“Good! Now, as to the word orange, I have heard some say that it is because of the golden tips on the leaves or because of the Chinese practice of mixing orange blossoms with the tea leaves. Others have argued that it is because of the color of the tea when it’s brewed, and still others say that it is because of the Dutch East India Company.”

“Why that?”

“Because of the House of Orange, the reigning dynasty of the Netherlands. It’s thought that the Dutch East India Company might have stuck orange in the name to honor their royal family.”

Katherine thought for a moment. “I suppose any of those could explain it. What’s your opinion?

“Don’t know. We’ll probably never really know for sure.”

* * * *

The next morning, Katherine offered to prepare Mr. James’ order so he and Miss Harriet could enjoy a nice long chat before the first customers came in. When she brought out the tea, Mr. James put on a serious face.

“Is this it?” he said with an air of mystery.

Katherine adopted his same manner and silently nodded in reply.

“Is this what?” asked Miss Harriet, gazing inquisitively from one to the other.

“It’s an experiment, Dearest.” Mr. James replied. Turning to Katherine, he declared imperiously, “Pour the tea!”

Katherine poured a cup for each of them, then drew a chair up to the table and sat down. She watched, hands clenched, shoulders tense, as Mr. James made a show of carefully swirling the tea in his cup, smelling the steam which rose from the dark liquid, and blowing across the surface of the cup to cool the tea. Finally, he took a sip.

“Well?” said Katherine, holding her breath.

“It’s good.”

“How good?”

“Very good. In fact, I think I might have to talk Harriet into carrying it so I can order this in the mornings.” Katherine tried to contain her excitement as Mr. James turned towards Miss Harriet. “What did you think of it?”

“I must say, it is quite nice.” A teasing grin spread over her face as she took another sip. “I suppose we could make an addition to our weekly order… for such a faithful and distinguished customer as yourself, Darling.”

34 The Envelope

Katherine woke with a start, her heart racing, her breath coming in quick, short gasps. Sitting up in bed, she brushed beads of sweat from her forehead. She had been running… no, swimming… wait—it was the Captain. The Captain was swimming…no, drowning! The horror of her nightmare swept over her again as she struggled to separate dream from reality.

It had all been so real. She had seen Captain Braddock fall into the harbor at the end of the pier and had run down it, trying to get to him. She shuddered as she remembered how he had come up, arms flailing, out of the water, spluttering as he gulped desperately for air before disappearing again beneath the stormy harbor.

She had run, but in that awful suspension of reality peculiar to dreams, the pier had grown longer and longer, the boards firm and hollow sounding beneath her feet, stretching out in front of her. She couldn’t reach him, and just as he came up for one last breath of air, she heard him gasp out a desperate cry:

“Serena!”

That was when Katherine had jolted awake, the captain’s voice still ringing through her mind. She had fallen asleep the night before thinking about the Harborside and Captain Braddock and could trace those thoughts through the awful dream.

There must be a way to save them, she thought.

Flinging back the blankets, she swung her feet out onto the hardwood floor, cold with the early chill of a frosty February morning. She walked to the window seat and nestled herself into the pile of cushions. Pulling a blanket out of the basket next to the window, she wrapped herself up against the cold which radiated from the frost-edged window and leaned her head against the glass pane.

She thought about the captain’s last cry in her dream. Serena, she thought, it all just comes down to Serena. But where is she? And how can I find her?

With a deep sigh, she pulled the blanket tighter and looked out at the faint blue light of early dawn. Lord, please show me what to do.

* * * *

Later that day, Katherine walked by Miss Harriet with a tray of dishes as the older woman stood behind the counter, refilling the glass-domed pastry displays. Stopping suddenly next to her, Katherine asked,

“What did this shop used to be before you came?”

Surprised, Miss Harriet stopped polishing and turned to look at her. “I don’t quite remember… I think it was a haberdasher’s shop, or something like it. Why do you ask?”

“I just noticed all those tiny drawers in the back of the counter. It’s like the counter at the Harborside, but with more drawers, and smaller.”

“Yes, I’ve been hard put to find a good use for those drawers, I’m afraid. They’re quite small, and there are so many of them.”

“I can see how they would be good for a haberdashery, though. All those little bobbins and buttons and bits of trim. It would have been perfect.”

“Yes, I see what you mean.”

Miss Harriet went back to polishing, and Katherine carried her tray into the kitchen. An idea had begun to form in her mind.

* * * *

“Mr. James, I need your help,” Katherine said the next morning, sliding into the chair opposite the startled reporter.

“Of course, Katherine. What is it?”

“I have an idea, but I’m not quite ready to tell Miss Harriet about it yet. I need to iron out some details, and wondered if I could talk it over with you?”

“Of course. But you know I don’t like keeping anything secret from Harriet.”

“It won’t be for long. Just until I can get the details worked out.”

“All right, then. Tell me all about it.”