Page 55 of The Magical Tea Shop

“Excellent idea.” As Jaxon gazed at Ivy, he knew he needed to share that he was leaving, but she was so caught up in the moment. He hated to rain on her enthusiasm.

“You inspired it,” she said.

“Me?” Jaxon opened his mouth to admit he was leaving, but choked on the words. He couldn’t bear to dim the light in her eyes.

“You’re good for me.”

Jaxon ignored the voice of self-recrimination and focused on Ivy’s zeal instead. “Tell me more about the fundraiser.”

Chapter Nineteen

Brantley insisted onpicking Ivy up for their date at her apartment, but she convinced him to meet at the tea shop. He drove up in a restored Model T Ford.

“Oh, my, this is lovely.”

“I like restoration.”

“An old-fashioned kind of guy.”

Brantley ducked his head. He was silent on the drive out, which didn’t surprise Ivy. He came across as reserved, but the silence didn’t feel companionable like it did with Jaxon. This was strained to the point where Brantley’s angst began to affect her. Ivy breathed a relieved sigh when they reached Oleander House.

The others had arrived, with Malory waiting only on Ivy and Brantley. Ivy started to apologize, but at Brantley’s stiff posture fell silent, intuitively aware that apologizing would embarrass him. A private tour might’ve been better, but Ivy was just as glad to be part of the group.

She scoped out their tour companions. First was a couple in their sixties, formally attired for their anniversary celebration after, followed by a bevy of women in jeans, tank tops, and flirty dresses, all clearly together on a girls’ trip. Overall, a total of eight made a fairly comfortable turnout to tour a mansion that hadn’t even had its grand opening yet.

Malory was gracious, if overly solemn. Ivy could see why Hazel didn’t favor her delivery, especially for Sundial Sands, but for Oleander House it worked, due to the mansion’s murky past. In dour tones, Malory relayed the mansion’s history, how Laurent LaFleur, fourth son of Henri and Giselle LaFleur, arrived in 1785 to make his fortune in the new world. His interest in shipping led him to commission ships to carry ginseng from the new world to China and bring tea, tableware, and spices to America. Laurent planned to bring his betrothed over, but she perished with her family and his in the French Revolution when his family’s ancestral home was set aflame by an angry mob.

As the only remaining son to carry on the family name, he married a local girl, but the union ended tragically when she died of tea made from oleander leaves after the birth of their only child. The son took over the flourishing shipping company and christened the mansion Oleander House in homage to his mother.

Hmm, wondered Ivy, was owning a tea shop in poor taste considering her family history? Or did it bring the family history full circle?

Ivy adored traipsing through the rooms. Malory had done a stunning job showcasing tableware and sharing the history of the family’s business. She related the stories of the marriages down through history. Ivy’s Irish father wasn’t mentioned but her mother was, having lived in the house as a toddler raised by Aunt Lydia until the house was shut down forty years ago when the upkeep grew too expensive.

Malory drew attention to Brantley’s work and introduced him to the other tour members.

He blushed a deep red at being singled out. Malory singled out Ivy as well, making the others laugh and look askance when she mentioned her tea shop. Clearly, naming a blend for Oleander House was out of the question. What the tour lacked was a gift shop. Ivy planned to suggest it to the historical society.

She wasn’t sure what Brantley had in mind next. He was so quiet. But he took her on a leisurely drive along the cliff, and it was breathtaking and beautiful, but also hushed and awkward. They wound up at Toby and Mac’s, which seemed an odd choice, as the pub was known for being loud and lively. Brantley didn’t seem the type, but he had her car door open and ushered her inside so quickly it left no chance to suggest another venue.

Music was several decibels above conversation level, blasting out “Rock and a Hard Place.” Ivy spotted three of the Roadies in skinny jeans and halter tops huddled at the bar. Brantley pulled Ivy behind him to tuck in at a teetering table in an alcove. When Mac swung by, Brantley ordered mussels and mojitos for two. Ivy almost spoke up but shrugged it off. She was oddly relieved to see Jaxon at the table with Roman, now free of his crutches. She could just make out a bit of their conversation, of Roman talking a mile a minute about door latches.

After ordering, Brantley excused himself, and the Roadies descended on Ivy’s table.

“So, Ive, we see you’re hangin’ with the Rebels’s shortstop,” said Nell, star hitter for the Roadies and leader of Hazard’s road crew.

“Have a seat,” Ivy said to the three women, who had already collected chairs and made themselves comfy at her table the minute Brantley was out of sight.

“How’s it going?” asked Tessa, eyeing Ivy intently.

Mimicking them, Ivy leaned in. “Why the interest?”

“Oh, well, we were all in Cece’s when Dina came in, and you know Dina,” said Tylene.

“We just wanted to warn you,” said Nell.

“About?”

“Brantley,” they chimed in unison.

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