The Teashop Girls Read online

  The

  Teashop girls

  The

  Teashop girls

  illustrated by

  SUJEAN RIM

  LAURA SCHAEFER

  SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagintion, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2008 by Laura Schaefer

  Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Sujean Rim

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].

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  Also available in a hardcover edition.

  Book design by Jessica Handelman

  The text for this book is set in Venetian 301 BT.

  The illustrations for this book are rendered in pen and ink.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers paperback edition December 2009

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

  Schaefer, Laura.

  The Teashop Girls / Laura Schaefer ; [illustrated by Sujean Rim].

  p. cm.

  “A Paula Wiseman Book.”

  Summary: Thirteen-year-old Annie, along with her two best friends,

  tries desperately to save her grandmother’s beloved, old-fashioned

  teashop in Madison, Wisconsin, while she also learns to accept the

  inevitability of change in life. Includes proverbs, quotations, and

  brief stories about tea, as well as recipes.

  ISBN 978-1-4169-6793-4 (hc)

  [1. Tea—Fiction. 2. Tearooms—Fiction. 3. Grandmothers—Fiction.

  4. Best friends—Fiction. 5. Friendship—Fiction. 6. Business

  enterprises—Fiction. 7. Madison (Wis.)—Fiction.] I. Rim, Sujean, ill.

  II. Title. III. Title: Tea Shop Girls.

  PZ7.S33232Te 2008

  [Fic]—dc22

  2008036158

  ISBN 978-1-4169-6794-1 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4169-9835-8 (eBook)

  To Karen Meyer

  and

  everyone at Imperial Garden restaurant in Middleton, Wisconsin

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my parents, Linda and Michael Artz and Michael Schaefer, for their ongoing support and encouragement. I also want to thank all of my grandparents, my brother, David, and my extended family for cheering me on.

  Thank you to my tireless and talented literary agent, Stephen Barbara, and my truly extraordinary editor, Alexandra Penfold, who saw promise in my ideas and made this book come to life. Thank you to my real-life Teashop Girls, Aimee Tritt and Nicole Soper. Finally, a big thanks to all the witty people in my life whose lines I “borrow.”

  The Perfect Cup of Tea

  Instructions by annie green

  • Bring fresh cold water to a rolling boil, but don’t let it boil for too long.

  • Let it come off the boil and settle down for a moment.

  • Pour water into a teapot containing a heaping tablespoon of your favorite loose tea leaves.

  • Let the leaves bloom and steep for at least three minutes.

  • Pour the tea into your favorite preheated cup.

  • Sip and smile.

  Chapter One

  “My dear if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.”

  —CHARLES DICKENS, MRS. LIRRIPER’S LEGACY

  There’s a right way and a wrong way to do many things, and when it comes to tea, my opinion is one should not mess around. My grandmother Louisa first taught me to brew a fine pot of tea when I was five years old. She told me what a nice job I had done, and I announced I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. Louisa laughed merrily at the time. I hoped she wouldn’t laugh today. I couldn’t bear the thought of being laughed at today, which is why I, Annie Green, am hiding out in the storage room of the Steeping Leaf.

  Well, not hiding exactly. That would be silly. I love the Leaf, and there isn’t anything out there to hide from, least of all my grandmother Louisa. But the fact of the matter is I am here in her teashop, she doesn’t know it yet, and the reason for all my sneaking around is I need to psych myself up for what I am about to do.

  You know how some people have weird/cool talents, like being able to wiggle their ears back and forth just by concentrating really hard? Well, I have one too. I can stand on my head forever. Like, seriously forever. My two brothers can even try to tickle my feet to knock me over, and I just make faces at them, upside down, secure in the knowledge that I am just as steady on my head as they are on their feet. Which isn’t, come to think of it, as steady as, say, Louisa is on her feet, but it’s pretty darn good. And as a bonus, when I stand on my head, I can feel myself getting smarter and calmer. I think it has something to do with the fact that a headstand is a real yoga pose.

  With two younger brothers and an older sister, it’s hard to ever find even half a moment alone. And the silence of the storage room is blissful. It’s just me, upside down and Zenlike amidst a few dozen boxes of loose tea, some old teacups Louisa hasn’t taken to St. Vinny’s yet, and my “Perfect Cup of Tea Instructions,” which I’ve written on a whiteboard that, for readability’s sake, has also assumed the sirsha-asana pose.

  I am almost ready to ask for a job here as a barista. And when I do, I will be calm, centered, grown-up, and only slightly red in the face. I am a tiny bit worried because sometimes my family doesn’t take me seriously. Everyone else in my family already has their “thing”—Beth is all “college, college, college … did I mention that I’m going away to college in the fall?” and Luke and Billy have the lock on the local emergency room—skateboarders, it’s like they have a death wish or something. My mom has her students, and my dad has his engineering projects. And I have tea.

  Okay, I’ll admit, I’m interested in a lot of things and I tend to announce my newest obsessions rather frequently—but working at the Leaf is not just a phase. I’ve always loved the Leaf and confess that I consider it partly, well, mine. Am I ready to be a barista, taking money, making complex foamy drinks, and asking after the customers’ families like the perfect hostess? I think so. I hope Louisa does, too.

  Still staring at the board and mentally picturing each and every step of brewing a pot of tea, I sighed happily and closed my eyes to fully commune with the delicious smells of the shop. Inhale. Exhale. “I am one with the tea. The tea is one with me. I am one with the t—”

  The storage door banged and there was some commotion. My eyes snapped open, but all I could see was a pair of legs in jeans. And a box. A really big box. A really big box coming straight at me. “Hey, watch out!”

  Instead of changing course however, the startled jeans-wearer swung the box around. Right into me. “AUGHH!” he cried, tripping a little and
juggling the box. It was definitely a he, I thought as I tumbled over, directly into a precarious stack of napkins, tea samples, and the shelf with the old cups. CRASH! went one cup. Then, CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! came three more. Ouch.

  The napkins flew everywhere, and some of the samples burst open, sending leaves and particles of rosehips, chamomile, orange spice, and white tea every which way. I stared at the intruder from the corner where I was sprawled out, confused. I thought Louisa was the only one who ever came in here. Well, and me, of course. CRASH! One more cup slid to the ground.

  The intruder set his box down veeery slowly and righted the shelf I had tipped. I was just about to sputter something extremely non-Zenlike when the words got tangled up in my tongue. My scowl fully retreated as my eyes widened. Why hadn’t I seen him before? It occurred to me that most girls could go a whole life time of seeing strange boys in teashops (grocery stores, movie theaters, stadiums … you get the idea) and not lay eyes on someone so perfectly gorgeous.

  “What were you do ing?” he asked, offering me a hand up. I took it slowly, my stomach flipping.

  “I … I …” Apparently, I could no longer speak. Great.

  He cocked his head expectantly. I stared. And stared. And stared. Finally I said the first and best thing that came to mind. “I was standing on my head. I do that.”

  I do that. Wow. Smooth. I could feel my face reddening.

  “Oh.” He looked at me as if I were some amusing—yet potentially deranged—creature from another planet. “Why?”

  I didn’t get the chance to reply because the door to the main shop opened again and Louisa came hurrying into the room, her scarves flowing luxuriantly behind her.

  “What on earth? Is everything all right? Annie, my sweetness! What are you doing here?”

  Just when you think your face can’t get any redder, know this:

  It can.

  Chapter Two

  Tea gives you courage.

  —ANNIE’S GRANDMOTHER LOUISA

  Nothing had gone according to plan. How was I supposed to ask for a job now, with tea leaves poking out of my already crazy hair?

  Louisa helped me to my feet and dusted some tea leaves off my shirt. “Jonathan, this is my granddaughter Annie. Annie, Jonathan,” She acted as if my destroying half of her storeroom was perfectly normal.

  “Jonathan’s grandmother is an old friend of mine from the ashram. She studied in India at the same time I did … gosh, that must’ve been over thirty years ago now. Where does the time go? Anyway, he’s been helping me out with some of the inventory.” I remembered to shake hands firmly and even managed to—sort of—look him in the eye as I wheezed out a “Nice to meet you.”

  “Hey, Annie.” Jonathan nodded, grinning openly at the entertaining spectacle that was yours truly. I began straightening the room, and he pitched in to help. Louisa looked at me bemusedly. I knew she was waiting for an explanation, but I wasn’t ready to tell her the real reason I had snuck in through the back of the shop.

  “I just wanted to see if the new delivery had anything interesting …”

  Louisa nodded tactfully, smiled, and hooked her arm in mine. “Well, in that case,” she said as she led me back toward the shop. I glanced behind and watched as Jonathan gathered the rest of the teacup shards and took them outside to the trash. As he moved out the door and out of sight, it was like a fog had been lifted. I plopped down on my favorite well-worn stool at the counter and took in the whole scene. Everything was pretty much how I left it the last time I visited. The furniture was old but funky—funky in a good way, not funky in an “it bothers my nose” way. Lively music played, and the shelves were packed with every variety of tea and coffee you could imagine. Green, scarlet, black, vanilla, rooibos, Earl Grey, Darjeeling … you get the idea.

  People were scattered inside of the shop, reading papers and chatting. There was an old man at one table holding an enormous book called—I think—Ulysses, and a group of ladies at another table exchanging pictures and recipes. I smiled. I’ve been coming here for a very long time, sometimes with my two best friends, Genna and Zoe, who live nearby. Louisa nicknamed us the Teashop Girls. Ever since we were six years old, she has helped us with our Tea Handbook, a tea-centric scrapbook filled with cool recipes and quotes and old advertisements. It is my most treasured possession.

  “So how are you, my dearest darling? Look!” Louisa led me behind the counter of her store. “We have a new variety of black tea in today,” she said as she plucked a glass jar off the shelf, her armful of silver bracelets clinking musically. Louisa opened it and waved it before my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could almost taste blackberries. And something else … maybe cinnamon?

  “Mmm. That smells delicious.” I reached for my favorite teapot, the white porcelain one with a curved spout and hand-painted blue flowers. It reminded me of the lilac bush out on the Steeping Leaf patio. Louisa smiled and took our cups off the shelf, then scooped some of the new tea into the pot so it could bloom in the hot water. We grinned at each other as the good smell wafted about. Louisa fussed a bit with one of her scarves, sending it fluttering behind her shoulder. Her crystal earrings twinkled in the afternoon light. I’m sure coolness skips a generation because my mom, with her sensible khaki mom-pants and cardigan sweaters, is kind of boring-looking next to her mother. There might still be hope for me, as long as I spend a lot more time here at the shop.

  “How was school today, my lovely?” Louisa tucked a piece of my wild hair behind my ear and pulled out a lingering tea leaf as we both waited for our tea to fully steep.

  “Pretty good,” I replied, remembering my day. “My least favorite person, Zach—you probably remember him, he’s come in here to bother us—finally got in trouble for being in the hall when we were supposed to be learning about the Etruscans.” I smiled a little, warming up. “Then they did a locker check and discovered he had three Milios subs in there from, like, nine years ago, which is what was smelling up our entire floor. Ew. Anyway, everyone in my grade is excited for summer and hardly paying attention to the teachers at all, so we had a pop quiz in math and I was totally freaked out that I completely failed, but somehow miraculously did awesome on it.” I stopped to catch my breath. “How is your day going?”

  “Quite, quite well. There’s the new tea, of course, and when I was doing my tai chi this morning, I saw a mother robin tending to her nest on our rafters. I’ll show you.” Louisa winked at me and pointed out the window to the corner of the roofline. Sure enough, a clump of sticks and brush was tucked safely behind the gutter. I smiled.

  “I wonder how long she’s been there.” We watched the nest for a few moments, hoping to see some tiny new beaks. One of the best parts about living in Madison is how completely nature is a part of the city. Sure, there are the obvious ways, like all its lakes. But it’s also the little things, like people’s prairie gardens in place of lawns and flowering roundabouts in the middle of the neighborhoods’ intersections. Louisa and I highly approve.

  “Only a day or two, I think.” Louisa checked our steeping tea; she was a master at gauging just the right moment to remove the leaves. “Mmm, smells like perfection.” Louisa poured our cups, her scarves never even coming close to getting in the way. It was, like, against the laws of physics or something. I added a little sugar to mine and took a big sip.

  “This is delicious. But I actually came down for another reason …” This was it. Now or never. I set my cup down and hesitated, my pulse quickening. I hoped my little storeroom episode wouldn’t give my grandmother reason to hesitate when I asked to be a real barista. “So, um … Louisa, I’ve, uh, been thinking, and I’d really, really, really like to work for you here in the shop. I know I’m a bit young, but you don’t have to pay me much, and I promise I’ll see to everything you need. I … I practically know this place better … better than my own bedroom, and, and …”

  Louisa put her hand lightly on my shoulder and I stopped stammering and looked at her anxious
ly.

  “Annie, dear, what a surprise!” She paused and smiled. “It would be a joy to have you here more often, but do you really want to start working? Childhood goes so fast, love.”

  I cringed at the word “childhood.” This was not going well. Thirteen—almost fourteen—was hardly childhood. Besides, I had helped Louisa lots of times before. It would be so easy and fun to do it regularly, like an actual grown-up.

  “Louisa, I’ve thought about it a ton, and I know I am ready. I love your shop more than anything, and I’ve wanted to work here for a long time. You can count on me.”

  “I know I can, dear.”

  “I made a whole list for you. I am always on time, and I think I have good chi, and some of your customers know me already …” I gave Louisa my “Reasons to Hire Your Favorite Grandchild” list.

  Reasons to Hire Your Favorite grandchild, annie green

  1. I take showers with seven different organic gels, shampoos, masks, beads, conditioners, and skin cleansers and therefore smell good all the time without hurting the environment.

  2. I think my chi is in good order. I mean, I hope so.

  3. Old people like me because I know who Jimmy Stewart and Bea Arthur are.

  4. I love tea and adore coffee. Which, according to my dad, is why I will never grow taller than 5’1”.

  5. I am extremely punctual, and am, in fact, often early as I have nothing better to do besides study or go to the mall, which is a shrine to mindless consumerism and should be avoided at all costs unless Hollister is having a sale.

  6. I am awed by the long history and endless health benefits of tea. And I know that orange pekoe has to do with the size of the tea leaf, not the color or flavor. Weird.

  7. I am very cheerful. Annoyingly so, say my brothers, the grandchildren who, I believe, did not write thank-you notes after receiving lovely birthday presents. I think we can both agree the two of them aren’t the best judges of character. I have the perfect level of cheer for barista-hood.