Teacup Novellas 01 - Tea With Emma (8 page)

Nana pushed the lever to roll her chair back. “I will, but for now you must excuse me. I think I’ll go rest for awhile.”

“I’ll help you lie down,” Maddie followed, taking their cups to the sink.

“You’ll do no such thing. Gretchen will be happy to help me. Gretchen?” she called, rolling into the hall.

“Right here, Rachel. Ready for your morning nap?”

Maddie watched as the plump, cheerful nurse greeted Nana with a ready smile. In the weeks since her return from England, she’d come to love the newest member of their family. Gretchen’s warm personality made for a relaxed atmosphere despite the chaos of all the renovations. Maddie couldn’t imagine how they’d managed without her all these years.

“Sweet dreams, Nana. I’ll go over our sandwich menu with you after lunch, okay?”

“Howdy, Miss Cooper.”

“Oh!” Maddie turned as Brad Chapman walked through the back door. “Oh, hello, Brad—I didn’t hear the door open. You gave me a start! How are you this morning?”

Clearing the table, Maddie took a good look at her contractor. He was definitely a man to behold—tall, muscular, tanned, and unusually polite. Quite the gentleman, in fact.

“Fine, thank you. And you?”

“Fine as well,” she answered playfully. “Would you like a cup of tea? I have a delightful English Breakfast tea that’s quite good.”

Brad’s face broadened in a smile. “That’s kind of you to ask, Miss Cooper. But no, I’ll have to pass. I want to finish that built-in hutch this morning before I start in here. The industrial refrigerator and stove should be delivered today.”

“Oh, that’s great! I can’t wait to see how they’re going to fit.”

“They’ll fit real good, Miss Cooper. You have my word. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll head on into the dining room to work. The rest of the crew should be here any minute.” He tipped his ball cap, a gesture she always found amusing, and disappeared into the hall.

Yes, Mr. Chapman, I do believe it’s time I arrange a little rendezvous for you with Miss Lanie Morgan . . .

As Maddie continued washing the dishes, she remembered how Lanie had scoffed at her the first time she mentioned setting the two of them up.

“Are you crazy? A guy like that? Interested in a girl like me? What are you, blind? Besides, Maddie, I think I may be falling in love with Jeff. He says, and I quote, he’s ‘crazy about me.’ Isn’t that incredible? And he writes the
most
romantic emails. I’ve saved every one of them. I’ve never met anyone quite like him.”

“That’s because you’ve never
met
him!” Maddie recognized the love-struck look in Lanie’s eyes, and it made her shudder. She wasn’t about to let her best friend fall for some nerd permanently affixed to his computer. “C’mon, Lanie, don’t be ridiculous. Online romances are a joke. Brad Chapman is the real deal. Not to mention the fact that he’s
here,
not off in cyberspace oblivion. I mean, c’mon, Lanie. Have you
looked
at the guy?”

Maddie knew best, if only Lanie would listen to her! She’d initiated several “coincidental” meetings between Lanie and Brad, inviting her to stop by on the way home from work knowing Brad would still be working. She’d insist they sit down for a cup of tea together before he left. His deep voice and quick sense of humor always made for a good time. Gradually, over the course of time, Lanie had warmed to the idea, responding to Brad’s good manners and easy laugh.

No overtures of romance yet, but that will come if I do my part.
Her mind wandered along a similar path until it landed right across the street.

And then there’s the elusive Dr. Grant. There’s got to be someone I can send his way.
Maddie hadn’t seen much of her new neighbor. Occasionally she’d wave as he left the house for the campus. He had traded his crutches for a cane, still limping as he made his way down the sidewalk. Sometimes he returned her wave, but most often not. She had ventured over to visit him a couple of times, but he’d maintained the same wall of defense. Several times she’d left a basket of cookies or muffins on his porch table. She would send him an invitation for her grand opening, but doubted seriously he would show up.
Unless . . . unless I can find someone to accompany the stodgy professor?

Maddie snapped out of her musings and dried her hands on her apron, acknowledging the smile on her face. Her thoughts skipped back to Lanie and Brad, the vision of a candlelit dinner . . .

“You ’n me, God. We’re quite a team.”

Several weeks later, Maddie crossed the commons of the UT campus headed for Perry-Castañeda
Library. In an hour she would meet with Lanie on her lunch break to go over advertising copy for the tea room. Until then, she hoped to do some research about Chawton to verify what she’d learned while touring Jane Austen’s quaint English cottage. Knowing the library’s layout, she quickly made her way to the sixth floor which housed the English literature section.

Browsing the familiar shelves, she found a couple of books then looked for a table. As she rounded the corner, she was startled to see her neighbor seated at a long table, pouring over a thick volume beneath a green desk light.

“Why, hello Ian,” she greeted nonchalantly. Depositing her books across from him, she pulled out a chair and sat down.

Deep in thought, he finally looked up. “Oh, yes well, hello.” His eyes darted around, much like those of a trapped animal, then back to his book. Maddie noticed a blush creeping up his face. He sighed impatiently then grunted, “What brings you here, Miss Cooper?”

He remembered my name
. “Just doing some research for my tea room. I’ve decided to name it
The Chawton Tea Room
in honor of—”

“For your beloved Miss Austen’s home in Chawton, just outside of Alton, Hampshire.” He never looked up, tossing the comment at her like discarded change. “Big surprise there.”

Maddie wasn’t sure what to make of it.
You’re not going to provoke me, Ian Grant.
“Regardless, I wanted to tell you I’ll be sending you an invitation once we’re ready to open. Probably sometime in early November.”

Ian turned a page, clearly attempting to ignore her.

“I hope you’ll join us. And, just so you know, you’re more than welcome to bring someone.”

Nothing.

“A friend. A date. Whatever.”

He leveled his eyes at her, shutting the thick volume with a loud thud. “A date? Miss Cooper, I am not—”

“Oh, why must you keep playing the martyr? I’ve apologized every way I know how. I’ve made every effort to show my remorse.” She paused for effect, then folded her hands on top of her open book. “I simply want to be friends. Is that too much to ask?” she added quietly.

“Why on earth would you care to be friends with me? Just because I’m residing across the lane from you does not demand we be
chummy.
”

Maddie pushed her hair out of her face. “Because I can sense your loneliness. I see the sadness in your eyes, and I want somehow to make you feel more at home here.”

Ian stood, grabbing his book. “Is that a proposition, Miss Cooper? You think I’m so lonely, I’d accept your company just so I won’t be ‘lonely’ anymore? You’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“No, wait! That’s not what I meant at all!” Maddie whispered loudly, standing as he started to walk away. “Please! This is exactly what I’m talking about—why must you still be so angry with me? And why must you reject my gesture of friendship—and that’s
all
it is, Ian. Nothing more, I assure you.”

He paused, then turned to look at her. Maddie felt his blue eyes bore into her soul, but she fought the urge to look away.
Why oh why must he be so handsome?
As he stepped toward her, she felt her heart pounding inside her chest.

Finally, standing mere inches from her, he opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. His eyes searched hers as if conflicted. Then his stern countenance softened before he broke eye contact and blew out another sigh. “Look, Miss Cooper—”

“Maddie.”

A sad smile attempted to reach his eyes. “I don’t wish to be rude. But I’m not . . . you see, it’s simply that . . .” He exhaled, standing straighter. The vulnerability vanished. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m much too busy. Good day.”

She watched him limp away, somewhat relieved to see he longer used a cane, but disappointed in the exchange.
Oh, what must I do to reach you, Ian Grant? And how can I help heal your wounded heart if you won’t break down that wall and let me in?

Let someone
else
in, that is.
 

Chapter 7

I
an Grant gathered his papers from the podium. “Test on chapter eight tomorrow. Papers on Samuel Johnson are due next Friday. And yes, that is the day after Halloween, but I’ll make no exceptions for hung-over ghosts and goblins. Consider yourself warned. Good day.” His students filed out of the lecture hall, the usual cluster of those wishing for his attention gathering around him. Normally, he would try to spark the students in debate about his lecture, but today he had plans.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’ll be available in the conference room for further discussion after three o’clock this afternoon. Now if you’ll make way, please.”

The chatter followed him out of the classroom and down the hall, gradually dissipating as he stepped into his office. His assistant, Jennifer Simms, stood as he rushed by her desk.

“Dr. Martin called. He says they’re ready for you over at the luncheon. And here are your phone messages.”

After depositing his briefcase and books on his desk, he whisked back through the outer office. “Just put those on my desk, please. And give Howard a ring. Tell him I’ll be there in less than five.”

“Yes, Dr. Grant.”

“I’ll be back around two-thirty. See you then.”

He headed across the commons toward the administrative building. Howard had insisted Ian attend the luncheon for faculty members in the English department. Not one for social gatherings, Ian would have preferred his usual sandwich in his office, but Howard would not be deterred.

Relieved to be rid of the cane, Ian hurried his pace despite the pesky limp. His foot was still a tad tender, but much improved. He hoped the doctor would give him clearance to start running again soon. He had missed his morning runs dreadfully.

Ian made his way to the private dining room in the rear of the building on the first floor. He could hear the clinking of silver on fine china and the low murmur typical of academicians in social settings.

“Ian! Over here, my good man. Nice to have you join us.” Howard Martin closed the space between them, extending his hand.

“Thank you, Howard. You promised a good meal, so here I am,” Ian teased, shaking hands. “As long as it’s not one of those ghastly casseroles so popular in the cafeteria, I’m a happy chap.”

“Not a chance,” Martin chuckled. “Prime rib that will melt in your mouth. But first I want to introduce you to some of our other new staff members.”

Ian played the game, exchanging pleasantries. Some were names familiar to him, others not. Soon they were all seated and lunch was served. The food was top shelf as promised, much to Ian’s surprise. Even the generous slice of New York cheesecake caught his fancy, urging him to leave room for a taste.

Halfway through his meal, Howard interrupted the quiet conversation, scooting his chair back and stepping toward the entrance behind Ian. “Ah, there she is—Melissa, how good of you to come!”

“Howard! So good to see you again! How is Roberta?”

Ian stopped chewing, his fork suspended in mid-air.
It can’t be.
He tried to swallow, lowering the utensil to his plate, then attempted to wipe his mouth with the linen napkin. Ian braced himself as the chatter neared him. Only then did he notice the empty seat across the table.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce our new interim professor who will be taking Dr. Smith’s classes until he is able to return from the Anderson Clinic. This is Dr. Melissa Phillips, formerly of Vanderbilt University, bringing us her expertise on women authors of the eighteenth century.”

The men at the table stood as Dr. Phillips followed Howard to the empty seat next to him. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. I apologize for my late arrival. There was a nasty pileup on the interstate and it simply couldn’t be helped.”

Ian stood half-way, the prime rib lodged in his throat refusing to go down. Once seated again, he reached for the crystal glass of iced water, praying for relief and avoiding eye contact.

“Dr. Phillips, I’m sure you know many of your colleagues around the table. Allow me to make formal introductions.” Howard went around the table, thankfully starting the other direction, giving Ian time to compose himself. He felt the heat on his face.

“And finally, Dr. Ian Grant, our esteemed visiting professor on loan to us from Oxford University.”

“Ian?”

He coughed, finally clearing his throat, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Melissa, nice to see you.”

“What a surprise—I had no idea you were here in Austin. I’m—it’s nice to see you again.”

“Yes, well. Here we are.” The heat continued to scorch his face.
Smile. Force the smile.
“I too had no idea you were joining the faculty here.” He pinned Howard with a look to kill.