The Tea Shop Page 4

  He smiled to himself as he pulled off his shirt and threw it into the hamper. He did enjoy a good challenge.

  Chapter 7

  Carson could hear laughter as he approached The Tea Shop on that brisk Thursday morning. He'd worked it up in his head what he was going to say when he went inside. Of course, he couldn't wait to see Abigail's face when he walked through the door.

  He assumed there would be some groaning, but it would be inaudible.

  Her eyes would grow wide before she pressed a smile to those rosy lips. When he visited with Mrs. Winters, he'd been charming, as he always was when he was around Mrs. Winters. When he visited with his mother, he was polite and very interested. Now he would be there with an entire store full of women whom he supposed he could win over with his charm. Sure, some of them might know who he is and have the same opinion of him as Abigail did, but in the end he'd win them over, too.

  Carson passed by the front window and looked inside to see that every table was occupied. Each woman had one of those fancy Prussian cups in front of her, and a plate of breakfast pastries. They were talking, sharing small needlecraft, and laughing. He could hear the laughter from where he stood outside the door. It was time to make his entrance. "Move over Prince Charming, here comes Carson Stone," he humored out loud to himself.

  * * *

  As far as Abigail was concerned, Clare had outdone herself for this morning's tea. There were scones, chocolate pastries, fruit pastries, fruit trays, and a chocolate mousse because Clare simply thought it was appropriate to have more dessert with such a sweet breakfast. Perhaps next month, Abigail thought, they could bring in an omelet station. Maybe she could work something out with the hotel down the street. Cross marketing was important in such a small area.

  She had just gathered up a set of dishes and was bringing out another for Mrs. Duncan who adored her chocolate croissants, when the door to the shop opened, and the bell above it chimed.

  As she moved from the kitchen to the table, she looked up to see Carson Stone walk through the door. Managing to keep the smile on her face, she greeted him. "I didn't expect to see you this morning. What can I get for you? Something to go I presume."

  She watched him scan the room and each woman look up at him. He flashed that smile, oh that smile that had burned into her brain. It had the effect it was supposed to have on all the women in the room. A few of them said hello to him by name. Others asked who he might be.

  Abigail dropped off the plates, asked if there was anything else she could do for Mrs. Duncan, and then made her way back to the front of the store.

  She stepped around the counter and pulled out the biggest box she had. "Are you taking pastries to your office?" If he was going to keep coming into her store to bother her, she might as well make some money off of it.

  Carson had taken a breath as if he were going to argue with her, but then he flashed that smile again. "I came in for a cup of coffee and to talk to your ladies. But you fix me up a box, and I'll take them into the office. Send me with some of your business cards too. I'll bet you'll have a busy lunch."

  Abigail gritted her teeth. "I'll make sure you have the perfect assortment. Why were you coming to talk to the ladies?" she asked quietly.

  Carson leaned in over the counter. "I was serious when I said I thought my mother should retire. I think it would be a good thing to have her in one of the sewing guilds. She would enjoy it immensely. Who might I talk to about that?"

  Abigail looked up and scanned the room. Mrs. Duncan was enjoying her second chocolate pastry, so perhaps she might be pleasant to him. Abigail pointed at the woman who nearly overflowed the tiny chair that was positioned at the end of one of the tables.

  "Mrs. Duncan has been the guild’s president for a decade. She's very picky. Are you sure you would like your mother to be part of that?"

  "My mother is very picky too," he said as he turned around. "I think she should fit in just fine."

  Abigail watched him walk away and make a path straight for Mrs. Duncan. Mrs. Duncan looked up at him with narrowed eyebrows. Carson stuck out his hand, said something, and a moment later Mrs. Duncan was laughing that jolly laugh that took over the store. Abigail began to fill the box of pastries. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that even Mrs. Duncan had fallen victim to Carson's charm. After all, she knew what he was all about, and she fell for his charm too.

  By the time Carson had returned to the front counter, Abigail had the large box full of pastries ready to go. She gave him his total and watched as he pulled his wallet from his pocket without even a thought. Though she was happy for the sale, she kinda hoped he might be put off by it.

  "Will your mother be at work this morning?" She asked him, while she ran his credit card.

  "I'm expecting her."

  "I slipped in one of those chocolate pastries that Mrs. Duncan seems to favor. Before she eats them all." Carson laughed at that. "Tell her I look forward to her book club next month."

  "So she called yesterday after we left, huh? I thought she might. She didn't mention it though."

  "Does she run everything by you," Abigail asks snidely as she handed him back his credit card and slip to sign.

  Carson scribbled an illegible line of squiggles on to the receipt and handed it back to her. In the exchange, their fingers touched, and for the first time, Abigail saw something that hadn't been there before.

  "It was nice to see you this morning, Abigail. Enjoy the rest of your day."

  She bit down on her lip hard enough she could taste a hint of blood. As Carson picked up the box and turned around to leave the store she called out to him to stop him.

  Quickly moving around the counter, she hurried to the door and opened it. "Your hands are full. Let me help you to your car."

  Carson studied her for a moment, perhaps considering whether she had lost her mind or not. "Perfectly able to carry this box. No need for any help. Thank you anyway."

  She reached for his arm but his jacket covered his skin, and his bare hands held the box. Perhaps if she touched him once more, she’d know if what she saw was real.

  He scanned another look over her. “Did I forget something?”

  What was she supposed to say? She’d been so rude to him, and now she was holding on to him. “We over estimated for the party. Clare is great at planning. But I thought if you came by after work, you could pick up what we have left, pastries that is, and take them to the office tomorrow.”

  With a slow and thoughtful nod he said, “Come tonight for pastries for tomorrow?”

  Oh, that did sound dumb. Abigail smiled sweetly and gave his arm a gentle squeeze since she was still holding on to him. “It would be nice to see you again today. If you don’t want the pastries…”

  “I’ll come back by,” he agreed. “What time do you close?”

  “Six.”

  “I’ll be here before then,” he offered as she released him. “I’ll see you later.”

  Abigail watched him climb into his black Audi and drive away with a wave.

  When she turned back to the store, she noticed an entire room of ladies with their noses nearly pressed against the window. So, she might have just saved the man’s life, but now she was going to have to fight off all the gossip. Seriously, she was too nice to have this curse. Why couldn’t it just go away?

  Chapter 8

  The staff in Carson's office was more than happy to have the enormous box of pastries he purchased for them. And of course, his mother was equally as pleased with her special pastry and the phone number for Mrs. Duncan.

  "I'm going to give her a call right now," his mother said as she dashed by him with chocolate on her fingers. He laughed and picked up the phone that rang on his desk.

  He knew his mind wasn't much into his work, when Emily, his assistant, came back in for the third time to have a contract signed.

  "Are you sure you're feeling okay? You never miss these things," she scolded. Though it was hard to take a scolding from a twenty-five-y
ear-old, he thought, he understood her concern.

  "I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind. Thank you for checking these over."

  "Thank you for the pastries this morning. I haven't had one of their pastries since they opened. I may have to start going over there and getting my coffee and my breakfast."

  Carson smiled at that. He had told Abigail he'd bring her business. Maybe she'd find out he was serious about it.

  As Emily left his office, he thought about Abigail. Most of the time she was trying to rush him out of her store. What was with her grabbing on to him this morning? It was as if she didn't want him to leave for work. That was a very strange feeling. But with his mind not being able to focus, he thought he'd leave a little bit early and head over to the tea store. What would it hurt if he had to hang around for a while?

  Throughout the day, Emily delivered messages to him regarding the community meeting that was to be had the following week. Investors wanted to know their money was safe. Contractors wanted to know if they’d still have contracts to count on. And then there were the hate messages. One person called him names he’d never heard of, perhaps that was Emily’s rendition of the message as she read it—all the while her face grew redder. Someone threatened to kill his cat, which he didn’t have, and he wondered why someone would choose to be so violent. A building wasn’t in comparison to a life, which the next person threatened to take—his life, that was.

  It was the voicemail he received around three that had him growing uneasy in his chair. “Churches are sacred. That fancy car of yours is sacred to you. I’m sure you’ll rethink your plans when you see what happens to it.”

  Carson hit the button to turn off the speaker on his phone and glanced out the window of his office to where he could see his car parked in the lot across the street. The car was still there and looked exactly as it had that morning. However, the longer he sat in his office, the more uncomfortable he’d become. Perhaps a nice cup of tea would calm his nerves.

  After informing Emily and his mother that he was leaving, on a business matter, he cautiously walked to his car flinching as he pressed the button to unlock the door. When nothing happened, he climbed inside and exercised equally as much caution when turning on the engine.

  Okay, they’d gotten to him. He was a bit spooked. Perhaps he'd watched too many horror flicks. It would all be forgotten by tomorrow, he decided, as he drove out of the lot and headed toward Abigail’s store.

  Carson parked his car across the street from the quaint little store. He sat there for a moment. Inside, he could see Abigail aligning the shelves with new collectibles. At the moment, she didn't seem to have any customers.

  Why a tea shop? What made her decide that that was what she wanted to do with her life? It was quaint and cute, just as she was. It fit her, he thought, as he watched her do her work.

  He looked at the building that housed the little tea shop. It had been renovated only a few years before he started getting involved in the real estate industry. What had it been, he tried to remember. His mother would know, he was sure of it. It had always been retail, and had always had some kind of cute store in it. He'd have to admit, if he had purchased the building, perhaps it wouldn't be so quaint.

  He understood why people got upset with him. What he didn't understand was why they had to threaten him.

  As Abigail disappeared from view, Carson stepped out of his car. He casually strolled across the street and opened the door to the tea shop. From the kitchen, he could hear someone humming a familiar tune, though he couldn't place it. Wait, was she singing Mandy by Barry Manilow? He chuckled to himself. Yes, she was as quaint and cute as her little shop.

  * * *

  The music playing on the radio always made Abigail think of her mother. She had an affinity for the 70’s, though Abigail never quite understood why. The shop was quiet this afternoon, and Clare had gone home early. There were no high teas on the book. She expected that no one would stop by on their way home. But she would stay open ‘til six. She wasn’t one to go against the little sign in the window.

  Abigail collected the freshly pressed napkins that would go on the tables for tomorrow morning's book club brunch. She sauntered out of the kitchen and the flash of a man at the door caught her eye. Suddenly her singing got caught in her throat, and she nearly let out a scream.

  "I didn't hear you come in. Why did you sneak in?" She scolded Carson.

  "I certainly didn't sneak in. The bell above the door chimed. You were too busy belting out that song. Manilow?”

  "My mother adores him.”

  "So does my mother. Perhaps we should get them together."

  Abigail set the napkins on the table closest to her and brushed her hands over her apron.

  "My mother lives in Kansas City. I don’t think they’ll be dining together anytime soon.”

  "You never know.”

  Abigail glanced down at her watch. "I didn't expect you so early. I can't box everything up yet. Just in case."

  "It just so happens I have nothing to do. Maybe I'll just sit here and listen to you sing Copacabana."

  She didn't like the humor that lit in his eyes when he teased her. However, perhaps having him there would be better. She hadn't liked what she saw when she touched him that morning. She didn't truly understand. She had the keen sense that somebody wanted to hurt him.

  "I don't perform in public," she said picking up the napkins again. "I could, however, make you a tea plate. Earl Grey?”

  Carson studied her for a moment. “If you were gonna sit down and have tea with me, what kind of tea would you have?"

  Abigail gripped the napkins in her hand. She’d brought this on herself. She'd invited him back, and she'd done it by grabbing his arm and touching him. The man must think she was a lunatic. Well, there were times she thought she was a lunatic, herself.

  Abigail gave it some thought. "With the seasons changing, I have found that I liked the spice tea best.”

  “You’re not one of those pumpkin spice latte people are you?”

  "No, I dislike the spiced lattes. But I won't lie, it does go well with pumpkin bread."

  “Sit with me. Have some tea and pumpkin bread with me.”

  Abigail took a breath to argue, but then looking around the store, she realized it would be futile to do so.

  "Fine, I'll sit with you. Put these napkins on each table. On the right-hand side of the plate. And don't mess them up,” she ordered as she handed him the pile of napkins.

  Carson took them. She avoided eye contact or touching him. Turning around, she headed back to the kitchen to find the pumpkin bread that Clare had made earlier that morning.

  Chapter 9

  With pumpkin bread and little dollops of butter on a Prussian plate, Abigail walked back out to the storefront carrying the silver tray set. Carson was seated at the table closest to the kitchen. She noticed he had taken off his tie and loosened the button on his collar.

  Her eyes darted to the other tables where he had laid the napkins down just as he had been instructed to. The chuckle he let out directed her attention back to him.

  “Did I do a good job, boss?”

  "No need to be snarky. But yes, you did a fine job." She set the tray on the table and sat down across from him. She took each plate off the silver tray, and then the saucer and cup as well. He watched her every move, she noted. When all of the dishes were on the table, she stood again and picked up the tray. This time he grabbed her wrist.

  “The tray can sit on the table. You're not serving me as a customer.”

  “Then what am I doing?”

  “You are having some tea and pumpkin bread, with me, as friends."

  Abigail stood there with his fingers touching her skin. But there was calm. No longer did she see a threat to his life. The breath that she knew she was holding, she finally let go.

  “Friends? We don't really know each other.”

  “Well, then I guess we should get to know each other. Friends are just st
rangers who got to know each other, correct?"

  His finger still lingered on her wrist. "Fine. I guess we're becoming friends." She set the tray back on the table and took her seat.

  He was watching her again as she set up her teacup. She tried not to let it make her nervous, but she noticed her hand shook when she held the tea strainer over the cup.

  "Are you going to make your tea?" she asked, noting that he had sat back, very comfortable.

  "I'm having quite a nice time watching you make your tea.”

  Abigail swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn't afraid of this man. If she were, she would have let that rock fly through his window as he drove away from his office. But somehow, he ended up there in her store earlier than anticipated.

  She set the silver pot of water down on the table, clasped her hands in her lap, and looked up at the handsome stranger across from her. "Why do you keep coming by my store?”

  Carson pursed his lips. "I like the view,” he said.

  "I didn't invite you back here this afternoon to flirt with you," she informed him. "I was being nice to a man who has brought me a lot of business in the last couple weeks. Your mother will be here tomorrow morning with her book club.”

  "She did mention that. I think you'll find her friends delightful."

  "So you're just being friendly because we’re in business in the same city?”

  Carson leaned in, moving his teacup and his plate out of his way. He rested his forearms on the table and clasped his hands together. “Abigail, I think you can read me just fine. Yes, I want your shop to succeed. I happen to have a lot of women in my life who enjoy your shop, too. But I'm going to guess that you're a smart woman. You need more hints for me to tell you that I'm attracted to you?"

  Abigail twisted her apron in her hands under the table. "Can't say I expected you to say that."

  "I'll be disappointed if you don't think I'm attractive too.”