Maya's Aura: Destroy the Tea Party

by Smith, Skye

  "Daniel will drive us. We could not be in safer hands. The trustee will not dare to give us any trouble with Daniel present."

  Lydia nodded. "Britta, come and help me to pack. Jon, give Jemmy and Daniel whatever they want to eat and drink."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith

  Chapter 10 - Britta's Coffee Shoppe

  Nana was peeved that Maya had come back from the village without any treats from the deli, but the girl was so distracted and sleepy that she did not mention it. "You seem to be dreaming a lot, and telling me very little of it," said Nana. "Is it a problem with the quartz pendant? Is it losing its power to store memories?"

  "No, I don't think there is a problem. At least I hope not." replied Maya as she ate the last of the box of her favorite soul food, Honey Nut Oatios. She looked in the box hoping that she was wrong and there were some more left in the bottom. No. Damn. "I mean, like I always describe the dreams as like movies but in 3-D and stereo with smellovision, but they aren't quite like movies.

  A movie is like, two hours of click, click, click condensed action and romance highlights. The memories are not like that. Sometimes I dream for hours about endlessly wiping tables, and making coffee, and serving men in damp and smelly wool winter wraps. It's like, way too familiar. I worked in a coffee shop in Frisco for a year, and nothing much has changed in the coffee business in two hundred years except for electricity, hot water on demand, and espresso machines.

  The routine is the same. Open the doors in the morning, stock the shelves, make coffee, serve, side, wipe, wash dishes, repeat, repeat, repeat, mop the floors, lock the doors, and go to sleep dreaming of finding a rich handsome man who will sweep you away from the drudgery."

  "So you just have to wade through it until something interesting happens. Is that it?" asked Nana. She knew that Maya got frustrated trying to explain the feeling of these crystal memories. The movie metaphor wasn't good enough, but it was the closest explanation that others could fathom.

  "Pretty much. I've sort of learned how to pause the crystal memories temporarily in one place, but I still haven't found the fast forward or skip buttons." Maya smiled at her hope that maybe, just maybe, she would soon break out of the seemingly endless cycle of boredom and frustrated love that was swirling through Britta's memories.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  Jim did ask Britta to decide whether or not he should go to Harvard, and she had said "go". To the horror of his mother, he had immediately arranged for the second of their banns to be read out, asking the congregation to speak out if they new of any legal or moral reasons that the couple could not marry. Jim then further horrified his mother by giving Britta his grandmother's ring, and this with the entire congregation as witnesses.

  With Lydia away on the farm, Britta invited Jim into her bed every night, and every night he accepted. They had so few nights left before he must leave for school. Needless to say, it was difficult for them to keep their mutual promise not to consummate their betrothal until after all three banns had been read.

  Jemmy arrived back from the farm carrying a message from Lydia that she would be staying at the farm for a few weeks more. Britta had expected that. The mansion at the farm was her real home, and she had been gone a long time. Jim left for Cambridge on the day after Jemmy returned.

  The coffee shop was mostly quiet in January, although there was a little excitement when an educated Black slave by the name of Felix Holbrook submitted a petition to the governor asking him to extend basic rights to all slaves.

  The Sons of Liberty that discussed it in the coffee shop were almost equally split into two camps. Half thought there were more pressing political problems than slavery since there were, after all, no white chattel slaves in Boston, only debt slaves. The other half thought that no one should be born a slave even if they were Black, but that was the only right they would support.

  Samuel Adams was angry at both camps. "What about the memory of Crispus Attucks then," he would say. "We owe Felix Holbrook our support because of Crispus." Most of the other Sons would not meet his stare. Crispus was a Black man who had demonstrated against the corruption of the governor, and had been the first man killed at the Boston massacre.

  Britta had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had helped Mr. Holbrook word his petition. She wondered if Sam was the only one in the room worthy of the name Son of Liberty, because the others seemed to have no desire to help slaves win a little bit of liberty.

  By the end of January she still had no more word from Lydia, but luckily the shop was profitable and there was more than enough money in their hide to pay the next month's rent. Britta had only just finished paying the landlord when a red-headed man walked into the shop and hung his cloak on the rack near the fireplace.

  It was Red Jennison, Lydia's neighbor on the farm. The man who had taught Britta how to read and how to keep financial ledgers. She knew him as a moneylender and an adulterer and a womanizer. In other words, a complete scoundrel.

  "Britta, dear, you look tired," he said.

  Britta asked him what he would like, meaning from the menu, and he came close to say, "Chocolate, the way you used to make it," and then lowered his voice and whispered what else he would like. Yes, he was still a womanizer.

  She pulled away from him, hissing with contempt, and went to the galley to make his chocolate. He followed her into the small space and pressed himself against her and moved his hands up her body to squeeze her breasts. He felt her stiffen. She felt him stiffen. Then he laughed and backed away from her and said, "That is all I am allowed to do with you, else my new wife will cut off my balls."

  She dropped the half-filled cup of steaming chocolate but luckily it fell into the sink. She spun around and pointed her stirring spoon at him. "What are you saying?"

  "I am saying that last week, Lydia finally submitted to my many proposals and our banns were read out in the Eagle Valley church. I am here to arrange to have them read in her church here in Boston, as is required by law. They must be read three times in all, so early next month we will marry."

  He looked at the fury in Britta's face. "Don't you stare at me like that. It is not a forced marriage on either side. After running the farm for two weeks, and living alone on the second floor of that huge cold house, she decided that she did not, after all, want to be a widow raising two young children."

  Britta tried to smile, but it would not come. This man was a devil with women. She knew it too well. Lydia herself, had called him a devil. She had sworn many times that she would never marry him. She had sworn that his only interest in her was the estate.

  "Britta, dear, have you seen the color of Robby's hair? Do you doubt that the new child will have red hair as well? Lydia has admitted that they are both my children, so why shouldn't we marry? Is that so bad? I think it is quite logical, and quite sweet." He pulled the cup of chocolate out of her still hand and walked away. "I will be sitting over in the window when you are ready to talk. Is Jon around? He should hear my news as well."

  Britta served some other customers while waiting for Jon to come in from out back, and then she grabbed him before Red could, and told him about the marriage. Jon's eyes swam and he insisted that he needed to get more firewood before he could sit with Red, and quickly disappeared out the back.

  Britta looked at the wood hopper beside the fireplace. It was full. "In ten minutes," she called to Red.

  Facing Jon and Britta, Red began by saying, "Lydia does not want you at the farm, Britta. She fears that you will cause us marital problems." Red let this sink in.

  Britta chuckled to herself and looked at Jon. He was smiling too. Lydia didn't want either of them there for the same reason. "So long as Jon and I stay together it does not matter where we live. What does she suggest?"

  "Actually, we discussed it at great length. Believe me, you two are the least of our slave problems. The farm is now half way down the path towar
ds being rid of slaves. Our biggest problem is what to do with the slaves that are left."

  "They are the ones who have served the longest. Free them," said Jon. "They deserve it."

  "Glib, but not well thought out," he replied. "What would they do? How would they live? Where would they live? Blacks are not welcome in the Eagle Valley. Would you have them starve once we free them? Never mind. We will solve the problem."

  "Like you solved the others," Jon said sarcastically. "I was there shortly after they were all sold, remember."

  "Not like that, for Lydia refuses to sell them. Perhaps we will give them the choice. Let them decide. But they will not be sold. In any case, that is none of your business. What is your business is that Lydia does not want you on the farm, yet there is over a year left in your bonds."

  "Sixteen months," corrected Britta.

  "We have a business proposition, or rather Lydia has one, for I am not fond of it. You will both stay here and continue to run the coffee shop. All expenses are to be covered from the earnings of the shop. I trust you have paid this month's rent already?" Red asked and Britta nodded.

  "Good. The shop should remain profitable. From February onwards you will deposit one pound per week into Lydia's Boston bank account. For each week that you deposit a pound, she will shorten your bond by a week. This means that your bondage could be completed as early as September, barring any setbacks. At that time, you will be given the option of taking over the coffee shop, or closing it down."

  Jon whistled low. "That is generous of her. A shorter bond, and a thriving business at the end."

  Britta said nothing. Both Red and Lydia were canny and wily at business. If it seems too good to be true, ask more questions. "Do you mind if I ask someone’s advice about this before we agree?"

  "Of course. I will be in town until Sunday. Meanwhile, could you pack all of Lydia's personal things? I will pick them up on Sunday. Oh, and she said that you can keep any of the clothes that will never fit her again, including some gown or other and its cloak. She said you would know the one." He finished his chocolate. "How much time will you need to seek advice?"

  " I can ask my advisor right now." She turned around and called to a man sitting behind a stack of papers, writing , "Sam, can I interrupt you for a few minutes?"

  "Of course, my dear. Just let me put my rock on top of these papers so they don't blow up the chimney the next time the door is opened."

  "Samuel Adams, this is Red Jennison," she introduced them. "Lydia is soon to be Mrs. Jennison."

  "Well, bless you, and your union, sir. I am so happy for you both, though I will miss her. How may I help you?"

  Red gave a quick summary, and spelled out the proposed agreement.

  "Well, if you give that to a lawyer he will charge you for three days' work to create a twelve page contract to cover all of the things that may go wrong with such agreements. You need some form of document to carry the signatures, of course, as this overrides an existing bond. Why don't I go back to my table and write it down on one page just how you have told it to me. I will add only one line, one that will cheat the lawyers of their fee for the other eleven pages."

  Red was canny with contracts. "And what would the statement be?"

  "That if there is any disagreement about this arrangement, then it will be decided by a mutually agreed upon arbitrator. I would suggest myself, as I am trusted by both Britta and Lydia, and they know that I would walk through hot coals before I would see either of them injured."

  Red looked at Jon and then Britta. They both nodded, so he agreed. "Britta, go with him and help him to write it up."

  Red leaned over towards Jon. "Is that Samuel Adams the new chairman of the committees of correspondence?" He saw Jon smile and nod. "And I just met the past spokesman, Mr. Otis, at the farm. How curious."

  "Lydia made many new friends here. Some are powerful, some are dangerous. You had best be good to her, else stay very far away from Boston." Jon warned.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  Things were quiet all through February and March and they dragged by for Britta and for Jon. Both were missing their lovers. Both were missing the comic relief of having Robby under foot. They attended church every Sunday. Daniel and his wife would drive them. Afterwards, back at the shop, his wife would drink chocolate while Daniel continued to teach Jon and Britta how to defend themselves.

  The regular customers paid the bills, while the walk-in customers paid the profit. Unfortunately for Britta, the number of women customers was dwindling now that there was no engaging widow playing hostess.

  Samuel and Jemmy were in the shop almost every day, reading or writing or sharing thoughts with all sorts of wealthy-looking men from out of town. Committees were spreading across the province, and even into other provinces. As they spread, more and more folk were refusing to buy Company goods, especially tea.

  The amount of correspondence coming to the Politbureau was growing alarmingly, to the point where Samuel set up the meeting room as a workspace for the committee to organize, sort, read and register the news that they contained. Mercy often came in to help out, which was a blessing because of the speed at which she could both read and write.

  Daniel often came to help out, but not with the reading or writing. He came because too often now, suspicious and rough-looking men were spotted hanging about on their street. Britta never did find out if they were the governor's spies, or just men with too much time on their hands during the winter slowdown of work.

  Things got more complicated once the first ship of the season arrived from England. That meant English Newspapers, and sacks of mail. All that day various Sons of Liberty, Caucus and Committee members dropped by for chocolate or coffee and a browsed through the latest two month old news from Europe.

  They all nursed their coffee and chocolate while they waited for Jemmy to arrive. You see, any official letters from Europe would still be addressed to Jemmy, for no one in Europe would yet know that Samuel was now in charge. Jemmy soon arrived with a large parcel from London.

  When Jemmy's matea was ready to serve, Britta took it right in to him. He was looking thinner and greyer than last week, so she grabbed a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. Boston's damp winters were hard on the weak. Jemmy was listening, with everyone else, as Sam read out the letters from the package. As he read, men were laughing out loud.

  Jemmy pulled Britta down to sit beside him so he could whisper the explanation for the levity. "Mr. Franklin has accomplished with humor what all of our serious letters, legal wrangling, and complex arguments have so far failed to do. He has written an article and has paid to have it printed in a popular newspaper. It is a very clever hoax which he has called 'An Edict of the King of Prussia'.

  With official-sounding words Ben pretended to be the government of Prussia proclaiming taxes to be paid by British citizens to Prussia because of how Prussia rescued Britain during the world war. The taxes he listed are the same as those that our province is now expected to pay to England. Those that realize it is a hoax are laughing at Parliament. Those that don't realize it is a hoax are demanding that Parliament refuse to pay the Prussians. Ben's subtlety is sheer genius."

  A man at the end of their table stood up and called attention to himself. "I have just been comparing stories in three London newspapers. It seems that our brothers and sisters in the mother country have been emboldened by our refusal to buy over-priced goods from the Company. They have joined us in refusing to buy Company tea. The Company has been stuck with a warehouse full of the stuff."

  At this news, someone shouted out, "Read the listed price of a share in the Company for us." When they were read out, there was stunned silence. Jemmy explained to Britta that many of these men owned shares in the Company. For many years it had been a sure way to make ten percent a year. The share prices had dropped by half in the six weeks since they had last heard the price.

  Sam took advantage of the quiet and stood and began to read fro
m a letter from Mr. Franklin. "He says that enclosed are purloined copies of letters that Governor Hutchinson has written to various Lords in England." He held up a pack of paper. "Do I have any volunteers to read them and make notes?"

  Jemmy almost knocked over the table reaching for them.

  * * * * *

  After a second day of the cafe being standing room only, crowded with men waiting their turn to read English newspapers, Britta took a walk to get away from the hubbub, and went down to the market to talk to the pie ladies. "Is there any chance that David could help in the shop for a few weeks? I would pay him."

  "Not a chance, love," said David's mother. "They are scraping and fitting the sloop ready for the cod season. You can have Winnie over there. She is a big girl for twelve, and knows how to make change."

  "Well, I was hoping for a young man."

  "Aren't we all, ducky."

  They both laughed, but then Britta was serious again. "The customers are mostly men so it would be better if I had a man's help."

  "Well, there is only Winnie. Please try her out. We could certainly use the cash. Whenever they have the sloop keeled over, there is money going out while nothing comes in from the fishing."

  "Winnie then, but she will have to sleep at the cafe. I don't want her walking back and forth to your wharf in the dark by herself. "

  "Oh, poor her. That nice fireplace and all." she turned towards a skinny girl with dirty hair and a torn smock. "Winnie, go with Miss Britta and mind what she says." She leaned closer to Britta. "I couldn't have two weeks' wages in advance, could I?"

  Britta smiled and handed her the coins, and then motioned to the girl and started back to the cafe. As she walked, the thought came to her that this girl could make more work for her, rather than less. She almost changed her mind, but then she looked at the smile on Winnie's face and decided that if nothing else she would have the company of another girl in her world of men.