Free Death by Chocolate by G. A. McKevett

asked Gilly.
    “Oh no. They like sitting
together. They’re very good friends.”
    Gilly returned to her own
seat, adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on her tiny head and tossed one end of the
boa over her shoulder with the panache of a silver screen glamorpuss. “Now, we
have to get you some tea and—” She looked across the table at Savannah, and her
smile disappeared. “Have you been crying?”
    Savannah was touched by the
girl’s depth of concern, though a bit confused. “No, why do you ask?” ‘Your
nose is all red, and your eyes are poofy.”
    “Poofy? Oh... no, I haven’t
been crying. I woke up this morning with a bit of a cold.”
    “And you brought it over
here?” Eleanor snapped, suddenly alert “I hired you to protect me, not infect
me!”
    “I’ll be very careful to cover
my mouth when I sneeze,” Savannah told her with an exaggerated patience that
she didn’t feel. “And you’ve already warned me about breathing down your neck,
so....”
    Eleanor glared at her for a
few seconds, and Savannah could practically hear her mental cogs spinning; she
was debating whether to kick her and her cold germs off the property or to let
it slide for the moment.
    Apparently the lady was in
a mellow frame of mind. Instead of ejecting Savannah from her chair she turned
toward the house and gave an unceremonious whistle, like a New Yorker signaling
a cab.
    A second later the kitchen
door opened, and a man in a tuxedo appeared. Hurrying over to the table, a
snowy linen towel draped over his left forearm, he said a bit breathlessly,
“Yes, ma’am. More tea? Crumpets? Sandwiches?”
    “Yes, more of everything.”
Eleanor waved an airy hand, signifying the whole spread, which Savannah had
just noticed was quite impressive. Crumpets with lemon curd and raspberry jam,
tiny sandwiches that had been cut into the shapes of hearts and diamonds,
adorned with thin slices of cucumber and the occasional dot of red caviar.
    Suddenly, Dirk’s coffee and
cinnamon roll seemed hours away.
    “And my friend is joining
us,” Gilly said, spreading on the accent thick. “Will you please bring her a
spot of tea, too, Sydney?”
    The formally attired fellow
with the white towel nodded his head graciously. “Certainly, Miss Gilly. Right
away.”
    So, this was Sydney, the
chauffeur and occasional tea-time butler. Savannah decided that he was about her
age but looked a bit older due to his salt-and-pepper hair, which he still had
in abundance. Dirk would have been jealous.
    He was taller than six
feet, but his shoulders were badly hunched as though he had carried a heavy
burden most of his life.... or maybe just the past few years. Savannah imagined
that working for Eleanor Maxwell could cause one to age prematurely.
    But she had to like a man
who smiled so warmly at a child and scurried away to do her bidding. She
remembered that Gilly had mentioned him the night before as one of the people
in her life who “liked” her.
    “Do you two have tea
often?” Savannah asked, addressing her question more to Gilly than Eleanor, who
seemed a bit on the sullen side of the street this afternoon.
    “The four of us,” Gilly whispered,
nodding discreetly toward the doll and bear.
    “Oh, of course. The four of
you.”
    “Just when I stay home sick
from school.”
    Sydney appeared with a
silver tray that was laden with reinforcements for the half-empty plates of
goodies. As he set Savannah’s teacup in front of her, she noticed that he
lacked the grace and dignity of a professional butler. But he seemed to be
doing his best—for a guy who was usually a chauffeur and handyman.
    “Will there be anything
else, miss?” he asked Gilly.
    “That will be all for now,
Sydney,” the child replied with a graceful, dismissive wave of her hand.
    “Hang around,” Eleanor
added. “I’ll yell if we need something. Go work on the kitchen. It’s a mess.
That damned Marie.... just had to go see her mother in L.A. Never mind whether
she’s needed around