Tea and Crumples

by Kinard, Summer;

  “Yes,” Sienna said. Whatever the trouble might be, it could not be worse than the fear that grew up in not knowing.

  “Today a nicely dressed lady came in with a young man in glasses. Her son, I suspect. He ordered a salad and asked for fat free dressing. Lettye waited on him, and you know how she is. The height of tact. She told him we have the herbed raspberry vinegar, but also explained how we make all of the dressings in house with real olive oil. He chose the vinegar. The older lady, his mother, probably, asked if we had dishes with Brussels sprouts. Well, we happened to have some roasted, which is unusual at this time of year.” Tovah paused and clicked a keyboard in the background. “To make a long story short, I believe they were friends of Elsie. Another two negative reviews showed up this afternoon. One complaining that there was no oil in the fat free salad dressing, one accusing the staff of withholding menu items that were clearly visible in the cold case.”

  “The cream cheese and Brussels sprout quiche again?”

  “Yep.” Sienna could almost hear Tovah nodding her head.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. But here’s the kicker. The sorority dinner that was scheduled for tomorrow called and canceled.”

  “Not Lettye’s friends?!”

  “No. They’re coming for brunch. But there was a bridal shower from another sorority, and they made it plain that the review was what turned them off.”

  Sienna sighed. “Maybe we can—” she began, but beeping cut her off. She glanced at the phone’s screen. “Tovah, it’s the hospital. Do you mind if we strategize about this tomorrow? I need to take this call.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry about this tonight, Sienna. You take care.” Tovah clicked off.

  “Hello?” Sienna answered, aware that nerves had edged her voice higher.

  “Mrs. Bannock? Merrill Avery here. I’m the oncologist who has been treating your husband.”

  “Yes. I remember.” Sienna’s mouth went dry. “Is something the matter?”

  “Mrs. Bannock, is it possible that you could come in tonight?”

  “Yes, of course. Is Peter okay? Is he… is he?” The worst possibility leapt to her imagination, and she struggled to express her fears.

  “Peter’s alive, Mrs. Bannock. But we need to consult as soon as we can.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me now?”

  “We’ll have a group consultation when you arrive, but our concern is tissue damage. The chemotherapy seems to be harming parts of Peter that it shouldn’t.”

  “Oh.” Sienna stared out the back window until her vision fogged. “Um, yes. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “We’ll see you then. Be safe.”

  Sienna ended the call and dropped her hand to the counter, hard. The weight of the cell phone caused her knuckles to hit at an odd angle, and she sucked air through her teeth at the shock of pain. Her stomach grumbled, loud in the stunned silence.

  “I’ll be no good tonight if I don’t eat something,” Sienna reminded herself. She found the serving spoon where she had left it on top of the rice container. She scooped the food from her plate onto the naan and wrapped a piece of foil around the whole. She stuffed the leftover food into the refrigerator and retrieved her keys and purse. At the last moment, she tucked the small white tub of gulab jamun into her bag. If Peter was doing worse, it might be a food he could eat.

  At the hospital, a clutch of doctors met Sienna at the nurses’ station outside Peter’s room. Dr. Avery spotted her first and cut off a colleague. She was not quick enough, and Sienna heard the very bad odds he had been giving for her husband’s survival.

  “Mrs. Bannock,” Dr. Avery greeted her, extending a hand. “Please come this way.” She began to walk toward Peter’s room, but Sienna did not follow. She was frozen to the spot in alarm over the other doctor’s words.

  “I don’t understand,” she said to the doctor with the dire prediction. “This morning, his numbers were good. He was getting better.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bannock.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Felix. Dr. Avery invited me for a second opinion. I was speaking generally when you came up, not about your husband’s particular situation. He may have a better chance, depending on his test outcomes.” Sienna noticed Dr. Avery’s stern look. She thought she saw the older doctor shake her head toward Dr. Felix. He stopped talking and glanced down.

  “Please, this way, Mrs. Bannock.” Dr. Avery stood very still but for a gesture toward Peter’s room. She waited until Sienna had gone into the room to follow.

  Peter’s color was worse, but Sienna knew there was cause for anxiety because of her nose. She could smell an edge of decay on Peter’s breath.

  The doctors arranged themselves in grim counsel on rolling stools brought in by interns. A part of Peter’s jaw was necrotizing, and his kidneys were not well. They would have to stop the chemo, but the cancer was not yet gone. What followed was a series of what-ifs and contingencies that put Sienna in mind of one of Cleotis Reed’s chess matches. He might recover from the kidney damage, and he might be spared further tissue damage, and the cancer might not grow in the meantime, and they might have gotten enough of it, and Peter might live longer than another month. But he might go quickly, and he might not survive the fortnight, and he should stay in the hospital to give his kidneys the best chance, and she should make sure his affairs were in order.

  Peter slept uneasily beside her while the doctors gave the news. His hands were warm, but clammy. Gradually, Sienna stopped looking at the doctors and watched his face. It was more familiar to her than her own, a mirror that made her into her best self. He was beautiful, the light of her heart, and even in his illness, she still ached for the love of him. She would not waste a moment of looking at him while she could.

  “We’ll leave you now,” Dr. Avery said quietly. “We’ll know more in a few days.”

  Sienna waited till the physicians left, and then she kissed Peter’s forehead. She pressed her cheek against his temple and listened, wanting to feel the peace that had always come to her when they were together. But along with the harmony of their bodies, a strident fluorescent buzz filled the room around them. It was dissonant and unwelcome.

  Notes from Sienna’s tea files

  Tasting Notes: Oolong sample from Harmony Teas.

  Provenance: Domestic US tea.

  Liquor: Dull, ebony bark brown.

  Astringency: Bitter rather than bite.

  Body: Weak, watery, even when brewed double strength.

  Fragrance: Dust.

  Chapter Nine

  You look like Sheol,” Tovah said after a quick assessment. “Sit down here, and I’ll bring you something.” Tovah pushed Sienna into the tufted leather chair and bustled out of the office, leaving the door open.

  Sienna closed her grainy eyes and rubbed them till they stung a little less. The night had been horrible. She had left Peter sleeping, but she was too tense and anxious to sleep much herself. If Jonquil had not broken the rules and joined her in bed in the wee hours, Sienna may not have slept at all. She leaned forward and pressed her too-sensitive face against the cool of the wooden desk. Gradually, snippets of conversation reached her from the tearoom.

  “So I decided to write a romance novel!” Liz’s voice bubbled above the general murmur. “I figured it was about time to make money off history. Lord knows I am not going to make anything through scholarship.”

  Deborah answered in a lower voice. Sienna was not quite sure what she said, but the tone sounded amused. Tovah returned then, pushing the office door closed behind her.

  “Drink this.” She set a huge mug in front of her. It was filled with fragrant Keemun sweetened with honey and cream. The bouquet suggested that it was the top shelf variety. Sienna sipped, unable to resist the treat. “And then you need to eat this. The berries are good for your brain, even if half of them are technically out of season now.” Tovah’s mouth quirked as she placed a large slice of mixed blueberry and blackb
erry tart in front of Sienna, the fork sticking out at a jaunty angle. The blueberries were out of season locally, of course, but the blackberries were perfectly ripe and very much in season. One of the early jokes of their friendship was the superstition of blackberries, which were meant to have been kissed by witches after Michaelmas. They had speculated long into the evening about the effects of witch-kissed berries.

  “And speaking of Michaelmas,” Tovah said, in perfect sync with her memories, “I think we should press forward with the grand opening that weekend.” She watched Sienna gulp her tea, saw the conflicted feelings pass over her face. “You should feel free to do whatever you need to do for Peter,” Tovah said, cutting off Sienna’s guilty expression. “We can handle it. I’ve been training Jessie on stationery, so she can cover if I’m needed for tea. Lettye is gold, as you know, and Nina is really showing her mettle. She’s becoming a bit of a fixture around here.”

  There was a knock on the door. Sienna forced down an extra bite of tart in case she were needed.

  “Come in,” Tovah called.

  Lettye smiled as she leaned in through a crack in the door. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Excuse me, you all. Sienna, I think you are wanted by the professors. Apparently, the big climax to an important story is waiting for you.”

  “Thanks, Lettye,” Sienna said. She couldn’t help but smile in return. “I’ll be right out.” Lettye grinned and pulled the door shut. Chin down, Sienna nodded to Tovah. “Thank you, Tovah.” She pressed her lips together in a contrite smile. Tovah did not like carrying on, so Sienna left it at that. “I’d better go see what’s up with the professors.” She picked up her mug and walked out into the teashop.

  “Sienna!” Liz called, waving her perfectly-manicured hand. Her fingernails were deep bronze and caught the light, giving the impression of a summons light. Sienna walked quickly to the table and sat between Deborah and Liz.

  “Liz has decided to write romances,” Deborah said by way of greeting, “and she has apparently inspired herself.”

  “You mean you have a romance of your own?” Sienna raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Besides unsuitable men?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Liz smiled. She leaned in conspiratorially, but did not drop her voice. “You remember Harold? From the party?”

  “Of course. Matcha,” Sienna nodded and sipped.

  “Yes.” Liz paused and turned to Deborah. “Sienna did his tea while he was here.” She drew herself up and went on, addressing them in a voice meant to carry in a hall. “Well, I told Harold about my romance idea. Why shouldn’t I put all that research to good use and acquire some funds? Women love historical romances. They eat them up.” Liz sipped her tea, waiting for Sienna to agree.

  Sienna nodded. “And what did Harold say?”

  “Harold doesn’t say much. He’s a man of action,” Deborah interpolated, waggling her brows.

  “Shush, you. Don’t ruin my story!” Liz chided.

  “Of course,” Deborah muttered into her teacup. Her eyes danced with amusement. However much Liz might have protested that she was waiting to tell the story to Sienna, it was clear that Deborah had read between the lines.

  “Well, I got to telling Harold my idea. When I got to the part about my heroine leaning up to kiss the hero at long last, I realized that I had no idea how to describe a kiss to an actual tall man. So I asked Harold how tall he was, and he said six, one. And he asked me how tall I am, and I said five, four. Which are about the same heights as the hero and heroine, you see. So I asked him, if just for research, I might put my arms around his neck, just to see how to describe it.” Liz looked intently at the wall, a besotted grin slipping onto her face.

  “And?” Deborah prompted.

  “Hmm?” Liz asked, coming back to them. “Oh. Then he kissed me.” She beamed and picked up her teacup. Then, into the cup, she murmured, “And now we’re engaged.”

  Deborah choked on her tea and sputtered, “What?!” Then, recovering, “Way to bury the lead!” She smiled and squeezed Liz’s hand.

  “That’s wonderful!” Sienna said. “It’s one of the most romantic engagement stories I’ve ever heard.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I should write it down, put it in a book,” Liz grinned. Over her shoulder, Cleotis Reed caught Sienna’s eye. He raised his cup in salute to the good news.

  Sienna smiled at him.

  Liz, interpreting her smile as wistfulness, seemed suddenly inspired. “Sienna, what is your engagement story?”

  The smile faded from her face as she thought of Peter sleeping fitfully in the hospital. She looked down to conceal a sudden rush of tears and tried to cover her emotion by taking a draught of tea. The professors were unconvinced, and she felt them both skootch close and hug her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing hard. “I’m very happy for you, Liz. It’s just that my husband is very sick right now.”

  “Oh, Sugar, I’m so sorry,” Liz soothed, rubbing her back. Deborah placed a quiet hand on her shoulder. Sienna sniffed and looked at her tea, unable to face talking about how fragile Peter had become. After a few moments, she looked up at Deborah. She was struck with the sudden awareness that Deborah was praying for her. She swallowed again, feeling calmer.

  “There, now,” Deborah said. “You’ve had a very difficult time of it lately, but now you’re here. There’s tea and chess, and we’re here.”

  Sienna was grateful, but conflicted. “I feel awkward burdening my customers like this.”

  “Oh, come, now, Sienna!” Liz chastised, pulling herself upright. “You know better than anyone that tea is not like that. You joined us at the tea table, so we’re your friends.”

  That drew a real grin to Sienna’s face. “I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I think you’re right.” A rush of warm memories filled her chest, all of the stories she had shared over and about tea swirling golden brown and hot into the hollow of her sadness. “Tea and sympathy.”

  “Tea and friendship,” Deborah amended.

  “Tea and friendship,” Sienna repeated. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nina waiting to talk with her. “Liz, I wish you all the best,” she said with as much happiness as she could muster. “Now, if you Lady Professors will excuse me.” She rose to go to Nina, while behind her Liz exclaimed about her love of the “lady professors” moniker.

  “Miss,” Nina said when they had ducked into the kitchen, “I have a little problem. I’m going to need a ride home this afternoon.” She seemed uneasy, and Sienna wondered what trouble had arisen that the girl was concealing. She would not press the confidence, but she sent out a quick prayer for Nina and her family. Whatever had caused the proud girl to ask for help must have been serious.

  “Of course, Nina. What time will you be off?”

  “I’m on till 4:00 today, unless it’s busy. Jessie and I are overlapping the afternoon tea time.” Sienna noted that Tovah had scheduled the staff to cover things in her absence and breathed a little sigh of gratitude.

  “Right. Well, I plan to stick around till then myself. I would be glad to take you home.”

  “Thanks, Miss. I wouldn’t ask, but the bus doesn’t go near where we live, and…” she trailed off, embarrassed.

  “It’s no trouble at all, Nina. Really.” Sienna cast around for a change of subject. Sensing that Nina was most at ease when she was useful, an idea struck her. “Now, Nina, I have a favor to ask. But first, I need to know if you bake.”

  “Bake, Miss?” Nina’s eyes lit up. “Actually, yes. I make tortillas, pan dulces, churros, and cupcakes.” She stopped and reddened. “But maybe you mean like French breads. I don’t do those.”

  “Actually, it sounds as though you have a hidden talent. I’m glad it finally occurred to me to ask.”

  Nina brightened a little. “I cook, too, for my brothers and sisters and my other family. My mom has to work late sometimes. I love showing other people how to cook, too.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Sienna n
odded. “But the reason I asked today is because I need to pass on my gluten-free scone recipe to someone. You know that my husband is in the hospital?”

  “Yes, Miss. We have a novena for him right now.” She looked down, embarrassed as the intimacy of the gesture hit her.

  “Thank you,” Sienna said quietly, touched. “Peter can use all the prayers he can get.” She cleared her throat to keep from crying again. “So I may have to be out unexpectedly. I may need you to make the gluten-free scones if I can’t be here. Lettye tells me a few customers have come to rely on them.”

  “Great, Miss. I’ll get an apron and wash my hands.”

  Later, after the warm scones had been transferred to a tray, Sienna made her rounds of the tables. A.C. and Cleotis had paused in their game to talk. Their low tones warmed the corner of the shop.

  “Well, howdy, Sienna!” A.C. greeted her. “May I just tell you that for a tea person, you make some right fine coffee?”

  “Why, thank you, A.C.” She smiled, mirroring the bright grin on A.C.’s face.

  “Yep,” he nodded, “I find it right interesting the way people can be good at things they don’t prefer.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Sienna sounded doubtful, as though she was thinking out the possibility.

  “Happens in church all the time,” Cleotis interjected.

  “That’s for certain. I remember a fella in my congregation who taught Sunday school for fifteen years. Everyone thought he was so good at it, it took that long before anyone asked him what he thought of teaching.” A.C. took a large drink of his coffee then examined the chess board closely.

  “And what did he think of it?” Sienna asked after A.C. slid his bishop over a couple of spaces.

  “He wanted to lead the hymns. Turned out, singing hymns was what really charged him up spiritually, not teaching. He had fallen into Sunday school teaching one week when the previous teacher was out, and what do you think he chose to talk about?”

  “Hymns?” Sienna smiled.