Tess and Teatime

It starts when you’re a little girl. A miniature plastic tea set, positioned atop a small table and child size chairs, dolls and stuffed animals as guests. A tea party, elegant and charming, all in the imaginary world allowed during childhood.

Lying in her hammock between tall oak trees, Tess was dreaming of those simple days in her beautiful bedroom back in Colorado Springs. Too bad that little girl had to grow up so quickly. Divorce had left her parents angry and distant; their only child daughter stuck in the middle. The great house was sold, and she was carted off to apartment life in Denver where her mother found work as an Executive Assistant. Every other weekend was spent with her father, usually doing things he loved, like watching sports and eating out. Pickle in the middle, no one place to call home.

But on this quiet day, she determined to put all thoughts of the past away. She had created her own success, bought her own small home outside of Denver. Surrounded by nature, she loved her cream-colored life, hardwood floors and cozy rugs. Simple, lovely, peaceful. Yes, this was her safe space, hers and hers alone.

Colorado had awesome change of seasons, none more beautiful than autumn. A sudden breeze swept across her face, and colored leaves dropped gracefully down on top of her. The loud unwelcome interruption of her pocketed cell phone broke her solitude and made her jump.

“Hey Tess, where are you?” Her co-worker Brandon sounded alarmed.

Her brain tried to wrap thought around this comment. “I’m home, it’s my day off!” She worked for an architectural firm and was taking a much-needed recovery day after many months of nonstop development deals and drawing revised blueprints for picky clients.

“No Tess, we’re supposed to have dinner with the Fergusons tonight! It’s social but also important to the firm. You said you’d pick me up, but since you’re late, I’ll be there in 30 minutes to get you.”

How did she get sucked into this dinner? She didn’t even know the Fergusons. Moreover it was Brandon who needed exposure, not her. Like Wonder Woman, she spun around like a top and made herself ready. Squaring her shoulders, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

The Fergusons were a very wealthy couple who were visiting the Denver area researching the possibility of expanding their Scottish Whisky brand in America. They were considering hiring Tess’s firm to design and develop their US distillery and business spaces, so dinner was indeed a test of sorts. Not that Tess owned the business, but operationally, her boss Jack Macovei expected her to run point on these types of opportunities.

The estate the Fergusons had rented was on a huge property with tennis courts, swimming pools and stables. As they drove up, Tess realized that this was not a minor client meeting – this could be the deal of a lifetime. Attitude shift, and business face on, she stood tall and walked into the mansion.

Predictably, the place was beyond luxurious. Tess and Brandon were led to a massive great room, where Sylvia and George Ferguson were waiting, cocktails in hand. Introductions were brief and friendly, with initial small talk filling time.

George was magnanimous. “Welcome, please have a seat, and enjoy a sip of our famous Scotch! As you may know, we have great brand loyalty for all imports, and are looking to hire the most creative team to advance our North American position. Our goal of producing our brand here will lend itself to cost savings on import and customs and allow for us to expand our reach across the USA.”

Tess was confused. “I’m Scottish by ancestry, and I’ve read a bit about what designates a true Scottish Whisky, so I’m wondering why the Scotch Whisky regulatory board would allow you to make your product here in Colorado which would change the brand labelling to Whiskey. Are there any modifications that you’ll be making to adhere to their standards?”

George refilled her glass and nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes. Which is why the design firm we hire will need to have a full understanding of our distilling process, distribution strategies, and marketing goals. All to ensure that the Ferguson brand will be preserved. Our goal is to utilize the refreshing mountain water and locally grown barley to manufacture our USA blend. The newly branded whiskey will offer a unique grain and oak profile, irresistible to Americans!”

To Tess’s great relief, their dinner conversation was less intense and centered on gregarious stories of life in Scotland, family history and traditions. Tea was served and some kind of creamy dessert appeared, allowing for Tess to remain silent. Thankfully, Brandon took the lead.

“Mr. Ferguson, we at JMV Architectural have every intention of providing you with a design concept that will meet all of your expectations. Once we are advised of all your requirements, we will present to you within the week.”

“Excellent. As you can see, I could go on and on about our business, which makes Sylvia cross, so I will end it there and anticipate our next meeting.”

As they rose to leave, Tess looked across the room feeling like she was being watched. In a shadowy corner, a tall man draped in a Scottish tartan was definitely staring at her. Uncomfortable, she reached for Brandon’s hand, said her thanks and goodbyes, and tried to appear calm as she walked away.

Once back in the office, Tess was called into a meeting to discuss next steps for the Ferguson project. Brandon shared what had transpired during the dinner meeting, including Tess’s inference about the Scottish Whisky becoming Colorado Whiskey since it wasn’t produced in Scotland.

Tess spoke up “Jack, I really think that Brandon is the best person to run point on this. He’s perfect for it, he loves whiskey! I’m up to my eyeballs in the Sports complex remodel and have a deadline approaching!!”

“Easy Tess. We haven’t won it yet. Let’s say you tag team on the next few meetings and when we DO get the business, I’ll let Jack take it. Deal?”

She reluctantly agreed. Brandon squeezed her shoulder and whispered thanks. Once again, she was pickle in the middle of other people’s wants and needs. Childhood resentments were brewing beneath the surface, so she buried herself in configuring how to add a bowling alley to a restaurant complex adjacent to a basketball arena.

That night, she dreamt of the Scottish man in the tartan with the intent gaze. He didn’t speak, but he was smiling like he had a secret. Tossing and turning didn’t erase him either. Every time she’d fall back asleep there he was. Frustrated, she forced herself awake two hours too early, made a cup of tea, and sat on the porch swing watching the sunrise.

The next Ferguson meeting was cut and dried. They had a tour of the land Ferguson Industries had purchased for the expansion. Floor plans for the distillery and distribution centers were being drawn up; adjacent office spaces were well on their way to being perfected. 3-D renderings and miniature models helped provide the visuals that they needed for presenting their bid, and Brandon advised that a pitch meeting was scheduled. As Tess walked across the road to take a few landscape photos, she saw him again. Standing alone next to the gate was the tall Scot, smiling at her.

“Come on Tess, get a grip!” She ran to her car and drove away quickly, decided to end her workday and pointed her vehicle in direction of home, where she could slam the door on all things confusing.

Walking up to the house, she found a large box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It had no shipping label or return address so there was no way to know who it was intended for or who sent it. She carried it inside and gently unwrapped it.

Placed perfectly on a cushion of embroidered cloth napkins was a beautiful tea set, carefully packaged with a note describing it. “This is my family’s Dundee Thistle Queen Anne China from our Scottish castle on the river Tay in Dundee.”

“Okay, that’s weird.” Tess laid the tea set aside and removed the cardboard square separating the layers and reached cautiously toward another item. There was a 3-tiered serving tray, in pearl white with gold etching, adjacent to a canister of Brodies Scottish Tea. Unbelievable.

The next layer was packed in dry ice, with the appropriate warning to use gloves and protect your eyes. Tess grabbed rubber gloves and lifted the entire silver lined package to her kitchen sink. Opening it, she stepped back, watching the fog rise away as the ice melted. After an hour, she couldn’t take it anymore. Gloves back on, she started removing the items packed in the container. Each item was labeled (thank GOD) and she gingerly placed each one on the counter.

Dundee Oat Biscuits, Smoked Haddock Mousse, Mini Rustic Steak Sandwiches, Cucumber Crostini with Anster Cheese, Lemon Curd Tarts, Scottish Tablet Fudge, and a small container of heavy cream. One last item was lightweight and small with no label so she ripped it open only to find an envelope addressed to her.

“Tess Graham, you are cordially invited to tea today at 4pm on the back porch of your lovely home, adjacent to the woods. Please prepare the tea and set the table with these provisions – I need to speak with you on a matter of great importance. Sincerely, Adam Duncan.”

Tess looked at her watch, not sure what to expect. 4pm was coming up fast, and while she could see that the food was already prepared and just needed to be served, the tea was another story. She could brew a cup, but a pot of tea was a whole different thing. Praying instructions would be on the canister, she tapped into her adventurous self, and decided to host a tea party with a stranger.

With a quick change of clothes and freshening of makeup, she was ready. Chairs arranged around the wrought iron table, check. Foods displayed, place settings arranged, check. Tea pot and creamer to table, check. She positioned herself like a statue and waited. He came around the corner precisely at 4:00. She should have been stunned, but somehow, she wasn’t. It was him, the man she’d been seeing and dreaming about.

“So it’s you.”

“Yes indeed, in the flesh. Hello Tess.”

“So informal. Please Adam, sit and enjoy this tea party you’ve planned for yourself. I am intrigued when perhaps I should be wary.”

She found it fascinating that he was able to pour tea and eat. She could hardly breathe but didn’t want to appear rude, so she sipped and nibbled, trying not to look nervous.

“Tess, let me explain. I am first cousin to George Ferguson and have a stake in the whisky business that he is trying to bastardize.” He could see her eyes widening. “Yes, bastardize. He chose to come to America to avoid being sued against our grandfathers trust, knowing that he couldn’t change the blend. George makes this fine argument about protecting the Ferguson brand, but he full well knows that he cannot market an American blend under our family name or crest.”

“So what does this have to do with me?” Tess was now eating with gusto, amazed at how delicious all the food was.

“Well, as you work for the design firm George may be hiring, you could make sure that our family interests are protected. I’d hate to see your firm being blindsided by an international lawsuit.”

Tess folded her napkin and focused on him. “Adam, I’ll need more information in order to stop my company from engaging with your cousin. How long are you planning on being in Colorado?”

“As long as it takes, Ms. Graham.”

“Then let’s get busy, Mr. Duncan.”

And so was that Tess saved JMV Architectural from involvement with the nefarious ambitions of George Ferguson. George was forced to remove all Ferguson branding from his American blend whiskey and was unable to ever make it irresistible to anyone. His distillery closed within a year, and tail between legs, tried to establish his holdings in Scotland.

To his dismay, the entire enterprise had been awarded to Adam via the trust attorneys, and Tess was at his side as he stepped into the role of CEO of Ferguson Distilleries. George and Sophie moved into their daughters home in Edinburgh, and were rarely seen again.

Tess loved her new life in Scotland, as Marketing Director for Fergusons’. Adam’s mother couldn’t believe the size of the diamond engagement ring Adam had given Tess, but was over the moon that her son had found the perfect Scottish American to round out his life.

Every Wednesday at 4pm, Tess threw a tea party. And every Wednesday at 4pm Adam joined her, on the deck adjacent to the woods, next to the small castle that had become her home. She was like the porcelain tea pot that had been dusted off, now loved and cared for. Childhood joys became adult realities, in the most unexpected way. The whisky, the tartan, the afternoon tea, and the love of a man named Adam.