“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.”
“Yes, I think she would.” Katherine nodded. “But whatever we do, let’s be sure to keep her away from Rosie.”
“Agreed.”
6 A Tempest in the Tearoom
“Uh…Welcome to Miss Harriet’s…um... what do you want?”
Katherine winced as she listened to Sally talk to the couple at the next table. We’ll have to work on that.
Hand-picking her tables had really helped, but she could tell Sally was still struggling. Instead of the quiet clinking of delicate china cups and saucers and the gentle hum of hushed conversations, days at Miss Harriet’s were now punctuated with crashes, rattles and Sally’s inimitable “Oh! Sorry!” as she tripped and stumbled and fumbled through her duties.
It was more than just clumsiness, though. Katherine could sense something deeper—an unsettled uncertainty of heart, perhaps a pain hidden inside—that kept her from focusing on the tasks at hand. And Katherine could relate. Not long ago, she had gone about her days nursing a secret pain of her own.
She knew that Sally needed to find for herself the “old paths” of relationship with God that had brought true rest to Katherine’s soul. But she also knew that Sally had to choose those paths for herself. Mrs. James had helped Katherine find them. How she wished she could do the same for Sally!
“Oh! You clumsy girl…just look what you’ve done!”
