1. "Anniverse"

A story about a cake...mostly

and

Jul 07, 2023

Bryan stood for a moment looking out the front window, taking in the quiet morning. It was all just as he had dreamed it would be, and he was thankful. On the opposite side of the street, North Branch St. —or as he’d come to call it— Their Street, Theodore (Ted) Hudgins was using an old-time corn broom to clean off the sidewalk in front of his door. He wore a dark-blue waist-length raincoat as was always the case, with the exception of only the warmest of summer mornings - which were few in this part of the country. Hood-up on a cold or rainy day, hood down the rest - and this morning thankfully was a hood-down-day. Bryan imagined the coat waiting on a little hook somewhere to be put to work if even for a short time, and was happy to have been of service each time Ted hung it back up. It was a silly thought, but reminded him how it always feels good to be useful. It was a little after 9AM on a cool April morning, and although the shops weren’t open just yet, the sleepy street had a feeling of waking-up.

Hudgins was always the first to open his establishment - a stationary shop, and Janey would be next two doors further down. Her store, Northern Couture, didn’t really warrant opening early, but as Bryan had come to know - she was an early riser, spending the first hours of light each day patiently waiting to unlock her door whether or not there were potential customers on the street. And so it would go on in the ensuing minutes, as one-by-one locks were unlocked and storefronts were illuminated along the quarter-mile he had come to know as a second home. The last door to open, besides his, was guaranteed to be “Playday” - the gaming store. It was almost too cliché that the young fellows who ran the store would open late - but nobody really cared, with the exception of Mr. Jenkins of course.

Titus Jenkins had no business interest on North Branch St. however since he lived less than a block away and had the enviable schedule of a retiree, he formed part of the fabric of the place. He also didn’t have as much as a casual curiosity about what actually happened in Playday, but inasmuch as Bryan felt of North Branch St. as his own, so did Jenkins - and as such he though it incumbent upon himself to ensure everyone possible was made aware of exactly what time Playday finally opened each day. Later he would tattle to various shop owners along North Branch about today’s 9:09 opening, and invariably this information would be greeted with the smile of interested indifference that can only be perfected in a small town. Although Titus was fond of chatting with everyone he could as he made his way up and down each side of the street, there was a noticeable lack of depth to the conversations - in Bryan’s estimation anyway. Although Bryan tried periodically to make inroads, if the conversation turned to years past, Mr. Jenkins would suddenly have pressing business that needed attention, and he’d be off in a flash. Still Bryan had come to think of Jenkins as a friend, and would continue to gently reach back in time when it seemed appropriate. There was more to the story of Titus Jenkins.

The closed sign on the door of The Little Spoon - Bryan & Claire’s door, would not be turned over for another two hours, but that didn’t mean work hadn’t begun. Today was a very special day for their teahouse - maybe the second most important day yet, with the first being exactly one year prior. That was the day they first opened their doors, making today their first anniversary.

The little light on the coffee machine glowed sort-of orange, as the last few drips of fresh coffee tumbled into a glass carafe. It seemed a great irony for this little teahouse that one of the owners didn’t care for tea whatsoever - and was somewhat of a coffee-nut! This subject had come up many times as plans were made to build a business around a dream…namely a family-owned teahouse. You see in a teahouse, it is understood that tea will be on the menu. Many teas in fact. But given the new breed of coffee establishments, with 30 versions of coffee none of which were simply coffee in a cup, Bryan was dead set against offering any version of his favorite beverage on the menu. “I don’t want to learn how to make an oat-milk-matcha-with-brown-sugar-syrup, sweet-cream and cold-foam - and that’s what everyone will ask for if we serve coffee” he was fond of saying when asked. It wasn’t hard to convince the rest of his family of this, given that they were both “tea-girls'' anyway. The glowing light on the old coffee maker was getting dim, Bryan thought—as he took a long sip from his favorite cup—and maybe a new one would be needed soon. It could just be the light itself, he reasoned, in which case an experiment was in order. He calculated that flicking the light hard with his finger would at best fix it, or at worst provide further data. This hurt far more than anticipated. With his finger now in his mouth and feeling a little silly, Bryan decided to just be thankful for his little machine—and vowed to never flick it again. It was time to address more important matters.

Setting down the cup, he stared in awe at the marvel of his handiwork from the previous evening. He had taken it upon himself to make a special cake for this afternoon’s anniversary celebration, and it was just perfect - in his obviously biased opinion. He could have purchased the cake from Fleming’s bakery, and Donna Fleming would have created something marvelous - but given the occasion Bryan felt something of his own creation was appropriate. After all, Donna would be their guest, and you can’t ask a guest to eat their own dessert! Laid out on the table before him was a full-size sheet cake, chocolate with white icing, his favorite. Around the edges he had piped various sized flowers and florets. He thought they looked like flowers, but it would be fair to say they looked more like the ramparts of a somewhat dilapidated castle. No matter, it would still be delicious. In red letters across the cake he had scrawled the words “Happy 1st Anniversary” and underneath “The Little Spoon”. Now to be fair, all of the letters were there, but the writing had a few issues. Firstly, it seemed to move upward a little from left to right, as if the writer had one shoe taller than the other. There was also the matter of the last few letters in “Anniversary”—which were somewhat smaller than the beginning letters, as he ran out of space at the edge of the cake. They were quite small in fact, so unless one looked closely, they could be forgiven for thinking he had written; “Happy 1st Anniverse”. Oh well, it was late and he was tired when the writing part began. When the writing was done, Bryan stood back and thought there was one last special touch needed. He mixed up a small batch of yellow icing and formed, appropriately, a little spoon to underline it all. Well, it was supposed to be a spoon, but had greater resemblance to a blonde mustache. Again, no matter as the cake would be delicious regardless.

Bryan slid the cake back into the refrigerator and went about preparation for the regular business day. He liked to have as much ready as possible before Claire came down from her apartment upstairs. He took pride in having the kitchen prepped for the lunch crowd, so he and his daughter could chat for a bit before the actual work began. She would come down promptly at ten as she did every morning with a bright smile and a “good morning, Dad” that made his day. Ten to ten thirty was their time to talk while she enjoyed a tea, and he finished the last of his coffee for the morning. At ten-thirty Rose would come in through the back door and flutter through the kitchen to the front of the restaurant, where she would tuck her things in the service closet.

The kitchen and food prep was mainly Bryan’s area of responsibility. He had a knack for making salads & little finger sandwiches of all kinds. Chicken salad, egg salad and the like for his sandwiches were typically made at the end of each day, so they would chill overnight. Therefore, Bryan’s first duty in the morning was choosing a soup du jour, and making enough for the day. Claire’s magic took place in the oven, as she was charged with baking all the cookies, scones & pastries that adorned each tea service. With flour on her apron, and a scarf in her hair, Claire was all business when it came to the baked goods, and the amazing aroma would whet the appetite of anyone who stepped through the door.

Now, the dining room was the domain of Rose Thorne. Rose, you see, was the only true Brit in this English-styled tearoom, so it only seemed reasonable that Rose was in charge of the final presentation and service to the customers. Prior to Rose joining the team, they served all the same items, but there was something missing. Claire will always remember the first time Rose came through the door, after noticing a help-wanted sign out front, and asked to speak with whoever was hiring.

“You’re welcome to talk with me,” Claire said, “I’m one of the owners.”

It was quite an introduction. Tea with the Queen? Well, that warranted further conversation, and since nobody else had queried about the job for the week they’d had the sign up - Claire set up a meeting with her and Bryan after work that night. They had been open for six months at this point, and now had a steady flow of customers, so they needed help. They were also keenly aware that something was missing, and that thing evidently was Rose Thorne. Just to be clear, Rose hadn’t quite basically had tea with the Queen, but she did have tea in a place the Queen had once had tea - and was served by someone who had once served the Queen, so that was close enough for her.

In all honesty, not much changed with regard to the menu, but change to the dining room was undeniable. The matching modern tea cups were out, and mismatched flowery teacups of all colors, some with gold rims, were in. The white tablecloths were replaced with flowery patterns that reminded Bryan of his mother’s kitchen curtains, and the dining room took on a whole new vibe, or old vibe if you prefer. Each of these changes was instigated by Rose, and who were Claire and Bryan to argue? She’d basically had tea with the Queen for goodness sake! Moreover, Rose’s presence added an air of authenticity to the teahouse. She was very strict in making sure the tea was served perfectly, and she could serve tea in a way that would make anyone feel special. If Bryan heard the phrase “make sure the water is on-the-boil” once, he’d heard it one-hundred times in the last six months. Each time he did it brought a smile to his face. It’s also important to note that the way customers heard Rose speak was somewhat different to what Bryan, Annie & Claire heard. Rose’s proper English slipped back into a Manchester slang in the time it took to turn her head. Although Rose Thorne had the appearance of an older woman, she had the savvy mind of a woman with rich life experience, confirmed with a nod of her head and a twinkle in her eye.

So today was the one-year anniversary of their little dream come true. Bryan had laid an invitation at every door along the street in the early morning hours two days prior - as everyone along North Branch St. was welcome to join in the celebration. He even wrote neatly in chalk on their sidewalk tent-sign “Closed 5PM Today for Private Event”. They usually closed at 7, but today they would close early to clean-up and host a little party for themselves and their new friends, the store owners, their employees and anyone they wanted to bring, at six o’clock. He and Claire had it all planned-out with snacks, tea, soft drinks and Bryan’s cake. Rose would be there of course, and Annie would have finished work in plenty of time to meet at six. A perfect end to a perfect day…and a successful year.

“Thank you for coming, see you again”, Rose said to the last customer of the day. When the door closed behind them she blurted “Bloody hell, that was a busy afternoon!” Bryan appeared immediately to lock the front door and turn the sign to “closed”. It was just after five, and he had been watching the last patrons for fifteen minutes from the kitchen—mentally urging them to drain their cups and leave.

“Thanks Rose, I know it was a bit crazy getting closed early.”—Bryan said feeling a little woozy—“Claire is coming out in a minute so we can get everything prepared”. He teetered on his feet for a moment.

“You feeling okay?” Rose asked, eyeing Bryan more closely.

“Yeah, I’m just a little light-headed from blowing up balloons for the last half hour. I’m all good”. He had blown up a full pack of eighteen red and black balloons in thirty minutes, and was lucky he hadn’t fallen down. With that they both turned to see Annie come through the kitchen door - earlier than expected.

“Hello Sweetie, are you ready for your big party?” Annie slipped off her coat.

“It’s not just my party," Bryan corrected, “This is for the teahouse - it’s for all of us”. Annie kissed him and gave him that most reassuring of smiles.

“Of course,” Annie winked at him. He was right of course, but although they were all involved in some way, there was no denying this was Bryan’s moment. He was as proud as punch that they’d made it through a full year so successfully. He was living his dream, and he really hoped Claire was too.

Claire had taken a good job with a legal firm down in Boston right after college, as had been expected. Although Annie and Bryan missed her terribly, they wanted to be supportive parents, so they encouraged her all along the way. On a visit back home, after she had been working in the city a year or so, Claire made an announcement. She wanted to leave the city and move back to a small town. This was a shock at first, but upon reflection made perfect sense. She definitely possessed the skills required to climb any corporate ladder, that wasn’t the issue. What caused her to reexamine her path was an overwhelming feeling that she was falling into a trap. The thought of locking herself into a nice corner office for eight hours each day, living either in a small apartment in the city, or commuting from a suburb for hours, all for the chance to decompress on what little vacation time was allowed didn’t sound like her idea of a fulfilling life. That’s when she realized that for her, it was all a mistake. What she really wanted was the peace of a small-town, time in nature and to create something lasting of her own. When she related this to her parents, Annie and Bryan welcomed her back home to the green mountains of Vermont. Within a short time, the wheels were put in motion for a father-daughter business of some sort - and that became The Little Spoon teahouse.

Rose returned, now without her flower-patterned apron, clapped her hands and said “Right, what’s next?”. Claire was there too, and the four of them gathered around a table for a quick game-plan overview. Bryan chaired the meeting:

“I’ve got eighteen balloons on strings in the store-room that need to be tied to chairs. Soft drinks, water & tea will need to be at the ready, and I’ll put the cake right here on this middle table.” Bryan spoke quickly, then looked to each of them for reaction. They all stared back at him quietly. It occurred to him that he was so anxious he had just issued orders. That wasn’t right. “Please,” he said a little sheepishly, “and thank you…I just want things to go well”.

Annie broke the silence “I guess I’ll start with the balloons then.” and she headed toward the kitchen. Bryan smiled. He could always count on her to say something smart, or in this case get the ball rolling. Off she went to start fetching balloons.

Annie could best be described as the glue that held everything together. She definitely held Bryan together on more than one occasion, although she may never have known. They had been together more than thirty years, which seemed impossible if not at least improbable, given their contrasting personalities. Annie was the rudder that steered the ship, the anchor that kept it safe in harbor and the light when guidance was needed. Bryan was more akin to a large sail caught-up in the wind, blowing this way and that but always providing energy. Maybe that was their secret. As Bryan was fond of saying: “If two people think exactly the same, one of them is redundant”. Both were needed to move forward though, and when they were together no destination was out of bounds. Annie was also generous. When Claire and Bryan finally found a perfect location for the teahouse, and were in the planning stages, Annie offered to keep working past the time she planned to semi-retire, so their dream could be realized. Nobody had to ask. She looked at the big picture and did her part without a word of complaint. That’s just Annie.

“Let me help you.” said Rose, and followed Annie through the kitchen door.

“That leaves me for drinks I guess”, Claire mused. “No sweat, we’ve still got a half-hour”.
"Thank you honey, this will be perfect,” Bryan said as he found himself suddenly standing alone in the middle of the room. Better get to work, he thought and he headed off to retrieve the cake from the fridge.

The cake sat in the middle of their center table, the only table in the little restaurant that didn’t now have at least one balloon tied to a chair. When Annie started to tie one at this table, Bryan stopped her—not wanting anything to block the view of his creation. The cake wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, but more importantly it was something that he made. It was a representation of the way he, Claire and Annie had built this little business - and therefore even with its imperfections, it was something to be proud of.

When six o’clock arrived, the little team of four was ready. Claire and Annie had freshened-up quickly in Claire’s apartment, and Bryan wore a fresh black dress-shirt. He clicked the deadbolt open on the front door, but of course left the sign with the word closed facing outward. This was an invitation-only party, which sounded pretty fancy when he thought of it. The girls were done with the prep-work and were already having a tea & snack when Bryan came back in the room.

“Someone had to start,” Annie said as she and Claire shared a laugh.

“Of course, of course. There will be plenty for everyone - no worries”. Bryan realized in his concern over having everything just right, he’d forgotten to eat. He grabbed a sandwich and a soda before heading back to the door to greet people as they showed-up. When he got to the door though, nobody was there. He glanced at his watch: 6:15. Since all the other stores closed at 6PM on Wednesdays he figured they’d be locking up and headed to The Little Spoon any moment. He finished his sandwich.

At 6:35 Bryan was back at the door after picking up a little more to eat and refilling his drink. He could hear the girls inside sitting around a table laughing at something-or-other, without a care in the world. Bryan however, was becoming concerned. Where was everybody? He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sun was down now and he could see the lights were out in all the little shops. The air was cool and it was shaping up to be a beautiful evening. All was quiet except for a few cars passing by, and all was dark save for the streetlamps and the sign on O’Brien’s Pub at the far south end. This was troubling. Not one of his neighbors, who he thought of as friends, had come by. They had all gone home. Bryan was dumbfounded. He even left an invitation in Mr. Jenkin’s door. It seemed unimaginable that old Titus would miss a chance to gossip with the entire street all at once! His shoulders slumped as he stepped back through the door and locked it behind him. As he left the front hall and entered the dining room, he stood for a minute watching his wife, daughter and the ever-entertaining Rose smiling and laughing in an animated conversation. He was disappointed, no - heartbroken that nobody cared to join their first anniversary party, but his heart was also warmed by the sight before him here in the dining room. The love of his family. The Little Spoon family that they all created together.

After taking it in for a few moments, he cleared his throat and when they looked up he said “I have some bad news…”

When he finished relating that it seemed nobody was coming, they all took a turn looking out the front window, as if to satisfy themselves that Bryan wasn’t pulling a fast-one on them. Annie said “I’m sorry, something must have come up - maybe it was bad timing”.

“For all of them?” Claire asked, “even Mr. Jenkins? That’s kind of surprising. I’m sorry dad, it’s no big deal. At least we’re all here”.

Rose chimed in “I’m a bit gobsmacked I tell ya, but they’re the daft ones missin’ out. We’re having our party anyway!”—she held up a plate and fork— “let’s cut the bleedin’ cake!” Bryan, Annie and Claire came over to stand around the middle table. The one with no balloons, on which sat the Anniverse cake.

“Absolutely, I’m in,” said Annie.

“Me too,” Claire added. Bryan smiled a little weakly and grabbed the lifter. Rose was right. The most important people in his life were all here gathered together. Nothing should spoil the moment. He cut a generous piece for everyone, and tried his best to include a little bit of flower-castle on each plate. When all the pieces were cut, the four party goers had what can best be described as a cake-cheers moment, and dug in.

Almost immediately everybody knew that something was wrong. The moment of silence while they all took their first bite was quickly replaced by unintelligible noises, grunts and moans, as the plates were quickly put down. Claire heaved a little and ran into the kitchen. Annie stood still, mouth closed with her eyes darting side to side. She wanted to spit, but didn’t want to make a mess. Rose spit the whole bite out before it was fully in her mouth.

Bryan swallowed.

He felt like he was turning green, likely because he was. Something was extremely off.

Claire figured it out first and came bursting through the kitchen door, laying it out plainly.

“How tired were you last night, dad? Do you realize that instead of sugar you used salt?”.

Now Bryan knew he was turning green.

“But…I…no…there’s no-can’t…” he stammered, then finished with “Oh, God”. Of course Claire was right - they all knew it immediately. What followed was a full fifteen seconds of silence as they all stood and looked at Bryan, who was trying to deal with all of this on top of dealing with what he had just swallowed. He felt devastated that nobody showed-up for their party, that he ruined a simple cake and also that he was possibly going to throw-up. This was not how he had planned things at all. He sat down and put his head in his hands for a moment. “I’m actually lucky nobody showed up,” he said with a tinge of sad relief in his voice.

Rose walked over and put a hand on his shoulder “Don’t fret love - it’s bloody wonderful, I’m goin’ in for seconds”. Rose was a straight-shooter, and he knew her sarcasm was meant in kindness to lighten the moment, but it only made him feel more like an idiot. Then she went to the back for something to clean up her mess, while Claire and Annie tossed out their plates. She returned a few moments later holding a piece of paper. “Is this your invitation?” she asked, fanning herself slowly with it.

“I guess so,” Bryan said. “Not that anybody seemed to care.”

Rose began to laugh “Oh, you silly lad. You’ve really got your foot in it this time”. She was almost doubled over laughing as she handed the invitation to Annie.

“What are you talking about?” asked Bryan. Annie started to laugh too, and handed the card to Claire, who clapped a hand over her mouth and shrieked.

Claire was the first one to speak. “What day did you put on the invitation, Dad?”

“Wednesday of course,” said Bryan.

Claire read the invitation aloud:

“DEAR FRIENDS!
PLEASE JOIN US FOR SNACKS AND TEA
AS WE CELEBRATE OUR 1ST ANNIVERSARY
THE PARTY STARTS AT 6PM WEDNESDAY
WE CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU THERE
FRIENDS AND FAMILY WELCOME!”

“What day is it today?” Claire leaned-in for the answer.

“Wednesday, right? It is Wednesday isn’t it?” Bryan looked confused.

“It’s Tuesday ya witless wonder!” exclaimed Rose. “Of course nobody showed-up tonight…for tomorrow night’s party”.

“What the…” was all Bryan could muster. They all stared at each other, and within seconds were overtaken by the best laugh any of them could remember. In Bryan’s excitement, he had bumbled them all into a private party for four - with a salt-cake. Brilliant.

When the tears of laughter subsided, Claire walked over and hugged her dad. His intentions were always admirable, even if his execution was a little off at times. “Come on,” she said, “we have a cake to bake, and this time I’m in charge of the sugar. Let’s get to work.”

Bryan hugged Rose & Annie, then followed his daughter into the kitchen. That night the lights stayed on at The Little Spoon somewhat longer than normal. You see, preparations were being made for a party. A party celebrating the milestone of being in business for one year - and one day, to which the whole of North Branch St. was invited to attend - Wednesday at 6PM.

© 2023 Sheldon Conrad TLST - All rights reservedan stood for a moment looking out the front window, taking in the quiet morning. It was all just as he had dreamed it would be, and he was thankful. On the opposite side of the street, North Branch St. —or how he’d come to call it— Their Street, Theodore (Ted) Hudgins was using an old-time corn broom to clean off the sidewalk in front of his door. He wore a dark-blue waist-length raincoat as was always the case, with the exception of only the warmest of summer mornings - which were few in this part of the country. Hood-up on a cold or rainy day, hood down the rest - and this morning thankfully was a hood-down-day. Bryan imagined the coat waiting on a little hook somewhere to be put to work if even for a short time, and was happy to have been of service each time Ted hung it back up. It was a silly thought, but reminded him how it always feels good to be useful. It was a little after 9AM on a cool April morning, and although the shops weren’t open just yet, the sleepy street had a feeling of waking-up.

Hudgins was always the first to open his establishment - a stationary shop, and Janey would be next two doors further down. Her store, Northern Couture, didn’t really warrant opening early, but as Bryan had come to know - she was an early riser, spending the first hours of light each day patiently waiting to unlock her door whether or not there were potential customers on the street. And so it would go on in the ensuing minutes, as one-by-one locks were unlocked and storefronts were illuminated along the quarter-mile he had come to know as a second home. The last door to open, besides his, was guaranteed to be “Play-Day” - the gaming store. It was almost too cliché that the young fellows who ran the store would open late - but nobody really cared, with the exception of Mr. Jenkins of course.

Titus Jenkins had no business interest on North Branch St. however he since he lived less than a block away and had the enviable schedule of a retiree, he formed part of the fabric of the place. He also didn’t have as much as a casual curiosity about what actually happened in Playday, but inasmuch as Bryan felt of North Branch St. as his own, so did Jenkins - and as such he though it incumbent upon himself to ensure everyone possible was made aware of exactly what time Play-Day finally opened each day. Later he would tattle to various shop owners along North Branch about today’s 9:09 opening, and invariably this information would be greeted with the smile of interested indifference that can only be perfected in a small town. Although Titus was fond of chatting with everyone he could as he made his way up and down each side of the street, there was a noticeable lack of depth to the conversations - in Bryan’s estimation anyway. Although Bryan tried periodically to make inroads, if the conversation turned to years past, Mr. Jenkins would suddenly have pressing business that needed attention, and he’d be off in a flash. Still Bryan had come to think of Jenkins as a friend, and would continue to gently reach back in time when it seemed appropriate. There was more to the story of Titus Jenkins.

The little light on the coffee machine glowed sort-of orange, as the last few drips of fresh coffee tumbled into a glass carafe. It seemed a great irony for this little teahouse that one of the owners didn’t care for tea whatsoever - and was somewhat of a coffee-nut! This subject had come up many times as plans were made to build a business around a dream…namely a family-owned teahouse. You see in a teahouse, it is understood that tea will be on the menu. Many teas in fact. But given the new breed of coffee establishments, with 30 versions of coffee none of which were simply coffee in a cup, Bryan was dead set against offering any version of his favorite beverage on the menu. “I don’t want to learn how to make an oat-milk-matcha-with-brown-sugar-syrup, sweet-cream and cold-foam - and that’s what everyone will ask for if we serve coffee.” he was fond of saying when asked. It wasn’t hard to convince the rest of his family of this, given that they were both tea-girls anyway. The glowing light on the old coffee maker was getting dim, Bryan thought—as he took a long sip from his favorite cup—and maybe a new one would be needed soon. It could just be the light itself, he reasoned, in which case an experiment was in order. He calculated that flicking the light hard with his finger would at best fix it, or at worst provide further data. This hurt far more than anticipated. With his finger now in his mouth and feeling a little silly, Bryan decided to just be thankful for his little machine—and vowed to never flick it again. It was time to address more important matters.

Setting down the cup, he stared in awe at the marvel of his handiwork from the previous evening. He had taken it upon himself to make a special cake for this afternoon’s anniversary celebration, and it was just perfect - in his obviously biased opinion. He could have purchased the cake from Fleming’s bakery, and Donna Fleming would have created something marvelous - but given the occasion Bryan felt something of his own creation was appropriate. After all, Donna would be their guest, and you can’t ask a guest to eat their own dessert! Laid out on the table before him was a full-size sheet cake, chocolate with white icing, his favorite. Around the edges he had piped various sized flowers and florets. He thought they looked like flowers, but it would be fair to say they looked more like the ramparts of a somewhat dilapidated castle. No matter, it would still be delicious. In red letters across the cake he had scrawled the words “Happy 1st Anniversary” and underneath “The Little Spoon”. Now to be fair, all of the letters were there, but the writing had a few issues. Firstly, it seemed to move upward a little from left to right, as if the writer had one shoe taller than the other. There was also the matter of the last few letters in “Anniversary”—which were somewhat smaller than the beginning letters, as he ran out of space at the edge of the cake. They were quite small in fact, so unless one looked closely, they could be forgiven for thinking he had written; “Happy 1st Anniverse”. Oh well, it was late and he was tired when the writing part began. When the writing was done, Bryan stood back and thought there was one last special touch needed. He mixed up a small batch of yellow icing and formed, appropriately, a little spoon to underline it all. Well, it was supposed to be a spoon, but had greater resemblance to a blonde moustache. Again, no matter as the cake would be delicious regardless.

Bryan slid the cake back into the refrigerator and went about preparation for the regular business day. He liked to have as much ready as possible before Claire came down from her apartment upstairs. He took pride in having the kitchen prepped for the lunch crowd, so he and his daughter could chat for a bit before the actual work began. She would come down promptly at ten as she did every morning with a bright smile and a “good morning, Dad,” that made his day. Ten to ten thirty was their time to talk while she enjoyed a tea, and he finished the last of his coffee for the morning. At ten-thirty Rose would come in through the back door and flutter through the kitchen to the front of the restaurant, where she would tuck her things in the service closet.

The kitchen and food prep was mainly Bryan’s area of responsibility. He had a knack for making salads & little finger sandwiches of all kinds. Chicken salad, egg salad and the like for his sandwiches were typically made at the end of each day, so they would chill overnight. Therefore, Bryan’s first duty in the morning was choosing a soup du jour, and making enough for the day. Claire’s magic took place in the oven, as she was charged with all the baking all the cookies, scones & pastries that adorned each tea service. With flour on her apron, and a scarf in her hair, Claire was all business when it came to the baked goods, and the amazing aroma would whet the appetite of anyone who stepped through the door.

Now, the dining room was the domain of Rose Thorne. Rose, you see was the only true Brit in this English-styled tearoom, so it only seemed reasonable that Rose was in charge of the final presentation and service to the customers. Prior to Rose joining the team, they served all the same items, but there was something missing. Claire will always remember the first time Rose came through the door, after noticing a help-wanted sign out front, and asked to speak with whoever was hiring.

“You’re welcome to talk with me,” Claire said, “I’m one of the owners.”

Rose looked back at Claire and said “Lovely place you’ve got here, but you’re doing it all wrong.” with a big broad smile. “I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve basically had tea with the Queen.” It was quite an introduction. Tea with the Queen? Well, that warranted further conversation, and since nobody else had queried about the job for the week they’d had the sign up - Claire set up a meeting with her and Bryan after work that night. They had been open for six months at this point, and now had a steady flow of customers, so they needed help. They were also keenly aware that something was missing, and that thing evidently was Rose Thorne. Just to be clear, Rose hadn’t quite “basically had tea with the Queen”, but she did have tea in a place the Queen had once had tea - and was served by someone who had once served the Queen, so that was close enough for her.

In all honesty, not much changed with regard to the menu, but change to the dining room was undeniable. The matching modern teacups were out, and mismatched flowery teacups of all colors, some with gold rims, were in. The white tablecloths were replaced with flowery patterns that reminded Bryan of his mother’s kitchen curtains, and the dining room took on a whole new vibe, or old vibe if you prefer. Each of these changes was instigated by Rose, and who were Claire and Bryan to argue? She’d basically had tea with the Queen for goodness sake! Moreover, Rose’s presence added an air of authenticity to the teahouse. She was very strict in making sure the tea was served perfectly, and she could serve tea in a way that would make anyone feel special. If Bryan heard the phrase “make sure the water is on-the-boil” once, he’d heard it one-hundred times in the last six months. Each time he did it brought a smile to his face. It’s also important to note that the way customers heard Rose speak was somewhat different to what Bryan, Annie & Claire heard. Rose’s proper English slipped back into a Manchester slang in the time it took to turn her head. Although Rose Thorne had the appearance of an older woman, she had the savvy mind of a woman with rich life experience, confirmed with a nod of her head and a twinkle in her eye.

So today was the one-year anniversary of their little dream come true. Bryan had laid an invitation at every door along the street in the early morning hours two days prior - as everyone along North Branch St. was welcome to join in the celebration. He even wrote neatly in chalk on their sidewalk tent-sign “Closed 5PM Today for Private Event”. They usually closed at 7, but today they would close early to clean-up and host a little party for themselves and their new friends the store owners, their employees and anyone they wanted to bring, at six o’clock. He and Claire had it all planned-out with snacks, tea, soft drinks and Bryan’s cake. Rose would be there of course, and Annie would be finished work in plenty of time to meet at six. A perfect end to a perfect day…and a successful year.

“Thank you for coming, see you again,” Rose said to the last customer of the day. When the door closed behind them she blurted “Bloody hell, that was a busy afternoon!” Bryan appeared immediately to lock the front door and turn the sign to closed. It was just after five, and he had been watching the last patrons for fifteen minutes from the kitchen—mentally urging them to drain their cups and leave.

“Thanks Rose, I know it was a bit crazy getting closed early.”—Bryan said feeling a little woozy—“Claire is coming out in a minute so we can get everything prepared.” He teetered on his feet for a moment.

“You feeling okay?” Rose asked, eyeing Bryan more closely.

“Yeah, I’m just a little light-headed from blowing up balloons for the last half hour. I’m all good.” He had blown up a full pack of eighteen red and black balloons in thirty minutes, and was lucky he hadn’t fallen down. With that they both turned to see Annie come through the kitchen door - earlier than expected.

“Hello Sweetie, are you ready for your big party?” Annie slipped off her coat.

“It’s not just my party," Bryan corrected, “This is for the teahouse - it’s for all of us.” Annie kissed him and gave him that most reassuring of smiles.

Rose returned, now without her flower-patterned apron, clapped her hands and said “Right, what’s next?” Claire was there too, and the four of them gathered around a table for a quick game-plan overview. Bryan chaired the meeting:

Annie could best be described as the glue that held everything together. She definitely held Bryan together on more than one occasion, although she may never have known. They had been together more than thirty years, which seemed impossible if not at least improbable, given their contrasting personalities. Annie was the rudder that steered the ship, the anchor that kept it safe in harbor and the light when guidance was needed. Bryan was more akin to a large sail caught-up in the wind, blowing this way and that but always providing energy. Maybe that was their secret. As Bryan was fond of saying: “If two people think exactly the same, one of them is redundant.” Both were needed to move forward though, and when they were together no destination was out of bounds. Annie was also generous. When Claire and Bryan finally found a perfect location for the teahouse, and were in the planning stages, Annie offered to keep working past the time she planned to semi-retire, so their dream could be realized. Nobody had to ask. She looked at the big picture and did her part without a word of complaint. That’s just Annie.

“Let me help you.” said Rose, and followed Annie through the kitchen door.

“That leaves me for drinks I guess,” Claire mused. “No sweat, we’ve still got a half-hour.”
"Thank you honey, this will be perfect,” Bryan said as he found himself suddenly standing alone in the middle of the room. Better get to work, he thought and he headed off to retrieve the cake from the fridge.

“Someone had to start,” Annie said as she and Claire shared a laugh.

“Of course, of course. There will be plenty for everyone - no worries.” Bryan realized in his concern over having everything just right, he’d forgotten to eat. He grabbed a sandwich and a soda before heading back to the door to greet people as they showed-up. When he got to the door though, nobody was there. He glanced at his watch: 6:15. Since all the other stores closed at 6PM on Wednesdays he figured they’d be locking up and headed to The Little Spoon any moment. He finished his sandwich.

He shoulders slumped as he stepped back through the door and locked it behind him. As he left the front hall and entered the dining room, he stood for a minute watching his wife, daughter and the ever-entertaining Rose smiling and laughing in an animated conversation. He was disappointed, no - heartbroken that nobody cared to join their first anniversary party, but his heart was also warmed by the sight before him here in the dining room. The love of his family. The Little Spoon family that they all created together. After taking it in for a few moments, he cleared his throat and when they looked up he said “I have some bad news…”

“For all of them?” Claire asked, “even Mr. Jenkins? That’s kind of surprising. I’m sorry dad, it’s no big deal. At least we’re all here.”

“Absolutely, I’m in,” said Annie.

“Me too,” Claire added. Bryan smiled a little weakly and grabbed the lifter. Rose was right. The most important people in his life were all here gathered together. Nothing should spoil the moment. He cut a generous piece for everyone, and tried his best to include a little bit of flower-castle on each plate. When all the pieces were cut, the four partygoers had what can best be described as a cake-cheers moment, and dug in.

Bryan swallowed.

He felt like he was turning green, likely because he was. Something was extremely off. Claire figured it out first and came bursting through the kitchen door, laying it out plainly. “How tired were you last night, dad? Do you realize that instead of sugar you used salt?” Now Bryan knew he was turning green.

“But…I…no…there’s no-can’t…” he stammered, then finished with “Oh, God.” Of course Claire was right - they all knew it immediately. What followed was a full fifteen seconds of silence as they all stood and looked at Bryan, who was trying to deal with all of this on top of dealing with what he had just swallowed. He felt devastated that nobody showed-up for their party, that he ruined a simple cake and also that he was possibly going to throw-up. This was not how he had planned things at all. He sat down and put his head in his hands for a moment. “I’m actually lucky nobody showed up,” he said with a tinge of sad relief in his voice.

Rose walked over and put a hand on his shoulder “Don’t fret love - it’s bloody wonderful, I’m goin’ in for seconds.” Rose was a straight-shooter, and he knew her sarcasm was meant in kindness to lighten the moment, but it only made him feel more like an idiot. Then she went to the back for something to clean up her mess, while Claire and Annie tossed out their plates. She returned a few moments later holding a piece of paper. “Is this your invitation?” she asked, fanning herself slowly with it.