The Traveling Tea Shop Read Online Free Page B

the others?” I dare to ask.
    Her face changes as she leans in close. “One woman got me eating tofu cheesecake.”
    “I’m so sorry.” My brow crumples.
    “It’s all right. I stayed on after she left and had the Amaretto.”
    “Ooh, I bet that was delicious!”
    “It was.” She takes a sip of hot lemon water. “One appointment we had to cancel because it turns out her suggestion was The Cheesecake Factory.”
    “Not an entirely illogical suggestion . . .”
    “And I’m not opposed to a chain when they serve Pineapple Upside-Down Cheesecake, but the nearest location was Hackensack, New Jersey.”
    “Oh.”
    “Now where were the others?” she strums her chin and then smiles fondly. “I did like Veniero’s.”
    “That was on my list!” I pip. “First runner-up.”
    “It’s a classic. But guess what?”
    I shake my head.
    “The woman I met there didn’t even touch her slice!”
    I tut in disgust, assuring her that I’m very much of the no-crumb-left-behind persuasion.
    “You’d think she would at least have asked for a box to take it away.”
    “She didn’t?” I gasp.
    “No!” She hoots. “Just got up and left!”
    “That’s not right.”
    Pamela sits back in her chair, taking another sweep of our surroundings. “Would you agree this Lady M has a somewhat French flair?”
    Much as I’d like to claim the M is for Manhattan, I can’t deny it.
    “I just thought—it’s so hot and everyone needs that moment in a New York day when you can just exhale and regain your composure.”
    “That’s very considerate of you.”
    “Well, these factors matter—the weather, your mood that day, what you are hoping to achieve . . .” I leave my words hanging.
    She smiles. “I suppose I should tell you a little more about this project of mine.”
    “Only if you like—”
    “I do. I like you, I like this place. I think this will work very well.”
    Did she just hire me?
    “So. My agent, in her infinite wisdom, has decided that this is the year for me to break America.”
    “Gosh!” It hadn’t even occurred to me that she wasn’t known here since she’s such an institution at home.
    “It’s certainly the right time for me to take a break from the UK, but she wants to move a lot faster than I had originally intended.”
    “Okay . . .”
    “Basically she wants to get a cookbook out for Christmas.”
    “Christmas recipes?”
    “Actually no. What it is . . .” She pauses, waiting for the family standing beside us to be seated before she continues. “Basically, the idea is that I travel around the U.S. trading traditional British cake recipes for American favorites, like New York Cheesecake, Boston Cream Pie—”
    “You want to go to Boston?” I wasn’t expecting this.
    “I want to go everywhere that a great American cake originated.”
    “Oh wow.”
    “But!” she takes a breath. “That won’t be possible in the time-frame so we went through the list and it seems that all the best recipes are concentrated here on the East Coast, because of course that’s where the first settlers arrived.”
    “Well, not quite the first . . .” I venture.
    “Funnily enough we were reading about a Native American tribe based at Plymouth Rock; they have this dish called Indian Pudding . . .”
    “So there’s a dessert element to this too?”
    “I’m open to anything and everything you could possibly have at teatime.”
    “I love teatime,” I sigh.
    “Me too. That’s why we’re calling the book
The Traveling Tea Shop.
”
    “That’s so sweet!” I enthuse. And then a thought pops into my head. “What about Whoopie Pies? They’re cakes really, are you including them?”
    “Are they the ones from Maine?” She rifles through her bag in search of her notebook.
    “I think so . . .”
    “Yes,” she confirms as she finds the corresponding page. “They actually helped us decide that we want to focus purely on New York and New England.”
    “So we’re talking