Tea and Crumples

by Kinard, Summer;

  That morning, she had arrived very early and made sure to leave out the files on the private investors who had funded a large portion of the capital for the shop. She was mildly comforted to see that two of them had specified the availability of additional funds in their original agreements. Perhaps their situation was not too dire.

  Curious and finding herself with a few minutes, she checked the business emails and accounts. It had not been a heartening experience. The online reviews from people they knew to be customers were positive and kind, but there was a string of bad reviews as well, all alleging terrible and argumentative customer service and noncompliance in event planning. Several of the cancellation emails cited the reviews, and two of them demanded a return of the nonrefundable deposit, in light of scathing online remarks. Her head throbbed after reading the emails, but she slipped quietly behind the desk to call Nina.

  No one answered after several rings, but Sienna heard a knock at the kitchen door after her third try. She locked the office and rushed to the door, where Nina waited, her face pale and strained.

  “Nina!” Sienna said, relieved. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Nina glanced warily over her shoulder and pushed forward into the kitchen. Sienna knitted her brows in concern. “Nina, what is it?”

  “Sorry, Miss. It’s nothing. My ride was late today.” She went straight to the handwashing sink, washed, and looked around the kitchen. “Let me get caught up. What’s first, Miss, dishes or baking?”

  Sienna looked at the pile of cups already accumulated by the sink, then back at Nina. The girl was maintaining eye contact, but her chin was set in a stubborn pose that suggested she wanted to be busy. “I think we may not be able to do much baking today. How about you head out and see to the customers, and I’ll do the cups and make tea sandwiches for a while? We can trade in an hour.”

  Nina nodded and headed out to the front area. Sienna had just finished drying the cups and arranging them on a tray when Nina returned.

  “Are we out of mint?” she asked.

  “Mint?” Sienna was exhausted from the night before, and she thought for a moment. “We have dried peppermint for tisanes, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten to order the fresh mint, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Oh.” Nina’s lips twitched. Sienna noticed her evasion.

  “What is it, Nina?” Her stomach tightened as she remembered the bad online reviews. She hoped desperately that whoever was causing the trouble had not returned and demanded Morrocan mint tea. It was the only varietal they sold that absolutely required fresh leaves. “Oh.” She echoed Nina as the penny dropped. “It’s Greg?”

  Nina nodded and rushed to speak. “I’ll take care of him, Miss, but I don’t know what to offer instead.”

  “Hmm.” Sienna closed her eyes and thought for a moment, letting her anxieties slip away. Show me, she prayed. A fragrance came to mind along with the image of a sharp herbal tang. She opened her eyes. “Could you bring me the tins of catmint and lemon verbena? Wait. I think I was feeling fancy when I labeled the verbena. It’s probably called vervain.”

  Nina returned shortly, and Sienna opened the tins, inhaling deeply. She crumbled leaves from both tins into a teapot and handed the lot back to Nina. They kept two hot water dispensers for making pots of tea that required different temperatures. In general, the black teas required boiling, the greens very hot, but the herbals had to be decided on a case-by-case basis, usually by Sienna. “Steep for three and a half minutes in the 195 degree water, add a tablespoon of honey to the pot, and serve it with a cucumber slice.” Nina listened intently and nodded in the way that convinced Sienna the girl was filing the procedure away for future reference.

  Sienna sighed as Nina took the teapot and tins back to the front. If Greg was there, she would probably have to see him. He tended to linger on any day, and she was sure he would scent her weakness today. She tried to put him out of her mind by making tea sandwiches, but the sandwiches would not come together. She had forgotten to set out the goat cheese to soften, so the first sandwich stuck and crumbled. The jar of roasted red peppers would not open under her exhausted hands. She was too frustrated to cut the fine slivers of red onion.

  Lettye found her staring at the cutting board.

  “I came in early, and it looks like a good thing, too.” She lifted Sienna’s elbow and led her to a stool by the dish station. “Listen, Sienna, I think you should consider going on home.”

  “But you’ll be backed up,” Sienna muttered. She blinked the glaze from her eyes and shook her head at the mess she had made of the sandwiches. “How about I have a cup of tea and man the dish station? I think I can manage that, at least.”

  Lettye nodded. “Fine, but I’m making the tea. You set.”

  Sienna managed a small smile in agreement. She liked the Southern inflection of Lettye’s speech when she took charge. Mrs. Hopkins had been prone to that expression, calling on Sienna to “set” herself down on the grass to discern a miracle from a weed, to “set” down and crochet something warm to lay by till the wind called for it. She looked at her hands tenderly, remembering that they could make warmth and tease out goodness from the soil.

  “Feeling better?” Lettye asked, observing Sienna’s improved expression. “I brought you tea and, don’t argue, the best almond pastry. I’ve already written it down for lost, so unless you want me to actually drop it on the floor first, best eat up without protest.”

  “Thank you, Lettye.” She dutifully sipped her tea, which Lettye had made just the way she liked it. “I was remembering my favorite old lady from childhood. The first time I made a crochet scarf, it was like magic dripping through my fingers. Not that it was objectively pretty, you know. I dropped a few stitches and not one loop matched another. But it was useful and warm.”

  “A reflection of its creator?” Lettye smiled.

  “I hope.” She bit into the pastry. Lettye nodded, satisfied, and left her. Sienna had just finished the tea and pastry when Nina brought in a tray of cups to be washed.

  “Miss, I hate to ask, but do you think you could give me a ride again?”

  Sienna looked up, but Nina did not meet her gaze. “What’s going on, Nina?”

  The girl’s face flushed, and she took her time setting each cup into the wash water. At length, she turned to Sienna. “You know that I have my citizenship. It’s legal that I work here.”

  Sienna nodded, silent.

  “Well, my older sister wasn’t born here. She’s being investigated. I usually ride with her to work, but she’s scared right now.”

  “I see. Of course I can give you a ride. But the rest of your family, are they safe, too?”

  “They’re scared. Almost all of them are legal, but they don’t have their papers in the house. My mom is afraid to go to the bank to get the birth certificates out of the safety deposit box, in case they are being watched.”

  “Almost all of them?”

  “I have one aunt with an expired visa, but she doesn’t want to leave her kids alone to go back and hope the paperwork goes through again.”

  Sienna nodded. “Where is your family? Do you think they are really being watched?”

  Nina looked directly at Sienna and pursed her lips. “I know they are. I have had to do all the errands this week, because there’s an agent just driving past the house every few hours. My family, Miss, my family is partly on the run. They don’t have a place to go. Our neighborhood is patrolled now, and the family has been spending most of the day at church the past few days.”

  “I may be able to help.” Sienna and Nina jerked their heads toward the door, where Greg was leaning against the frame. “I have a big, empty house in a neighborhood that is not patrolled. Plus, yo hablo español. And I’m a priest, so I suspect I’m already acquainted with the folks at your family’s church.”

  Nina blushed deeply and examined her shoes.

  “Greg, I’m sure you meant well, but this area is off limits to customers, and this conversation is private.” Sienn
a stepped forward so that she was between Nina and Greg. She was furious that the confession that had so obviously pained Nina had been overheard.

  “Of course,” Greg said. He did not move, but he looked slowly between Sienna’s grey face and the side of Nina’s red one. “Excuse me for intruding. But please consider my offer. I would be glad to drive Nina to pick up any of her family and help them get settled for a night or two.” He nodded a half bow and left the room before they could respond.

  “Nina, I’m so sorry,” Sienna began, touching the girl’s shoulder lightly.

  “It’s ok, Miss.” Nina sniffled, then touched the back of her hands to her face and looked up. “You know, I don’t know him very well. Otherwise I might take him up on the offer. My aunt would probably let him help us since he’s a priest. But, getting there, I would feel weird driving alone with a man I don’t know.” A small smile touched her lips. “Other than how he takes his tea and likes jam with pastries, I mean.”

  Sienna looked down at her arms, which she had crossed without noticing when Greg interrupted them. She made herself relax and took a deep breath. “I’ll go with you to pick up your family, and then Greg can drop us, or me, off after they are settled.”

  Nina brightened. “Really, Miss?” She sighed in relief.

  Sienna nodded. “Let’s get through the main rush of the day, and we can close a bit early. Lettye can handle the closing. We can leave around 3:00?”

  “Jessie was heading back from her festival this morning. I think she’s coming in at 1:00.” Nina nodded toward the calendar near the back door, where, sure enough, Jessie had made a note to that effect.

  “Great,” Sienna said flatly. “Then we can leave once she’s here.”

  Nina scanned Sienna’s face and drew a breath as though to speak. She nodded curtly instead and returned to the tearoom.

  Sienna focused on washing dishes. She arranged the teacups by theme without noticing. Those with floral patterns sat together, while the plain or abstract ones kept company in separate rows. It was curious, was it not, that none of the teacups depicted overt religious symbolism. Yet they were central to the way she practiced faith. They were vital to how she loved. She lifted a deep bone china mug decorated with a botanical diagram of two herbs, catmint and peppermint.

  Mrs. Hopkins grew catmint along an entire fence in her yard. It had been the subject of Sienna’s first lesson in gardening and the one that seemed to have stuck with her best. They were weeding the flowerbeds together, and Sienna noticed that catmint was the main weed. Why, then, was it allowed to flourish in another part of the yard?

  “Because, SiSi, it’s a miracle.” Mrs. Hopkins had plucked up a few stems in her green-stained fingers and laid them reverently in Sienna’s little hand.

  “But I thought it was a weed.”

  “Here, it’s a weed, and there it’s a miracle. Knowing the difference takes a lifetime. That’s why I’m here, so you can have the miracle while it’s ripe.” The old lady winked.

  Sienna thought of her garden at home. She had not quite sorted her plants, but there were some that were definitely miracles. The bee balm stalks that she had put in the church arrangement sprang to mind. On the other hand, there was Greg’s drawing. A weed. And Peter’s lifetime was pinching off too soon. Her thoughts swirled into confusion, and she set the teacup on the tray with the others to be returned to the serving area.

  “I need a ripe miracle,” she whispered, over the clatter of fresh water pouring into the sink. She reached out to God, to Mrs. Hopkins, and to any other garden saint that might listen in. “Please.”

  Jessie’s arrival was heralded by her own bright singing.

  “And we’ll understand it better by and by. By and by, when the morning comes…” she trailed off with a grin at Sienna.

  “From your lips to God’s ears!” Sienna said, smiling back. “A good festival?”

  “Oh, yes. We came in second place for the gospel category and we were the only ones in the top five with hair smaller than our faces, so you know the competition was stiff.”

  Sienna managed a tired chuckle. “That’s great news. Congratulations.”

  “What is it?” Jessie asked, the grin sliding from her face as she looked her boss over.

  Where to begin? What to leave out? Sienna decided to start with the most urgent information. “I’m going to ride with Nina and our customer Greg for an errand for Nina’s family. You and Lettye can handle things here, I hope.”

  “Of course. But what’s making you so sad?” Jessie’s question was innocently straightforward in a way that pierced Sienna’s thin composure.

  “It’s Peter,” she said quietly. Talking about her trouble made her notice how tired she was, and she closed her eyes to relieve the gritty feeling that had settled in them. “He’s dying. I have to go back to the hospital tonight to keep watch, but it doesn’t look good.” Sienna felt herself embraced in Jessie’s strong hug. The young woman’s clothes smelled like caramel. She let Jessie rock her a bit, then stepped back and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  “I sing for the dying sometimes. If you think it might bring comfort or peace, I would be glad to stop by with my mandolin for a song or two.”

  “That would be lovely,” Sienna responded absently, trying to restore her face into a semblance of calm. “But for now, I should go get Nina.” She thought of Greg and felt a nervous squeeze in her stomach. “The sooner we get her trip over with, the better.”

  Greg’s car was parked a few doors down from the front of the shop. Sienna slid into the back seat so that Nina could navigate. Greg and Nina fell into sanguine conversation. The road noise was steady and low under the gentle calm of their voices, and Sienna was bone tired from her long nights with Peter. She began dozing despite her wariness of Greg. She woke to quiet. The car was parked behind the largest Catholic church in the city, and Sienna just caught a glimpse of Nina and Greg disappearing into the building. A few minutes later, they returned, along with three anxious women with Nina’s dark hair and bright dark eyes. The women bustled into their seats while Nina made rapid explanations in Spanish. She turned to Sienna.

  “We’re going to stop by Greg’s house to get my family set up, then we’ll go by my house to pick up the things they need, and then we’ll head back over.”

  Sienna nodded at Nina and tried to smile reassuringly at Nina’s relatives, who returned the gestures.

  It did not take long to reach Greg’s house, a restored bungalow with a well-tended yard and tasteful decorating. He opened the door and ushered them all into a foyer where they huddled, glancing around politely. On the wall by the door, a seascape hung on its side. Greg noticed it.

  “Oh, this?” he asked, seeing that the women were all looking at the painting. “I call it, ‘Sea Sickness.’”

  “Really?” Sienna smiled a little at the whimsy.

  “This way,” Greg gestured into a large, warm living room. The women filed into the room, Sienna at the end of the line. “No,” he said so that only Sienna heard him, “That just happens when a door is slammed too often.” She hurried into the group, disliking his confidential tone.

  In the living room, Greg’s demeanor was hospitable. He offered Sienna a seat then broke into effusive Spanish while he showed the other women to the guest rooms and gave them a tour of the necessary places in the house. Sienna heard Nina’s relatives giggle and respond from somewhere behind the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The group emerged through the dining room like a small flock of chipper ducks surrounding a jocular goose. Sienna smiled to see the women so at ease.

  Nina approached her while her relatives continued chatting with Greg. “Are you ready, Miss?”

  “Yes, whenever you are. All sorted here?”

  “I think so.” Nina spoke briefly to the others and nodded to Sienna.

  Greg led Nina and Sienna back to the car and asked directions to the credit union where Nina would pick up the important documents. Sienna tried to stay
awake as they wound slowly through city streets. In the front seat, Greg entertained Nina with stories of his own family.

  “My mother always knew the right food to make everyone feel at ease. One time, Dad invited a business client to dinner, and Mom made meatloaf with peas and carrots and mashed potatoes and gravy.” He glanced at Nina and raised his brows. “Now, she was a great cook, but she made that simple food because she just knew. And what do you think? When the man arrived and found out the menu, he about melted in gratitude. He was used to plain English food, and it was the first meal he’d been able to really enjoy on his whole business trip.”

  “My mamá is a great cook, too, but she’s a little more bossy about it. If she says you need sopa or arroz con pollo or tacos, you have to eat it. She’s usually right, but it’s not like she leaves it up to you to decide.” Nina chuckled a little. “I think that’s why I like baking so much. Mamá never interferes in it, since she remembers growing up when it was usually too hot to bake. And even Mamá won’t tell people they have to eat churros or dulce de leche, so I get to dictate all the sweets, too.”

  Sienna fought against dozing while her car mates chatted about the best way to make hot chocolate and coffee. She pulled her head upright when the door closed. Greg was watching her from the front seat. She sat up and tried to relieve the ache in her neck and shoulders without drawing too much attention.

  “Tired?” he asked, his gray eyes steady on her face. For the moment, he seemed calm and peaceful, and Sienna felt drawn to confide in him. Then his eyes shifted slightly, hungrily, to where she rubbed her neck. His hand on the front seat moved slightly toward her in unspoken invitation to comfort her. She dropped her hand and tried to feign alertness.

  “Just some late nights, thanks.” Sienna smiled tightly. “I’ll be fine.”

  Greg looked over her sleep-warmed skin. She colored more deeply at being observed. “You look as though you’ve been keeping watch,” he said casually. Sienna blinked but did not answer. “And who is watching out for you?” It was an offer, not a question.