Tea with Emma (Book One of the Teacup Novellas) by Diane Moody
“Dr. Martin called. He says they’re ready for you over at the luncheon. And here are your phone messages.”
After depositing his briefcase and books on his desk, he whisked back through the outer office. “Just put those on my desk, please. And give Howard a ring. Tell him I’ll be there in less than five.”
“Yes, Dr. Grant.”
“I’ll be back around two-thirty. See you then.”
He headed across the commons toward the administrative building. Howard had insisted Ian attend the luncheon for faculty members in the English department. Not one for social gatherings, Ian would have preferred his usual sandwich in his office, but Howard would not be deterred.
Relieved to be rid of the cane, Ian hurried his pace despite the pesky limp. His foot was still a tad tender, but much improved. He hoped the doctor would give him clearance to start running again soon. He had missed his morning runs dreadfully.
Ian made his way to the private dining room in the rear of the building on the first floor. He could hear the clinking of silver on fine china and the low murmur typical of academicians in social settings.
“Ian! Over here, my good man. Nice to have you join us.” Howard Martin closed the space between them, extending his hand.
“Thank you, Howard. You promised a good meal, so here I am,” Ian teased, shaking hands. “As long as it’s not one of those ghastly casseroles so popular in the cafeteria, I’m a happy chap.”
“Not a chance,” Martin chuckled. “Prime rib that will melt in your mouth. But first I want to introduce you to some of our other new staff members.”
Ian played the game, exchanging pleasantries. Some were names familiar to him, others not. Soon they were all seated and lunch was served. The food was top shelf as promised, much to Ian’s surprise. Even the generous slice of New York cheesecake caught his fancy, urging him to leave room for a taste.
Halfway through his meal, Howard interrupted the quiet conversation, scooting his chair back and stepping toward the entrance behind Ian. “Ah, there she is—Melissa, how good of you to come!”
“Howard! So good to see you again! How is Roberta?”
Ian stopped chewing, his fork suspended in mid-air. It can’t be. He tried to swallow, lowering the utensil to his plate, then attempted to wipe his mouth with the linen napkin. Ian braced himself as the chatter neared him. Only then did he notice the empty seat across the table.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce our new interim professor who will be taking Dr. Smith’s classes until he is able to return from the Anderson Clinic. This is Dr. Melissa Phillips, formerly of Vanderbilt University, bringing us her expertise on women authors of the eighteenth century.”
The men at the table stood as Dr. Phillips followed Howard to the empty seat next to him. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. I apologize for my late arrival. There was a nasty pileup on the interstate and it simply couldn’t be helped.”
Ian stood half-way, the prime rib lodged in his throat refusing to go down. Once seated again, he reached for the crystal glass of iced water, praying for relief and avoiding eye contact.
“Dr. Phillips, I’m sure you know many of your colleagues around the table. Allow me to make formal introductions.” Howard went around the table, thankfully starting the other direction, giving Ian time to compose himself. He felt the heat on his face.
“And finally, Dr. Ian Grant, our esteemed visiting professor on loan to us from Oxford University.”
“Ian?”
He coughed, finally clearing his throat, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Melissa, nice to see you.”
“What a surprise—I had no idea you were here in Austin. I’m—it’s nice to see you again.”
“Yes, well. Here we are.” The heat continued to scorch his face. Smile. Force the smile. “I too had no idea you were joining the faculty here.” He pinned Howard with a look to kill.
“Oh dear,” Howard groaned, his eyes darting back and forth between them, obviously remembering too late the former relationship between his two guests. “That is to say, I, uh, yes, well. You see, Dr. Phillips was gracious enough to shorten her sabbatical to cover Dr. Smith’s classes. We have no idea how long his chemotherapy treatment will last, and since Melissa was in the area working on her new book, we were fortunate to convince her to take a couple of his classes." He stopped rambling for a moment then added, "Well now, isn’t this nice?”
The conversation resumed, others dominating Melissa’s attention, much to Ian’s relief. His heart pounded, the hot anger quickly racing through his veins. Teeth clenched, he fought the eruption of old memories and still-open wounds. For the remainder of the meal, he picked at his food, chastising himself for letting her affect him this way after all these years.
The tall pillar of cheesecake remained untouched.
Maddie gazed around her new kitchen. The freshly painted walls in a soft yellow called Butter Cream created the perfect, soothing ambience she would need for her culinary efforts. The white lace curtains allowed plenty of sunshine to stream through the pane-glass windows. She ran her hand over the cool marble countertop on the huge center island, dreaming of the delicacies she would create here. Appreciating the new cabinets banking the walls, she realized what a miracle Brad had pulled off in just a matter of weeks.
“Brad!” She looked at her watch then grabbed the phone, quickly dialing Lanie’s number.
“Lanie, where are you? He’ll be back in just a few minutes! I thought you were going to be here for tea?”
“I’m coming, I’m sorry! I was talking with Jeff and lost track of time.”
Maddie felt her teeth grinding. “Lanie, will you forget about him? I really think Brad likes you. So hurry up! I want you here before he gets back. Get your sweet bum over here!”
She hung up the phone, again irritated by the mention of the California nerd. I’m finally getting you and Brad connected and here you go, wasting more time with that stupid geek. When will you ever learn to trust me, girl?
Her gentle nudges to bring Lanie and Brad together had gone according to plan. She’d actually been hearing less about Jeff and more about the handsome contractor from her friend. “I have to admit he’s fun to be with,” Lanie had admitted on more than one occasion. “He’s got the funniest sense of humor. And is he buff or what?”
Maddie observed the growing excitement in Lanie’s eyes each time she happened to stop by when he was done for the day. She loved watching her respond to his impeccable manners. Their laughter over tea or lemonade filled Maddie’s heart with joy. Just a matter of time, those two.
Half an hour later, Maddie heard Lanie’s voice at the front door.
“Maddie, I’m here! Sorry I’m late. I was on fumes and had to stop for gas which took way longer than it should have. Maddie? Hello?”
“Back here, Lanie. Come see my new appliances!”
Squealing like a school girl, Maddie greeted her best friend with a hug. “Look! Our refrigerator and stove were just delivered! Aren’t they unbelievable?”
“Oh wow, they’re huge—you could store a side of beef in there.”
“Well, hi Lanie. How are you?”
Lanie lit up at the sound of Brad’s voice. “Fine, Brad. How about you?”
Maddie watched her take in Brad’s appearance. His worn jeans fit him like a glove as did the white t-shirt stretched across his chest. Show me any computer geek who looks this good.
Brad tipped his ball cap and started for the door. “I’m good. But if you two will excuse me, I need to be going.”
“No! Brad, wait,” Maddie said. “I was hoping you’d have tea with us today.”
“Thank you, but I have a meeting with an architect in about an hour. I appreciate the offer, though. See you tomorrow. Bye, Lanie,” he said, giving her a wink before closing the door.
“Did you see that?” Maddie whispered. “He winked at you! Lanie, hurry—run out there and catch him before he leaves!”
&
“Invite him to meet you at Starbucks later. Tell him you have something you want to talk to him about. Anything! Just go. Go!” Maddie pushed her out the door then dashed to the open window overlooking Brad’s truck. She hid out of sight, peeking through the curtains.
“Brad! Wait up!”
Maddie watched as Lanie hurried down the driveway, catching up to him just as he climbed in the cab of his pickup.
“What’s up?” he asked, tossing his cap on the passenger seat and ruffling his hair.
Ask him, Lanie. Ask him. Be brave, girlfriend!
“I was just wondering, would you—well, if you’re not too busy sometime, could we—could I buy you a cup of coffee at Starbucks later tonight? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Atta girl! You did it!
“I’m afraid not.”
Maddie’s heart sunk. What?
“Oh, that’s okay,” Lanie answered. “No problem. Just thought I’d—”
“I can’t let you buy, but I’d be happy to meet you later at Starbucks. My treat.”
Maddie shot her fists in the air. Yessss!
“How does eight-thirty work for you?”
Lanie smiled, laughing her response. “Eight-thirty would be lovely. See you there.”
Maddie danced a jig around the kitchen island. “Do I know a match when I see it? Am I a genius or what? Move over, Emma Woodhouse. You have met your match.” She laughed out loud. “Met your match. Get it? Oh I’m good. I’m really good.”
Ian wrung out the white washcloth, its steam swirling into the air. He placed it back across his forehead then sunk deeper into the tub. The whirlpool jets pounded his body, matching the rhythm of his throbbing temples. He shook his head, trying to block it all out. Trying to wipe her from his memory . . . all over again.
Another pounding woke him from his drowsy melancholy. He turned off the jets, listening. Someone was knocking on the door, the doorbell chiming repeatedly. “Go away!” Still the knocking continued, the doorbell incessant.
“All right, all right. I’m coming.” He toweled off then wrapped his robe around him before heading down the hall, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor. He stopped cold. Melissa stood on the other side of the door, her face visible through the beveled glass inset.
He turned around. “I’m not home.”
The knocking continued. “Ian, let me in. We have to talk.”
“No we don’t. I’m not here. Remember?”
“Ian!”
“Halloween’s not until next week. You’ll have to come back.”
“Stop acting like a child and open this door.”
How dare she! He bolted for the door, throwing it open. “What could you possibly want?”
“I—just let me in. We have to talk.”
“I don’t think so.”
She lifted her chin in defiance, pushing the door open wider then stepping by him. “Stop this ridiculous behavior. We can at least be civil toward one another.”
“Can we?”
“Of course we can. And for heaven’s sake, close the door. You’re in a bath robe in case you haven’t noticed.”
Without breaking eye contact, he shoved the door. The resulting slam felt good as he strode past her into the living room. “So what is it you want to say to me, Dr. Halston—or wait, Phillips, is it now?” Ian claimed the easy chair beside the fireplace, propping his foot on the ottoman. “Married, are we?”
“Five years. With a four-year old daughter named Isabelle.” She walked across the room, placed her purse on the sofa, then took a seat.
“How nice. Isn’t that just lovely. And here I thought all this time you didn’t much like the idea of marriage. What with all that commitment rubbish and what not. Silly, silly me. I’m so very happy for you. In fact, if I wasn’t so busy, I’d ask to see pictures, but alas, I just don’t have the time.” He drilled her with his eyes, hoping to make her squirm.
She studied her fingers. He didn’t miss the large oval diamond on her left hand. “Ian, I never meant to—”
“Spare me. I don’t want to hear it. Not a word, Melissa.”
She looked up again with pleading eyes. “You never responded after I sent you all those letters. I hoped you would, though I know it must have been painful.”
“Painful? You left me standing at the altar! In front of all our friends and family, standing there like a complete and utter fool. And you think it might have been painful? Your mother appears at the back of the church only to say you’ve ‘changed your mind’ and there won’t be a wedding after all. I haven’t a clue in the world why anyone should think it might be painful for me? Least of all YOU!”
“Ian, calm down and listen to me.”
“No. I will not listen to you.”
“Fine. Don’t listen. But there are things I must say to you. I couldn’t marry you. Our engagement was my parents’ wish and not mine. Surely you know that. The college professor marrying the daughter of the chancellor. I tried to deny my feelings, tried to make everyone happy, but in the end, I couldn’t go through with it. The dress, the flowers, the music—suddenly it all hit me—it was nothing but a charade to please everyone but me. I adored you, Ian, truly I did. But I didn’t love you. I mean, not in that way. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. Not fair at all.”
He stared into the fire, refusing to look at her.
“You never read my letters, did you?”
He shook his head, despising the sting in his eyes.
“You must have hated me all these years. I can’t blame you, of course. What I did was deplorable.”
“Quite.”
“That’s why I was so surprised to see you today. I thought you surely hated all Americans after what I did. Yet here you were, back teaching in the states again.”
She stood and walked toward the front windows. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m in no position to do that after all these years.” She turned to face him. “But here we are, both in the same town, working on the same campus. In Texas of all places. There must be some way we can at least be cordial to one another.”
The grandfather clock ticked quietly. He closed his eyes, willing them to clear. After several moments, he realized she was seated again across from him.
“Ian.”
Her voice, graveled with emotion, pricked at his heart. He inhaled loudly, pulling his feet off the ottoman. “Not to worry, Dr. Phillips. I assure you I’ll remain completely professional at all times.” He stood, walking toward the foyer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my bath water is getting cold.”
She followed him to the door, pausing as she neared him. He leveled his gaze at her, steeling the storm of emotions inside.
“Ian? Please?” she whispered, a lone tear cascading down her face.
“Good night, Melissa.”
The silence was palpable. Finally, she reached out her hand against his face then pressed a long kiss against his cheek. With that, she left, descending the porch stairs into the night.
Chapter 8
Maddie watched the car pull away from the curb in front of Bradford House. Sitting on her porch, she pulled her sweater around her against the evening chill, and reached for her cup of tea. Her pulse quickened, replaying the scene in her mind. She’d felt like an intruder when the door across the street had opened. But had she moved to go inside, she surely would have been noticed. The backlighting of the foyer chandelier had cast Ian and his lady friend in silhouettes as if some Hollywood director had created the romantic effect.
She fought the desire to be happy for the professor, hoping he might have some secret love after all. But there was something about the exchange that told her otherwise.
He was in his bath robe. Rather familiar apparel for a mere acquaintance. Who is she? And why didn’t he respond when she kissed him?
The cell phone in her sweater pocket vibrated. “Hello?”
Lanie’s sniffles filled her ear. Maddie looked at her watch. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be meeting Brad right now?”
“I know. I was just getting ready to leave when Jeff Skyped me. Oh why did I even tell him? I had no idea he would mind. And now I may have lost him forever. Maddie, I can’t see Brad right now. I’m a wreck!”
Lanie blew her nose, causing Maddie to distance the tiny cell phone from her ear. “No! You have to go! Lanie, Brad is probably already there waiting for you. And besides, if Jeff is such a wimp that a little thing like coffee with a friend upsets him, do you really want a relationship with someone like that? Of course not. Now, go wash your face, get in your car and get over to Starbucks. Go!”
Maddie turned off her phone, slipping it back in her pocket. “Oh Lord, what am I going to do with these people? If they’d just listen to me—to You, I mean.”
“Lanie! I was beginning to worry I’d misunderstood when we were to meet. Hey, are you okay?” Brad stood, pulling the bistro chair out for her.
She took a seat, avoiding his eyes. “Um, sure. I just, I think maybe I have a little cold coming on or something. Or maybe allergies. I must look awful.”
“Not at all. I was just about to order a cappuccino. Would you like one?”
“Sure. Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”
Brad placed their order at the counter, smiling back at her a couple of times while waiting for the barista to make their drinks. Lanie used the time to sneak a peek in her compact, applying a dab of powder beneath her eyes to hide the redness. Brad returned a few minutes later, setting their drinks on the table.
“Thank you." She popped the lid off her grande cup. "It smells wonderful.”
“It’ll probably keep us up all night, but who cares, right?”
Lanie tried to laugh. “Right. Who cares?”
Brad took a sip, then wiped the whipped cream from his upper lip with a napkin. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
Lanie looked into his sable brown eyes, studied his broad smile and strong jaw line, and wondered what he must think of her. He was strikingly handsome. He’s probably Mr. October on some calendar of hunky Texas construction guys. What’s he doing here with someone like me? Maddie, why did you put me up to this?