Chapter 20 #2
“That was very gracious of you,” Annabelle murmured as she moved to refill a pot of tea with fresh hot water.
“It’s not the older lady’s fault her son forgot his manners.”
“People, am I right?”
“Always people.” She checked upstairs, and found that—surprise, surprise—the party had suddenly decided to rip into their food and had nearly eaten it all.
She smiled at the mother of the birthday girl. “How is it going?”
“It’s delicious, but we just got word that Trixie’s dad is ill, so we need to go.”
“Would you like us to box up the leftovers?”
“That’d be great. Although,” the mother looked over the food, “it doesn’t seem like there’ll be much left over, after all.”
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your time here at The Silver Teapot.”
“One hundred percent. We’ll tell all our friends and leave a five-star review on all the sites.”
“Thank you. We always appreciate good reviews.”
She cleared what she could, then hurried downstairs and told Annabelle to get ready to clean upstairs while she called the family to tell them they could squeeze them in after all.
After depositing the used dishes, she grabbed the café phone and did exactly that. With the addendum that it would need to be shorter than the usual two-hour allocation, due to another party coming in at one.
“There, that’s sorted.” She hurried back to check on the food situation, where her parents were under the pump. “I’m sorry about the extras, but we can squeeze them in.”
“You’ve always been softhearted,” Dad said fondly.
“Well, the lady looked like she might cry, and it’s her birthday after all, so perhaps, even if we give them the rushed version, we could do a special cupcake for her.”
“Of course we can,” Mum said. “Ladies of a certain vintage need to feel special.”
Whether that was a not-so-subtle hint that Mum wanted to feel celebrated, she wasn’t sure, but took the opportunity anyway. “You know we love you, Mum.”
Mum sighed. “I do.”
She was smiling, carrying another tray of tea things when the front door opened. Well, they were back early. The bright light from outside made it hard to see for a moment, giving the figure a halo effect. Then at Katie’s whispered “Oh my gosh!” she peered harder.
Then blinked as her heart beat faster. No. Oh no! The tray slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling hot tea and food and broken china everywhere.
“I’m sorry!” She crouched to pick it up. She glanced up. Why was he with another woman? Who was she? She didn’t look like the Lucinda creature she remembered from a few weekends ago. Had he moved on again already?
But as he moved closer, she knew she couldn’t stay, even with this mess on the floor. She had to go. Her heart was threatening to beat itself right out of her chest! So she stood, shook her head, and turned and ran away.
In all the ways he’d imagined this scenario, none of them had involved Ellie rushing away from him leaving a pile of broken tea cups and spilled tea.
Spilling of tea had to happen, but metaphorical tea, definitely not real tea.
He put his gift on a nearby bookcase and hastened forward to help, when Katie moved in front of him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.” Her gaze tracked to where Charlene stood nervously behind him; then she raised her eyebrows.
Ethan gestured her forward. “This is Charlene. She and I run our church youth group together.”
Katie’s brow cleared. “I recognise you now. You spoke at a church we visited recently.”
They’d gone to his church?
Charlene lifted a hand. “I’m his wingwoman.”
“Wingwoman?”
“Poor Ethan has been more nervous about talking to Ellie than a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out on a first date.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” he protested.
“That’s exactly true. Don’t deny it.”
“You want to ask Ellie out?” Katie said, frowning at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be engaged?”
He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but we’re smashed here. Literally.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She eyed him. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“Please. Let me help. If I can.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Go put on an apron, then clean this up. We’ve got a couple of large parties we’re trying to juggle, and we need this space cleaned pronto.”
Which is how he found himself wearing a frilly apron—which Charlene giggled at and took a photo of, before saying he clearly didn’t need her help and she could go check out the antique store next door, thank you very much—and cleaning up the broken dishes and soggy sandwiches.
But he itched to follow Ellie through the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
He yearned to know if that look in her eye was one that meant he had a chance or maybe no chance at all.
It seemed ridiculous that he’d finally found her and yet still lacked the words to say what needed to be said.
He, who had been trained all his life in using words.
The door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY opened, and his heart lifted, then fell when he realised the woman standing there was not Ellie. She could well be Ellie’s mother, though, judging from that photo he recalled.
“Oh!” She startled. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ethan Ferris. Ellie’s friend,” he clarified.
Because it was true. No matter what Ellie might think or say. He wanted to be her friend—more—and he wasn’t leaving until things were straightened out between them once and for all.
“I came out to see who had discombobulated my daughter so much. I’ve never seen her in such a state.”
Aw, poor Ellie. “My appearance was a surprise.” He gestured to the broken plates. “Hence this. I’m very sorry. I’ll pay for it.”