Sheila Roberts - Starting Over On Blackberry Lane

“I hope you can find a hero somewhere in this batch,” Beth said, using the new term she’d learned from Griffin.

A hero was the one picture-perfect food that would wind up being the final shot. They all looked delicious, but only three made the cut.

“Is that enough?” Beth asked. “I can bake more.”

“No, this will be fine.”

“I had Mark help me move the kitchen table,” Beth said. The vintage red Formica table her family had used for years had been moved aside for this shoot, and a small white oak one that she’d found at Stacy Thomas’s shop, Timeless Treasures, was now placed in front of the window. The light was ideal.

“I think for this shot we won’t use the tablecloth or the cake stand,” Griffin said.

“What about the apples?” Beth asked.

Griffin didn’t want to offend Beth. After all, it was her cookbook. Still... “I’m a little worried they’ll distract from the perfection of the scone.”

Beth shrugged, unoffended. “No problem. I’m sure I can find something to do with them.”

Griffin smiled. Beth was so easy to work with, so easy to please. “Did you say you had some cloth dinner napkins?”

“Oh, you’re going to put them right on the napkins?”

“It’ll look really pretty,” Griffin said. “And what if we took a bite out of one?”

Beth smiled. “Fun! You want to do the honors?”

Beth was always tempting her with fabulous goodies, and it was hard to stay strong. Sugar and carbs were like crack to her. “How about if you do it?”

Beth shook her head. “Has anyone told you recently that you’d blow away in a stiff wind?”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

“You need fattening up.”

She’d been there, done that. “If I have even one bite, I’ll eat the whole batch, and then we won’t get our picture,” Griffin said with a smile.

“Okay. For now I’ll let you off the hook, but you need to let me send a couple of these home with you.”

No doubt about it. Beth was a food pusher. Griffin would take one back to the house just to placate her.

Back to the house. Interesting language. Beth had said home and Griffin had thought house. Hmm.

She tried to ignore that random thought and got busy choosing from among the assortment of napkins Beth produced.

Food photography styles were ever changing. They shifted from an overhead perspective to mimic the way a person usually saw her food to being shot with romantic lighting and props to extremely simple, clean and natural with few props, and even going messy, allowing crumbs or dribbles to sneak into a shot. There would be no crumbs allowed today, but Griffin did like the idea of having one scone with a bite missing, as if someone had been unable to resist it.

An hour later they had their picture, the scones cuddled together on top of a red plaid cloth napkin.

“I love it,” Beth said. Which was what she’d said about everything Griffin had done so far. It was hugely gratifying.

“Now, why don’t I put on some water for tea and we’ll have a bite of one that didn’t make the cut.”

Just a bite, Griffin decided, and helped Beth move her regular kitchen table back in place. Five minutes later they were seated with mugs of steaming tea and little plates, each bearing an apple scone.

Griffin sampled hers and was sure she’d died and gone to carb heaven. “This is amazing.”

Beth smiled. “My mom was amazing.”

“So are you,” Griffin told her. “I don’t know how you do it, but your house has this great vibe. I feel so at home here.”

“Good. That’s the goal, to make people feel at home when they come over. Oh, before I forget...” She left the room to return a moment later with a small box wrapped in pink paper and tied with a satiny white ribbon. “Your present.”

“But I’m not—”

“You can use this no matter what,” Beth said, nudging it forward.

Feeling guilty but knowing Beth wouldn’t let her refuse, Griffin opened it. Inside, nestled in pink tissue paper, were two china cups and saucers; one set was gold trimmed and decorated with pink roses, while the other had lilies of the valley on the cup and a pale green saucer.

“They’re lovely,” Griffin said.

“My mother always said things taste so much better when they’re served in something pretty.”

“They were your mother’s? Then I can’t...” Surely Mia Wright, Beth’s niece by marriage, would want them.

“No. I found these at Timeless Treasures when I bought the table. I know most of us are more casual these days, but sometimes it’s fun to enjoy a little elegance. And even though there’s only one of you right now, you can still have a girlfriend over and use them.”

“Thank you so much. I will,” Griffin said.

In addition to the cups and saucers, Beth did, indeed, send her home with scones. When she got back to the house, she tossed the fat bombs before she could be tempted to inhale them. Then she gave the teacups a special place in the kitchen cupboard, which was full of cheap dishes and bits and pieces her mom had given her.

“I promise I’ll feature you in a picture somehow,” she murmured as she shut the cupboard door.

She put on a thick sweater, made herself a cup of tea in her favorite mug, then wandered out onto her back porch and plopped down on the steps. Steve had been promising to fix that broken one since last August.

Rain clouds were gathering and now they started spitting on her. A good day to edit some pictures on her computer. With a sigh she went back inside.

She spent the rest of the day working on her pictures, then decided to write something for the blog.

She needed a new photo, but it wouldn’t be right to use any of the ones she’d taken at Beth’s. Although Beth had said she didn’t mind, Griffin felt those pictures should be kept top secret until the cookbook came out. So, what visual could she use?

Her new cups and saucers called to her from the cupboard. Of course! She pulled out the lace tablecloth her grandmother had given her and draped it over her coffee table. Hmm. Just cups and saucers wouldn’t work. She made an emergency run to Bailey Black’s tea shop and purchased some of Bailey’s lavender cookies.

“I didn’t think you were big on sweets,” Bailey said in surprise as she loaded up the perfect cookies Griffin had selected.

“I’m not, but I want to feature these in a picture. I’ll say I got them at Tea Time.”

“Really? That’s so cool. And in that case, the cookies are free.”

“It’s only for my blog,” Griffin said.

“It’s great advertising,” Bailey said. “And for the cost of some cookies? Anytime.”

In addition to the cookies, Bailey threw in a couple of Sweet Dreams truffles and some petits fours. Delighted, Griffin thanked her and hurried back home. It took her forty minutes to get everything set up but she was happy with the way her picture turned out. She posted it with the blog, which she’d titled “New Friends and Old Treasures.”

Then she put all the goodies in a plastic container and braved the rain once more to drop them off at Stef’s. With her house a mess, Stef could use some cheering up. No one was home yet, so Griffin left them on the porch and texted her friend.

Left goodies for you.

Yeah?

From Tea Time.

All right! Thanx.

Better your thighs than mine, Griffin thought. Not that Stef would gain so much as an ounce.

Her work done for the day, she put together a salad, which she ate sitting on the couch while surfing from one social media site to another. Her old college friend Joelle had just gotten engaged and flashed her bling on Instagram.

Griffin looked down at her own ring. What was she going to do with it now? Sell it, she supposed. She could use the money to live on.