Taking the inventory clipboard from the wall, Katherine flipped on the lights and descended into the chilly stillness of the storeroom. Just as the captain had said, the box on top of the nearest stack bore a label she didn’t recognize.

“Cameroon?” she asked, eyebrows raised, as she noticed Captain Braddock standing in the doorway.

“Yes. Did you know Cameroon has a thriving tea industry?

“No, I didn’t.” She took a boxcutter from the wide pocket of her apron and carefully slid the blade between the flaps on either end of the box, then down the seam across the top. Lifting the flaps, Katherine moved the packing material aside and drew out a clear bag full of loose tea. The shriveled-up leaves always reminded her of the grass clippings she used to rake up when her dad mowed their lawn in the Harborhaven summers of long ago.

Looking up at the captain, she tried to keep her expression nonchalant. “Have you tried it yet?”

He stiffened, as if offended. “Of course not. The first cup of a new variety is a family event around here. Always has been, all the way back to the first shipment Captain Jeremiah brought in.”

“Well, then,” Katherine slowly climbed the steps to hand the bag to the captain, “It wouldn’t do to break tradition.” The grin she had been holding back spread across her face, and the captain answered with his own satisfied smile.

“Right, then. Follow me.” Captain Braddock led the way across the office to an unobtrusive curtain, which hid the shop's small kitchen. Just then, the bell over the door rang.

Katherine smiled. “I’ll go. You make the tea.”

Captain Braddock nodded, already filling the kettle with water.

* * * *

When Katherine returned a few minutes later, two cups of steaming liquid sat on the desk, and an extra chair had been placed across from the captain’s.

“Customer?” Captain Braddock limped in from the kitchen with a trivet and the pot of tea.

“Yes, they wanted the new Assam we got in last week.”

“Ah, yes. That one’s been quite popular.” There was a short pause as Katherine eyed the cup in front of her.

Finally, he picked up his cup and chuckled. “Go ahead. No sense waiting till it’s cold.” Katherine raised the cup and smelled the earthy fragrance rising from it. Then she took a sip. Captain Braddock did the same, and for a moment neither spoke.

“Well, what do you think?” Captain Braddock leaned back in his chair and took another sip.

Katherine thought for a moment, trying to put the flavor into words. “It tastes…green. I don’t mean like green tea, but …I don’t know, like a forest on a mountain somewhere." She took another sip. "It’s very good.”

“Well, you’re not far off, there, Missy. In a sense, this tea did come from a kind of forest on a mountain. The plantation itself is on a high plateau, in the foothills of a volcano. So it does come from a mountainous region, at least. And I suppose you could call a few acres of tea bushes a forest of sorts."

"I did read once about elevation affecting the flavor of tea." Katherine wrapped her fingers around her cup.  "How did you find out about this?"

"There are several major tea plantations in Cameroon, see, but they all use the modern crushing and tearing process, which, as you know, utterly destroys the leaves, and the flavor along with it. However, despite their processing methods, Cameroonian tea is known for having a deep color and good taste, so I have been hoping to find a smaller grower that uses a more traditional process.

"I was rummaging in the trunks up in the tower a few weeks ago, and came across some correspondence between my grandmother and a young man in Cameroon who was just getting ready to start planting. That was in the ‘70s, you see, so I wasn’t sure I could find him, but lo and behold—” he paused and raised his teacup—"here we are!”

“So the man’s plantation is still there?”

“Yes, which is a bit of a miracle, since it’s in an area where there has been much conflict over the years." 

Katherine took another sip. “I think this one will do well. It has a deep, mellow flavor.” Eyeing the captain warily, she ventured, “I think we should keep this jar on the counter for a while, with a sign, like we did with the silver needle tea last year…just to let people know it’s here and where it comes from.” Katherine held her breath, knowing how committed Captain Braddock was to relying only on word-of-mouth advertising. That, too, was a Harborside tradition.

“I suppose we might…” Captain Braddock gazed at her with a thoughtful look, as if mulling the idea over. “Now, you and I have work to do, and we’d better get back to it.” A bit of his old gruffness returned to his voice as he stood. Then, pouring the last of the tea into their cups, he said with a twinkle in his eye, “Better take that with you. The storeroom’s a mite chilly today.”

* * * *

When Katherine returned to Miss Harriet’s that evening, she found Mrs. James alone in the kitchen, filling the sink with water. She looked up as Katherine entered.

“Hello, Dearie. Good day at the Harborside?”

“Yes. We got a new tea in from Cameroon. I think it will make a good addition to our menu. Where’s Sally?”

The older woman gave a weary sigh. “I sent her home. It had been a long day, and I could tell she was tired.”

Katherine eyed her friend. “Things didn’t go well today, did they?”

“They could have gone worse…” Mrs. James managed a half-smile.

“Ah.” Katherine picked up a dishtowel. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Mrs. James smiled appreciatively, then began loading the sink with fragile china dishes. They worked in silence for a while before Mrs. James stopped, looked up at the ceiling and said, “I don’t know what to do.”

Katherine silently waited, knowing her friend well enough to recognize when she just needed to talk her problems out.

“I mean, that stack of baking trays this morning was just the beginning. She dropped three tea trays—thankfully empty, but they make such a clatter—spilled her bin of silverware several times, and knocked an entire jampot into Rosie’s lap.”

Katherine stifled a giggle.

“I keep telling myself it’s only her second day, and maybe I pushed her into serving tables too soon… I just don’t know how to help her.”

Katherine set her dishtowel on the counter and put an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. Mrs. James leaned her head against Katherine’s and let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Katherine. You always know when I need space to chatter.”

“Can I tell you something that might help?” Katherine said, as the two went back to their washing and drying.

“Of course, Dearie.”

“Well, yesterday when I was so upset at Rosie…she had been picking at Sally.—Behind her back, of course, but you know how she is. It may be that she said something to or about Sally in her hearing that unnerved her more than usual.”

Mrs. James looked thoughtfully into the soap bubbles for a moment. “Yes, that could be. I’ll have to keep an eye on that. In the meantime, what should we do with Sally tomorrow?”

Katherine swiped her dishtowel around the inside of a delicate teacup for a moment as she thought. “I think we should give her a few select tables, people who will be patient with her—Mrs. Penelope and Mr. Patten, for instance—and have her bus tables and fill trays the rest of the day. That way she gets experience without feeling so overwhelmed.”

“That’s a good idea, Katherine.” Mrs. James’ eyes lit up. “And I can work on teaching her the art of presentation. She might like the behind-the-scenes work of putting the orders together.”