Tea Shop Folly Read online

  Tea Shop Folly

  By

  Carrie Fancett Pagels

  Book One, The Christy Cousins Series

  Hearts Overcoming Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright 2016 Carrie Fancett Pagels

  Second Edition

  July, 2016 first, February 2017 second

  ASIN-10

  ISBN-13:

  No part of this book may be copied or distributed without the author’s consent.

  Cover by Roseanna White

  Hearts Overcoming Press

  Dedicated

  To

  Diana Lynn (Taylor) Flowers

  An amazing reviewer, Beta reader,

  and friend!

  Prologue

  Blue Ridge Mountains, 1895

  Smoke clung to the treetops low in the valley while mist circled the craggy mountaintop cabin. Lilly trudged down to Whiskey Creek to bring up water, breathing a prayer, Let Mama live. At least she’d been able to get a fire going, to warm her mother. But daily chores waited on no one, certainly not for Lilly.

  Daisy, her youngest sister, ran up alongside Lilly. “Why we gotta haul our water from the river?”

  “The well went dry.” The last of the money had run out, too. Lilly’s hope was nearly exhausted.

  A sunbeam cracked through the milky haze overhead and the two paused to look skyward.

  “That’s purty.” Her tow-headed sister wiped her eyes with her free hand. “Wish Mama could come out to see it.”

  Lilly blinked back her own tears. “She’s gonna get through this, don’t you worry.”

  “How?” Her sister’s husky voice tore through the last of Lilly’s thin defenses. She dropped her buckets and pulled the twelve-year-old close to her side.

  “I don’t know, but God does.” Her words rang hollow, though. Mama was dying, there was little left to feed the girls.

  Daisy sniffed. “He sure ain’t showing it.”

  “Sometimes He takes His time to help us. . .” Help them what? Grow in faith? In trust?

  “We sure could use some help.”

  Lilly’s knees suddenly throbbed. She’d spent so much time on them, in prayer, that she almost expected to see callouses appear on them. She exhaled loudly and released Daisy. “For now, He gave Mama five strong daughters to take care of her – and each other.”

  “And cousin Eb, don’t forget him.”

  It had been a week since their strapping Christy cousin had visited, promising to return with help from their aunt and uncle. But the only thing she’d seen from Eb had been his ability to consume vast amounts of their food in a short time. Truth be told, she’d been relieved when he’d left them.

  She handed Daisy one of her buckets. “Let’s get going – this pail isn’t gonna collect water by itself.”

  Soon, they’d returned with the filled pails. They poured the water into a kettle over an outdoor fire, to make the water safer for drinking. Now it would have to cool.

  “Get me the tea kettle, Daisy, and we’ll steep some sassafras tea for Mama and the girls.” Lilly swiped a hand across her forehead.

  “Ho to the house!” Eb’s deep voice carried up from the path.

  Lilly cringed. Lord, please let him be a help and not a hindrance.

  Daisy ran off to meet their burly dark-haired cousin, apparently forgetting all about the tea kettle.

  When he rounded the corner, with an overflowing crate of sacks of food, Lilly flushed in shame at her earlier thoughts. “Thank you, Eb!”

  He set the crates down on the ground with a grunt.

  Daisy clapped her hands and plucked out a tin of real tea. “I’ll get the kettle now and tell Mama!”

  Lines around Eb’s dark eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I got a letter for ya, too.”

  “Oh?” The only letters they’d received recently had been from unpaid accounts in town.

  “Aunt Lillian done passed away.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that!” Her Aunt Lill, for whom she’d been named, lived far in the north of Michigan, even farther up than her lumberjack cousins.

  “Got something for you from her lawyer.”

  Lilly froze. Lawyers meant bad news. What now?

  Eb drew closer. “No need to frown.”

  She squinted at him. “Why not?”

  A blush crept up his neck as he passed her a large brown envelope that had been unsealed. “I didn’t open it – Pa did. He said ya got a train ticket in there and a check and I’m to cash that check right away for the family and that he can’t keep providing for ya.” He sucked in a deep breath.

  Lilly sank onto a tree stump they used as an outdoor seat. Whether her uncle meant he’d not help the family or not Lilly, she wasn’t sure. On his last visit, Eb informed her that his father felt that an “old maid like you shoulda married Clyde when he asked and helped her family.” She cringed at the thought of ever marrying the man she suspected of killing her father.

  She lifted the flap and opened the letter and scanned it. Lillian Smith, heir and executor. Her heart hitched up into her throat. “I know what an heir is but not an executor.”

  Eb shrugged. “I reckon yer about to find out.”

  Chapter 1

  Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan

  Stale odors of pipe smoke mingled with aging leather and dried flowers in dire need of replacing at the elderly attorney’s office. Lilly’s stomach growled. The check that had been sent for her travel expenses had gone toward buying food for her siblings and to pay for a physician for her mother. The slim balance that remained had made the past two days almost unbearable with hunger.

  She tapped her scuffed boot toes impatiently and glanced around the room. The uncomfortable chair with ornate carvings dug through the thin cotton of her jacket.

  Two matrons knit by the large windows that fronted the building. One shifted to the edge of her chair. “Why a wealthy attorney like Mr. Baisley would keep these horrid Eastlake chairs in his office, I do not know.”

  The thin white-haired woman sitting next to her nodded, not pausing at all in the clicking of her needles together. She looked over at Lilly. Instead of the disapproval Lilly expected, because of her ragged clothing, the woman smiled at her.

  Lilly grinned back, then averted her eyes feeling like a naughty child for smiling when she should be sitting here mourning her aunt’s loss while awaiting the executor’s instructions. Dressed as she was, in Mama’s faded calico church dress, she didn’t even have proper mourning clothes. It was hard to think of anything but getting something into her stomach as soon as she could.

  The door to the office creaked open and a thin, bent man crooked a finger at her. “Miss Smith? I’m Mr. Baisley. Come this way.”

  Clutching her carpetbag to her chest, Lilly rose and followed him into his office. He motioned to a straight-back padded seat chair, while he made his way, with slow effort, around his large black desk. With the only light in the room coming from the windows behind him and two gaslights on opposite walls, Lilly couldn’t quite make out all the engravings in the hideous piece of furniture.

  “Sit down, miss, eh?”

  The crispness of the man’s northern Michigan accent caused her to flinch. “Yes, sir.”

  “Your aunt Lillian was a wonderful woman. A bit eccentric with all those fripperies, but a godly lady nonetheless.”

  “Yes, sir.” Was that the right thing to say?

  What little Lilly had known of her great Aunt, for whom she’d been named, was that she’d lived a hard life. She and her husband had lost their
Virginia home during the war. Then Uncle Oscar had died in an accident in the Soo Locks. Her two sons went down on the same ship in a Lake Superior squall. And Aunt Lillian’s daughter passed away during a difficult childbirth. For the past decade, Auntie had resided alone, often sending them picture postal cards of the area. She was active in her church and drew comfort from her faith, often participating in fundraisers. While Mama would never have let her aunt know how difficult things were, she thought Aunt Lillian suspected.

  “Miss, did you hear what I said?” The lawyer peered over his round spectacles at her.

  “No, sir.” She clasped her chapped hands together, over her growling stomach.

  “You’re the sole heir and all of the estate reverts to you immediately.”

  That was what Mama had said might happen, but it didn’t seem possible. Lilly’s head swam and she grabbed the chair’s arms.

  “As her attorney, I’ll offer you guidance, and she’s even provided for that expense in advance.”

  Lilly nodded. She blinked as her heart rate sped up. It was true. “What…what do I do next?” Besides filling her belly?

  Mr. Baisley opened a legal envelope and handed her a list and several keys. “Let’s go over this one item at a time.”

  The noise of construction still grated on Theo even these many months since he’d arrived in Sault Sainte Marie from Detroit. Some engineer he was – he couldn’t even manage the waterfront’s stressors despite training for years and having worked at shipyards from Newport News, Virginia, to Boston, Massachusetts. What he needed was a good strong cup of English tea – like his grandmother used to make, God rest her soul.

  “Theodore! Come look at this latest correction in the design.” His superior, Franz Sehler, a broad-shouldered German engineer in his fifties, jabbed a finger at the blueprints on his littered desk. Dirty coffee cups, wads of crushed paper, and broken pencils populated the surface.

  The expansive windows, overlooking the locks, allowed plenty of natural light to illuminate the adaptations. Theo grabbed a pencil fragment and sketched in a minor change. “If we don’t add that mechanism, there could be problems later – down here.” He unrolled the paper further and pointed to the row of valves.

  Mr. Sehler scratched his chin. “Right. Get the other engineers in here and let’s get this change approved before we send this off to the government.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Say, did you ever find that cup of tea you were looking for?”

  Theo groaned. His boss was forever teasing him about his fondness for the English drink. “No. Might find a way to get over to Canada and look.”

  “My wife recommended a place down near the end of Portage.”

  “I’ll have to take a walk down there after work one day.”

  Item 1, Meet with the bank manager and withdraw enough funds to meet your initial week’s expenses.

  Lilly fulfilled the first part of the item, collecting a sum of money that would have lasted her family two months, not just a week. Then she’d ducked into a restaurant and forced herself to eat slowly. She’d ordered a pasty, which the waitress described as a meat pie. With trembling hands, she’d eaten one bite at a time with her fork instead of lifting it to her lips and devouring the tasty pastry filled with beef and potato chunks, onion bits, sliced carrots, and diced turnips.

  The waitress returned with a small bowl of tomato sauce. “Try it with catsup.”

  “Thank you.” After trying the pasty with catsup on it, Lilly knew she’d found a new favorite food.

  After paying, and leaving a tip, Lilly headed on to complete the second part of her aunt’s request: Be sure to get enough money to purchase a wardrobe appropriate for the severe weather in the Upper Peninsula. Absolutely no mourning clothing! I am in heaven, dancing with the Lord.

  She’d entered the Northern Railroad Bank expecting to be thrown out, dressed as poorly as she was. But Lilly clutched her carpetbag to her side, strode up to a teller, and soon her bag was filled with enough cash. She could not only to feed herself and purchase clothes but there was enough for all her siblings as well. Her heart seemed about to hammer through the bodice of her thin dress as she stepped out of the building and into the sunlight.

  Passersby gawked at Lilly as she held onto the carpetbag for dear life. Yet, what was inside was only a fraction of the money Aunt Lillian had left in her accounts. Forcing herself to slow her pace and her breathing, Lilly finally stopped outside a building. The sign, painted in fancy gold paint on the window announced this establishment as “The Ladies’ Apparel Shoppe.” She stared in at two actual mannequins outfitted with spring gowns. She’d never seen the like. The pink gauzy gown on the right looked straight from one of a Godey’s magazine that Lilly had read on the train. The get up included gloves, a satin purse, matching kid leather boots, a lacy wool shawl, and a broad hat with silk roses affixed to the hat band. The yellow outfit had a lace inset that barely covered the mannequin’s bosom. That number was definitely out.

  For the first time in the days since she’d begun her railroad trip, her head seemed to have cleared. The thick brew that passed for coffee and the meat pie surely had helped. God had provided. Thank you Lord.

  The door opened and bells jangled. “May we help you, mademoiselle?” A coiffed dark-haired woman, so petite she stood only as tall as Lilly’s shoulder looked up with warm brown eyes.

  “I. . .”

  “You are looking for something special, oui?”

  “Uh, yes. . .” No. She wasn’t.

  The woman took Lilly’s free hand. “Come inside out of the chill. The air is cold today, n’est ce pas?”

  Inside, Lilly found herself surrounded not only by frilly gowns but by all manner of unmentionables, some actually displayed in the back. She felt her eyes widen. What kind of place was this? Behind her the doorbells rang out.

  Two women entered, their bustles brushing against one of the mannequins and the saleslady rushed over before it fell.

  “Sorry!” The taller of the two women assisted the Frenchwoman in righting the display. “I love this ensemble. That’s why I came in.”

  “And I want the yellow.”

  Both women had accents that Lilly had heard near the cities in Lower Michigan, when stopping at the railroad stations near the capital.

  “Splendid!” The saleswoman clapped her hands together. “And since I have your measurements on file, I should be able to have both garments altered by. . . say, next Friday?”

  “In time for the Locks Association dinner?” The titian-haired visitor glanced at her friend in triumph.

  “You shall be the belles of the night.”

  Lilly moved toward the back of the store as the proprietor conducted her transaction with the women. Surely there had to be a place with more normal clothing. As soon as was possible, she slipped out of the store, the women too engaged in conversation to notice her departure.

  Exhaling in relief, she moved down the sidewalk. Knauf’s Mercantile the sign announced, three doors down. Sucking in a breath, she strode to the store but when Lilly went to open the door it wouldn’t budge. She tried again. Someone behind her cleared his throat.

  “Allow me.” The deep voice rumbled like the sound of thunder before a summer’s shower that would clear the mountain air.

  Lilly turned to face the stranger. Elegantly attired in long black wool topcoat, a matching banded hat, and black boots buffed to a shine, the gentleman could have jumped off the pages of The Detroit Free Press advertisement she’d seen the previous day – What the smart man wears to the opera. He even had thick dark hair, like the dandy pictured in the newspaper.

  With a quick shove, the man pushed the door open. “It sticks.”

  Theo rubbed his head. He’d removed his eyeglasses earlier, when the migraine had begun. But his vision wasn’t so blurred that he couldn’t see the rail-thin auburn-haired woman before him. She could blow away in a stiff Lake Superior breeze.

  Theo held the door open
for the young woman and looked downward, squinting. With the worn boots, she was probably someone from the lumber camps in town to fetch something for her family. But why the tattered carpet bag? Maybe she needed much on this trip. But the bag already looked heavy.

  “Miss, might I assist you?” Although how he’d do so with his vision already shattering into fragments, from his blasted headache was beyond him. Still, he held out his hand to take her bag.

  The woman clutched her possessions to her calico-covered bosom.

  With the squiggly white lines interrupting his vision he couldn’t make out her features well. Even in this awful state, though, Theo could take in the shopper’s thick wavy hair streaming down her back like an unfettered waterfall. What was her situation?

  A sales clerk strode toward them, his bald pate marking him as Mr. Wiggins. “I have your powders, Mr. Reynolds.”

  Theo had experienced several dealings with the imperious man, none pleasant. But thank God he’d acquired the potion for his migraine. “Thank you.”

  The clerk leaned in. “Are you with this woman?”

  His head throbbing, Theo didn’t reply.

  The clerk wagged a finger at the young woman. “We don’t allow any soliciting in this establishment.”

  “I don’t know what that means, mister, but I got a big list of things I need to buy.” She reached into the bag and pulled out an envelope stuffed with something green. Cash? “My Aunt Lillian instructed me to get warm clothes.”

  The young woman’s soft southern twang surprised Theo.

  Mr. Wiggins gaped, fishlike, at the envelope, before he grabbed the carpetbag. “This is going behind the counter for safekeeping, miss. Now follow me.”

  Before she could protest, the salesman waved his hand overhead at another employee, bent over a table of cloth. As ornery as the clerks could be in this mercantile, they were always fair, never cheated anyone. The young woman would be well looked after by the staff.