Laura Childs - Dragonwell Dead

“Tomorrow?” asked Theodosia. Wow, this woman works fast. Maybe that’s why she’s a hotshot commodity broker .

“Yes,” said Leah, growing more and more enchanted with her idea. “I was going to take my group to Le Pouvre, but your place would be far more suitable. From what I hear it’s extremely civilized.” Leah grabbed her day-date book and scanned it eagerly. “Shall we say one o’clock?”

“Fine,” said Theodosia, knowing she’d have to give a heads-up to Drayton and Haley. “We’d love to have you. How many guests?”

“Five in all,” said Leah, holding up a hand and splaying out her fingers. “Oh, and make sure everything is très elegant, will you? We’ll be expecting the unexpected.”

“Will do,” promised Theodosia, knowing in her heart that every single tea or luncheon that she, Drayton, and Haley catered and served was considered special. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Knock knock,” said a male voice.

“Bobby Wayne,” exclaimed Leah. “Come in. Look who’s here.”

“Hello, Theodosia,” said Bobby Wayne. He walked over to where Theodosia was sitting, bent down, and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. “Good to see you.”

“She dropped by to collect Mark’s personal belongings,” explained Leah. “To help expedite things I had Martha pack everything last night.”

“Is that right?” said Bobby. He cast a warm and sympathetic smile toward Theodosia. “It’s awfully nice of you to be so helpful to Angie. I spoke with her last night and she couldn’t say enough good things about you and Drayton.”

“And I understand you’ll be giving the eulogy at Mark’s funeral on Thursday,” said Theodosia.

Bobby Wayne nodded sadly. “I didn’t think it was my place, but Angie was so insistent I just couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job,” said Theodosia. A few months ago, Delaine had twisted Bobby Wayne’s arm to serve as master of ceremonies for an Animal Rescue League fund-raiser and he’d done a wonderful job. So Theodosia expected Bobby Wayne would be able to find just the right words for Mark’s funeral service. “And thank you for being there for Angie,” added Theodosia.

“I told her anything I could do to help, she should just call. Day or night. After all,” said Bobby Wayne, “Mark was family.”

Leah’s phone shrilled and she made a fast grab for it. “Hello? Leah here.”

Bobby Wayne faced Theodosia again. “Can I give you a hand with those boxes you came to fetch?” he asked. “Apparently everything of Mark’s has already been packed.”

“So I’ve discovered,” said Theodosia.

They waved good-bye to Leah, then trooped back down the hall to Mark Congdon’s office. Bobby Wayne grabbed the two boxes off the now-empty desk and lugged them out to the parking lot.

“Thanks so much,” said Theodosia as she popped open the back door of her Jeep.

“No problem,” said Bobby Wayne, although his face was a little red and his breathing had become somewhat labored.

For some reason, Theodosia had forgotten all about the cardboard box containing the broken glass.

Good lord , she thought to herself as she gave that box a quick shove toward the front, then flipped a piece of tarp over it. But Bobby Wayne appeared not to notice as he struggled to load the boxes he’d just ferried down.

“Leah seems like a very capable executive,” said Theodosia as she shut the back hatch. There was something about Leah Shalimar that didn’t sit right with her and she wanted to find out more.

“Leah’s not only smart, she’s a hard worker, too,” responded Bobby Wayne. He’d pulled out a white hanky and was mopping his brow. “She’s especially stepped up to the plate now that she’s going to be handling some of our very special accounts.”

“I understand Leah is taking over for Mark?” said Theodosia, remembering what Fayne Hamilton had told her earlier.

“She is now,” said Bobby Wayne.

“So in a way it’s a kind of promotion for Leah?” prodded Theodosia.

Bobby Wayne cocked a sharp eye at Theodosia. “I never thought about it that way, but, yes, I suppose it is. To be honest, it was always a question of who would head the firm’s FOREX Division, Mark or Leah. They were the two big stars of the firm.” Bobby Wayne shook his head and sighed deeply. “Now, sadly, that question’s been answered. Tragic circumstances spared us from making that difficult decision.”

I wonder , thought Theodosia, I wonder if that’s completely true .

Hot crab casserole was one of Theodosia’s favorite luncheon entrées. Loaded with good Carolina blue crab, the dish was creamy, cheesy, and sinfully rich. All the attributes Theodosia loved in food, but probably should be wary of. Plus, Haley was serving her crab casserole with traditional southern spoonbread. What a delightful combination!

“This looks fabulous, Haley,” exclaimed Theodosia. She’d ducked in through the back door and dumped her handbag on top of a landslide of catalogs and correspondence that was mounded atop her perpetually messy desk. Now Theodosia slipped an apron over her head and threaded the strings around her waist as she admired Haley’s cooking prowess.

“The crab casserole’s a cinch,” said Haley, pulling her first pan, all golden brown and bubbling, from the oven. “And the spoonbread’s just plain fun—there’s no niftier way to combine butter, milk, cornmeal, and eggs. Anyway, I thought the combo would make for a nice luncheon duo today. Oh, and there’s chilled crab salad, too. Just in case some folks prefer cold instead of hot.”

“You hit the fish market this morning,” observed Theodosia.

“Oh yeah,” said Haley, who was a stickler for buying fresh food as well as making full use of local produce. On almost any given morning you could find Haley Parker, wicker basket in hand, stalking the open air farmer’s markets. Prodding the red snapper, casting a watchful eye out for the best flounder, cobia, and bluefish. Haley picked up jars of local honey and jam, too. And knew a special few vendors who ventured out into the woods hunting for tasty yet short-seasoned morels. Of course, Haley’s careful and discerning eye paid off big time. The customers who flocked to the Indigo Tea Shop were always delighted by Haley’s traditional recipes as well as her imaginative nouvelle creations.

Theodosia glanced at her watch. It read eleven-thirty. “When will you be ready to serve?” she asked.

“Be about five minutes,” replied Haley. “Drayton’s already taken the orders, so maybe just go out and check that everyone’s teacups are filled. Oh, and I made a pitcher of strawberry slush tea, too. It’s chilling in the fridge.”

“Haley, you’re a wonder,” said Theodosia as she slipped between the velvet drapes and out into the tea room.

“Well, hello there,” said Drayton. He was behind the counter, ringing up a take-out order of tea and scones.

“Everything go okay?” he asked once he’d packed the order in one of their signature indigo-blue bags and handed it over to the customer.

“Yes and no,” said Theodosia.

Drayton raised an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he said.

“Mark’s things had already been packed by the time I got there,” said Theodosia. “So the only real work was carting a couple boxes down to my Jeep, which Bobby Wayne kindly helped with.”

“I don’t see the problem,” said Drayton as he ladled a scoop of rich black Darjeeling tea into a blue-and-white teapot. Wait a minute,” he mumbled to himself. “Did table six want the Jungpana Estate or the Singel Estate?” He thought for a minute. “Jungpana.” He glanced over at Theodosia. “Okay, now I’m listening.”