Page 41 of The Magical Tea Shop

“Have a seat. The board should arrive shortly.”

“How do you like your job?”

“Honestly?” For an instant, Malory’s expression transformed from grim to enraptured. Just like Ivy felt.

“It’s an ideal fit, but I’m not sure the society thinks so. I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.”

“It’s all right. You were a docent before?”

“No, I—well—I can bring a lot to the society. I’m a historian and well-versed in the eras of the mansions. My education includes extensive study in interior design and décor. I enjoy finding the proper pieces to furnish the mansions. Much gets lost over time. Pieces are sold, damaged, discarded. Finding the proper items to furnish the rooms to look as they did back in the day is my favorite part. Oleander House is ready for tours. We just need to finalize the script. I’ve made suggestions, but Lydia is quite particular. And, of course, Hazel has her own ideas, even though this isn’t her mansion.” Malory grimaced. “Hazel and I clash. If I don’t stay on in this job, it will be due to Mrs. Bestwick.”

The front door opened, and Ivy heard her aunt you-who-ing. She wanted to ask Malory what she meant: if the discord between her and Hazel would lead to her deciding to move on, or if Hazel would attempt to oust her. Either was possible. For all that Hazel looked like a harmless old lady, she was a pistol and when pointed at you could be downright dangerous.

Lydia’s heels clacked her way across the wood floor of the foyer, and Malory winced. Ivy bit back a smile. Oleander House was part of the Hazard Historical Society now, but it had been Lydia’s inheritance. Ivy’s mother had a small interest which one day would be transferred to her and her sister, but Holly had no desire to be involved. Now that the nonprofit had been formed, it wasn’t profitable in a way to suit her sister.

“Ah, there you both are. What do you think, dear? Did you get a chance to view the whole house?”

“No, not yet.”

Lydia frowned disapproval at Malory, and Ivy jumped in to smooth it over. It wasn’t Malory’s fault that Ivy had arrived when she did. “I just got here. I’ll make time to tour the house later. I promise.” Ivy could see, even just from her aunt’s expression, that Malory was somehow in disfavor with her employers. She couldn’t imagine why. Really, who else would they find to come to the little town of Hazard to be so devoted to these mansions? The job couldn’t pay well. Not for a nonprofit. It was evident from the opulence of the room that most of the funds were going into renovation and refurbishment.

Seymour arrived next, his hair in crazy disarray as if he’d braved a tornado to get in the door. Next, Hazel tottered in. For someone who could be such a force she seemed frail, so much more than usual. Malory disappeared the moment Hazel entered and reappeared with a tea tray just as Marjorie arrived, her bright red hair in pin curls that looked windblown as well.

Ivy paused to wonder what she had stirred up with her cookie press. It’s like she had set loose the winds of change on her small community.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you could make it.” Marjorie waved her tightly bandaged hand for effect.

Ivy bit back a smile. “My pleasure.”

Marjorie slid a binder over to her just as Ivy pulled out a laptop from her satchel. The older woman shook her head, curls bobbing. “No, no, use the binder to take the minutes.”

“But wouldn’t it be more efficient…” Ivy’s words trailed off as they all scowled at her. Ivy threw a glance at Malory, who shrugged, as if to say,See what I’m up against?

The society were all seated around the table, and Malory began to pour. She apparently knew how each took their tea, which Ivy also knew of course, but she found it remarkable that Malory did as well. This must be the usual pattern of the meetings. The board sitting regally, and Malory serving. It took Ivy back in time, she supposed, to a day when the original owners would have had servants to attend them.

Malory was using the Famille Rose dishes, and it thrilled Ivy no end. Malory raised an eyebrow at Ivy as if to ask how she took her tea. Ivy blinked. “Oh, one sugar, thank you.” It was so rare to be served tea by anyone other than herself. It made her feel awkward and honored at the same time. Once everyone was situated, Hazel placed her hands on the table and pushed herself up to stand. She banged her gavel smartly on the wood three times.

Malory winced visibly, her shoulders jerking with each bang of the gavel on wood.

Hazel glared at her, rolled her eyes at the rest of them, and teetered sideways before she caught herself. Ivy glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, but no one but her seemed aware of Hazel’s sudden show of weakness.

“This meeting of the Hazard Historical Society is now called to order…” Hazel’s glance wandered around the room until it landed on the Georgian Mahogany Bracket Clock. She squinted. “…at 6:08 p.m.”

Ivy snatched a pen from her satchel, flipped to a new page in the binder, and began to take notes.

“Old business. The nonprofit paperwork has been filed for this year. Yes?”

“Oh, yes,” said Marjorie, the society’s secretary. The others let out a relieved sigh. “It was quite the usual ordeal to get it all put together and submitted.”

Hazel nodded. “Now, we can really move forward.” She sounded pleased. “Has the search for a grant writer been successful?” She turned to Seymour, vice president.

“No,” he intoned.

“Has a roofer been found for Sundial Sands?”

“No,” said Lydia, treasurer.

“Has the search for an additional docent been successful?”

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