I couldn’t get started this morning. Some days are like that.

This post is part of StoryADay May (https://storyaday.org/) #StoryADay #StoryADayMay @storyadaymay #freeshortstory

Steffie Takes Tea

by Marian Allen

Steffie checked the address against the coupon she had been mailed. This was the place.

The large front window was actually a lattice of chipped wood and small panes of glass, some crisply new and some thick and wavy with age. Only a row of letters above the wood-and-glass-latticed door, painted the same chipped dusty blue as the rest of the frontage, indicated that this was MAEVE’S. Nothing but the coupon with the same name and address on it indicated that this was a tea room.

But, as she opened the door and the bell tinkled to announce her presence, she saw and smelled that it was.

She saw small, neat tables and colorful place settings and smelled a swirl of delicious odors. At two in the afternoon, the place was all but empty. If it had been on the High Street, it might have been crowded even now, but it was tucked back in the narrow dog-leg of grandiosely named King’s Way. A couple sat by the window, and a woman in slacks and a button-up blouse sat near the back in front of a mural of two women in 50s clothing, apparently gossiping over their teacups.

That woman raised a finger in an unobtrusive wave.

A woman stuck her head through a pass-through from the kitchen and called, “Sit where you like, luv. You’re spoiled for choice, innit?”

Steffie approached the lone woman.

“I hate to eat alone,” she said. “May I join you?”

“Absolutely,” the woman said, her accent as American as Steffie’s. “I haven’t ordered yet.”

She passed Steffie her menu.

Steffie perused it, looking for the information she’d come to retrieve. Her fellow agent would have made stray marks or coded folds to the edges of the stiff paper or something, but there was nothing.

Well, then, it would be in her order.

But, when the woman from the kitchen came out, Steffie’s companion had just ordered “the usual”.

Steffie made one more attempt and asked her table-mate. “What do you recommend?”

“The usual, of course.”

Steffie ordered the usual.

Small talk ensued with no sign that anything said held any significance. The usual turned out to be plain tea, fresh bread, and sweet butter. It was surprisingly delicious for such simple fare, but it held no meaning.

The couple at the window had long since finished their order and their table had been bussed, but still they lingered.

Then Steffie understood: The couple had the woman she had joined under observation. She had compromised her by sitting with her, and the woman knew it. Yet she had signaled Steffie to join her, even though she had passed her no information.

Steffie allowed herself to look baffled, tossed some bank notes onto the table, and did her own particular “I’m frustrated but attempted to cover that because I want you to believe I’m not a spy” impression.

She cast one final look at the solitary woman under the mural and left.

At busy end of the Way, a Morris Mini Cooper waited. Steffie slid into the passenger seat.

“Anything?” the driver asked, pulling into traffic.

She opened her mouth to say no, then closed her mouth and thought. The agent had seated herself and had motioned for Steffie to join her under that mural.

“Does this mean anything to you?” she asked. “T 4 2 N 2 4 T.”

The driver’s face split with a grin. “It does, indeed.” He let Steffie out at her hotel and drove off.

Steffie, in her room, changed into comfortable clothes and made herself a cup of strong coffee, whistling “Tea For Two And Two For Tea” as she did.

MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: Photo by Willow Willars

MA