Grim and Bear It(5)
Author: Juliette Cross

 

“Martha,” chastised another woman with a round face and a plate of petit fours on her lap, a pink-iced one in her hand, “that’s no way to greet our new member.”

 

There was a silver tea server and little porcelain cups and saucers. Next to the tea setting were two silver, three-tiered trays stacked with little sandwiches, macarons, scones, and petit fours. I recognized the scones and petit fours as those from Queen of Tarts, the bakery across from the Savoie’s pub, the Cauldron, on Magazine Street.

 

“Thank you, Evelyn,” said Clara, guiding me to an empty chair next to another one near the fireplace, which wasn’t burning. The weather had finally taken a turn toward spring sunshine and seemed to be sticking to it.

 

“You can sit by me,” she added in a whisper like it was a secret.

 

Clara was a heady combination of sweet and seductive. I wasn’t sure if she was aware just how beguiling she was with her wide blue eyes, easy smiles, and fine-as-fuck body. Not to mention that divinely attractive cloak of honesty and kindness she wore at all times.

 

“Thanks,” I muttered, noticing the copy of The Taming of a Highlander by Elisa Braden sitting on her chair. “Was I supposed to bring the book?”

 

“No, that’s okay.” She took her seat next to me and held the book on her lap. “Let me introduce everyone before we get started. This is Deborah.”

 

“Hi, there.” A petite brunette with short hair waved before biting into a cucumber sandwich.

 

“This is Evelyn and Martha.” She introduced the nice one and the not-so-nice one. “And this is Fran.”

 

“How do you like your tea, dear?” asked Fran, now pouring me a cup.

 

I didn’t want to be rude and admit I never drank the stuff. “Plain is fine.”

 

“I’m sorry you won’t meet Miriam.” A definite somber note slipped into Clara’s voice as she told me, “She’s been ill.” Then she faced the group, saying with more brightness, “But I’ll be sure and bring her a plate from today’s club meeting.”

 

Martha narrowed her eyes and pointed her teaspoon at me. “You sure don’t look like a guy who would like to read romance.”

 

Now I was getting the shakedown from intimidating grandmas. This was new.

 

“Martha, we aren’t going to be judgmental,” Clara stated evenly.

 

“Quite frankly,” I told Martha, “you don’t seem the type who would either.”

 

Her ornery glare lightened. She gave a little huff of laughter. “Touché, Mr. Blackwater.” Then she sipped her tea.

 

“Now that we’re all settled,” began Clara, taking on a more official tone, “let’s begin with the heroine. Did we like her or not like her?”

 

“I adored her,” cooed Fran. “She was so perky and sweet.” Then she passed me my tea cup. “Here you are, dear.”

 

I nodded a thank you and settled the dainty cup on my knee.

 

“Kind of a lost dreamer,” added Martha, then squinted at Clara, “though there was some appeal to that, I suppose.”

 

“Well, they were a perfect match, though, weren’t they?” Deborah chimed in, taking a second sandwich off the tray. “They had that opposites-attract thing going for them in spades.”

 

“Opposites?” snarked Martha. “They lived on different planets, those two.”

 

“But still perfectly matched, I agree,” added Evelyn.

 

“Why were they perfectly matched?” asked Clara.

 

No one answered, all of them sinking into pensive silence.

 

“I don’t know how to explain it…” said Fran. “They were like two puzzle pieces cut from different cloth but fit together like they were made for each other.”

 

“I agree,” said Clara kindly, “but that still doesn’t answer the question. Why did they fit?”

 

Another thoughtful silence.

 

“Henry?” Fran dragged me into the conversation while I’d been trying to sink into invisibility, wondering why the hell I had agreed to come. “What do you think?”

 

All eyes swiveled to me, even Clara’s. I couldn’t look at her while I ruminated over the question. Because I knew exactly why the characters Kate and Broderick fit together so perfectly. But saying it aloud was like confessing a secret desire.

 

Clearing my throat, I sat straighter in the chair, the teacup rattling on my knee. “Martha is right,” I started. “Kate is a dreamer. Broderick brought her out of that dreamworld and into reality. He gave her something solid and real to hold onto. But for him…” I licked my lips, staring down at the tea, the pale peachy liquid steaming. “She was the only one who could soothe him after what he’d gone through. The balm to his old wounds. He didn’t know why, but she was the one who made the pain go away and made his heart start beating again. Made him want to breathe and live rather than just exist from day to day. She became his whole heart that he could no longer live without.”

 

It was completely silent when I finally lifted my gaze to the room to find all of them staring at me in various expressions of surprise and shock.

 

Clara shifted next to me, her presence the only one I was completely attuned to. “I, I think Henry’s right,” she said softly. “And while Kate might have been a little aggressive in her pursuit of Broderick, he was certainly the one to do the conquering in the end.”

 

“He can conquer me anytime,” said Deborah, snagging a scone. For such a tiny thing, she was putting it away.

 

“Hear, hear,” giggled Evelyn.

 

And now, I felt completely awkward and uncomfortable. The sound of footsteps coming from somewhere down the hallway and drawing closer put me more on edge. Clara’s twin sister, Violet, passed by the open entrance to the den, heading toward the front door.

 

“Hi, ladies.” She waved, passing on by, but then froze mid-step and turned toward us, staring straight at me, obviously taking in my presence amongst the High Tea Book Club with a frilly teacup on my knee. Then she burst into laughter and walked on toward the front door, muttering, “Priceless.”

 

“Don’t worry about her.” While the ladies started chattering about something else, Clara leaned toward me and whispered, “I think you fit in just fine with us.”

 

Violet’s comment or obvious laughable reaction to me sitting in this room among the elder ladies and Clara didn’t bother me one bit. The only thing that was currently driving me to distraction was Clara’s delicate hand sitting lightly on my knee as she leaned in and surrounded me with her drugging scent. Why was it she could touch me unaware, and panic never took root? Rather the opposite, actually.