The Tea Shop Page 7

  Carson closed the computer and looked up at his mother. “I took Abigail over to Mrs. Winter’s house yesterday. It was a nice visit,” he said as his mother fidgeted with items on his desk. “Her son called, she’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.”

  His mother’s hands stopped fidgeting. “Carson, that’s horrible.”

  “It is. I’m also dating Abigail,” he interjected.

  His mother had grown silent, and her mouth dropped open. "Carson, that's a lot to drop on me all at once.”

  "I know, I didn't mean to do that.”

  "I'm happy for you. I'm truly happy for you." She pressed her hands to her chest. "My heart aches for Mrs. Winters. But I want to be happy for you. Know that I'm happy for you.”

  "I know. You and dad go and have a nice afternoon. I'm stopping by there after work. I have some more work to do on the Ford Street church. But tell her I say hello.”

  The smile returned to his mother's face. "Will you let Mrs. Winters know I'm thinking of her, and tell her that I’ll come to visit soon.”

  Carson stood and walked around his desk. He pulled his mother into a warm hug. "I'll let her know. She does love your company.”

  His mother patted his cheek and then left his office.

  Carson sat back down at his desk and opened his computer. In the search bar he typed the death of Katie Meadows.

  Chapter 14

  Abigail and Clare hovered in the kitchen, peering out the doorway. At the corner table, Patricia and Al Stone sat having a late lunch.

  "His mother brought his father here to meet me," she said shaking her head. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  "According to your premonition, you didn't get yourself into this. It's fate. It's meant to be. Just think about it, you’re gonna save that old church.”

  Clare went back to finalizing the trays for the next day.

  Abigail moved to the prep table and sat on the stool. "He has a community meeting next week about the church. I'm trying to decide how to bring it up before then. I think it would be better if he just changed his mind before people started to attack him.”

  “Like me?”

  Abigail took the pile of newly laundered napkins and began to fold them. "Well, you were very vocal at the last meeting.”

  “Yeah, that's what those meetings are for. We the people do not want the church torn down.”

  "I know. I don't want to see it destroyed either. I'm just not sure this short relationship we've had justifies me telling him what to do.”

  “You’re going to marry him.”

  "So says that stupid premonition that I had. What if I'm wrong? What if I really don't have a sixth sense and I'm just being silly.”

  Clare stopped what she was doing and fisted her hands on her hips. "You've never been wrong. You knew when grandma was sick. You knew that Mrs. Winters was sick. You saw things were going to happen to Carson, you got him out of harm's way. Even if it was just to tell him to stop by and grab a box of pastries. You know damn good and well you're going to get married, and have four kids.”

  "And I hate everything about that premonition," she argued with her cousin. "I don't want to know that this is the man I'm going to marry. I want it all to be a wonderful surprise.”

  "Well, maybe this is a premonition just for Mrs. Winters. You still haven't seen anything when you touched him. Or kissed him. Maybe you'll see something when you…"

  Abigail shot up her hand. "Stop. Let’s not go there.”

  Clare shrugged her hands in the air. "He seems like a nice enough man, minus the fact that he tears down perfectly good buildings. His parents seem good. Hell, even his best eighty-year-old friend seems good. Maybe you should go sit with them," she said as she nodded towards Carson's parents. "Take the opportunity to get to know them. Maybe you can stop the demolition of that building through them.”

  Abigail shook her head as she climbed off the stool. “I’m not going to use them.”

  "Oh, but you knew you were going marry Carson, and you're willing to use him?”

  Abigail let out a breath of frustration. Fate could be changed. Of course it could be. There was no reason to think that Carson Stone was actually going to be her forever after. Although, just thinking about the kiss they’d shared, she wouldn't mind that forever.

  She took a pitcher of water and carried it out to the Stones’ table. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Patricia looked up at her lovingly, just as Abigail assumed she looked up at her son. "Abigail, please pull up a chair and sit for just a moment. I want Al to get to know you.”

  She wanted to refuse. However, she set down the pitcher of water, pulled over a chair, and sat with Carson's parents.

  What had Carson told them that made them want to come in today? Had he told them about going out and about kissing her? Was he a kiss-and-tell kind of guy? What better way to get to know somebody than to sit with their parents.

  "Mr. Stone, what do you do for a living?" Abigail asked.

  "I'm a retired architect. I did a lot of business in downtown Denver. Before this big boom of course. I think that's why Carson is interested in the development of new things. He always saw me working at my draft table, and would join me.”

  That was good to know. His father must not have appreciated old things either.

  Patricia put her hand over Abigail's, and suddenly Abigail's entire body began to vibrate with a pulse she never felt before.

  "I'm so glad that Carson took you to see Mrs. Winters yesterday. He told me about her condition. It's dreadful. She's been like a grandmother to him. I'm sure he told you about her grandson, about him dying?”

  Abigail could only nod. The buzzing in her ears was horrific.

  Patricia removed her hand and picked up her sandwich. "I'm going to go see her tomorrow. Perhaps I could take her some lemon cake.”

  Abigail forced a smile to her face. "I'll go get one boxed up for her. On the house. It brings me great joy to think that she would enjoy it.”

  Before she could turn away, Patricia called after her. "Carson told me you share a birthday with Mrs. Winters. Isn't that amazing? I think it was fate that you came here. I’m so very happy that you did.”

  Again, Abigail smiled and turned away. What had he told them? As far as his mother should be concerned so far, she was just somebody who owned his shop where Carson frequented. A dinner and a kiss, that shouldn't say forever to his mother. Was he that desperate a man?

  Abigail boxed up a small loaf of lemon bread and tied a beautiful pink ribbon around it. At that moment, she wished she had a rose to tuck into the ribbon.

  As Mr. and Mrs. Stone rose to leave, the front door opened. Abigail walked out of the kitchen, the loaf of lemon bread in her hands, and noticed Carson walking in the door. Patricia moved to him immediately and threw her arms around him, embracing him as a giddy mother would. His father shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

  When he noticed her, he gave her a quick glance, and then looked away. His eyes were dark—angry dark. He must've had a bad day. She certainly wasn't going to mention the Ford Street church now.

  Handing Mrs. Stone the box, she said, "give Mrs. Winters my best. Tell her I'm looking forward to our birthday tea."

  Carson looked at her again and gave her a nod, which she assumed meant he agreed.

  A moment later his parents left the store, and she was standing awkwardly alone with Carson near the counter.

  "Can I get you something to eat? Or something to drink? You’re off work early aren’t you?”

  Carson ran his hand over the back of his neck and moved his head from side to side as if to work out the kinks that might have settled there. "Can I get a glass of water? You wouldn’t have any Tylenol would you?”

  "Sure, are you not feeling well?”

  "I'm fine. What time are you done tonight?”

  "I have two more high teas. Then we’re done for the afternoon.”

  He followed her to the back where he said hell
o to Clare. Abigail retrieved a glass of water for him, and the Tylenol.

  “Thanks," he said as he swallowed back the pills. “Do you like sushi?”

  "I've never had more than a California roll from the grocery store.”

  "There's a great little place over on South Golden Road. I'll pick you up when you're done and take you to dinner. I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Abigail's heart began to hammer in her chest. What could he possibly want to talk about? "That sounds delightful.”

  "Text me when you're ready to leave. I'll swing by." He gave Clare a wave, and Abigail a thoughtful look. He didn't hug her, and he didn't try to kiss her either. Then, he turned and walked out of the store.

  Clare moved in and stood next to Abigail as they both watched him walk out to his car and drive away. “That was really weird.”

  "I know. I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Maybe he’s going to tell you that it won’t work.”

  "Why spend money on sushi then? He could’ve told me right here.”

  Clare nodded in agreement. "You're too practical. I would've just started getting mad."

  What was there to get mad about? Then again, what had his eyes so dark and worrisome? She supposed she'd find out soon enough. For now, she needed to serve her guests as the next set walked in the door.

  Chapter 15

  Carson drove around town for the next hour. Up Lookout Mountain, and back down. He'd even driven by Mrs. Winters’ house, though he didn't go inside. The name Katie Meadows kept swirling in his head. Abigail did not seem like the kind of person who would be involved in anybody's disappearance or murder. Would she answer him when he asked her about it? Would this be a turning point?

  He wasn't ready to give up yet. There was something deep inside of him that told him to fight for this. He supposed it would depend on how she reacted when he brought up the name. Should he do that during dinner? Perhaps he should wait until they were alone. He didn't take Abigail as the cause a scene type; however, you never knew with women.

  He returned to the tea shop just as the lights went off. Good timing, he thought. Carson climbed from his car and walked across the street. He gently knocked on the door, which was locked, and watched as Abigail walked from the kitchen to the door.

  "Great timing. Clare just left, and we just closed out. Pretty good day for Wednesday." She gathered her purse and her keys. "After you left I looked up sushi restaurants on South Golden Road. There's only one. So I looked at the menu. I think I can safely say there's plenty of stuff to order," she said enthusiastically as they walked through the front door and she locked it behind her. "Do you do the raw stuff? I’ve never been able to understand that.”

  "Yeah. I do.”

  They walked across the street to his car, and he opened the door for her. She gave him a gentle smile as if she noticed he was short and to the point. He needed to shake this mood, or he was never going to get any information from her.

  Carson walked around the other side of the car and slid in behind the driver seat. He sat for a moment. “What kind of music do you like?”

  Her eyes went wide, and she thought for a moment. "My mother loves country music. My father is heavy-metal. I never could quite grasp either side. I like jazz. Well, and contemporary. I’m not much into hip-hop and certainly not into rap.”

  The description was enough to make him chuckle, and ease up a bit. He scanned through the XM channels on the radio and stopped at a jazz station. “How is this?”

  "Nice. What did you have it on before?”

  "Business Journal talk radio. I didn't think it was going to set quite the mood.”

  She sat back in her seat and smiled. "I appreciate the change then."

  They drove in silence to the restaurant. Abigail didn't often eat out, so spending time with a nice-looking man who was willing to take her out, had its perks.

  The man who sat them called Carson by name and even gave him a hefty pat on the back. He ordered them each a glass of wine and began to fill out his order on the sushi menu.

  "The menu has cooked items," he said obviously noticing she was studying the sushi menu too hard.

  "I should step out of my comfort zone, right?”

  "The fact that I've dined with you more than once says I've crossed into a comfort zone of sorts. The first time we met I got the distinct impression you might not like me too much.”

  Abigail set down the menu. "I think I would like a tempura meal.”

  Carson finished his order and set it to the side. He studied her. "I'm right. You didn't like me.”

  * * *

  What was she supposed to say that? She supposed the right thing to do would to be honest. "When I first met you, you were charming. You were the perfect gentleman around Mrs. Winters. I assumed she was your grandmother, and you were being very polite. It wasn't until I read your name on your credit card that I knew who you were.”

  “And you recognized my name?”

  "Of course. Then I remembered I'd seen it before.”

  “Because you went to the community meeting about the Ford Street church.”

  She felt her breath sticking in her lungs. Picking up her wine, she sipped to moisten her dry mouth. “You saw me there?"

  He shook his head. "Not really. I remembered Clare.”

  Abigail winced. "She was very vocal."

  “People who are adamant about something usually are vocal. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion."

  This wasn't actually how she imagined they would get into this conversation. But she supposed it was as perfect a time as any.

  "And you're adamant about changing the footprint of the city?”

  His eyes went wider and she noticed his jaw tightened. "The building is old, empty, and dangerous. I'm curious, what would you do with it?”

  Abigail took a breath and then swallowed it. Her mind had gone blank. She hadn't thought she’d be faced with the question like that. "The history of Colorado isn’t too old. You have to admit that. You won’t find many buildings that are over two-hundred years old."

  “You’re right," he said leaning his arms on the table. "But you didn't answer my question. What would you do with the building?”

  Abigail searched her mind to think of something. “It’s big enough for a brewery.”

  Carson nodded. "There are over a hundred and forty microbrewers in Colorado. Let me count how many are in Golden," he said in a tone that had her fighting back a curse.

  "Fine. We certainly don't need another brewery in town. I get it." She realized she could name at least four of them within a mile radius of her tea shop. That didn't include Coors. “What about another church? Why would a…”

  “To keep the structural integrity of the building, it would cost nearly two million dollars. Do you know a church that has two million?"

  She wasn't a fan of this game. "I feel as though I’d do better if I had some research.”

  “Look it up online. Everything has full disclosure. And, if you want to come see the plans, feel free."

  Straightening her back, clasping her hands in her lap, she steadied her breath. "I just might do that. I just don't see a reason to tear down such an amazing building.”

  Carson shrugged as the waitress set their tray in front of them full of beautiful sushi and tempura. He picked up his chopsticks and a piece of yellowtail. "If Golden were to get one tiny little earthquake, I wouldn't have a reason to tear down either. The building is so unstable it would just collapse."

  As she had not heard of any earthquakes in recent times in Colorado, she thought that was a horrible excuse. "Well, then I'm guessing it will stay up until I get my research done."

  Dinner conversation had come to a strange halt. Though they didn't say much, she realized how comfortable she was with him in silence. That usually didn't happen unless you knew somebody well. And she hardly knew him all.

  After dinner, he drove straight back to her shop. As soon as he cut the engin
e, he stepped out of the car and walked around it to open her door.

  "I had a nice evening," she said, but by the small grunt he gave, she wasn't sure he’d had a nice evening. Perhaps she had been too hard on him about the church. That was her mission, right? Then she realized she didn't like how it felt right now. "I'm sorry about what I said at the restaurant. Sorry I got so upset over the building.”

  "It happens. People don't understand what I do. I'll admit, I hoped you would. Do you have to go back inside the shop?" he asked.

  "No.”

  "I'll wait for you to get your car."

  Abigail stood there for another moment, waiting. He didn't touch her hand. Nor did he reach for her or kiss her. Regret surged through her, and she felt horrible now.

  "Thank you again."

  Carson gave her a curt nod of his head as she headed off to get her car.

  Chapter 16

  The mood Carson was in would sour anybody's milk. He hadn't asked Abigail about Katie Meadows’ death, but he certainly got the gist of her disgust for the Ford Street church project. And to top it all off, when he had stopped by Mrs. Winter's house that morning because her son had asked him to, she talked about Jeffery. It wasn't as if she remembered him. It was as if she had spoken to him.

  He wasn't ready to face that. He had enough on his plate, and worrying about Mrs. Winters in her declining health, that tore him up.

  Emily entered his office with a stack of papers and a cup of coffee.

  "You wanted me to remind you that you have a meeting at ten with the zoning commission. Your mother is having lunch catered in for the office. And Abigail Weston is in reception and asked to speak to you."

  He watched Emily's face to see if there was any recognition of who Abigail might be. He decided that his mother must not have bought into sharing office gossip. Perhaps she wanted to take him up on the offer to look at the plans. Well, fine. If that's what was important to her, and that's what was important to him.