The Broken Teacup Read online

  Then again, the cats seemed to think it was some kind of game chasing the static-laced peanuts around the floor. It wouldn’t be safe to leave the cups and saucers out where the cats could play hockey with them. Reluctantly, Katie repacked the box and returned it to the closet. Yes, she wouldn’t wait to get that shelf made.

  And in the meantime, there was one sure-fire way to lighten her mood: she’d bake.

  Getting out her favorite cookie recipe book, Katie first chose what she’d like to bake and then, after consulting her larder, settled to good old honey-spice cookies. The vendors at Artisans Alley never turned down a sweet treat.

  Katie found herself humming as she measured and mixed the ingredients. Despite the disappointments of the day, she was determined to make the best of the situation.

  What other choice did she have?

  Message From a Stranger

  Sunday morning rolled around and after leaving her plate of cookies in the Alley’s Vendors’ Lounge, Katie found herself hanging around the front of Artisans Alley waiting for Ida Mitchell to arrive. One way or another, she wanted an answer on what had happened to the missing envelope that had accompanied the teacup. But it was Rose who arrived first, accompanied by a sheepish looking Vance, whose hands were clasped behind his back.

  “Oh, there you are,” Rose said, her impossibly blonde curls bouncing as she approached. “You’re just the person we wanted to see.”

  “We’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Surprise?”

  Rose gestured for Katie to accompany her to the Cash Desk 1’s counter, then she held out her hand. Vance handed over a brown plastic shopping bag from the area’s best known grocer, but there was nothing to eat inside. Instead, Rose unwrapped first one then another piece of familiar china.

  “Surprise! Look, Vance fixed your broken cup.”

  Katie positively grinned as Rose handed her the restored cup, but her expression quickly sobered. Yes, the cup had been repaired—in a fashion—but had not been restored to its formerly pristine condition.

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” Katie managed as she ran her thumb over the miniscule ridge that marred the rest of the cup’s smooth surface. “What kind of glue did you use?”

  “Super glue,” Vance replied, but he didn’t sound at all confident.

  Katie’s heart sank. If done properly, with the appropriate cement, the cup would have been restored to its former glory and could have been used for drinking purposes once again. Now it was irrevocably spoiled. She looked up and saw the sparkle of delight in Rose’s eyes at having returned the treasured cup, but she could see that Vance had picked up on her frustration.

  Katie swallowed down her disappointment. “It was very thoughtful of you both to do this for me.” Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to actually say ‘thank you.’

  “I knew how sad you were that the cup arrived broken, and since Vance can fix practically anything—”

  Practically being the operative word.

  “—so it just seemed natural that we should fix it for you.”

  We? Judging by Vance’s uncertain expression, Katie had a feeling he was the unhappy recipient of Rose’s browbeating.

  Never mind, she thought, hearing the words with the hint of a Scottish brogue, just as her Aunt Lizzie would have spoken them.

  “Are you surprised?” Rose asked.

  “Oh, yes.” Katie forced a smile. “I’m speechless.” Katie’s gaze remained on the cup as she rubbed the scar that would mark it forever.

  “Well, I’d best get to the Vendors’ Lounge and get that first pot of coffee going,” Rose said.

  “And I need to tidy my booth before the customers get here,” Vance offered.

  Rose turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the building, but Vance hesitated.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I did my best.”

  Again, Katie forced a smiled. “Thank you. I know you did.”

  Hands in his pockets, Vance shuffled off in the direction of his booth.

  Katie still cradled the cup in her hands. She could have handled that conversation a little better. She hadn’t meant to hurt Vance’s feelings, but she’d never been much of an actress and hiding her feelings had never been her strong suit.

  Movement to her right made Katie look up to see none other than Ida Mitchell stride through the French doors that separated the lobby from the main showroom. Wrapped in a bulky brown coat, boots, and a hat with a scarf tied around it, Ida looked like she was about to take a trip to the North Pole.

  “Ida! Where have you been?” Katie called.

  Ida paused. “Who wants to know?”

  “I do! I’ve been leaving messages on your answering machine for days. Why didn’t you return my calls?”

  “Why should I?” the older woman asked sharply.

  “Because it’s the polite thing to do?” Katie suggested, knowing her words would have no effect on Ida.

  “I knew I’d be seeing you today, so there was no reason for me to call. What did you want?”

  “Can you tell me what happened to the envelope that came in the box with this cup?”

  “Yes.”

  Katie waited, but Ida seemed content to stand there and say nothing.

  “And—where is it?”

  “My pocket.”

  Still Ida didn’t seem inclined to hand the envelope over to Katie.”

  “May I please have it?”

  Ida shrugged, reached her gloved hand into her pocket and withdrew the envelope. “I see you fixed your cup.” She eyed it with disdain. “It still looks like trash to me.”

  “May I have the envelope please?”

  Ida handed it to Katie and turned away, heading for the tag room. “I can’t stay and chat. I must get to work.”

  “You do that,” Katie called after her.

  Katie looked down at the small envelope and was about to tear it open when she thought better of it. She didn’t want to be interrupted when she read it. Instead, she packed up her cup and saucer and headed for her office.

  Rose was pouring milk into a mug when Katie strode into the Vendors’ Lounge. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be working in my office for a while. Holler if you need me,” Katie said.

  She closed the door behind her, took the cup and saucer out of the bag, and set them on her desk, then she took the letter opener from her pen-and-pencil container and slit open the envelope.

  She opened the small card. On the front was a picture of a Scottish castle. Inside, the words written in blue ink were quite small. The message had taken up the entire middle of the card and the back as well. Katie dug in the desk’s middle drawer to come up with a pair of reading glasses that Ezra Hilton, the Alley’s former manager, had left behind. She set them on her nose and proceeded to read.

  Dear Katie,

  You don’t know me, but I’m your cousin Davina Harris. My mother, Jane McDuff Gordon, was Lizzie McDuff’s sister. I am visiting the US for the next week and had hoped to meet up with you. I knew America was a big country, but I didn’t realize just how big. New York is a long way from Fort Lauderdale, where I am visiting my son, John, his wife, and my three grandchildren.

  I have many fond memories of our mutual Aunt Lizzie. She was a woman who never spoke much about herself, but I thought you might like to know a little bit about her. She may or may not have told you about her greatest sadness—the death of her fiancé when she was only twenty-four. He was killed in a road accident. His motorcycle hit a patch of gravel and he lost control and fell off the bike suffering a head injury. He lingered for two weeks before he died, and Lizzie was with him the whole time. She was heartbroken and vowed she would never love another—and I have no doubt she kept that promise.

  You’re probably wondering about the broken cup. I wish it had survived the airport security screeners, but I’m afraid they were much rougher than I had anticipated. Still, it was the last surviving piece of china from the set
Lizzie and Alf had been accumulating prior to their wedding. Their favorite song was ‘That Old Black Magic,’ so when Lizzie saw the name of the china pattern, she thought it must be an omen. After Alf’s death, she thought it cursed and gave it to my mother. We used it in our home when I was growing up. I always loved it, but I have loved it for many years. I thought you might want an opportunity to love it, too. Perhaps you can repair it.

  I hope you are well. I will be in the US until Saturday the 18th. I’ll leave my son’s number so that if you have time, perhaps we can chat and compare notes on our remarkable Aunt, who I last saw when she came to visit Inverness a year before she died.

  Take care, and I hope to hear from you soon.

  Davina

  Katie set the letter aside and her gaze traveled up to the calendar tacked on the wall beside her desk. Davina had departed for Scotland just the day before.

  Because of Ida, she’d missed the opportunity to speak with her new-found cousin. Because of Ida….

  Instead of cursing out her least likable vendor, Katie picked up the cup and smiled. This piece of china had once been loved by her Aunt Lizzie. She and her beau had picked it out. That it had lost its meaning for her didn’t detract from its beauty or the promise of the life Lizzie and her Alf had once envisioned for one another.

  How sad. How terribly, terribly sad.

  Still, Katie was happy Davina had seen fit to send her the broken cup instead of trashing it and, despite its less-than-perfect condition, determined she would forever cherish it.

  With that decided, Katie picked up the phone and punched in the number at the bottom of the letter. It rang three times before being answered.

  “Is this John? Hi, I’m your second cousin. Katie Bonner.”

  From Katie’s Kitchen

  Honey Spice Cookies

  Ingredients

  ¾ cup butter (no substitutes), softened

  1 cup brown sugar, softened

  1 egg

  ¼ cup honey

  2 ¼ cups all-purpose baking soda

  1 teaspoon ground ginger

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

  ¼ teaspoon ground cloves

  Sugar

  In a mixing bowl, cream the butter and brown sugar until fluffy. Beat in the egg and honey. In another bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, ginger, salt, cinnamon, and cloves; gradually add to the creamed mixture and mix well. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours.

  Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC, Gas Mark 4). Shape the cookie dough into 1-inch balls. Dip half of each ball into water and then into sugar. Place with the sugar side up 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 15-17 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on wire racks.

  Yield: 60 cookies

  About the Author

  The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent--whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett -- that keeps her in the hearts of her readers. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, the Tales of Telenia adventure-fantasy saga, and now the Lotus Bay Mysteries, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s). Check out the descriptions and links to all her works, and sign up for her emailed newsletter here: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com

  You can also find her on:

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  Facebook (Author Page)

  The Victoria Square Community Page

  My Facebook Group Page

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  Also By Lorraine Bartlett

  The Victoria Square Mysteries

  A Crafty Killing

  The Walled Flower

  One Hot Murder

  Dead, Bath, and Beyond

  Yule Be Dead

  Recipes to Die For: A Victoria Square Cookbook

  Life On Victoria Square (a companion series to the Victoria Square Mysteries)

  Carving Out A Path

  A Basket Full of Bargains

  The Broken Teacup

  Tales of Blythe Cove Manor

  A Dream Weekend

  A Final Gift

  An Unexpected Visitor

  Tales of Telenia (Adventure-Fantasy)

  STRANDED

  JOURNEY

  TRECHERY

  The Lotus Bay Mysteries

  Panty Raid: A Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant mini mystery

  With Baited Breath

  Christmas At Swans Nest

  Short Stories:

  Love & Murder: A Collection of Stories

  Happy Holidays?

  Blue Christmas

  An Unconditional Love

  Prisoner of Love

  Love Heals

  We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert

  Other Books by L.L. Bartlett

  The Jeff Resnick Mysteries

  Murder On The Mind

  Dead In Red

  Room At The Inn

  Cheated By Death

  Bound By Suggestion

  Dark Waters

  Shattered Spirits

  Jeff Resnick's Personal Files

  Evolution: Jeff Resnick’s Backstory, a collection of short stories

  When The Spirit Moves You (A Jeff Resnick Mystery)

  Bah! Humbug (A Jeff Resnick Mystery)

  Cold Case (A Jeff Resnick Mystery-the inspiration for Bound By Suggestion)

  Spooked!

  Crybaby

  Eyewitness (A Jeff Resnick Mini Mystery)

  Other Stories

  Abused: A Daughter’s Story

  Off Script

  Writing as Lorna Barrett

  The Booktown Mysteries

  Murder Is Binding

  Bookmarked For Death

  Bookplate Special

  Chapter & Hearse

  Sentenced To Death

  Murder On The Half Shelf

  Not the Killing Type

  Book Clubbed

  A Fatal Chapter

  Title Wave

  A Just Clause

  Poisoned Pages