Tea Is For Terror Read online

  The only other real obstacle was accommodations. There was no way she could ask Rosa, Lucy’s assistant, to contact all the hotels to arrange additional accommodations. But Claire had an idea about the solution to that problem. She sorted through her file for the trip. There it was. The form she was looking for, Warren Grey.

  There were only two unattached males on the trip but crusty Joe Onerato had insisted on his own room. That left Warren with a single, too. All the rooms they booked were really doubles, so a single occupant paid twice as much for the room. That was why Warren was disappointed that Joe didn’t want to share and thereby reduce their costs.

  She quickly punched in his work phone number. “Warren, this is Claire Gulliver. Can you talk a minute?”

  “Sure, just trying to clear my desk before vacation. Nothing’s wrong is there?”

  “No, no, everything’s set. I don’t know about you but I’m getting pretty excited. I’ve already started packing. You know, checking to see if it will all fit in my bag.” She laughed at herself.

  “Me, too. Uh, excited, I mean, not packed.” He paused; the truth was that he alternated between excitement and disappointment. As great as this trip sounded it wasn’t what he preferred. He really wanted to vacation with his son for two months, as he did every summer. But Carol, his ex-wife, tried to explain that Ryan was growing up. It wasn’t that he didn’t love him anymore. It’s just at this age the boy would rather spend his time with his friends than in California with his Dad. So, thanks to that early warning, by the time Ryan got up enough nerve to suggest he come for only one week this summer, Warren was prepared to discuss it with some understanding, keeping his own disappointment hidden. And since then he had made a point of telling Ryan about the great trip he was going on, so Ryan wouldn’t feel guilty. But he really signed on for this trip to help fill the time he suddenly was going to have on his hands.

  Claire, unaware of Warren’s ambivalence launched into to her pitch. “Warren, are you still interested in having a roommate and getting half your hotel fees refunded?”

  “Well, uh... sure. Who?”

  “His name is Arnie White and he’s desperate to come with us. He’s one of those computer types. He works down in Sunnyvale, not far from your office.

  “He doesn’t really want a vacation, because he’s all wrapped up in his job and his computer. But when he had his annual physical the doctor said his blood pressure was too high and he needed to take a vacation. Well, his boss is determined that he follow the doctor’s recommendation. He’s apparently just too valuable to risk, you see? In fact his boss thinks so much of him he signed him up for Club Med, as sort of a bonus for the work he’s done. And Arnie is in a panic that he’ll have to go.

  “So,” she hurried on, “he could go with us if it didn’t mean rearranging all the rooms we’ve already booked. And I remembered that originally you wanted to share.”

  She paused for just a minute to let it all sink in. “I know it’s last minute, but I think you’d get on with him. He seems very nice. Kind of reserved, you know, and probably about your own age.”

  Warren had a sudden vision of himself at Club Med, shuddering at the thought of his too thin body in a bathing suit amidst the brawny and beautiful people they had pictured in their ads.

  “Would you be willing to meet him?” Suddenly Claire realized she was pushing Warren and immediately contrite, she backed off a bit. “Warren, if you’d rather not, just say so and I’ll tell him no. He’s not going to know. He probably doesn’t even expect us to take him, asking at the last minute like this.”

  “No, no, I don’t need to meet the guy. If you think he’s okay then it’s fine with me. And I won’t mind getting some of my money back.”

  Claire smiled. “Thanks, Warren. I appreciate it. And I’m sure Arnie will. I’ll let you go now, see you Saturday morning.”

  She called the travel agent back, arranging for her to take care of Arnie’s fees, assuring her that she would have Lucy make sure the changes were communicated to the British tour company.

  It seemed like it took forever to finish the details and get the grateful Arnie out of the shop so she could get back to the work she had planned for the day. At least Mrs. B was in today so she could rely on the shop running smoothly, allowing her to make some progress on the stack of work that had to be completed before she left.

  Thank goodness for Mrs. B. Claire smiled to herself remembering the day Mrs. B announced she would take the job Claire had posted on the window.

  Gulliver’s Travels Bookshop sat on a side street in the upscale little town of Bayside on the San Francisco Peninsula. Her father’s Uncle Bernie had owned it since coming home from the war, in the Forties. In the latter years of his life the store had become as run down as he had, the books outdated, the store dusty and musty smelling. And when Uncle Bernie passed away in his sleep one night he had left the store, the little cottage, four blocks away and his prized 1953 Cadillac convertible to his one remaining relative, Claire Gulliver.

  She had been stunned. Somehow it had never occurred to her that she would receive Uncle Bernie’s largess. Perhaps she expected him to live forever, as he seemed very old for as long as she had known him. But the inheritance had come at a good time for her. She was recovering from a traumatic experience and felt the need to make some major changes in her life. The inheritance became the catalyst. Within months she had given up her career in the San Francisco Library system, withdrew her pension and all her savings, moved to the Peninsula and somehow transformed the bookstore into a cozy haven for travelers and would-be travelers.

  That first year in the shop had been impossible. Fortunately she didn’t know it then, and so she just worked harder, spending almost every waking hour at the store. Then in her fourteenth month she broke even, covering her expenses from her sales. From that point on she could start adding improvements. She sponsored a lecture series, and she invited travel authors to book signing parties. The shop soon became known as the place to visit before any trip. No destination was too remote or exotic for Gulliver’s. That’s when Mrs. B arrived to rescue her.

  Mrs. B, Betty Jo Bianci, was a local. She lived only a few blocks away and knew almost everyone in town. She was short and energetic. Her face was heavily creased with the lines of living, and Claire thought her age was somewhere between an old fifty-five and a young seventy-five. She looked like grandmothers did in the movies when Claire was a child, not like the glamorous, perpetually young, grandmothers looked now.

  Mrs. B said she needed the job desperately, not because of the money but because she said she wasn’t ready to get old, which was the only choice she had unless she did something about it. Mrs. B could have been one of her mother’s friends. But while her mother was cautious, always worrying and fretting about what could happen, Mrs. B tried new things and swore risk was the tonic of life. She was always challenging Claire to live life to the limit. She was even teaching Claire to play poker, appalled at her lack of education.

  Hiring Mrs. B was one of Claire’s better decisions. Mrs. B loved the shop, almost as much as Claire did. And she was touchingly grateful when after the first year, Claire insisted she have the title of Assistant Manager, and of course, a small portion of the shop’s profits. With Mrs. B’s support Claire could make dental appointments, get her hair cut occasionally, and go to book shows without fits of panic about what was happening at the shop. And Claire could agree to participate in Lucy Springer’s Untour for Armchair Adventurers instead of just sponsoring it.

  Despite her rambling thoughts, Claire had made real progress on her To Do list when Mrs. B called, “Claire, Rosa’s on line two for you.”

  Claire picked up the receiver, glad for the chance to finish the arrangements for Arnie. “Hi, Rosa. Thanks for calling. Did Lucy tell you we added someone to the tour?”

  “No, no, I didn’t know. I’m calling for a different reason. Miss Gulliver, I’m afraid I have bad news.” Rosa’s stiff, formal words caused a quive
r in Claire’s abdomen.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Mrs. Springer. She’s had an accident.”

  “An accident? What kind of accident? Is she hurt? Where is she?”

  “She’s at the hospital. She took a rather nasty spill down the back stairs and broke her leg. They just set it. The doctors say she has to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. Then they’ll cast her and release her.”

  “But, we’re leaving Saturday.”

  “Well, I’m afraid Mrs. Springer is not. The doctors were adamant.”

  “Oh, my God! Lucy can’t go?” Claire was stunned. Lucy couldn’t go! Lucy had an accident?

  Then she was ashamed. “Oh, Rosa, poor Lucy. How is she? Is she in a great deal of pain?”

  “Not now that they’ve given her something. But it was pretty bad. I didn’t know what to do; at first I thought she was dead.” For once the stoic Rosa sounded shaken.

  “Thank God, you were there. How did it happen? I just can’t imagine her falling down the stairs.”

  “It was something about that neighborhood tomcat going after Fluffy. She raced out to get the garden hose to chase him off and apparently one of the steps broke. Somehow her leg got caught in the railing when she fell. That was a blessing, because while it did do rather vicious damage to her leg, it’s probably what saved her from landing on the cement.”

  “She could have been killed.” Claire shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about that. Where is she, Rosa? I’ll come over right now.”

  “We’re at Sequoia, but no sense in rushing down. The doctor sedated her and they don’t expect her to come out of it until this evening. I know she wants to see you. She kept moaning about the trip. She wanted me to call you right away but I just couldn’t leave her until now.

  “But she’s most anxious to see you. So if you could come by this evening, say about six, I’m sure it would be a comfort to her.”

  Claire shook her head as she hung up, noting the tremor in her hand. Lucy was worried about the trip. Wasn’t that just like her? She almost killed herself but she worried about them.

  Lucy Springer was a rather popular writer of travel books on Great Britain. Claire had agreed to host an event one evening at Gulliver’s promoting Lucy’s most popular book, Daffodils in the Cotswold’s. She and Lucy had become fast friends.

  Lucy had a darling house in a posh neighborhood of Burlingame, located up against the hilly terrain of Hillsborough, not too far from Bayside. Lucy and her gardener had managed to create a breathtaking garden out of the steep hill that was her backyard. It started with a small deck off her kitchen and then a series of steep stairs ending up on a stone and cement terrace. There she kept some comfortable lounge furniture, then more terraces with a meandering path to the little stream, which cut across the bottom. Everywhere you looked were shade trees and beds of flowers. Claire loved to sit there and watch the birds enjoy the birdbath and Fluffy, Lucy’s enormous Persian cat, chase butterflies while Lucy, who couldn’t sit and enjoy it, weeded or planted or thinned, anything to get her fingers in the dirt. The first time Claire saw the garden she told Lucy to forget the gardens in England she was always writing about, hers was worth a whole book. Lucy just laughed at her.

  But those damn steps had nearly killed Lucy.

  Lucy was older than Claire, sophisticated and fun. She had been married twice and now said she was single to stay. She totally understood Claire’s absorption in her business feeling the same about her writing. The difference was Lucy had time to play after her book was at the printers and before all the publicity and personal appearances were required to market it, while the demands on Claire were constant.

  Lucy couldn’t believe Claire was able to create such a haven for travelers when she had never even been out of the country, in fact had traveled very little even inside the United States and that mostly connected to her business needs. Lucy was determined to help Claire rectify that gap in her life. This trip was going to teach Claire and the rest of the group to travel on foreign soil, if Britain could be called foreign. And Lucy insisted they would all notice how different it was from the United States. But now they couldn’t go.

  “Claire, you look rather strange. Is something wrong?” Mrs. B’s hand on her shoulder shook Claire out of her trance.

  “Oh, Mrs. B, Lucy’s been hurt. She’s in the hospital with a broken leg. And she can’t go! The trip will have to be postponed, maybe even canceled. What am I going to do?”

  That reminded her. “And poor Lucy. Her book! She needs her data checked before her deadline. What a mess!” Claire’s words ended just short of a wail.

  Mrs. B understood a crisis when she saw it and in less than five minutes she had issued instructions to the students working as clerks that day, grabbed her purse and ushered Claire out of the shop. In the cafe down the block she ordered tea for them both and a chicken salad sandwich to share while they discussed the situation.

  It was the pragmatic Mrs. B who pointed out that it would be very costly to cancel the trip, and the people scheduled to go might prefer to continue without Lucy rather than give up the trip.

  “But Lucy is the trip. She’s the one who’s been there before. She wrote the book, remember? All the rest of us are virgins, so to speak.” They both smiled at Claire’s apt description of the apprehensive yet eager group signed on for the Untour.

  Lucy Springer had promised to transform this group into experienced world travelers during this one trip. They were all counting on that.

  Mrs. B wouldn’t agree. “She wrote the book for people like you to use. So if the book works you can do it without her. It would be great publicity.”

  “But she wrote the book for singles and couples traveling alone. This is a tour. It’s not the same thing. Someone has to be in charge.”

  “Well, of course, dear. You would be in charge.”

  “Me, I’ve never been out of the States before. I can’t be in charge.” Claire realized her voice came out shriller than she meant it to be.

  “My dear,” Mrs. B patted her hand in that way she had, “you are a very in-charge lady. You’ll handle it without a problem. Trust me. I’ve worked with you now for almost two years.”

  Claire looked at her with amazement.

  Mrs. B nodded briskly. “Look at what you’ve done with the store. And your lecture series is now so popular people have to reserve seats.”

  Claire just continued to stare, her mouth open.

  “Claire, dear, you’ve turned this shop into a thriving business. It’s you, dear. You make it work.”

  “I thought it was all those hours of work, the sweat, the money, the concept that made it work.” Claire answered dryly, not buying Mrs. B’s theory.

  Mrs. B laughed. “Anyone going into business does all that and look how many fail. You underrate yourself.

  “And besides how difficult is it going to be? You know every step of the way. For heavens sake, I know every step of the way after listening to you and Lucy all these months. And the bus company is sending a guide, right? All the reservations are made. It’s an Untour, remember? Everyone is grown up and responsible for his or her self. Just call them and ask. I bet you they’ll want to go.”

  She saw the skepticism on Claire’s face and bent forward. “I bet you one of those beautiful hand-knit sweaters from Yorkshire, like the one Lucy has, that I’m right.”

  Her smug expression was too much. Claire had to laugh. “So that’s what you’re after? You fraud. Okay! I will call everyone the minute we get back. And if I win you’re going to have to go to some expensive specialty shop to get a sweater for me.”

  Mrs. B just nodded. She had no doubt who was getting that sweater.

  * * *

  “Hello?”

  “Everything’s a go. We’re leaving Saturday as planned.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s all done. Just make sure you do your part. Once I step on that plane it’s on
ly a matter of time.”

  “Just make sure it’s the right time. Everything hinges on that. You guaranteed me that.”

  “I told you, it’s as good as done. You just see that you do your part.” The connection broke abruptly.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Claire sighed with relief when her baggage was tagged and her boarding pass was firmly in her hand. She headed for the group of people crowded around Lucy’s wheelchair, her one leg extended awkwardly, encased in a plastic and Velcro cast.

  How did Lucy do it? Even with the practical nurse’s assistance, Claire knew the effort to come to the airport must be exhausting her, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded. She had to see them off. She said it was the least she could do now that she was shoving them from the nest without her careful supervision.

  Claire counted off the people near Lucy then turned to check the ones still in line for check-in. Everyone was there. Thank goodness they were starting off without a hitch. She felt a clutch of panic. They were really going. And Lucy wasn’t!

  She had never in her wildest dreams expected she would be shepherding a group of novice travelers to England. Just one of the places she had never been. But she had always wanted to go there, and to Italy, and to a

  myriad of other destinations that seemed romantic and idyllic.

  “Claire, can you stand over here next to Lucy?”

  Claire squeezed in next to the wheelchair and laid her hand momentarily on Lucy’s shoulder while different members of the group shot pictures of the ever changing group.

  “How are you holding up?” she whispered.

  Lucy nodded gamely, her mouth slightly pinched from the pain. “I think the pain pill is wearing off but it’s almost time for you to board. I’m probably not going to wait until you take off.”

  “Of course not, you need to get home as soon as possible.”