Stevie took a deep breath and unlocked the door, the bell tinkling as she wedged it open, letting the late spring smells waft in. She breathed in the scents of the (very) early morning, savouring the aromas of recently mown grass, the river and the flowers in the hanging baskets and pots along the road. Then she sneezed hugely. Oh great, she thought, hay fever, and she hastily slammed the door shut.
She stood for a second, surveying her little kingdom, trying to see it through a customer’s eyes, hoping it would go down well with the armies of walkers, hikers, campers, and that particular breed of elderly person who drove aimlessly because they were “out for a run in the car” and the only thing they wanted was a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake in the middle of it.
Stevie reversed the sign on the door from “Closed” to “Open” and checked the display cabinet and counter. Though she said so herself (and she may well be a teensy-weensy bit biased), it all looked very tempting. She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d managed to get it ready in the time she’d set herself. She couldn’t believe it was only two weeks since she’d been handed the keys, and now here she was, ready to serve her first ever pot of tea and slice of cake in her very own place. She felt like pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming!
She took another look around, making sure everything was perfect and nodded to herself.
In pride of place was a toasted marshmallow and ginger cake – four layers of moist ginger sponge, interspersed with buttercream and coated with meringue which had been lightly toasted, giving it a marshmallow flavour. Next to it sat a maple and pear cake, made with freshly bought fruit which had been caramelized in its own syrup. On the other side of the chiller was a rich chocolate cake, which oozed gooeyness and decadence. She was aiming to bake three large cakes a day, with a variety of different flavours and ingredients. She was even going to make notes about which ones sold the best, and any comments she received.
She’d also baked three varieties of muffins (apple, carrot and the more traditional blueberry), cupcakes, an apple and blackberry pie which she would serve with a dollop of thick cream, Danish pastries and croissants (although she’d not baked too many of those),for the anticipated morning trade, then she’d followed all this up with some brightly coloured macaroons, chocolate-iced eclairs, and madeleines.
In addition, she’d produced some savoury dishes for those customers with not so much of a sweet tooth, and she was keeping her fingers crossed the cheese scones (one of her favourites) would prove to be a hit.
She stocked twenty-one different teas (it was a tea shop, after all!) from the more traditional breakfast and afternoon teas and her favourite Earl Grey, to Lady Grey (it made her chuckle every time she saw the label as images of Fifty Shades came to mind), to Lapsang Souchong, and the less well-known white tea, as well as various flavours of herbal teas.
Coffee would be served in tiny cups, glasses, mugs, wide-mouth cups – whatever the type of coffee demanded – and she’d even bought a few cafetières. She was also the proud driver of that menacing machine which spat hot milk and even hotter water at her whenever it felt like it. For some reason, she’d decided to call it Bertie.
Everything about the tea shop was cute and sweet, and she had paid great attention to detail. She simply loved the bone-handled cake knives and forks with their intricate carvings, and the lidded china pots for cream or jam, complete with tiny spoons, and the tea-bag coasters. Then there were the miniature tongs for the lumps of rough brown and white sugar, all of them one of a kind and quite unusual.
The cake stands were gorgeous too, and they made an impressive display of yumminess inside the chilled cabinet. Single, two-tiered, and three-tiered stands, each of them sporting their own lovely cakes, and lying by the sides of every single one was a cake knife or a server. Her favourite was made of china with delicate pink roses all over it.
With a satisfied sigh, Stevie went back to her kitchen to put the finishing touches to the strawberry and kiwi meringues she was in the middle of preparing.
Sometime later, the bell’s fairy chimes announced a customer, and Stevie wiped her hands on a towel and straightened her apron, her heart hammering in her chest. This is it, this is the true start of my business, my new life, she thought, and she put a welcoming smile on her face and stepped out to greet her very first customers.