier burst through and Abigail pulled back both of her hands to quickly wipe them away.

  "I never told you my grandmother's name," she said to Mrs. Winters.

  "You didn't have to, honey. She told me."

  Abigail's heart raced as tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

  "Carson, go to my room. In the top drawer of my dresser, there is an embroidered handkerchief. Bring it to Abigail. I want her to have it. My mother made it," she said, instructing him.

  "I'll be right back," he said as he stood and left the room.

  Abigail brushed away the tears and willed them to dry as Mrs. Winters turned to her. The humor and grace had left her face, which now grew pale.

  "The church. Stop him."

  Abigail swallowed hard trying grasp what she was saying. "I've been trying to stop him from…"

  "All of it." Mrs. Winters voice shook. "He can't be part of it. Make him sell it. Make him—he has to stop." The words were stern and defined.

  A nurse came to the door. "Ellie, I've been sent for you. You have a hair appointment."

  The color returned to Mrs. Winter's cheeks, as did the smile as she turned to Abigail. "My son spoils me by paying for hair appointments." She looked back at the nurse. "Okay. I'm ready."

  She stood, and the nurse hurried to her side.

  "Goodbye, Abigail. Take care of my boy. I love you," she said as they walked out of the room.

  Abigail sat there alone, her heart pounding in her chest and tears choking her. The desperation that had taken over Mrs. Winters' face still sat with her. What more was there to that church that could hurt Carson? Why was she warning her?

  A moment later Carson walked back in with the handkerchief.

  "It looks like you could still use this."

  He handed it to her, and she looked at it. White linen with lace trim and a butterfly embroidered on the corner. "This is lovely."

  Carson nodded and knelt down next to her chair. He ran his hand up her arm as if to soothe her. "I passed Mrs. Winters in the hallway. She told me to take care of you."

  As Abigail dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief, she smiled up at him. "She told me to do the same for you."

  Chapter 32

  The wind picked up as the sun tucked itself away behind the mountains. Forecasters were calling for an October snow.

  Carson built a fire as Abigail filled bowls of chili from the slow cooker. He thought about how cozy her home was, and how welcome he felt there. Would tonight be a good time to give her the ring?

  No, he decided. Her mind had been elsewhere since their visit with Mrs. Winters. He'd wait. They'd have many romantic nights together for him to choose from.

  Another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps it would raise her spirits if he told her about his plans for the church project. Wouldn't she love to know that they were working on saving it? Yes, that would ease whatever was on her mind. He was sure of it.

  Carson picked up the bottle of wine he had set on the coffee table and opened it. He poured them each a glass. As he co
rked the bottle, he watched Abigail move about the kitchen.

  She was an angel that had happened into his life—thanks to Mrs. Winters, of course. But after a month, he couldn't imagine another day going by where she wasn't part of it. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold off on his proposal. The thought that she might shoot him down petrified him. It was safer to wait until he was sure she'd say yes.

  Abigail walked into the living room with a tray he recognized to be one like the ones she had at the tea shop. On it, she had two bowls, spoons, crackers, cheese, and sour cream. She certainly had thought of everything.

  "I'm out of butter," she said as she set the tray down.

  "Butter? We're having chili."

  She lifted her eyes to him and a crease formed between her brows. "You don't put butter on your crackers?"

  "I crumble crackers."

  "Yes, with butter on them?"

  Carson laughed. "No. I've never heard of such a thing. I guess that's unique to you."

  A smile slipped across her pink lips. "No. It's a thing." Abigail set the tray on the table, and he quickly caught her hand and pulled her down onto the couch, trapping her under him.

  She giggled at him, which set his heart rate higher. "What are you doing?"

  "I just needed to kiss you," he said lowering his mouth to hers and tasting the sweetness of her.

  "Our dinner will get cold," she protested as he moved his lips to her throat.

  Carson let out a groan as he propped himself up, hovering over her. "Later then. But I wanted to tell you how much I love you."

  Her eyes softened with his words. "I love you too."

  "It makes me very happy to hear you say that." He sat back and helped her up. "Thanks for making dinner."

  "Just remember, if you're planning a life with me, you won't eat like a king."

  "Oh, I don't know about that. Food isn't the focus. Having you by my side forever is the focus."

  The smile remained on her lips as she set a bowl in front of each of them. She handed him a linen napkin and draped one over her own lap before she began doctoring her chili—sans butter, which he figured he'd never understand.