CelebrationsAtHomeBlog.com
Miss Mayhern always managed to pull her chair out without making that
scraping sound against the big black and white tiles on the floor. Mayrose then
set her handbag directly in front of her on the far side of the little round
table, always with the muted gold clasp facing her. As soon as she sat down she
took her gloves off, starting by pulling up on the left hand pinkie finger and
progressing along that hand until finishing with the thumb and pulling the
glove completely off. She then held that glove in her left hand and
proceeded in the exact same manner to remove her right glove. Then Mayrose fit
both gloves together, finger matching finger, thumb matching thumb, laid them
in her lap (in order not to soil them on the table) smoothed them out bottom to
top exactly three times and then carefully draped them across the top of her
handbag, with the cuffs facing her. She wore a dainty garnet ring set in
rose gold on the ring finger of her right hand. As soon as her gloves were
removed she adjusted this ring so that the garnet was squarely in the center of
her finger.
By this time Mrs. Little was on her way over to take her order. Even
though Mayrose always ordered the same thing, Mrs. Little always took her order
with the doomed hope that some day, some bright and shining day, Miss Mayrose
Mayhern would order Something Different, something other than a pot of Earl
Grey tea, no lemon, milk, no sugar and a bran muffin, no raisins.
After the tea service was brought to the table, Mayrose would always
rearrange things to her liking. The teapot was on her upper right, with the
handle and the spout on a parallel line with her handbag, teacup and saucer on
her left, dessert plate with muffin to the right of the teacup, etc. etc.
Once everything was squared away to her liking (sometimes these things were
only moved a quarter of an inch) she would place the tea strainer on her teacup
and pour her tea. She added a small amount of milk, stirred the tea carefully,
and took a tiny sip. Then she alternated sips of tea with delicate bites of
muffin, wiping her mouth at the corners after each bite of muffin with the pale
pink linen napkin. This routine never varied. No matter how many times Milton observed
this ritual he never once saw any variation. He even started counting the bites
that it took her to finish the muffin. It was always twenty, and
for the life of him, he could not figure out how she managed that.
Signs from Amazon
One Thursday morning in May just as the tulips were fading and the
peonies were opening up to their full beauty Milton arrived at the tearoom a
little before ten and greeted Mrs. Little.
"Good morning, dear lady."
"Good morning, Milton. Isn't it a lovely day?"
"Not as lovely as you, Sweet Pea."
"Oh, go on with you, you big old teddy bear."
"Fine, how about a bear hug then?"
"Just go to your table and drink your tea."
She smiled and shook her head as she watched him take a seat at a
table in the back next to the table where Mayrose always sat. Just as soon as
he sat down Mayrose came in the door. As she neared her table Milton stood up,
bowed and said, “Good morning.”
Mayrose stopped in her tracks, looked at Milton, nodded primly, and
sat down with her back to him. He picked up his paper and rather noisily folded
it so he could work on the crossword puzzle. He noticed that if he rattled the
paper quite loudly Miss Mayhern’s shoulders hunched slightly. Milton finished
his tea and decided to go sit on a bench at the park and finish the crossword
puzzle. He might make a few notes of his observations of Miss Mayhern's tea
ritual. It was a too nice a day to sit inside and breathe walled in air. He
passed Mayrose without acknowledging her, deciding that he'd pestered her
enough for one day.
Mayrose watched as that annoying man, whoever he was, left the tearoom.
Good riddance to him and his rattling paper she thought to herself. Still,
there was something familiar about him, something strong and comforting from a
long ago memory. When he first started coming in to the tearoom, she had
noticed his interactions with Mrs. Little and the patrons of the White Jasmine.
People seemed to be drawn to the warmth of his company like the comfort of a
soft old sweater.
