Branching out to add a few more items to the menu had shifted her usual morning routine a half hour, so even the sun wasn’t awake when she entered the tea shop’s kitchen to prep. Winston, her loyal retriever, hadn’t approved.
She drew in a breath.
But sometimes change was good.
Or, in this case, necessary.
At least her social media presence was slowly growing. Jack had assured her that online engagement took time and consistency, and she was starting to see some results—strangers commenting on photos of her pastries, reposts of her aesthetic tea setups. But likes and shares weren’t going to pay for her much-needed renovations, a truth she’d only mentioned to Rosemary and Jack.
The former said she’d keep an ear out for more opportunities.
The latter offered her money.
Which he really couldn’t spare since he was renovating his own place.
The dimly lit tea shop ushered her forward, and she flipped on the light switch. They flickered before brightening the room. With a little hum to mark her morning routine, Daphne was filling the quiet with welcome percolation of boiling water and working her morningmagic on some breakfast pastries when the back door screeched with someone’s entry.
“Raspberries!” Rosemary’s voice came before she rounded the doorway into the restaurant. “You know how to make my morning spectacular.”
“I’m self-medicating.” Daphne set the tray of scones on the counter, drizzling a thick swirl of vanilla icing over each one.
“Oooh.” Her friend rounded the counter and slid her purse into its usual hiding spot. “Still brooding about yesterday’s Finn dilemma?”
Daphne sighed dramatically, pushing the raspberries just out of Rosemary’s reach in protest. She’d already endured two unsolicited lectures on dating a “foreigner,” one glare from a jealous nineteen-year-old, and a collection of knowing looks from half the town. If she had a dollar for every suggestive smirk she’d encountered while walking downtown, she could upgrade the plumbing tomorrow.
All of which confirmed what she already knew: She absolutely, positively would never date Finn Dashwood.
He wasn’t her type. At all.
And apart from being female, she wasn’t his.
Men like Finn didn’t settle down. They charmed and dazzled and flitted off like very attractive mayflies, leaving a trail of broken hearts and questionable playlists. The whole flirty, devil-may-care attitude reminded her too much of her dad. Finn Dashwood was the poster child for temporary.
And Daphne? She’d had her fill of temporary.
“There is no dilemma. Just an annoyance.” She rolled some of her tension off her shoulders. “An annoying distraction.” Though, to his credit, he had turned down his music yesterday afternoon, making him a little less annoying.
“You’re not kidding.” Rosemary whistled low. “That much-too-short glimpse I got of him yesterday? Let’s just say, if he’s the standard for British masculinity, I’m relocating.”
Daphne snorted and busied herself by adding diced peaches to a new scone recipe that had popped into her head this morning. “Maybe focus on helping me drum up some business before you apply for citizenship.”
“Oh, right!” Rosemary slid into her apron, tying it in the back as she moved toward the counter. “I’ve passed the word around a little.”
“Thanks.” Daphne nodded. “And I’m thinking of running an ad in theJournalto promote the tearoom for bridal showers and maybe even small wedding receptions. What do you think?”
“Well, that’s daring of you.” Rosemary’s head came up. “Wait. You’ve never advertised?”
“Not really. I just hoped for word of mouth, which has worked well with birthday parties and family reunions, but weddings are where the real money is and—”
“Listen, if anyone was created to make a wedding or bridal shower or whatever else beautiful, it’s you, Daph.” Rosemary dropped on the stool and slid the raspberries close enough to snatch a few. “You make people feel special. It’s just what you do! You just need to let more people know.”
“Thanks for that.” She sent Rosemary a smile and cast the room a glance. “I love this place.” Daphne stepped around Rosemary and walked toward the front door, working up the courage to voice an idea. For some reason, ideas kept coming in spurts over the past few days. “And there’s something else. You know the large patio I share out back with the building next door?” Her thought immediately escalated in to Mr. Hotface Next Door territory. Her throat burned.
Rosemary perked up. “Sure. Cute spot.”
“Well, it’s got a great view of the river and the manor’s pastureland. I was thinking... it might work as a venue for small bridal showers or rehearsal dinners.”
“With the gazebo? And the mountains?” Rosemary practicallysprinted to the French doors leading to the terrace. “Daphne, that’s brilliant. Why didn’t you think of this a year ago?”
