A Marriage in Middlebury. Anita Higman
fit the various personalities of her long-time customers. Blending teas was one of the most pleasant pieces of her life, but she didn’t know Pastor Wally well enough to make him his signature tea. Not yet anyway. Perhaps someday. There was still much more to be discovered about the man.
Charlotte picked up the teapot and headed to the front of the tearoom where the pastor was seated.
Wally smiled. “Hello.” He stood to greet her.
How polite. “Hi there.” Charlotte set the pot of tea on the table and shook his hand. She was a little taller, but whatever the pastor lacked in height he made up for in friendly animation. She pointed to the pot. “Let that tea steep for a bit.”
“Will do. I hear you blend teas to match your customer’s personalities. When will I get to taste your ‘Wally’ creation?”
Charlotte held up her finger. “Ahh, but I haven’t known you long enough to figure out what combination of flavors might be right for you.”
Wally pulled out the chair next to him. “Well, if you have a moment you’re welcome to sit with me and we can do that very thing,” he said in his Georgia drawl.
Charlotte smiled. Hmm. Well, she’d walked right into that one. She liked the new pastor but not in the marrying way. Besides, she was seven years older. According to the local talebearers, Pastor Wally was a mere babe of thirty. But since Sam was getting married, moving beyond the Wilder dream would need to happen soon.
“All right. Thanks.” Charlotte sat down across from the pastor, thinking of all the times she’d told her customers to keep an open mind about falling in love. Perhaps she should take her own counsel. She was like the hairdresser who never ran a comb through her own hair. “Tell me, what are some of your favorite things?”
Wally perked up at the question. “Well, I like mornings just like this one. Not quite cold with the mist rising on Middlebury Creek. I like reading for pleasure, which I never have enough time for. My favorite novel being, To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“Mine too.” Charlotte surprised herself with her sudden excitement.
“Is it? You have good taste.”
“Thanks.” It did help that Wally wasn’t wearing his clerical collar. That formality might have been a real hindrance if there ever were any amorous inclinations.
“Let’s see,” he went on to say, “I also like not having so many blind dates.”
Charlotte laughed. Maybe Lil was right.
“The people in my congregation mean well. They really do,” Wally said, “but I think I can ask a woman out on my own.”
“I’m sure you can.” Charlotte poured Wally a cup of steeped Earl Grey. Well, so far so good if this had been a real date. She had given dating a try over the years, but she always ended up feeling like Goldilocks—either finding the porridge too hot or too cold. Never just right.
He leaned over the cup and waved the aroma toward his face. “Irresistible.”
“It’s the bergamot oil in the tea that you’re loving,” she said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.
“From Italy?”
“You knew.”
Wally grinned. “Speaking of fragrant. I like the whole smell of this town. What is that?”
“It’s the eucalyptus trees. We’re close enough to the Texas coast that they do fairly well here. The garden club planted some around town, and they suddenly took off.”
Pastor Wally blew on his tea and took a sip. “What’s something I can know about you? How did you come to own a tearoom like this?”
Charlotte picked up the tiny vase of rosebuds and smelled them. “When I was a kid I played tea party with my mother, well, like thousands of other little girls. But I loved it enough to see it as a profession. And now I’m living the dream.” She tore off several wilted rose petals and stuck them in her pocket.
Wally pointed to her pocket. “Zuzu’s petals.”
Charlotte laughed. “Yes, I guess so.”
“But what made you different from the other girls?” Wally asked. “What made you see it as more than just playtime?”
Charlotte cupped her chin in her palm. “No one has ever asked me that. Let’s see . . . ” She had to admit their chat was going better than expected. Maybe she would give the pastor a chance. Perhaps she’d been like a little boat that was aimlessly at sea. She was moving, but if she didn’t put in a little effort rowing, she’d end up forever adrift. “Well . . . during teatime the girls acted differently. You know, pretending to be all grown up, and everything, but there was a light in their eyes too. Like what we were doing brought them joy. Anyway, I came to see it as a happy profession. And I still do.”
“Nicely said.”
“Thank you, Pastor—”
“Please call me Wally.”
“All right . . . Wally.” Things were going well enough that she tried to take her mind off the pastor’s mustache, which was a new addition to his face. The wooly thing wriggled so much when he talked it was as if a hamster had taken up lodgings on his upper lip. Charlotte Rose Hill, you’ll never get married if you don’t try harder!
The door to the tearoom opened, and Charlotte glanced toward the newcomer. In spite of all the kind and inquisitive and furry distractions at her table, she was thrilled to see the very person who’d been dancing through her thoughts. Sam Wilder.
When Sam linked gazes with Charlotte, his smile flew around the tearoom like a golden finch and fluttered circles around Pastor Wally’s head.
Charlotte rose so swiftly she knocked over her chair. “Pastor, have you met Sam Wilder yet?”
Chapter 9
9
Trying to regain some composure, Charlotte righted her chair and made the introductions.
Pastor Wally said to Sam, “I heard about your father. I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you. Appreciate it.” Sam smoothed the lapel on his jacket and then said, “Actually, I’m glad to meet up with you for another reason. I’m getting . . . married. And we decided to have the ceremony at Middlebury Chapel.”
“Now, wait a minute.” Pastor Wally pointed his finger back and forth at both of them. “Who are we talking about? Do you mean you and Charlotte here?”
“No, no,” Charlotte blurted out, feeling breathless.
Sam chuckled. “Sorry, Pastor. I should have been clearer. I’m marrying a woman named Audrey Anderson. Would it be all right for us to visit with you sometime today and discuss the ceremony?”
“Let’s see. Sometime later today should be all right. Call my secretary at the church, and she’ll get you all set up. And sorry if I embarrassed you both just now. Lately, I’ve become quite good at it. Too bad that’s not what I’m trying to get my doctorate in. It’d be a piece of cake.”
“Speaking of cake,” Charlotte said, her voice still too high-pitched. “Pastor, how about a slice of my homemade strawberry cake . . . on the house.”
“That’ll require another thirty minutes on the treadmill.” Wally rubbed his middle as if it were a pet. “But it’s hard to refuse something that would go so well with the Earl Grey. Thank you.”
“Let me get it for you.” Charlotte turned to Sam. “Would you like me to seat you? Will Audrey be joining you for lunch? I still owe you both a free welcome-home meal.”
Sam took her by the elbow and led her to the other side of the tearoom. “Audrey’s not here. I’m afraid I’m in some trouble. I forgot her birthday.”
“You