Jack backed toward the door, palms raised in innocence. “And Granny would agree. It’s always nice to be neighborly.”
With that, the door closed on her brother’s self-satisfied smirk, and Daphne followed his steps to lock up behind him. Her gaze flicked toward the street, to where the Cabriolet had been parked a few hours ago. It was gone now, and most of the shops on Main Street were winding down for the night. Only Marla and Max’s Ice Cream Shop and Joe’s Diner still buzzed with late-evening customers.
Finn whatever-his-name was new to town.
And probably lonely.
She sighed and walked back toward the counter, weaving between her cozy café tables and delicate floral centerpieces. As she scanned thespace, Jack’s encouragement replayed in her mind, and a flutter stirred in her stomach like tea leaves unfurling in hot water.
Tea Thyme wasn’t just Granny’s legacy anymore. It was hers to grow, to shape, to fill with her own voice and her own creations.
Her gaze landed on the small tin of Midnight Muse, then on her phone, the social media apps she’d used so frequently a year ago now painfully inactive. Maybe tonight she’d open one again. Post a reintroduction. Experiment with sprinkling in a bit of her humor to see how it steeped.
Tiptoe forward.
Maybe bring back a bit of the woman she used to be.
Take new chances.
Her attention shifted to the wall separating her from Mr. Obnoxious and his forthcoming pub.
She rounded the counter and tipped her gaze to the ceiling again. “Fine, Granny. I’ll give him another chance. To be more neighborly.”
She picked up her dishcloth and backed toward the kitchen doorway. “But it’s not because he’s handsome.”
She exhaled into the empty room and flicked off the lights, the dim glow of the evening casting warm, dusky hues over the shop.
“And it’s certainly not because he’s English.”
Chapter 3
@TeaThymeNC:Running a tearoom: 10% tea pouring, 90% wondering where I left my spatula and teaspoon. But at least there’re scones. Stop in and try some. They’ll go great with a delicious cup of tea. #TeaLife #SendHelpAndSugar #TeaThymeNC #TeaLoversUnite
Comments:
@JackAustenPhotography:Hold up. Is this my sister? Posting. On the internet. Voluntarily?? Is the Wi-Fi stronger in the tearoom or is this one of the signs of the apocalypse? #ProtectTheScones #ICaughtItOnCamera
@TeaThymeNC:You are not as funny as you think you are.
@PastorNateNHC:The Lord moves in mysterious ways. But really. Were there threats or bribes involved? #IKnowYourBrother #FaithAndFlour #TeaAndTestimony #HoldingTeacupsHostage
@WisteriaGeneralStore:New tote idea: “Where is my spatula?”—A Daphne Austen Original. Comes with pockets for rogue teaspoons. #MerchDrop #TeaRoomEssentials
@RosemaryatThyme:Daphne? Posting? Finally! #HerBrotherMadeHerDoIt
Daphne balanced the tray carefully on her hip as she stood before the freshly painted door of what would soon be Finn’s pub. The simple “Coming Soon” message on the large chalkboard outside the restaurant lacked the charm she would have chosen, but what did she expect from someone who dismissed Tea Thyme as a “princess tea shop”?
Yet, here she was, armed with fresh cranberry-orange scones and a thermos of Midnight Muse—all in the spirit of goodwill. Jack was right. Being neighborly was what Granny would have wanted. And maybe, just maybe, proving Finn What’s-His-Name wrong about her and her shop would be satisfying in its own petty way. Plus, if she were being honest with herself (which she tried to avoid before her second cup of tea), she was curious about the man behind the accent and the attitude.
After all, he was new to Wisteria.
And there was no one better at oozing welcome with the same flourish as Southerners. It was practically written into their DNA, right alongside an appreciation for sweet tea and the ability to say “Bless your heart” with seventeen different meanings.
She certainly wouldn’t hurt that reputation by being aloof just because Finn proved a tea shop snob.
Drawing in a steadying breath that carried the scent of drying paint and sawdust, Daphne rapped her knuckles against the door. Nothing. Curious. She’d heard movement in there for the past half hour.
She tried again, louder this time, and heard a muffled curse followed by the sound of something—or someone—falling. The crash was impressive enough to suggest either serious property damage or wounded pride. Possibly both.
