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They walked on slowly.  They passed a café with blue gingham curtains and a hand-printed menu card in the window.  Abby didn’t even look at it, so Nick figured this wasn’t the tea place.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly and came to a halt.  She pointed at the window of a book store.  “There’s a book I’ve been looking for.  Do you mind if we go in?”

Nick shrugged.  Why would I mind, he thought.  Have I minded so far?  I even went into that store with all the tablecloths, or whatever they were.  He followed her into the bookstore and watched her as she spoke with the clerk about the book.  The clerk brought her the book and then went back to the cash register.  Abby stood leafing through the book.  Nick wandered over to a rack of calendars that were on for half-price.  Made sense, he thought.  The year was half over.  Lots of little kids and cutesy animals.  Yuck!  He turned to a display of bookmarks with inspirational quotations.

“Listen to this,” he called to her.  “Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived.’ M. Scott Peck.”

“Words to live by,” she said with a smile.

“Well, it’s no ‘suck it up and go on’, but it’s got a certain something,” said Nick with a grin.

“That’s true,” said Abby, moving to the cash desk.  She paid for the book.  Behind her, Nick paid for the bookmark and then slipped it into her bag.

“Are you ready for tea?” she asked.

“I’ve never done ‘afternoon tea’,” he said, “but I’m up for it…any new adventure.”

“Well, it’s not exactly climbing Everest,” said Abby, “but I guess it could qualify as a mystery of life.”

They entered the hotel.  The lobby was bright and airy with large windows facing the street.  There were groupings of furniture, lots of bamboo with brightly-patterned cushions and potted ferns.

Abby led Nick past the front desk to a set of French doors.  Through the leaded panes, Nick could see a formal dining room.  The waiter was in a tuxedo and the tables were draped in starched linen cloths.  Napkins folded into fans sat at each place at the tables.

“Two for tea?” inquired the hostess.

“Yes, please,” said Abby.  Behind her, she heard a snicker.

“And tea for two,” hummed Nick under his breath.

The hostess led them to a table near the window.  It was set for four and the hostess picked up the two extra place settings.  Nick held out Abby’s chair for her and then moved to the other side of the table.  Abby waited for him to take off his hat, but he didn’t.

A waiter appeared.  “Good afternoon,” he said.  “Would you like to see a menu?”

“No,” said Abby, “we’re going to have the tea.”  Abby and the waiter spoke gibberish for awhile, discussing cream tea and cake plates or plates of cakes or something.  Nick couldn’t figure it out, but he figured Abby wouldn’t either let him starve or kill him.

He looked around the room.  It wasn’t very busy.  Not surprising, he thought.  A Tuesday afternoon in June.  How busy could it be?  Scattered here and there were customers at tables, groups of twos and threes, mostly women.  Nick looked around again.  No, actually, they were all women.  Nick, the waiter and a busboy hovering in the corner were the only men in the place.  The women were all middle-aged to elderly and several of them met Nick’s gaze with disapproval.  What’s up with that? he wondered.  Isn’t a guy allowed to drink tea?

“Jeez, those old bats are really giving me the eye,” said Nick, after the waiter departed.  “Like it’s a ladies club or something.  No men allowed.”

“It’s your hat,” said Abby.  Nick looked confused.  “You’re wearing a hat indoors,” she explained.

Nick slid his hand up and removed the cap.  He didn’t realize that that was still a rule.  It wasn’t in the circles he traveled in.  “What about the sunglasses?” he asked with a blush.

“No, they’re not a problem,” said Abby.  “You don’t need them, though, unless you think you need them to hide behind.  I don’t think you’re in a lot of danger here, but…well, there are fans everywhere, right?”

Nick got pissed.  His good mood left him, just evaporated.  Poof!  Gone!  He was embarrassed by the hat thing.  And then the comment about ‘hiding’ behind the sunglasses.  Look who was talking about hiding.  And was she being sarcastic about the fans?  There were so fans everywhere, dammit!  He looked around the room.  Well, maybe not here!  He slipped the sunglasses into his shirt pocket.

Abby watched the scowl cross Nick’s face.  What did you do now, you stupid girl? she chastised herself.  Why did you mention the hat?  Surely you could have gotten through the meal without having it bother you?  Omigod, you’re turning into your mother.

The waiter diffused the tense atmosphere by pouring tea into it.  Nick had never seen so much equipment just for a cup of tea.  Each of them received a heavy china pot and a cup and saucer.  A plate of lemon wedges and a silver bowl filled with sugar cubes were placed in the middle of the table for them to share, but they each got their own small jug of milk and a larger jug with a lid on it.  They also each got a side plate, with a small strainer on it.

“Where’s the manual?” asked Nick.  He meant it as a joke, but he wasn’t sure it came across that way.  He folded his hands in prayer and turned his eyes heavenward.  “Please, Lord, try not to make me look like too much of an idiot.  Amen,” he intoned, as if he were saying grace.

“It’s only tea,” said Abby.  “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” said Nick, “walk me through it.  What’s this for?”  He picked up the strainer.  Abby explained that the tea was made with loose tea, not teabags.  You poured the tea through the strainer so that the leaves didn’t get into the cup.

“Okay.  And…?”  He pointed to the second jug.

“More hot water,” said Abby, “to refresh to pot.”

“We’ll be able to float home,” said Nick.  Jeez, he thought, how much tea were they going to drink?  And when was the food coming?  And what was the food?

The waiter came back followed by the busboy carrying a tray.  The waiter unloaded dish after dish onto the table.  One plate held fancy sandwiches – tiny squares, circles and pinwheels.  Nick recognized salmon and egg, but the others were a mystery.  There was a pink one, maybe that was strawberry cream cheese.  They were pretty but didn’t look terribly substantial. 

Abby turned back the napkin covering a small basket to reveal four small biscuits…the scones, thought Nick, triumphantly.  Two were orange-flecked and two weren’t.  Cheese, he guessed.  A dish with three sections contained jam.  He bet he knew where they got that from.  There was a pot with a lid on it.  If there was clotted cream anywhere, that would be it, thought Nick, determined not to lift the lid.

There was a plate of carrot curls and celery sticks.  There were some cucumber slices that had grooves around the outside, making them look like little cogs.  A couple of radish roses completed that dish.

Finally, there was a three-tiered cake plate, which held a dozen or so dessert squares in a variety of flavors.

“Wow!” said Nick, "Where do we start?”

Abby served two of the tiny sandwiches onto her plate and passed the dish to Nick.  He popped one of the egg ones into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, while he examined the rest.  He selected a salmon, a cream cheese and another egg.  He held up one with green leafy material in it.  “What’s this?”

“Watercress,” said Abby.  He looked at her plate.  She hadn’t chosen one for herself.  He raised an eyebrow at her in question.  “I never could see the attraction,” she said.  “But go ahead and try it.”

Nick wrinkled his nose and set the sandwich back down on the edge of the platter.  He picked one up that looked like ham wrapped around a pickle.  The bread had been colored pink.  He popped it into his mouth and set down the plate.

Abby took a carrot curl and a celery stick from the plate of vegetables and laid them beside her sandwiches.  She handed the dish over.  Nick shook his head and set the plate down in an empty space by his.  On second thought…he picked up a celery stick and munched on it.

Abby selected a scone from the basket and then offered them to Nick.  Nick took one of the cheese ones and one of the plain ones.  He spooned some jam onto the side of his plate.

“Cream?” said Abby, lifting the lid from the jar.  Nick looked at it suspiciously.

“It looks like whipped cream,” he said.

“It is,” said Abby.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he laughed, spooning a large dollop onto his plate beside the jam.  “’Clotted’ sounds so gross.”

“Oh yes, ‘whipped’ sounds so much better,” said Abby, “or maybe you’d prefer ‘lashed’ or ‘pummeled’…”

Nick laughed.  “…or ‘punished’…or ‘spanked’…”

“…excoriated…” suggested Abby.

“Wow!  You win!” said Nick.  “I don’t have very many big words in my head.”  He picked up a carrot curl from the vegetable dish and ate it.

Abby took a bite of her scone.  She started to giggle and put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound and to hide any errant crumbs that might escape.

“What?”

“Spanked cream,” she said, and then cocked her head at the rather staid ladies in the dining room.  “What do you think?  Do you think they’d boycott it or become addicted to it?”

Nick made a face.  “Now that’s really gross,” he said with a shudder.  “Picturing them in leather…or even naked…”

“You never know,” said Abby.  “They might be really hot underneath all that blue hair.”

Suddenly, Nick knew that he couldn’t say anything right here.  Whatever he said, she would misinterpret it and turn it on herself.  So he didn’t say anything, but reached for the scone basket instead.

They ate in silence.  Nick found that he really enjoyed the tea.  He hadn’t had much tea in his life, mostly when he was sick…on the road.  Then Howie forced it on him, saying it was good for his throat.  Because God forbid, you should ever be too sick to sing!  Howie drank tea all the time…and he never seemed to get sick, mused Nick.  He’d never looked at it that way before.  But in Nick’s head, tea was associated with sickness.

“This is good,” he said.  “The tea.  I mean the tea tea,” he said, pointing at the pot, “not the tea.” He motioned to the table in general.  “Oh good God,” he said at the amused expression on Abby’s face.  “Go ahead, say something dumber than that…I dare you.”  He picked up a lemon square from the cake plate and took a bite.  Boy, that was good!  He put the rest of it in his mouth and surveyed the three tiers looking for more.

“You’re not dumb,” she said.

“And you’re not…”  He managed to swallow the word before he said it.

“I don’t fool myself, Nick,” she said.  “I know I’m…not pretty.  I know I’m an ugly duckling.”

Nick didn’t know how to answer this, but he also knew he couldn’t let it go by without comment, because to do that would be to reinforce what she thought about herself.

“But you could be a swan,” he said, wishing with all his might that one of the old ladies would faint or have a heart attack or something, so that they could end this conversation.

“That’s only in the story, Nick,” she said.  “In real life, you don’t turn into a whole other species.  It’s okay, I’m used to it.  Not everyone gets to be beautiful.”

“But…you could…” Nick wanted to protest and tell her that she could do so much more with herself, but he couldn’t find a way of saying it without insulting her.  He picked up the last lemon square.  “Would you like this?”

“No,” she said, “go ahead, but if you touch the raspberry cheesecake one, you’ll lose an arm.”

They each took a square and ate it in silence.  Abby asked Nick if he was done and signaled the waiter for the bill when he said he was.  She waved off Nick’s attempt to pay with a ‘my treat, you paid for the ice cream’.  She signed the credit card chit and slipped her card back into her purse.

She looked up at Nick.  “I thought you were done,” she said, as he picked a date square from the platter.  He looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Then stop eating,” she said.  He froze with the date square halfway to his mouth.

There was a heavy silence.

“Put your hair behind your ears,” he said evenly.

There was another silence.  Their eyes were locked on each other.  Then Abby slowly tipped her chin up defiantly.  She reached up and tucked her hair behind her right ear on one side, and then her left.  Her lips were pressed thin.  Nick set the square back on the plate. 

After several long seconds of silence, Nick sighed.  “Do you think if we hurt each other enough, we can forget what the people we really care about did to us?”

“Maybe,” said Abby softly, but she didn’t think so.  Unwanted beauty tips from a self-indulgent popstar wouldn’t come close to erasing the pain of being considered worthless by her parents.  And she didn’t think digs about his weight or eating habits would have quite the same effect on him as rejecting his proposal of marriage.  But you never knew.