Closed Tea Time Troubles

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chalcedony had grown very used to the afternoon visits he received from Olivia. She delighted in the fresh salads from his gardens. She always seemed to love his home-brewed tea. As for Chalcedony, he enjoyed her company very much. It wasn't often in his life he found a kindred soul like this. He came into the apartment, dusting the dirt from his pants. Olivia would be in soon, and he was sure what he had to discuss with her today would be very interesting for them both. He hummed as he went about putting together lunch for that day, washing off the vegetables and humming softly to himself.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Olivia apparated to Chalcedony’s chic neighborhood, so different from her own in Obsidian Harbour, but pleasant all the same. She held a glass container in the crook of her arm as she knocked on the man’s door. Inside the container was a layered honey cake she’d baked last night. Olivia was always happy to supply the sweets for tea time- and though she’d always been a coffee person and would never admit it to her sister, tea was growing on her.

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chal had just finished mixing the salad when he heard the door downstairs. Smiling, he flicked his wrist and opened it. "Upstairs, dearie," he called down, moving to set the bowl on the table before going to gather plates and dressing. He hummed, setting the tea pot to boil and fixing that tray next. He didn't turn immediately when he heard someone in the apartment. "Have a seat, dearie, I'll be right there," he told her, setting honey and sugar on the tray.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Olivia carried the honey cake up the stairs and set it on the table. She hung up her jacket on the coat tree. “Hullo, Chal,” she said warmly, taking a seat as instructed. “How are you doing?”

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chal turned, walking over with his tea tray and moving to set it on the table between them. "Well, dearie, that depends on you," he teased, settling into his chair and picking up his tea. He stirred in his honey, watching Olivia thoughtfully. "There's something I want to discuss with you," he started, giving her a warm smile.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Nearly a year later goodness gracious

Olivia reached for the delicate teacup and its just-as-delicate plate, stirring in a cube of sugar and holding both in her lap. She sat back in the armchair. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, raising the cup to her lips. The witch wondered what her friend was so eager to chat about.

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chal sipped his tea, thinking over his words carefully. "Well, dearie." He started slowly. "I've grown rather fond of you." He told her, tracing his finger lightly over the rim of his cup. "You also know I don't have any children. My sister has her own kids, but none of them really care about my greenhouse properly." He smiled warmly at her. "I'm getting older, dearie. I'm not going to retire any time soon, of course. But, I was thinking," Chal set his tea down and turned to the woman. "What I'm getting at, dearie, is that I want you to have my greenhouse. And in turn, the shop. In a few years, of course, and I sustain the right to keep working in the greenhouse," He told her, winking playfully at the last piece.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Over the few years she’d lived in New Zealand, Olivia had come to see Chal as a father figure. She’d never voiced this out loud to him, or anyone else for that matter. Olivia didn’t want to admit she needed a parent. What he had to say made sense to her on a deeper level. At the same time, it took her by surprise.

Her eyes wide, Olivia reached for her teacup, if only to have something to occupy her hands. “I’m honored, Chal, that you would think of me, I really am…” She fidgeted in her seat. “Can I have some time to think about it?” It really was a lot to think over. Would agreeing to such a thing root her to one place forever?

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chals smile wavered a bit, turning more shy. Had he misread their relationship? He had always been so awkward at social niceties and interactions. He sipped his tea a moment. "Of course, of course. It's not like either the greenhouse or I intend to go anywhere soon." He replied easily. "Enough of that. How are you?" He asked.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Olivia noticed the change in the older man’s expression. She hadn’t meant to offend him, or reject his offer. Olivia reached for his shoulder, hoping the gesture was reassuring. “I love the idea of it, Chal. It’s very generous of you.” She sat back, stirring her tea again. “I’m doing quite all right. Business is good. And my sister’s working at the school, so I have our place all to myself.” She smirked as she took a sip of her tea. “I love her, but we do not agree on the plants or where they belong in the house.”

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chal smiled softly, relaxing at her words. "Oh, I'm so easy to read. I'm sorry, dearie. I wasn't sure if I read too much into our relationship." He told her honestly. He sipped his tea. He chuckled at her words. "I used to be the same with Ruby. I'm sure you can see how my plants allow me to live here." He chuckled, motioning to the almost overgrown state of his apartment.

 

[Olivia Drage]

Olivia shook her head. “It’s all right, Chal.” She tipped back her mug quietly. Certainly, their plants owned them, and not the other way around. “Ruby’s your sister, right?” she asked curiously. Olivia knew that Chal had a large family. It was amazing that none of them would be interested in the botanical haven that their uncle had created.

 

[Chalcedony Michaels]

Chal nodded at the womans question. "Yes, Ruby is my twin sister," he reminded her. He sipped his tea. "The youngest of us right now is little Jordan, he's in school right now." He smiled at the thought. Jordie was always asking him for more tea. He was a sweet kid.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty wasn't completely useless in the garden, or so he liked to think, but he was by now quite certain that he would walk on the moon before he managed to keep a dittany plant alive for longer than six days. He'd known children who were less fussy than those bloody things. Mustn't get too wet, mustn't get too cold - that was all very well and good, but Monty lived in England. And therein, he had tried to convince Chalcedony on multiple occasions, lay the problem. It certainly had nothing to do with the acidity of the soil or Monty's gardening skills. Inconceivable.

Anyway, it wasn't all bad; it gave him an excuse to visit his friend, which invariably meant tea and biscuits. This time, Monty was providing the biscuits. It only seemed fair, given that he was asking Chalcedony to sacrifice yet another strong, healthy, tenderly reared dittany plant to the graveyard he called a greenhouse. He let himself into the cosy shop and went up the stairs. At the top was another door. Monty knocked.