Baby Taylor Royal Tea Party
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Taylor’s eyes lit up as she arranged a mismatched set of vintage teacups on the lace-covered table. Afternoon tea wasn’t just a habit—it was her daily joy, a ritual where buttery scones and jam-smeared laughter melted time into something golden. Today, though, was special. Jessica was coming. Her kitchen hummed with urgency: strawberry tarts glistening like rubies, cucumber sandwiches trimmed to perfection, and a lemon cake so fluffy it threatened to float off the plate. She darted between the oven and the pantry, dusting powdered sugar over shortbread stars, then paused to adjust the daisies in their milk-glass vase. *Just right.* A knock echoed. Taylor smoothed her apron, grinned at the tiered tray of treats, and swung the door open. "Ready to eat the sun?" she teased, ushering Jessica inside. The teakettle’s whistle sang backup to their chatter—a harmony of crunching crusts, clinking spoons, and the kind of friendship that tastes better with extra clotted cream.
