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Fantasy


Tea and Gossip

By Margaret Rodeheaver


Kendra hurried in from the garage and put the bakery box on the kitchen counter. She shrugged off her spring coat, hung it on the peg by the door, and glanced at her watch. She just had time to put the kettle on.

The kitchen table was already set with Staffordshire teacups and saucers, and a blue and white transferware sugar bowl. Kendra filled the little matching pitcher with milk, arranged the bakery cookies on her prettiest tiered tray, and placed everything on the table.

The teapot was ready. All she had to do was wait for the kettle to boil. She grabbed her appointment calendar from the cookbook nook in the corner and double-checked the entry for today’s date. There in scribble-scrabble handwriting it said “Agatha tea 4:00.” Kendra took the calendar and placed it on the chair near the widow, and waited.

Just as the carriage clock in the living room chimed four clear tones to signal the hour, a hazy blue cloud shimmered over the spot where the calendar lay. A moment later it solidified into the figure of Kendra’s great aunt Agatha.

“Hello, Auntie. It’s nice to see you again,” Kendra said, and gave Agatha’s cool cheek a kiss.

“Kendra, dear. I’m happy to be here as always. I’ve been so eager to hear how everything’s going. Ooh! Don’t these look delicious!” Her great aunt smiled happily as she reached for a Russian tea cookie from the tray.

“I got your favorite kind. Though I still don’t know how they can ever compare to the things you have to eat up there.”

“One day you’ll understand that there’s such a thing as too perfect. I always felt that way about housework, if you’ll remember.” There was a twinkle in Agatha’s eye, and Kendra recalled how the old woman would happily let sleeping dust-bunnies lie if she had a good book to read.

Agatha contemplated the cookie in her hand. “I love these because they’re a bit too crumbly and a touch too salty and I like the way the powdered sugar gets everywhere. They’re just fun to eat!” She took a bite and half of the cookie crumbled in her hand, raining a dusting of powdered sugar onto the lace tablecloth.

Kendra carried the teapot to the table, poured two steaming cups of tea, and sat opposite her great aunt. “So,” she began, eyes shining, “I got the job!” A smile stretched across Kendra’s face as she sat back in her chair and waited for her Auntie’s reaction.

“Of course you did.” Agatha smiled smugly. “I knew you would. I had it from an inside source. I told you your prayer would be answered. The question is, is it as wonderful as you hoped it would be.”

“Better,” Kendra answered, and told her Auntie all about her new job at the house museum, how much she loved working in the wonderful old mansion surrounded by beautiful antiques, and how interesting she found all the visitors.

“You always did appreciate the finer things. And I thought that was a new suit you had on.” Agatha nodded approvingly. “Wish I could do something about this!” She pointed at her own outdated blue frock. “Why I left instructions to be buried in this old thing, I’ll never know.”

“Oh, you know why. Because you knew Grandma could get some use out of your best suit, and you wanted to leave something for her. It was sweet of you. And she wore it for several years.” Kendra looked thoughtful a moment. “Do you think Grandma will ever want to visit here?”

“That sister of mine is still too dazzled by the pearly gates and the crystal sea and everything. Typical ‘nouveau mort.’ After a while she’ll probably have a craving for Angelo’s pizza or some fair food or something, and pay you a visit.”

“I sure do miss her. Tell her I said so.”

“Of course, dear.”

Kendra heard a little ping, and looked around for her phone, then gaped as Auntie pulled a glowing object from the pocket in her dress. “Auntie, when did you get a cell phone?” she asked.

“Isn’t this something, Kenny? I never thought I’d be caught dead with anything as newfangled as this.”

Kendra laughed. “That was me. My friends teased me for the longest time about my flip-phone. I finally got a smart phone and now I wouldn’t give it up. But what do you use one for up there?”

“At first I couldn’t imagine what I would do with it, but now I can see how handy it is. This is a text from Mori. He says Trudy made it at last. I’m really looking forward to chatting with her.” She read the message on her phone again and nodded. “Do you remember Gertrude Wallace?”

“I think I’ve heard you mention her,” Kendra said uncertainly.

“My old friend from school. I never saw her after she moved to Indiana, but we exchanged cards every Christmas. Mori texted me last week that Trudy wouldn’t be much longer. She made it home today.”

Kendra knew that by “home,” her Auntie meant “up there.” “Do you get messages about everybody who’s on their way … home?” Kendra asked.

“Oh, no. That would be billions of people! And before you ask, I can’t call anyone who is alive on this thing. I’ve already tried. No, we just get messages about people we’ve known and care about. Well, messages about celebrities too. Maybe you heard about Clive Cussler. He came home fairly recently. What a fascinating man! And he sure loves to talk.”

The two chatted for the better part of an hour. Then Kendra took her Auntie out to see her garden. “Look how your azaleas are blooming,” Agatha said. “It’s so delightfully ragged out here! I just love it.” Kendra was embarrassed by all the fuzzy yellow dandelions thriving under her benign neglect, and was glad someone besides the bees appreciated her yard.

They continued talking as they strolled around the garden. “How’s your mother doing, dear?” Agatha asked.

“Not bad. But not really good either. You know how the pollen always gets to her in the spring. This year it’s particularly bad. I talked to her on the phone the other day, and the way she was coughing, I told her if she didn’t go to the doctor I would drive all the way up there and take her myself. She promised to make an appointment soon.”

Agatha turned back toward the house. “Let’s get inside before my time is up. I want to put myself on your calendar so I can visit again. It’s so much easier this way than what I have to go through with your cousin April. And I’d much rather visit you. I like seeing my old china, and you know just the kind of cookies I like.” Agatha smiled and patted Kendra’s cheek.

While Kendra reached for the calendar and searched about for a pen, she heard Agatha’s cell phone ping again. “My electronic leash,” the old woman muttered. “I’m sure it’s Mori again.” Then her tone changed. “Oh dear,” Agatha said. “Oh, this can’t be.”

Kendra looked over at her Auntie and saw Agatha gazing sadly back. “What’s wrong, Auntie?” Agatha seemed not to hear her. “Aunt Agatha?” Kendra repeated.

Agatha breathed a slow sigh, glancing at her phone again. Then she slipped it in her pocket. “Oh, nothing. It must have been ‘operator error.’ I’m still not quite sure about this thing. Now let me see that pen.” In her spidery handwriting Agatha penned her name on a square in the following month in Kendra’s calendar.

“I can feel that my time is up, Kenny dear. I hate to leave you all alone.”

Kendra was touched. Her Auntie rarely seemed this sad when they parted. “I’ll look forward to seeing you next time, Auntie. I’ll have your favorite tea and cookies waiting for you.”

Agatha nodded. “And why don’t you just drive up and visit your mother sometime soon. I know she would love to see you.”

“Maybe I will,” Kendra said, as Agatha began to shimmer and grow hazy. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “Auntie!” she cried. “Aunt Agatha, that message you just got…”

But Agatha was already gone.

March 13, 2020 02:54

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1 comment

Adam Richard
06:13 Mar 22, 2020

This is great! Obviously with some degree a morose story, however it's fun to read your prose. You have a very comfortable sense of sentence and adding just enough setting. As far as criticism, I would say the story could benefit from some conclusion or central conceit. While it's always enjoyable to have a slice of life of nice people, the benefit of a story is that it can show some truth or explore an idea quickly. While I'd read more of these characters, I'd like them to do something.

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