shoulder.
“Drayton’s gone already?” asked Theodosia. She was just rinsing out a teapot. It was four thirty and their customers had long since departed.
“He’s off to prep for his Heritage Society lecture tonight,” said Haley. “Something about Carolina coast shipwrecks. Or maybe it’s on lighthouse architecture.”
“Trust Drayton to pick a slightly academic subject,” said Theodosia.
“Our boy’s a real smarty,” said Haley.
“But you’re off to class, too,” she observed.
“Just a night school class,” said Haley.
“What is it this time?” Theodosia asked. Haley vacillated between business, English, marketing, and art history. Probably, once she finished taking classes, she’d have enough credits for two master’s degrees and a PhD.
“Mass communications,” said Haley. “But I’m taking it mostly for fun.”
“Then have fun,” said Theodosia. After seeing Haley off, she did a quick check of the front counter, snatching up a tin of Dimbulla tea that had somehow lost its lid.
Can’t have that happen
, Theodosia thought to herself. Heat, moisture, and light were the enemies of tea, and Charleston gladly offered all three of those in abundance.
“There it is,” said Theodosia, spotting the lid behind a stack of shiny indigo blue take-out bags. She grabbed the silver lid and popped it on, just as someone pounded on the front door.
“Can’t they read our sign?” she wondered aloud. “Don’t they know we’re closed for the day?”
But the pounding continued, a cacophony that built to an annoying din.
Stepping to the front door, Theodosia swept the curtain aside, ready to act out her slightly apologetic
We’re closed
pantomime. But when she saw Charles Horton standing there, she undid the latch and pulled open the door.
“Charles,” she said, wondering what he was doing here.
“I was afraid I’d missed you!” cried Horton. He had a loud braying voice that came across a little too high volume, a little too hearty, and echoed through the deserted tea shop.
“I was just leaving,” Theodosia told him.
Horton took a presumptuous step inside. “Then I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. She wasn’t thrilled, but she knew she had to be cordial. If only for Delaine’s sake.
“I know you’re one of Delaine’s dearest friends,” Horton began.
Theodosia gave an imperceptible nod. “We’re friends, yes.”
“The thing is, Delaine and I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“Really?” said Theodosia, trying to show a modicum of surprise. Of course, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Horton had popped up a few weeks prior to the wedding and suddenly insinuated himself into his stepfather’s life. And into his law firm. Which had left Delaine feeling a tad worried and suspicious. And could you really blame her?
“I think Delaine initially saw me as a rival for my stepfather’s affection,” said Horton.
“I don’t know about that.”
“And now I have the strangest feeling that Delaine thinks I had something to do with his death!” Horton said in a rush.
Theodosia wasn’t sure how to answer this. Or even how to react.
Horton touched a hand to his chest and pulled his face into a look of supreme anguish. “Me. I’m just as appalled by this terrible murder as anyone.”
“Delaine is under a good deal of stress,” said Theodosia. “I’m sure, in time . . .”
“Which is why I’m here to ask a favor of you,” Horton blurted out. “Even though I really don’t know you and am probably imposing like crazy.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” asked Theodosia.
“I’d be grateful if you’d run interference for me,” said Horton.
Theodosia focused a level gaze on him. “Run interference.”
“Delaine isn’t thinking straight,” said Horton, twisting his face. “She’s angry and bitter and scared right now. I know for a fact that her sister is giving her little if any
“Drayton’s gone already?” asked Theodosia. She was just rinsing out a teapot. It was four thirty and their customers had long since departed.
“He’s off to prep for his Heritage Society lecture tonight,” said Haley. “Something about Carolina coast shipwrecks. Or maybe it’s on lighthouse architecture.”
“Trust Drayton to pick a slightly academic subject,” said Theodosia.
“Our boy’s a real smarty,” said Haley.
“But you’re off to class, too,” she observed.
“Just a night school class,” said Haley.
“What is it this time?” Theodosia asked. Haley vacillated between business, English, marketing, and art history. Probably, once she finished taking classes, she’d have enough credits for two master’s degrees and a PhD.
“Mass communications,” said Haley. “But I’m taking it mostly for fun.”
“Then have fun,” said Theodosia. After seeing Haley off, she did a quick check of the front counter, snatching up a tin of Dimbulla tea that had somehow lost its lid.
Can’t have that happen
, Theodosia thought to herself. Heat, moisture, and light were the enemies of tea, and Charleston gladly offered all three of those in abundance.
“There it is,” said Theodosia, spotting the lid behind a stack of shiny indigo blue take-out bags. She grabbed the silver lid and popped it on, just as someone pounded on the front door.
“Can’t they read our sign?” she wondered aloud. “Don’t they know we’re closed for the day?”
But the pounding continued, a cacophony that built to an annoying din.
Stepping to the front door, Theodosia swept the curtain aside, ready to act out her slightly apologetic
We’re closed
pantomime. But when she saw Charles Horton standing there, she undid the latch and pulled open the door.
“Charles,” she said, wondering what he was doing here.
“I was afraid I’d missed you!” cried Horton. He had a loud braying voice that came across a little too high volume, a little too hearty, and echoed through the deserted tea shop.
“I was just leaving,” Theodosia told him.
Horton took a presumptuous step inside. “Then I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. She wasn’t thrilled, but she knew she had to be cordial. If only for Delaine’s sake.
“I know you’re one of Delaine’s dearest friends,” Horton began.
Theodosia gave an imperceptible nod. “We’re friends, yes.”
“The thing is, Delaine and I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“Really?” said Theodosia, trying to show a modicum of surprise. Of course, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Horton had popped up a few weeks prior to the wedding and suddenly insinuated himself into his stepfather’s life. And into his law firm. Which had left Delaine feeling a tad worried and suspicious. And could you really blame her?
“I think Delaine initially saw me as a rival for my stepfather’s affection,” said Horton.
“I don’t know about that.”
“And now I have the strangest feeling that Delaine thinks I had something to do with his death!” Horton said in a rush.
Theodosia wasn’t sure how to answer this. Or even how to react.
Horton touched a hand to his chest and pulled his face into a look of supreme anguish. “Me. I’m just as appalled by this terrible murder as anyone.”
“Delaine is under a good deal of stress,” said Theodosia. “I’m sure, in time . . .”
“Which is why I’m here to ask a favor of you,” Horton blurted out. “Even though I really don’t know you and am probably imposing like crazy.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” asked Theodosia.
“I’d be grateful if you’d run interference for me,” said Horton.
Theodosia focused a level gaze on him. “Run interference.”
“Delaine isn’t thinking straight,” said Horton, twisting his face. “She’s angry and bitter and scared right now. I know for a fact that her sister is giving her little if any
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