“Including me,” said Theodosia. “I feel terrible about jumping to such a hasty conclusion.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” advised Drayton. “Tidwell certainly believed you and, in fact, seemed to confirm your thoughts. And, as you pointed out earlier, Ford Cantrell could have been secretly scheming to oust Oliver Dixon. He could have been seeking a permanent solution, if you get my drift.”
“I suppose,” fretted Theodosia.
“Frankly, I think you should speak with Tidwell again,” urged Drayton. “About Ford Cantrell and Billy Manolo. Just the fact that Billy Manolo showed up at Oliver Dixon’s funeral—and Tidwell was a witness to that—is somewhat suspicious. And I’m very uneasy about the fact that he threatened you.”
“Who threatened who?” asked Haley as she stuck her head in the door.
“It’s nothing, really,” said Theodosia. She didn’t want Haley to get upset over Billy Manolo’s cruel remark about her floating facedown in Charleston Harbor.
“When our Theodosia went to Billy Manolo’s house last Saturday, he picked up a piece of pipe and threatened her,” said Drayton.
“Did you call the cops?” asked Haley. “Any guy looks cross-eyed at me these days, I call the cops.”
“What about that Hell’s Angel with the overpowered motorbike who hung around here all last summer?” Dray-ton asked. “He frightened off half our customers.”
“Teddy wasn’t threatening,” said Haley. “He was simply in the throes of an identity crisis. Anyway, he’s back in school now.”
“Studying what,” asked Drayton, “anarchy?”
“If you must know, he’s studying to be a paramedic,” said Haley. “But tell me more about this Billy Manolo character. Maybe he was the one who was peeking in our window Saturday night.”
“You’re still convinced someone was up to no good,” said Drayton.
“I don’t know what they were up to, but somebody was out there,” replied Haley as the timer on her stove gave a loud ding. “Oops, got to pull this batch out,” she said as she sailed around the corner.
By ten o’clock, every table in the tea shop was occupied. Drayton had predicted they’d have a busy morning, even though it had started out slowly, and had readied at least two dozen teapots. Now they were being filled with keeman, puerh, and Darjeeling, and being dispatched to the various tables occupied by tourists as well as tea shop regulars.
Theodosia was behind the counter, manning the old brass cash register and, in between cashiering and handing out change, was scribbling notes she could add later to the “Tea Tips” section of her Web site. When it didn’t appear that the Indigo Tea Shop could hold one more customer, she looked up to see the door swing open and Doe Belvedere Dixon walk in followed closely by Giovanni Loard.
“Hellooo . . .” Drayton flew over to greet them, had an obvious moment of panic when he realized there wasn’t an available table, then demonstrated signs of palpable relief when he saw that two women were just getting up to leave. “I’ll have your table ready in a moment,” he assured Doe and Giovanni.
Theodosia waited until Doe and Giovanni had been seated and served before she went over to their table to greet them. Things had settled down somewhat—all the customers were sipping and noshing—and Drayton seemed to be in a perpetual hover mode near Doe and Giovanni’s table.
For someone who’d recently lost her husband, Doe appeared to have done an admirable job of pulling herself out of her grief. Theodosia watched as she chatted animatedly with Drayton, then with people at two other tables.
“They say Coco Chanel always took her tea with lemon,” said Doe as her elegantly manicured fingertips gently pushed back a swirl of blond hair. “And that she always ordered in toast and jam from the Ritz.” Doe glanced up as Theodosia approached. “Hello,” she said, sipping delicately from her teacup. “I love your tea shop; it’s so quaint.”
“Thank you, how nice to see you again,” said Theodosia, “although it’s unfortunate our first meeting was under such sad circumstances. How are you doing?” Theodosia wondered if Doe would remember that she was the one who’d pushed her about Oliver’s knowledge of guns the day of the funeral. No, probably not, she decided.
“I’m feeling so much better,” replied Doe. “Everyone has been so kind.” She turned luminous eyes toward Giovanni and smiled.
Giovanni fumbled for Doe’s hand and patted it gently. “She’s a strong girl, a real survivor,” he said.
Doe shifted her hundred-watt smile to Drayton, and Theodosia wondered just how long this girl figured she could get by on her mesmerizing beauty. Perhaps until she married a second time? Then again, Doe also possessed enormous self-confidence. She might just sail through life, as some people did, secure in the knowledge that the world would always deliver its bounty to them.
“Can you sit with us a moment?” Giovanni asked Theodosia and Drayton. “I was just telling Doe what a lovely time I had here last week. How helpful Drayton was with the Edgefield teapot and what a gracious hostess Theodosia had been.” He smiled warmly at the two of them. “I feel as though you all are good friends already.”
“We were surprised to hear that your husband’s business was shutting down,” said Theodosia to Doe. First thing this morning, she had scanned the business section of the Charleston Post and Courier. There had been a short article, and details had been fairly sketchy, but it did confirm what Ford Cantrell had told her yesterday. Grapevine was being shut down. Not with a bang but a whimper.
Doe blinked slowly, and a tiny furrow appeared just above the bridge of her nose. “The board of directors has been very kind, particularly Mr. Crowley.”
“Booth Crowley?” asked Theodosia.
“Yes,” said Doe. “He came to inform me in person that it was a business decision prompted solely by Oliver’s death.” She sighed. “It’s comforting to know that Oliver was held in such high esteem and that the company is unable to function without him.”
“Oliver Dixon was a brilliant man,” said Giovanni. “One our community isn’t likely to forget for a long time.”
“It’s a shame the company is being shut down entirely,” continued Theodosia. “To keep Grapevine going, to build it into a success, would have been a tremendous testament to your husband.”
“Unfortunately, it’s just not to be,” said Giovanni. His eyes seemed to have taken on a hard shine, sending a not-so-subtle warning signal to Theodosia.
Giovanni’s overprotectiveness rankled Theodosia and gave her the impetus she needed to continue.
“Well-planned companies usually have a number of capable executives who can take over at the helm,” said Theodosia. “For example—” Under the table, she felt a subtle kick from Drayton. Obviously, he thought she was going too far, pushing a little too hard, as well. “For example,” she continued, “it turns out Ford Cantrell was doing some consulting work with your husband. As a former VP at Vantage Computers, perhaps he could have provided the needed interim leadership.”
Doe frowned and cast her eyes downward, while Giovanni stared at Theodosia with a cold fury. “I’m afraid we’ll be leaving now,” he announced. He stood abruptly, and Doe, tight-lipped and grim, stood up as well.
Then Giovanni Loard headed for the door without uttering another word and Doe, bidding them a clipped good-bye, followed on his heels.
“Well, you certainly got a rise out of them,” said Dray-ton as they huddled at the counter. “And some might say exceeded the boundary of good manners.”
“I take it you disapprove?” asked Theodosia.
Drayton put one hand to the side of his face and patted it absently. “Not entirely,” he said. “Like you, I get a very queasy feeling about a number of people.”
“And your suspicions are focused on...”
“The girl, yes,” said Drayton. “Such a pretty thing. But I can’t help feel that beneath that radiant exterior is a very tough cookie.”