The Rooftop Tea Party

“One cup, one chair, one perfect tea party,” Tansy announced.

She stood in her rooftop garden, hands on her hips, admiring the little table she had polished until it was smooth as a pebble. A blue cup sat on a yellow saucer. A plate held three honey biscuits. Beside them rested a tiny teapot painted with leaves.

Everything was exactly where Tansy wanted it.

“Perfect,” she said again.

Her garden sat above the town’s bakery, where the warm smell of bread floated up between pots of mint, tomatoes, and tall sunflowers. Tansy had grown the sunflowers herself. They leaned over the garden fence as if they, too, were waiting for a guest.

A knock sounded on the rooftop door.

Tansy hurried to open it. A young witch stood outside, holding the brim of her floppy green hat. A small gray cloud hovered over her head.

“Hello,” said Tansy. “You must be Fernie, the new witch who moved into the blue house.”

Fernie nodded. “I’m Fernie. I’m glad you invited me.” Her voice was so quiet that a nearby sunflower seemed to listen harder.

“I’m glad you came!” Tansy said. “Come in. I planned a tea party with one cup, one chair, and—”

The cloud above Fernie gave a tiny pff.

A sprinkle of rain dotted Fernie’s hat.

“Oh,” Fernie whispered. “It does that when I feel shy.”

“That’s all right,” said Tansy, though she glanced at the table. A raindrop from the little cloud speckled the plate beside the biscuits.

Fernie dabbed at it with her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I can try to make it go away.”

The cloud squeezed out another little shower, this time onto the tablecloth.

Tansy fetched a napkin and wiped the spots. She looked at her one cup and one chair. She had pictured the afternoon so carefully: one guest, one cup, a tidy table, and no surprises.

Fernie looked at the wet cloth, then at Tansy. “Maybe I should go home.”

For a moment, Tansy had no words. The garden smelled of mint and rain, and Fernie’s shoes were still waiting on the rooftop step.

“Let’s see,” Tansy said at last. “Maybe we can figure this out.”

Tansy set the napkin beside the teapot. “We can still have tea,” she said. “I’ll just keep wiping the table.”

Fernie tried to smile, but her cloud gave a worried rumble. A few drops tapped the cloth. Then a drop landed right in the empty teacup.

Plink.

Tansy stared at the cup. Her perfect tea party now had a puddle in the very middle of it.

“I’m really sorry,” Fernie said. “I don’t know how to stop it.”

Tansy looked at the garden. The afternoon sun warmed the table, and the cloud made a cool patch on the boards. The sunflowers beneath it had stopped drooping. Their broad leaves lifted, and their yellow faces turned toward the shade.

Tansy tipped her head. “Wait a minute. Your cloud is making a sunshade.”

Fernie blinked. “It is?”

“Look!” Tansy pointed to the flowers. “They like the cool spot. Maybe the table would like it, too.”

She glanced at her neat little arrangement. One cup. One chair. Everything just so. Then she looked at Fernie, standing near the door with her hat dripping at the brim.

Tansy’s plan suddenly seemed much too small for the garden.

“I think I want you to stay,” she said. “Even if the party has to change.”

Fernie’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“I do.” Tansy’s voice felt a little wobbly, but she kept going. “And I have an idea. We can move the table under your cloud.”

She grabbed the table’s sturdy edge and tugged. It scraped a few inches across the rooftop boards. Fernie hurried to help, lifting the teapot so it wouldn’t wobble. Together they turned the table until it rested in the cloud’s cool shade.

Tansy pulled a second chair from beside the garden shed. “Here you go.”

Fernie sat carefully. Her cloud floated over both chairs. It released one last tiny sprinkle, then settled into a quiet, round puff.

“No more drips,” Fernie said, surprised.

“Maybe it feels welcome now,” said Tansy.

She poured tea into the blue cup, then found a small green cup in the teapot’s cupboard. Fernie held it in both hands. They shared the honey biscuits, and the cloud shaded their table while the sunflowers nodded nearby.

Tansy’s party was not the one she had planned. It was better than she had expected.

The tea tasted of chamomile and a spoonful of honey. Tansy had poured it a little too high in Fernie’s cup, so Fernie sipped carefully, with her nose nearly touching the rim.

“Is it good?” Tansy asked.

Fernie nodded. “It tastes like warm flowers.”

“That’s because I put a chamomile flower in the teapot.” Tansy lifted the lid to show her. “I was going to save the last one for myself, but we can share it.”

Fernie leaned closer. “It smells lovely.”

Above them, the cloud stayed tucked over the table like a small, gray roof. It made no rain. Its cool shade rested across the cups and the honey biscuits, while the rest of the garden basked in the mild afternoon sun.

Tansy leaned back in her chair. It was nice not to have to guard the tablecloth from every drop. It was even nicer to have someone sitting across from her.

“Do you think your cloud will come with you next time?” she asked.

“I think so,” Fernie said. “It likes your garden.”

“Then you can both come back.” Tansy paused, and a smile crept across her face. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” said Fernie. “I was afraid you’d only invited me because you felt you should.”

Tansy shook her head. “I invited you because I wanted to meet you. I just forgot that meeting someone can change the plan.”

Fernie’s cloud bobbed gently overhead. It made the smallest sound, like a kitten purring from far away.

They talked about the town: the bakery that made cinnamon rolls on Thursdays, the old clock that ran three minutes fast, and the best place to find ladybugs. Fernie’s voice grew less quiet with every story. Tansy listened, and when Fernie laughed, the sunflowers seemed to lean in again.

Soon, only a little tea remained in each cup. Tansy tipped the teapot, and two warm drops fell into Fernie’s green cup. They sipped the last of the tea together beneath the quiet cloud.

The rooftop garden settled around them, full of minty air and rustling sunflower leaves. Tansy sat with her new friend, and Fernie’s little cloud floated overhead, cool and still.