Tea with Emma (Book One of the Teacup Novellas) Page 2
“That it is.”
She traced her finger along the rim of the cup, the gold sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the small window. “Have you ever seen anything so fine? Look at these hand-painted flowers. Can’t you just imagine the Queen herself sipping tea from this very cup?”
Lanie drank from an imaginary cup, her pinky held high. “I assure you, my dear,” she announced, the accent dripping, “had these royal lips touched that royal cup, you would never have been able to afford it.”
“Is that so?” Maddie raised her teacup to toast Lanie’s air-copy. “Well, please don’t tell that adorable man at the gift shop where I bought it. He assured me it had ‘history from the palace’—wink, wink.”
Lanie picked up the saucer, examining its design. “Those winks can be translated: ‘If you believe that, I’ve got some swamp land to sell you in Wales.’”
“Surely you jest!”
“What, you’ve never heard of gators and crocs in the English countryside?”
“Lanie.”
“Maddie.”
She waved her off, then rewrapped the cup and saucer and returned them to the box. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so excited, it’s all I can think about.”
“The teacup?”
“No, eeijt, the tea room. I can’t remember being so sure of anything in all my life. A Jane Austen tea room in Austin, Texas. I mean, think about it. It’s got to be destiny! And I know Nana will be excited too, once I share all my ideas with her. I’ll do my research, I’ll study all about the different teas and pastries, and we’ll design everything down to the last detail. I can see it all in my head already. Patrons will think they’ve literally stepped into Chawton Cottage.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming, Lanie. Can I do it? Will you help me?”
“Of course you can, and of course I’ll help, silly. It’s just what Austin needs. And no one could do it better than you. Just don’t forget your promise to let me work there, m’dear.” The pitiful accent was back. “I’ll be a real asset to you, I will!”
“The job is yours but lose the Eliza Doolittle, will you?”
“Deal.”
“I still can’t believe Nana surprised us with this dream trip, can you?”
Lanie yawned again. “She’s amazing. And I think it’s so funny how she conspired with Jonathan to make all the tour arrangements for us. Who knew he could pull all that together?”
“That part doesn’t surprise me at all. He can do anything. He may be her attorney, but I’ve watched their friendship grow the last few years. He treats her—I don’t know, really special. Don’t you think?” Maddie smiled, envisioning dear Jonathan, his rim of white hair and the half-glasses permanently riding low on his prominent nose.
She ventured down a whimsical path she’d been traveling a lot lately. Her divine call as a matchmaker was becoming clearer with each passing day. I’m not sure how to do it, but somehow I’m going to get those two together. I’m quite certain this is what God wants me to do. Help people find their soul mates.
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
Maddie blinked out of her musings and picked up here she left off. “Jonathan positively adores her. All she has to do is reach for the phone and he comes running. But still, I’m blown away that she wanted to do this for us. It’s just too much.”
Lanie cocked her head and glared at her. “Too much? Look, you’ve taken care of her for almost eight years now. You’ve had more career offers than most people have in a lifetime, yet you shelved all of them to look after Nana after her stroke. You’re a saint and an angel, and she knows it. She was thrilled to do this for you. It’s not that big of a leap to figure it out. She’s just grateful, Maddie. Really, really grateful.” She pinched her friend’s elbow. “I’m just glad I got to tag along.”
“Ouch! Stop that!” Maddie rubbed her elbow with great flair. “Enough with the pinching, okay? Besides, you make me sound like Mother Teresa. Easy on the accolades or that regency bonnet I bought in Southampton will never fit.”
Lanie blew out a weary sigh. “But I’m serious! You’re an inspiration to everyone who knows you.” She looped her arm through Maddie’s on the armrest. “Me included. Not a bad birthday present either, that’s for sure. But then, a girl doesn’t turn thirty every day.”
“Shhh!” Maddie ducked down in her seat. “You don’t have to broadcast it to the entire plane.”
Lanie rolled her eyes. “What’s to hide? You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’ve got great hair, you’re the most thoughtful and compassionate person I know. So what if you’re still single and seriously geriatric?”
“Stop!” Maddie growled playfully, smacking Lanie’s elbow and bringing on a fresh wave of giggles.
“DO. YOU. MIND!”
The Pierce Brosnan accent emerged from the contorted, infuriated face of the Scrooge peering over his seat at them.
Maddie blinked as her imagination took immediate flight onto the big screen. She, playing the part of Jane Austen’s Emma, being reprimanded by the handsome Mr. Knightley as they practiced archery, dressed in regal finery. Only this Mr. Knightley had thick brown hair with the slightest curl in it—a bit unruly perhaps—framing a frighteningly serious face. She noticed a few streaks of gray, surprising on someone so young. Only the faintest hint of laugh lines fanned his startling blue eyes. As if he once knew laughter—but not in a long, long time . . .
“In case you haven’t noticed, no one else on this aircraft is even remotely interested in your incessant chatter and ridiculous cackling.” The Brit spoke in angered tones barely above a whisper. His biting words snapped Maddie back to reality.
“I suggest you attempt to contain yourselves for the remaining moments of this flight or I shall ask the flight attendant to sequester both of you to the loo. Am I making myself quite clear?” His eyes blazed first at Lanie then at Maddie.
Neither moved or made a sound.
“Well? Am I?” he demanded.
“Quite. Yes. Quite.” Maddie’s words sounded stilted even to her own ears. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “We’ll try. We really shall try. Absolutely. Our deepest apologies. Deepest. Truly.” Oh no. Please tell me I didn’t say that with an accent? He’ll think I’m mocking him. She clamped her mouth shut and forced a pathetic smile.
Lanie elbowed her, casting an agitated glance before turning to face the intruder. “Listen, Ebenezer, I don’t know who you think you are, but unless you own this big bird, what gives you the right to—”
Maddie returned the jab.
“OW!”
“Please accept our apologies,” Maddie interrupted with no trace of an accent. “We won’t disturb you again.”
Lanie glared at her. Maddie returned a plastered smile, raising her eyebrows to communicate in their silent language again: Not. Another. Word.
The man disappeared behind the seatback, his exasperated sigh drifting between the seats.
Lanie rolled her eyes again, slouching down in her seat. “Well, that was fun,” she whispered. “Sounds to me like someone got up on the wrong side of the island this morning.”
Half an hour later, the exhausted travelers gathered their belongings from the overhead compartments and exited the plane. Maddie and Lanie carefully avoided eye contact, or any other kind of contact, with Sir Scrooge. Through the terminal they kept a safe distance as they made their way to the baggage area.
“Maddie, look—it’s him,” Lanie grunted as they reached their carousel. “Get a load of all those bags. He must have paid a fortune in extra baggage fees. He’s got more luggage than we do combined.” She snorted. “The man travels like a girl.”
They broke into laughter again, more from fatigue than anything else, and watched his every move. Scrooge followed the sound until he spotted them, his jaw clenching at the sight of them. Visibly irritated, he looked away, busying himself as he counted all his bags. A uniformed skycap approached him, then began loading the bags onto a cart.
“Look, Maddie. Here comes your last suitcase. C’mon, let’s go. I’m beat.”
Maddie stepped through the crowd and reached for her bag, then stacked it atop her bigger one. Popping the handle up, she tilted the bags, rolling them behind her as she followed Lanie toward the exit doors. Lanie stopped short as her unsecured bags toppled over, spilling into everyone’s path. Maddie quickly helped her gather the scattered bags, moving them out of the way. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to use the straps to—”
“Stupid bags. I knew better than to borrow these from Alice.”
“I’ll get this one, let’s just go.” Maddie grabbed a smaller bag. Just as the automated doors slid open, she glanced up to see a man in an expensive dark suit holding a printed sign bearing the burnt orange University of Texas logo:
DR. IAN GRANT
“Over here—I’m Dr. Grant.”
At the sound of the familiar English accent, Maddie turned around just as Scrooge handed off his bags to the skycap and headed toward the man in the suit.
“Welcome, Dr. Grant! I’m Howard Martin, head of the English department at the University of Texas. We’ve chatted on the phone.”
Scrooge extended his hand toward Martin who grasped it heartily. “Right. Of course. Nice to meet you in person at last, Dr. Martin.”
“On behalf of the University, I welcome you to the United States and to our great state of Texas. We are most excited about your upcoming year with us. I trust you had a good flight?”
“Oh great,” Maddie muttered under her breath. “We’ve ruffled the feathers of a visiting professor.”
Lanie moaned. “Well, I guess I can kiss my raise goodbye,” she whined, concerned about her job as an assistant librarian on campus. Even as the words left her mouth, her bags fell over again, this time sending a broken wheel skittering with lightning speed across the tiled floor. Maddie and Lanie watched in horror as the renegade wheel headed right for Scrooge as if on missile lock.
“No! No! No!” Maddie cried in a hoarse whisper.
Lanie grabbed her bags then pushed Maddie, rushing for the automated doors. “Move it, Maddie. We’ve gotta get out of here. Hurry!” Just as the doors slid open again, they heard the distinctive cry of a man who’d lost his footing.
“Ahhhhhhh—” Thunk!
“Dr. Grant! Are you all right?”
Maddie leaned back to look through the closing doors as the commotion erupted in their wake. “But shouldn’t we—”
Lanie propelled Maddie through the doors, then with thumb and forefinger bracing her lips, let loose an ear-piercing whistle.
“TAXI!”
Chapter 2
“Ian, please let me know if you need anything else. I’m so sorry about all this,” Howard Martin apologized for the umpteenth time since the fiasco at the airport. “Are you sure I can’t arrange for a nurse to assist you? It won’t be any bother at all, and the University would, of course—”
“Howard, I’ll be right as rain in no time. I’ve lived alone long enough to know how to take care of myself. But thank you.” Ian limped to the door with the aid of his crutches, compliments of the hospital emergency room.
“Well, then, I’ll leave you be. You have my number if you need anything. Please don’t hesitate to call.”
“I will. Thank you, Howard.”
Martin backed out the front door, casting another mournful glance at Ian’s injured foot before heading down the bricked sidewalk to his car. Ian used one of his crutches to shove the heavy door closed then wrestled his way back to the living area just off the foyer. He dropped into the soft leather chair, tossing his crutches on the floor beside him, then propped his booted foot on the matching ottoman.
“It’s a bad sprain, Dr. Grant, but the x-rays show no broken bones. Just stay off your feet as much as possible and keep that foot elevated.” The ER physician had wrapped Ian’s right ankle and heel in a figure eight with miles of Ace Bandage.
Now, with his eyes resting on the oversized boot covering his throbbing foot, Ian blew out a frustrated sigh and dropped his head back against the chair. “Splendid.”
With only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the background, he closed his eyes and tried to figure out how he would prepare for his classes, navigate his way to and from the campus, or manage the simple things like showering and dressing. It was kind of Howard to offer to send help, but the last thing he wanted was some overzealous nurse smothering him day and night.
“Blast those ridiculous girls!” Ian punched the arm of the chair with his fist.
He’d seen them bothering with their bags as Martin arrived and made his introductions. It was bad enough to endure the flight from London with those two constantly twittering behind him. If he had heard one more word about Jane Austen, he would surely have lost his mind. A few days in England and they fancy themselves experts on the entire life and works of Miss Austen. Typical Yanks.
After arriving at the airport, they seemed to appear everywhere he turned in the terminal. Hard to miss the two of them. The dark-haired hippy with her long flowing skirt and stupendous floppy hat. The nerve of the woman, trying to tell me off. Absolutely appalling.
And how could you miss the tall one with her all those strawberry curls . . . or were they reddish blonde? He remembered the wisps of those curls dancing as she walked, glistening in the bright sky-lit terminal. Even through his tirade on the plane, he’d noticed her fair skin with the faintest of freckles sprinkled across a perfect nose.
Ian shook the image from his head disturbed by the thoughts. Good heavens, what’s the matter with me? Must be the painkillers they gave me at the hospital. But the imprint of her face continued drifting through his mind . . . her peculiar attempt at a smile after he’d chastised her on the flight. Were those eyes hazel or were they green? Green. Definitely green. I’ve never seen eyes so vibrant and alive. So . . . sincere?
He felt his facial muscles relax for the first time all day. With a grunt, he rubbed his face. Women are nothing but trouble, be it here or across the pond. It must be in their Yankee DNA.
Ian grabbed his crutches again and clumsily lifted himself off the chair. He wanted to check out his lodgings. Howard had described Bradford House, the university’s residence for visiting professors, as “comfortable and nicely appointed.” Indeed. He was pleased with his surroundings—the hardwood floors, the expensive leather furniture and works of art. Quite obvious the university took pride in housing guests here. The house, located in prestigious Hyde Park, was built in the late 1800s, according to Howard, but its caregivers had certainly outdone themselves keeping it up to date.
He continued his slow awkward tour of the downstairs, relieved to find the master suite on the first floor. King-size bed. Whirlpool tub in the master bath. An oversized desk beneath a large window in the study. And at the back of the house, a modern kitchen fit for a king and well stocked at that. He grabbed a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator, snatched a handful of red grapes, and hobbled back to the bedroom.
An hour later, after a long hot bath, Ian fell into bed. With the BBC on mute on the bedroom’s large flat-screen television, he sunk deeper into the embrace of the soft sheets, finally giving in to his fatigue. Falling into a deep sleep in mere moments, he was surprised when none other than Jane Austen herself showed up. She turned out the light on the bedside lamp and clicked off the remote. Wait—how did she know how to do that? She tucked him into bed, much as his mother had done when he was just a lad. And just like Mum, she planted a gentle kiss on his brow. He looked full into her face—a face surrounded by wispy curls of strawberry blonde, adorned with a sprinkling of freckles across a perfect nose, warm green eyes, and smiling lips . . .
Good night, Jane.
Good night, Ian.
“Nana!”
Maddie flew across the foyer and into the sitting room where her grandm
other sat reading. “Oh Nana, we had the most amazing time! You should have come with us! You would have loved it!” She knelt beside Rachel Cooper, engulfing her grandmother in an enormous bear hug.
“Oh good heavens, Madeline! You’re about to choke the stuffing out of me, dear.” The slow, careful cadence of her words warmed Maddie’s heart.
“I don’t care! I’ve missed you so much, and I have so much to tell you, and I don’t even know where to start and—wait—how are you feeling? Are you okay?” Maddie leaned back, taking in the full sight of her sweet Nana. Her eyes raced over the thick white hair, gathered into an elegant chignon. She searched her grandmother’s ever-smiling eyes, always filled with life and love . . . the gentle wrinkles around her mouth, still lopsided from the paralyzing effects of the stroke. She noticed Nana’s favorite summer shawl draped over her shoulders, a perfect match to her lavender blouse and slacks. The hint of lilacs, her grandmother’s familiar scent, reminded Maddie she was home again where she belonged. “Oh, you look perfectly wonderful!”
“I feel perfectly wonderful, sweetheart. Now, sit. I want to hear everything. But first tell me why you’re so late? I expected you almost three hours ago.”
Maddie fell onto the sofa beside Nana’s chair, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her. “I’m sorry. I should have called. Lanie arrived home to a crisis, and—”
“Mercy, what now? That poor child lives in eternal calamity.”
Maddie rubbed her eyes and yawned. “You’re not going to believe this. Alice was supposed to take care of Mr. Darcy. Well, apparently—being the selfish roommate that she is—she neglected to feed the poor cat and he died.”
“Oh no. Mr. Darcy is dead?”
“We’re guessing Alice must have spent most of the last fourteen days at her worthless boyfriend’s apartment. Left poor Mr. Darcy all alone without so much as a morsel. And Nana, you know how much Lanie loved that kitten! She couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop crying because she was crying—all the while, Alice acting like it wasn’t her fault that he died. Can you believe the audacity?”