Right Number, Wrong Girl

He shot me a withering look. “Really? How useful can a used teabag be?”

“Extremely. They’re used to treat conjunctivitis.”

“They are?”

“And if you apply tea instead of after-sun to sunburnt skin, it’ll take out the burn and add moisture to the skin. Tannin has numerous medicinal properties.”

“And you can compost tea leaves,” Evelyn added, accepting the cup of tea I slid her way. She added milk and sugar, stirred, then sipped. “Would you like to move in?”

I smiled.

“Seriously? One pot of tea and you want her to move in?” Hugo looked at her.

“Yes. She can have your room.”

“If she’s moving into my room, I’m staying.”

I handed him a cup. “I’ll sleep in the shed.”

Evelyn chuckled. “This is fun.”

“Only because she’s on your side,” he muttered.

“Also known as the right side.”

Hugo put milk in his cup, stirred, and sipped. He didn’t say anything, and I stared at him until he finally met my gaze.

“What?”

“He’s just sulking because it’s good tea. Don’t mind him,” Evelyn said, standing up. “Thank you, dear. I’ll have this in the garden. It’s fresh out there, and I enjoy scaring the gardener’s new intern.”

I watched as she left. “She does what to the intern?”

Hugo dropped his head and sighed. “Every spring, our gardener hires some interns or an apprentice. Sometimes it’s student work experience, sometimes it’s people who need actual experience to get a job. It works. This year we have a nineteen-year-old college student doing an apprenticeship with her and Grandma is taking great pleasure out of telling her everything she’s doing is wrong. I think she’s starting to get Grandma’s number, but…” He shrugged. “Nobody can make her stop it, so we just assure the girl she’s doing a great job and that Grandma is an arsehole.”

“You can’t say that about your grandma!”

“She is an arsehole.”

“Well, at least you know where you get it from.” I sipped my tea and peered over the top of my cup at him.

He opened his mouth, presumably to argue with me, but he was cut off by his dad walking in.

“Good afternoon,” he said brightly. “Are we having a tea break?”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Devon,” I replied. “We are. We just finished the draft table plan.”

“Ah, I’m surprised tea is the strongest thing you’re drinking, in that case.” He smiled at me.

“There’s some left in the pot if you’d like some.”

“Did Hugo make it?”

I hid my smile behind my cup.

Hugo threw his hands out. “Why does everyone have an issue with the way I make tea?”