Tea for Two

by Amelia C. Adams

  “What would you like me to do, sir?”

  “Take this telegram to KC Murray and explain the situation. I’d go myself, but I’ve got something to deal with here. KC will know the best way to go about it.”

  “All right. I’ll go now.”

  “Thank you, Jake. I know it’s a little late in the day, so if you need to stay over, that’s fine, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jake shook his head as he saddled Butternut. Not only was he being sent to town, but he could stay overnight. That would give him plenty of time to visit the tea shop and see what in the blue blazes those women wanted now. Well, that one woman—he shouldn’t hold Regina’s infuriating ways against Ariadne.

  After Butternut was saddled, he was on his way, heading back to Creede. If he couldn’t ride this road in his sleep before, he certainly could now.

  ***

  Regina had been trying for the last fifteen minutes to light a fire in the stove. It seemed like a simple task, but for some reason, she couldn’t manage to do more than create a small flame that would then fizzle out. She looked up as the door to the shop opened, hoping it was someone who could help her.

  It was Jake Honeycutt.

  “Hello, Mr. Honeycutt,” she said, determined to sound friendly. After all, she was trying to make amends.

  “Hello.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “Are you having some trouble with your stove?”

  “It’s not so much the stove’s fault as it is mine.” She stepped to the side and let him take a look. Of course, within a few minutes, there was a nice roaring fire going. He closed the stove door and adjusted the vent so the room would be kept warm, but not become hot.

  “Willie told me you’d be coming by after work—this seems early,” she said.

  “Mr. Clark had an errand for me to run in town. I’ve just come from there.”

  “Won’t you have a seat?” Beatrice had found two chairs in her attic that weren’t being used for anything, and the sisters had accepted the loan gladly. Their furniture wouldn’t arrive for a couple more days yet.

  He sat in one of the chairs, and she took the other. Ariadne was upstairs hanging up their dresses on the nails they’d driven into the walls, and Regina assumed that she and Jake would likely be alone for this humbling and embarrassing conversation. She supposed that was all right—it was bad enough to swallow her pride in front of one person, let alone too.

  “I understand you’re skilled with wood,” she said, not knowing a graceful way to lead into what she wanted to say. “Forgive me and please work for me” didn’t seem quite right.

  He shrugged. “It’s something I enjoy doing.”

  “Toria Jackson recommended you—she said you could put in some shelves and build us a counter.”

  “I’m sure I could.”

  He was going to make this hard. She smiled. “This is hard for me to say, Mr. Honeycutt, so I’ll just blurt it out and you can make of it what you will. I’ve been a prideful person my whole life—my governesses had a difficult time with me, as did my tutors, and I’ve grown accustomed to having my own way. You figured that out almost immediately, but it’s taken me a bit longer to realize it about myself.”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You were, of course, right, but I didn’t want to admit it. Not to you, and most certainly not to myself. Admitting that I’m wrong feels like admitting that I’m vulnerable, and that means admitting that I’m scared.”

  She hadn’t meant to say quite so much. She’d thought she could keep her apology short and factual, but there were so many things pressing inside her to get out, there was no way to keep them shut away. “Since our father died, Ariadne has looked to me as the leader of our family, even though she’s the eldest, and I’ve felt the need to be strong for her sake. The truth is, I’m not strong. I’m actually quite terrified. What if coming to America was the wrong choice? What if we’re about to lose everything, and we have no close friends to help us? I’m filled with fear every minute, and being proud is the only way I know to hid that fear. It’s not a responsible way to deal with my emotions, but it’s the only way I know, and you got the brunt of it. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t answer for a long minute, and she wondered just how long he intended to prolong her agony. The least he could do was nod or grunt or something to let her know he’d heard her.

  At last, he said, “It’s Jake.”

  “I . . . beg your pardon?” That was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

  “My name is Jake. And I think you did a good thing, opening up like that and telling me how you feel. It can’t have been easy, traveling across the ocean like that and then clear across the country.”

  “No, it’s been very difficult.”

  “As long we we’re sharing our true feelings . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I owe you an apology too. When I came around the bend in the road and saw you there in the middle of it, not knowing what to do, I was pretty terrified myself. The thing is, I’ve never met anyone like you before, someone who fills my thoughts and my dreams, and when I saw what you were trying to do, all I could think about was maybe losing you. So, my temper got riled and I let loose. I shouldn’t have come down on you like I did, but I couldn’t stand to see you in that situation, and I never want to feel so scared again.”

  He hadn’t looked at her the whole time he was speaking, and it was just as well because her mouth had fallen open, and she was sure it wasn’t the most attractive she’d ever looked.

  “Thank you for telling me that. I didn’t realize,” she replied softly.

  He looked back up. “In answer to your question, yes, I’ll build your shelves and your counter. Does Saturday morning suit?”

  “Yes, Saturday’s fine,” she replied, a little startled at the change in subject. Things had grown quite serious, and she supposed it was just as well that they moved on to something lighter.

  “I’ll be by around eight o’clock.” He stood. “Your stove should be fine as long as you keep adding wood.” Then he was gone, and she closed her eyes.

  She filled his thoughts and dreams?

  Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that certainly was not it.

  But she wasn’t upset. Not in the slightest.

  “Well now,” she said to the empty room. “I think it’s time to plan some shelves.”

  ***

  The next afternoon, Regina had just finished making a rough sketch of where she’d like the shelves to go and how deep she’d like them to be when a knock sounded at the shop door and Willie stuck his head inside. “I’m sent to tell you that the train’s here, ma’am.”

  “Yes, I heard the whistle.”

  He gave her a perplexed look. “But . . . why are you still sitting there?”

  She finally realized what he was trying to say. “My order’s here?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “But it’s early.” She wasn’t expecting it for another two days.

  “Aren’t you happy about that?”

  “Yes, I am—just startled. I’m coming.”

  She called up the stairs to Ariadne, who rousted herself from her nap, and they made their way to the train station as quickly as they could without seeming to run, because they had been brought up never to run in public. Regina had never understood that rule. Public was the only place that offered enough room for a decent run.

  When they arrived at the station, they saw the baggage handlers carrying crate after crate off the train and stacking them at the edge of the platform. They just kept coming—some large, some small.

  “Do you have a wagon or some other such thing to cart all this away?” the stationmaster asked, shaking his head as he looked it over. “We’re not going to have room on this platform for any people, if this keeps up.”

  “Allow me to lend a hand.” Archie Grady stepped forward. “I’m expecting a shipment of my own and so I brought my horse and wagon, but I can see that these la
dies need it more than I do. I’ll drive it right up next to the platform, shall I?”

  Regina glanced around, wondering what other choices she had. She could go to the livery and rent a wagon, but that would take several minutes, and the platform was filling up fast.

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” another man said, stepping forward. “Why don’t you do that, Mr. Grady, and I’ll help load and unload the wagon.”

  The smile on Mr. Grady’s face faltered, but then broadened again. “Very good, Mr. McCormick. I’ll be right back.”

  The newcomer turned to the Stoker sisters. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I thought I might lend a hand. My name is Sterling McCormick. You must be the ladies opening the tea shop.”

  “Yes, we are,” Ariadne replied, her eyes huge. It was true—Mr. McCormick was very handsome.

  “I’m glad to welcome you to town, and I’m equally as glad to help with your shipment. I would advise you to limit your dealings with Mr. Grady as much as possible. He’s not the most trustworthy sort of man.”

  “I’ve had that feeling about him myself,” Regina replied. She felt perfectly safe with Mr. McCormick, however, and was so grateful he’d come along.

  “I’m glad to hear that. Here’s the wagon now—I’m sure we can have you loaded up in no time.”

  The baggage handlers from the train, with a good deal of help from Mr. McCormick, were able to fit almost everything on Mr. Grady’s spacious wagon. They would come back for the rest once the first load had been taken to the tea shop. Mr. Grady, for all his talk about wanting to help, mostly stayed off to the side, quite likely not wanting to dirty his fine suit.

  At last, everything was inside the shop, stacked up against one wall. A few other men from town had come over to help and had nestled the chairs and tables inside each other so everything would fit while the shelves and the counter were built. Regina didn’t know how to begin thanking them.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Mr. Grady said with a bow before he left.

  Mr. McCormick didn’t comment on that curious show, but merely bid the ladies good day.

  Once everyone had left, Regina and Ariadne stood in the space that was left, staring at everything that had been brought in.

  “We can’t even start unpacking until we have those shelves and the counter,” Ariadne said. “I’m so glad tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “I am too,” Regina said. She wondered how long it would take Jake to build the things they needed, and how long after that it would be before they could open up their business. Now that they were this close, she was becoming impatient to see their dream become a reality.

  Well, Millie Bing’s dream, actually, but it had become theirs as well.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Jake arrived at the tea shop the next morning, his tool bag in hand, he was amazed at all the merchandise that had been delivered and was stacked against the wall. Thankfully, he still had room to maneuver the planks of wood where they needed to be, but here and there, it was a tight fit.

  Regina had made him a sketch of how many shelves she thought she’d need, and while her lines weren’t very straight and her scale was off, it was fairly simple to follow. He did all the sawing outside, trying to keep the mess inside to a minimum, and after an hour, he had most of the brackets ready for the shelves. He had the shelves actually up and on the walls by early afternoon, and by nightfall, he’d constructed a basic counter.

  It hadn’t been the easiest day of work, however. Regina and Ariadne seemed to be taking turns checking in on him and asking him how it was going, as though they’d suddenly been struck blind and couldn’t see his progress for themselves. He understood their excitement and impatience, but this wasn’t something he could do any faster than he was, and he was already going as fast as he could. That wasn’t something they had any experience with, however, so he couldn’t expect them to know that naturally.

  The other thing making his work day difficult was Regina herself. Something about admitting his growing fascination for her had triggered even more feelings, and now, when she came near him, he felt lightning bolts race up his arms and his tongue felt thick and he couldn’t think. He wasn’t sure if this was being in love or the early warning signs of some sort of plague. If he broke out in a rash, he was heading off to find JT or Hannah, no doubt about it.

  At the end of the day, he stepped back and wiped his brow. It wasn’t his finest creation as far as scrollwork or other decoration went, but everything was solid, sturdy, and functional. The sisters could unpack their crates now and move forward with their plans, and if they wanted something prettier later, he could certainly do that. Regina didn’t seem to think his work was too plain, though.

  “Oh, Jake,” she said, and he liked how his name sounded with her accent. “You did a wonderful job. It’s exactly what I wanted. We’ll put the packages of tea here and the teacups there, and it will be lovely.” She turned to him with her eyes aglow. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “There’s a bit of sawdust—you’ll want to dust and mop before you serve food.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” She looked around again, a delighted smile on her face.

  “I can just picture how the whole thing is going to look,” Ariadne added, her hands clutched under her chin. “It’s beautiful.”

  Jake cleared his throat. He wasn’t used to quite so much praise being heaped on him all at once. “It was my pleasure. I’ll come back Monday and see how you’re getting along.”

  Before he knew what was happening, Regina had thrown her arms around him and given him a quick hug. “Thank you,” she said again as she stepped back, obviously as startled by her impulsiveness as he’d been.

  He touched the brim of his hat, grabbed up his tool bag, and went out front to find Butternut. He tied his tool bag to the saddle horn, but something kept him from mounting the horse. He turned around, strode up the steps and back into the tea shop, took Regina by the shoulders, and kissed her soundly square on the mouth. Then before she could react, he left again, grinning as he rode away.

  Let her stew on that for a while.

  ***

  Reverend Eugene Theodore was not the sort of preacher the Stoker sisters were used to. In fact, he made the idea of going to heaven sound downright unpleasant, which Regina was fairly certain wasn’t how it should be. They had missed church the previous week because of travel fatigue, and now, sitting in the congregation, Regina wished they’d been fatigued again.

  “I wish Reverend Bing preached in Creede,” Ariadne whispered when it was time for the closing hymn. “I know we’ve never heard him preach, but he can’t be as bad as this.”

  The reverend and his wife both shook their hands as they exited the church, and they were met outside by several ladies eager to introduce themselves.

  “I’m Vivian Morgan,” one lady said, and Regina’s eyes flew wide.

  “You’re British!” she said, and Vivian laughed.

  “Yes, I am, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here. I’ll be at your shop at least once a week to drink tea and talk about London.”

  “I can’t wait,” Regina told her.

  By the time they made it home, they’d met so many new people and received so many dinner invitations, they were worn clean through with all the chatter. “They all seemed interested in the shop,” Ariadne said as she took off her hat. “Do you think they’ll really come, or were they just being polite?”

  “I have no way of knowing.” Regina flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “If everyone we just spoke to came into the shop just once to see what we’re about, and they tasted the tea and liked it, and half of those people became regular customers, we’d be a success. But I don’t know how to ensure that they all come, or that half of them continue to buy.” Her stomach roiled at the thoughts that were now pounding through her brain. They’d spent so much money on all the things crated up against the wall downstairs—things that would be difficult
, if not impossible, to return if the business failed. They could probably resell the furniture, but she didn’t know if the mercantile could take the foodstuffs off their hands. If this investment didn’t pay off, they would truly be lost.

  “I think I’ll take a nap,” she said, rolling onto her side. “What time did the Crowthers want us over for dinner?”

  “They said six.”

  “Will you wake me at five?”

  Ariadne looked at her curiously. “That’s six hours away. Are you all right?”

  No, she wasn’t—her stomach wasn’t just nervous. It felt sick. But a long nap should help, and then they’d have a nice dinner with one of the more prominent families in town and hopefully encourage them to visit the shop as well. Everything would be fine.

  ***

  Just as she’d thought, Regina felt much better when she woke up from her nap, and dinner at the Crowthers’ was nice. The daughters of the family seemed more than a little preoccupied with the topic of young men, which Regina found a little bit forward—or maybe refreshingly American. She wasn’t sure which.

  “What did you think of today’s sermon?” Mrs. Crowther asked as she passed around the bowl of mashed potatoes.

  “I thought it was rather unique,” Regina replied, not sure how she was expected to respond. Ariadne nodded vigorously.

  “The preacher is our son-in-law,” Mrs. Crowther continued. “I must say, it’s been quite a feather in our cap to have such a well-respected man in the family.”

  Regina painted on a smile. “I met his wife as we were leaving the church. I can see the family resemblance now.”

  “I’m not going to marry a preacher,” Penny announced. “I’m going to be a cowboy’s wife.”

  “Are you?” Ariadne turned to her. “Are you engaged?”

  “No, but I plan to be by the end of summer. I’m going to be Mrs. Jake Honeycutt.”

  Regina looked down at her plate. She didn’t imagine such a thing could be true—Jake would have told her if he had a previous interest in someone else, wouldn’t he?