Kissed a Sad Goodbye

packed for shipping. The tasting and blending we do here is only the very last stage.” Her gesture took in the chests and the tasting table and the smooth boards of the old warehouse floor, polished from long use to a satiny sheen.
    “Was Annabelle in charge of the tasting?”
    “No, that’s Mac—Mr. MacDougal. Tea merchants have professional tasters, and Mac’s one of the best in the business. But Annabelle’s... Annabelle was very good, and some of the blends she and Mac created have increased our market share considerably. I simply don’t know how we’ll manage without her.” Teresa’s voice threatened to break and she pressed her lips together in an effort at control. She turned away and led them to racks of shelving against the far wall. “This new design is only part of Annabelle’s vision.”
    Kincaid saw that the shelves held round tins bearing the familiar Hammond’s logo. The tins were an unusual shape, tall and thin, and of a striking cobalt blue and russet design, with the logo embossed in gold. He remembered seeing them in some of the more expensive gourmet shops, and at Harrods.
    “They’re lovely,” said Gemma, turning a tin so that she could see the design all the way round.
    “She chose the colors to please William—her father— after his favorite tea service. She—” Teresa closed her eyes. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
    “Come sit down.” Gently, Gemma took her by the elbow and led her to the brightly cushioned grouping of rattan chairs positioned near the tasting table. “Let me get you some water.”
    “No, I’m fine, really,” Teresa protested, but she sank gratefully into a chair, shivering as if she were cold. “It’s just... I’m still not sure I’ve taken it in.”
    Gemma sat beside her. “I think Mr. Mortimer said that Annabelle had assumed the running of the business from her father?”
    “His wife was very ill, you know. Cancer. Then after she died, he wasn’t well himself for some time. From the shock, I suppose. Otherwise he’d never have given up control to anyone.”
    “Could Mr. Hammond not step in again?”
    Teresa’s brow creased in a worried frown. “It’s been five years since William was directly involved with the day-to-day running of the business, although he drops in at odd times of the day and night. I think he can’t bear to let it go altogether.”
    “Then with his experience—”
    “It’s more complicated than that. Annabelle was taking the company in directions William didn’t approve—”
    “But if you’ve been successful, surely he’d want to continue as Annabelle intended.”
    “No, you don’t understand. To William, it’s tradition that’s important. Even though his great-grandfather began the business as a gamble on the new tea estates in Ceylon, he can’t see that it was risk-taking that put Hammond’s on its feet in the first place. He wants things done the way they’ve always been—”
    “Such as?” Kincaid asked, intrigued.
    Sighing, Teresa sat back in her chair. “I don’t know where to start. Tea bags, for one. Until recently, Hammond’s has never sold tea in bags—there’s simply no comparison between our teas and the low-quality blends that are used in most mass-produced tea bags. But Annabelle was convinced that you could put fine tea in a bag, and that if you suffered some loss of quality in the processing, you made up for it by introducing consumers to better teas. A taste for tea needs developing, like a taste for wine, and Annabelle was sure we could switch the customer from bags to loose tea eventually.
    “It was the same with flavorings. There’s a huge market for flavored teas, especially in the States, but William wouldn’t hear of it. Annabelle convinced the board that most tea drinkers start out with flavored teas and move on to appreciating the tea itself, but I’m not sure William ever really accepted the decision. He—”
    There was a click of a latch and the front door swung open. Kincaid could make out nothing but the tall silhouette of a man, but Teresa pushed herself up from her chair. “Mr. Hammond. What are you doing here?”
    “Teresa, my dear.” Coming forward, he took her outstretched hand and gave it a pat. “Jo shouldn’t have asked you to do this. It’s the family’s responsibility to look after things here.” He turned to Kincaid and Gemma. “I’m William Hammond. How can I help you?”
    Gemma would have recognized Hammond from