I’d almost convinced myself when a paralyzing thought seized me.
My mother was right. I have made a fool of myself by coming here.
I was sure there were worse realizations that could befall a young woman as she’s trying to carve out her own life, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything worse.
I decided that if things went poorly that night when I was around Peter, I’d make up an excuse to have to leave and spend the rest of my trip at a hotel in London. I didn’t want to put a strain on any of these lovely people during their Christmas celebration by being the one person in the bunch that Peter would be trying to avoid.
Christmas in London would be wonderful. I could see Big Ben and Buckingham Palace and even visit some of the art museums Julia talked about. The trip to England wouldn’t be a waste.
Just a disappointment.
And that would be the most humiliating part of it. I didn’t want to go back to Minnesota and admit to my mother that I’d finally grown up and she was right. Capricious dreamers only set themselves up for heartache while solid, forthright women know that fairy tales don’t come true.
Chapter Six
The Tea Cosy was already humming with activity when Ellie and I arrived.
The bells that hung over the front door chimed merrily as we entered the tavern-style café that was built over two hundred years ago. A fire crackled in the soot-stained fireplace. Flickering votive candles dotted the mantel and the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen behind the drawn curtain.
The cast wasn’t supposed to come until five o’clock but they had shown up in costume at teatime and had made themselves at home around the tables. The thick wood beams across the low ceiling drew their conversations in close.
I felt as if I’d stepped into a Dickens novel and should be checking the corner for Tiny Tim’s stool.
When my uncle Andrew’s wife, Katharine, purchased the building several years ago, she did her best to keep as much of the original design as the building inspectors would allow. Her insistence paid off handsomely. The charming Tea Cosy along with the village of Carlton Heath had received top ratings on a popular tourist website that promoted the must-sees of their area.
Miranda appeared from the kitchen with two large, white teapots. As soon as she saw me, she delivered them to the closest tables and sashayed around the tables to get to me. Her dark hair was pulled up and her face was rosy. She wrapped her arms around me and said, “It’s so good to have you here, Anna. I can’t wait to have a chance to sit down and talk.”
“Chatting comes afterward,” Ellie said, heading for the kitchen. “We have a dinner to serve.”
Miranda took me by the hand and led me through the gauntlet of friendly guests. They wanted to know if I was the “visiting American” and if more tea was on its way.
I was surprised to see how small the kitchen was. I hadn’t gone behind the curtain when I visited last May. It was impressive to see how Katharine had made clever use of all possible open space. Ian was stirring one of two large pots of soup. He put the spoon down and slid over to greet me with a kiss on the cheek. His gesture brought an immediate reminder of Peter’s explanation of hello and good-bye kisses and the unspoken rule of turning your head.
I immediately took note of the fact that Peter wasn’t there. Perhaps he was planning to come later. Or maybe he’d bowed out so that it wouldn’t be awkward with me there.
There was no time to chitchat. Ellie and I had brought in three shopping bags of supplies, including the fourteen mini loaves of cranberry orange bread we’d baked that morning.
“Since they’ve come for tea, let’s serve the cranberry bread,” Ellie suggested. “Save the rolls for when we serve the soup. Have you pulled out all the teapots, Miranda?”
I pushed up the sleeves on my sweater and pulled my hair back into a knotted ponytail. Miranda pointed me to the teapots and canister of loose tea leaves.
“I think Ellie and I should switch tasks. I’ll cut the bread and serve it to the tables. She’s better suited to know how to make a pot of tea.”
“There’s nothing to it,” Ellie said. “As long as you always add one more teaspoon for the pot.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant but I had no trouble falling into sync with the rest of the kitchen crew. The jovial cast all wanted me to linger and talk with their table when I served the small plates with the sliced bread artistically arranged. They wanted to know where I was from, how long I’d be staying, and how I was related to Miranda.
I heard several times that my accent sounded just like Miranda’s and I thought that was funny. I responded by saying, “And here I thought you were the one with the accent.” They chuckled and guffawed at my response.
I told Miranda what they said when I returned to the kitchen and started stacking up soup bowls next to the stove.
“It feels like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe each time I go back out there.”
Miranda smiled. “What would a group like this be doing in Minnesota right now, do you suppose?”
“They’d probably be playing bingo in the church hall. Or having a white elephant gift exchange and eating way too many Christmas cookies and homemade fudge.”
“And let me guess,” Miranda added. “The women wouldn’t be wearing silly caps with ringlets and fifty-year-old fuzzy sweaters. Instead they’d put on their favorite sweatshirt appliquéd with a Christmas tree and they’d wear headbands with felt reindeer antlers.”
I saw her point. The way older people gathered and celebrated in my corner of the world was just as silly if not sillier than the jovial bunch celebrating here in Carlton Heath.
Miranda grinned. “I do love having another American around here. It makes me want to go back to Rose Cottage so we can watch Elf and eat candy corns. I miss candy corns.”
“Really? You don’t have candy corns here?”
“I’ve not been able to find any. What I miss even more is Ghirardelli chocolate chips. I used to live in San Francisco, so to me there is no better chocolate in the world. I’ve tried to make chocolate chip cookies here but they just don’t taste the same.”
“Well then, when I go home, I’ll be sure to put together a care package for you with candy corns and lots of Ghirardelli chocolate and send it to you for the new year.”
Miranda’s expression narrowed. “What makes you think any of us are going to allow you to return to the US?”
“I think British immigration might have a thing or two to say about it.”
“You belong here, Anna. One way or another, we’ll get you to stay.”
I didn’t have time to choke up over Miranda’s kind words because Ellie had decided that we would move right into serving the soup and rolls. We set up an assembly line, and my task was to carry the soup out to the tables.
I was concentrating so intently on my waitressing skills that I didn’t notice when Peter arrived. I only found out he was there when a round of laughter rose from one of the tables by the fire. Peter was using large hand motions as he told them a story. He had the rapt attention of everyone around him. Another round of laughter erupted as I scurried to the kitchen for another tray of soup bowls.
“Peter must have arrived,” Ian noted.
“Yes. He’s here.”
“He always livens up a party,” Miranda said.
“Someone go tell him to get in here and liven up our soup service!” Ellie was red in the face as she stood by the stove with a ladle in her hand.
I returned to the dining area with more bowls of soup and shyly glanced over at Peter. He was greeting another table full of cast members and didn’t notice me. I didn’t want to be the one to activate Ellie’s command and try to herd him into the kitchen. He looked so happy. The guests were all happy. I watched him from across the room and made a terrible discovery.
My heart still felt fluttery when I saw him.
This is going to be more difficult than I thought. I have to guar
d my heart. I have to keep my feelings to myself.
I served a bowl of soup to a woman wearing an odd cap with lots of ringlets bouncing underneath the ruffled edge. She reminded me of Miss Piggy’s character of Bob Cratchit’s wife in the Muppet version of A Christmas Carol. The woman turned to me and said, “Thank you ever so much, sweet Anna.”
“You know my name.”
“Of course. We all do. Small village, you know. Peter has been telling us about you.”
I glanced across the room. Peter’s back was toward me. I felt a clenching sensation in my stomach. Exactly what had Peter been telling everyone? Were they laughing because he was relating stories about me? Was it the braids in my hair?
I hurried back to the safety of the kitchen. He wouldn’t be telling them about the way I misinterpreted his kiss at the wedding reception, would he?
“I need to step outside for a bit of air,” I told Miranda. “Do you mind finishing up the soup service? There are only two more tables waiting.”
“Sure.” Miranda took the tray from me. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Just a little woozy.”
“Jet lag can do that to you. Try drinking some water. Better yet, see if there’s any orange juice in the refrigerator.”
I settled for a glass of water and slipped out the back door of the kitchen onto a small brick patio area where a clothesline was strung from the side of the building to the fence. The sky had darkened and a crisp chill was in the air. It felt like Minnesota on an autumn night. That sense of familiarity comforted me.
I folded my arms across my middle and tilted my head back, staring into the heavens.
What am I going to do?
“Hey, pardon me,” a gruff voice called out from the kitchen doorway. “Did you get clearance to come out here on a break?”
Chapter Seven
I turned to see Peter leaning against the doorframe looking like a teenage hooligan with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders rounded forward.
He grinned at me the way he’d grinned last May across the table at the rehearsal dinner. Friendly, joking, slightly bashful, looking like someone who was having a good time at the party.
I played along with his teasing question. “I snuck out. You won’t tell on me, will you?”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and strolled over to where I was standing. Tilting his chin up, he scanned the sky above us as if trying to see what I had been looking at.
“Were you out here checking on the universe? Making sure all the moving parts are still working?”
“I was just getting some air.” I glanced at him, but he continued to stare at the sky. We still hadn’t made eye contact.
“God does a pretty good job of keeping it all in motion, doesn’t He?”
“Yes. He does.” I was beginning to feel nervous about where this conversation might go, or not go, and added, “I guess we’re the ones who get out of sync.”
He didn’t reply.
I wished I hadn’t said that. Peter could easily take that to mean that I was still stuck on the kiss and how I’d misinterpreted it. He was the one who was attempting to normalize our conversation. The least I could do was stick to neutral comments.
“It’s a good thing that He keeps extending grace to us, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
“We can make a fresh start of it at any time.” I could tell that Peter was looking at me. I kept my eyes toward the night sky, not yet willing to let our eyes meet.
“I hope we can do that,” he added. “Make a fresh start of it.”
I turned slowly and met his gaze in the glow of the dim, yellowed light pouring from the open kitchen door. The earlier tensions and anxious thoughts dissipated.
Offering Peter a warm smile, I said, “Of course. Fresh starts.”
“So, we’re friends, then?”
“Yes. Friends.”
I knew how to be “friends” with a lot of guys. Most of them were married to friends I’d known since childhood. I could start over and be “chums” with Peter. No one needed to ever know about the hopelessly romantic embers I’d kept warming in my heart for him all these months. Being able to talk easily around him was a better alternative than packing my bags and tiptoeing out of this small village in the morning.
“I heard you’re thinking of going into London tomorrow,” he said.
I must have given him a startled look, as if he’d just read my thoughts.
“With Ellie and Julia,” he clarified. “I heard the plan is for Christmas shopping at Harrods and afternoon tea at the Georgian Restaurant.”
“Oh, yes. Christmas shopping with Ellie and Julia. I think Miranda is going, too.”
“Do you have plans for afterward?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Would you like to see a bit of Londontown while you’re there?” Peter cautiously ventured. “I’m going to be in London tomorrow. If you’d like, I could meet you at Harrods after tea and take you around.”
“Could you take me to see Ben?”
“Ben?”
“Yeah, the big, tall guy with the handsome face and outstretched hands.”
It was clear that Peter hadn’t picked up on my attempt at being clever.
“Big Ben,” I said plainly. “I’ve always wanted to see him.” Trying out Ellie’s cute line from this morning, I added, “It’s my Christmas wish.”
A look of sudden understanding spread across Peter’s face. “Tall guy, open arms. Right. And I bet you’re going to tell me that his face lights up when you go see him at night.”
“I hope it does. I’ve yet to meet him.”
“You’ve come to the right tour guide, then, because as a matter of fact, I know where to find him.”
“Good.” I kept going with the playful, teasing tone. “In that case, I will go with you tomorrow. But only if you promise to take me to see Ben.”
Peter was still smiling. “Why do I get the feeling you’re one of those women who just uses a guy like me to get close to some other guy like Ben?”
I gave him a grin but didn’t have a comeback. I was still trying to figure out where the sassy lines about Big Ben had come from since that wasn’t my usual way of speaking to anyone.
Except, I guess that is the way I banter with the husbands of my childhood girlfriends. I somehow always go into a coy mode around them. That’s interesting. Is this the only way I know how to feel comfortable interacting with men my age?
“Hallo! There you two are.” Ellie stepped outside with a dish towel in her hand. “Are you feeling all right, Anna?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Any chance we might employ the services of the two of you for the final round?”
“After you,” Peter playfully bent at the waist and extended his outstretched arm toward the door. “Ladies first.”
The rest of the evening rolled out with lots of laughter and a comfortable camaraderie with the kitchen crew. I chose to refrain from doing much talking because I was still trying to figure out why I turn coy and a bit sassy when I’m trying to communicate with men. It seemed best to just keep smiling and enjoy the company. It was great fun being around Peter and watching how he “worked the floor,” as Ian called it.
“I always told him that instead of becoming an architect, he should have taken up a career as a dining room maître d’ on a cruise ship.” Ian filled the sink with hot water and added more dish soap than needed. “He’s at home with an audience—that’s for certain.”
Tiny incandescent bubbles began rising from the sink. Ian plunged his large hands into the water, releasing even more of the liquid pearls. Miranda and I exchanged quiet grins. Both of us had noticed how the transcending bubbles were clinging to the ends of Ian’s light brown hair like the remains of a dismantled halo.
Miranda motioned for me to join her by the stove where she was standing and eating a bowl of soup.
“Di
d you get anything to eat, Anna?”
“No. I probably should.”
“There’s soup and some rolls left, but not many. Here.” She handed me a freshly washed and dried soup bowl and nodded toward the pan on the stove. “Please help yourself.”
“Would anyone else like some?” I asked.
“I’m good,” Ellie said. She was drying bowls faster than Ian could wash them.
“None for me,” Ian said. “Peter said he ate before he came and I took bowls up to my dad and Katharine earlier. What’s left is all yours, Anna.”
I was hungrier than I realized and went looking for a remaining roll after I’d finished the soup. Ellie noticed what I was doing. With a chuckle she said, “Didn’t I tell you this morning? We serve you breakfast in bed merely to put on a good front. After that, you’re on your own for your meals.”
I stuffed the last bite of the last roll into my mouth and chewed contentedly. A little thrill rose inside me, elevating like the iridescent floating soap bubbles. I loved being here and feeling included in this extended family. I loved the lively conversations and the fast-paced comings and goings. It was so different from my everyday life at home.
Peter and I had found a new path to walk down. It wasn’t what I’d dreamed about. But it was okay. It felt good to move along on the “friend” path with so much ease. It was much better than ousting myself from this group.
Tomorrow I’d get to experience a day in London with these lovely women and a round of sightseeing with Peter. Plus, I had the promise of getting my Christmas wish of meeting Ben face-to-face.
I watched Peter as he cleared the remaining tables and leaned over to give one of the older women a good-bye kiss on the cheek.
I pressed my lips together. The eternally hopeless romantic in me wondered, Would it be wrong to still hope for one more Christmas wish?
Chapter Eight
The next morning Ellie, Miranda, Julia, and I arrived at the train station just as the rumbling clouds overhead began dousing the countryside with a chilling winter rain. We got on board and peeled back our wet coats before taking our seats. We tucked our collapsed umbrellas under our seats and settled in, facing each other across a table. The windows were steamed over from all the warmth emanating from our compartment.
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