In the midst of the Motor City lies a true uniquity among the shops, cafes, bars, and lounges. At the end of the block on East Congress Street, where it meets Brush Street, an old department store that went out of business in '49 underwent a quick and quite stunning transformation. The rundown, shabby brickwork was refaced and then painted a bright shade of reddish-pink coral. Each of the windows on the second floor were fitted with dark blue shutters. Perhaps the most unusual feature of the building among the entirety of the neighborhood was the addition of a sizeable front porch. With four steps leading up, right in the middle downtown Detroit, Michigan, there sits a white plank, covered  front porch complete with white wrought iron and glass cafe tables (which would be switched out for wicker in the warmer months), and rocking chairs. There are even ceiling fans suspended from the haint blue painted ceiling of the porch. To either side of the steps sit huge planters with dwarf sabal palmetto trees. The whole building looks like it had been pulled right out of Charleston, South Carolina.

This is the exact intent of proprietor Sandy Sullivan; who is, in fact, from Charleston, South Carolina. The sign that hangs from the banister of the porch reads:

Mrs. Ruthie's
Palmetto Tea Room

Designed to offer a bit of Southern flair and hospitality in her new home town, Sandy opened the tea room named after her Mama- Mrs. Ruthie Sullivan. Inside, the atmosphere is warm and unquestionably charming. The walls are painted a light, lemon yellow with white crown molding and chair-rail molding. Along the walls at the entrance are framed black-and-white photos of places along Charleston's historic coastline, as well as some photos of Sandy's family- including Mrs. Ruthie herself. The tables are covered in crisp, white tablecloths, and set with finely polished flatware and Blue Willow China that stands out beautifully in the room. The chairs are all comfortable armchairs and upholstered with blue or white fabric. Decorating the walls of the dining area are various pastorals and portraits, as well as hand painted China pieces. Every detail is obviously carefully thought out and lovingly placed.

Helping Sandy run the place are two servers- Jane, who is a young lady working her way through her first year in college; and Miss Helen, a woman in her early 50s that hails from Lynchburg, Tennessee and was all too happy to see this place open up. Running the kitchen are Norris and Remi, a pair of brothers from Bayou La Batre, Alabama that recently moved to Detroit to work in the auto industry. They are night shift workers, but like picking up the extra work prepping the food for the day for "Miss Sandy."

Upstairs are a few rooms for private parties, as well as Sandy's office. 

The menu features signature Southern delights that are perfect for a light brunch, afternoon tea, or entertaining friends or guests. The menu has some seasonal offerings that will change, but the items listed below are always available and everything is home-made.

Morning tea is served from 10:30 a.m. until 1:00 p.m., and consists of coffee or tea, a selection of our Southern Sweets, and a tray of fruit.

Afternoon tea is served from 3:00 p.m. until 5:00 p.m., and consists of complimentary coffee or tea, an additional beverage of your choice if you like, a tiered service with a selection of each of our tea sandwiches, your choice of three of our Southern Sweets, and your choice of two of our snack options. 

Of course, you are welcome to order anything from our menu A La Carte at any time. 
Orders can be wrapped to-go upon request. 

Beverages:

Coffee
A Selection of Hot Teas
Sweetened Iced Tea
Fresh, House-made Lemonade

Tea Sandwiches:

Apple Pecan Chicken Salad
Egg Salad
Cucumber and Cream Cheese
Pimento Cheese
Asparagus Toast

Southern Sweets:

Southern Style Tea Cakes
Pecan Tartlets
Pound Cake (Seasonal Flavor)
Lemon Bars
Coconut Cake
Apple Pear Crisp

Snacks:

Cheese Straws
Deviled Eggs
Cornbread Muffins
Cajun Style Cracklin's

We're mighty glad you've come to spend some time with us. Come on in and have a seat anywhere you like. If it's nice out, the porch is open. Just make yourself at home and let us know if you need anything. 

Dynamite had received a telegram about a hot new spot in downtown Detroit. After a fairly smooth flight, Dynamite hailed a cab and he was on his way to Mrs. Ruthie's. After being stuck in traffic at the height of the lunch hour, he arrived to the front of the new restaurant.

He stepped out of the cab and noticed a big and welcoming front porch, a reprieve and warm welcome from the busy downtown streets. He could see people going in and out, with the departing guests leaving happy.

"What a good sign," Dynamite thought.

Dynamite walked in and felt something of an immediate comfort. The overall Southern vibe just felt as if you were back at home. A pleasant young lady approached Dynamite.

"Welcome in," she said to Dynamite with a beautiful Southern accent. "Please sit anywhere you like and I'll be right with you."

Dynamite sat down at a table along the wall by a window. It was still lunch time, so Dynamite ordered a Sweet Tea, and an Apple Pecan Chicken Salad. He finished it off with a few pecan tartlets which were sweet and delightful. 

"How was everything?" the young waitress asked Dynamite.

Dynamite noticed her name tag, "Jane".

"Jane," Dynamite said. "The overall feel of the place along with the wonderful meal made the experience amazing and I appreciate your service. Is the owner in? I would love to give them my compliments."

Sandy was in the kitchen counting in boxes of fresh fruit that had just been delivered when Jane poked her head in through the swinging door fro the front.

"Miss Sandy, there's a man here just finished his lunch and wants to meet you. Seemed to really like the food."

A grin appeared on Sandy's face and she put down the clipboard she was holding.

"Sure, I'll be right out."

Before making her way to the front, Sandy wiped her hands on a towel and looked down to make sure her sweater and skirt were clear of anything, then gave her appearance a check in the reflection of a silver serving tray hanging on the wall beside the door of the kitchen. Wearing a bright smile, she walked out to the dining area and looked to Jane, who pointed out the well-dressed man. Nodding, Sandy made her way over and lightly touched his shoulder to greet him.

"Well hi there, sir. I'm Sandy Sullivan, the owner. Jane tells me you liked your lunch alright?"

Her demeanor was warm and easy-going, speaking to him as if she already knew him and was catching up after church on Sunday, despite having never seen him in her life. But that was the Southern way, and it came naturally.

Dynamite looked toward Sandy and instantly fell into her Southern charm.

"I just want to thank you for this fine meal," he said. "I came just to visit and it was absolutely worth it. You bet I'll send my associates here when they find their business bringing them to Detroit."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his business card and handed it to Ms. Sullivan.

"I own a luxury hotel down in LA," he said. "If you find yourself over there, please reach out to me."

"Los Angeles?"

The lazy way she said "An-gel-ees" made it quite clear she'd never been there before.

"That's an awful long way from Michigan, Mr. Dynamite. I expect it's a touch warmer there than it is here."

She tucked his card into the pocket of her skirt, wondering if his name was some kind of stage name or pen name. Those people out there in Hollywood had exciting names like that.

"Well I would certainly appreciate any business you send my way, and you can bet I'll do the same for you, if I ever make it out that way. I've never been to California. Farthest west I've been is Oklahoma for a cattle show with my uncle once. I think I slept most of the way."

Sandy grinned a little sheepishly.

"What about you? Ever been down South?"

Billy was in Detroit checking up on the cigar shop and the assosciated production chain when he stumbled upon a new place. A place that, quite frankly, was hard to miss. It didn't keep to itself the way that most places in Motor City did. Everything here was industrial. Cars had built this place, so it was no wonder that it was choked with smoke and steel, but this place was vibrant and colorful. It reminded Billy a little bit of Hollywood, only more genuine. Everything out west was new, but simultaneously felt like it was trying ti immitate something else. This place didn't feel like that. It felt like it belonged somehere else, but at least it looked like it actually belonged.

As he made his way inside and prepared to get on a line to get himself a cup of coffee, he was quickly surprised by all the tables and the interior. The place was not set up to be a quick sort of in and out the way that places in New York or L.A. were. This place was meant to be somewhere that you sit, and you relax, and you enjoy the beverage, or the snack, or even just the atmosphere. This was exactly the kind of place that Billy enjoyed, but never got to go to.

He almost skipped his way over to a table near one of the windows so he could sit facing the outside and watch people as he was want to do in a place like this. He hadn't allowed himself this kind of indulgence since before he was elbow deep in running an organization.

As soon as the young waitress came over he nodded to her. 

"Miss, I'll have a cup of coffee and whatever it is off the menu that you like the best. I'm very much looking forward to just sitting here for a couple of hours if that's alright with you." To punctuate his point, he took out a hundred dollar bill and placed it on the table in his not-so-subtle way of indicating that he'd be a generous tipper and all she had to do was keep the coffee coming.

The waitress got the hint though and scurried off, although she ran upstairs for something before coming back down a moment later. Billy paid no mind to it though, he was settling in, letting the din of a multitude of conversations wash over him till none of them made any sense in his mind, and people watching out the window. This was a good day.

Although Sandy had no previous experience running a restaurant, there were some things that were simply intuition. So, from day one, she had made a rule for herself that she would personally greet every guest that walked through the doors; no matter how busy she was or how small an order was made. Jane, being young and something of a gossip, helped her in this by hurrying news along when a big-spender would happen by. Sandy wasn't sure if it was because of the likelihood of good tips, or just the thrill of being near big money, but at least the young woman maintained some composure. 

Today, Jane met her as she was coming down the stairs from one of the private rooms where she had been setting up for a wedding shower later that afternoon. She saw it on Jane's face before a single word was said, and grinned a little.

"Exciting news for me, Jane?"

Jane did an about-face on the stairs and started back down with Sandy.

"Really nice man came in and parked by a window. Asked for coffee and whatever I liked off the menu. I think he's planning on staying for a bit. Just plunked a C-note on the table with a smile."

Stealing a glance from the short corridor between the kitchen and the stairwell, Sandy saw a suited gentleman settling in and watching the scenery out the window.

"Well, better get with the coffee then, girl. I'll handle the food."

Jane nodded and went for the coffee service. Sandy began assembling sandwiches from the freshly prepared items that Norris and Remi had made that morning. Just like her Mama had taught her, she made the sandwiches and cut off the crusts, then cut them into perfect little rectangles and arranged them on the bottom tier of the glossy white 3-tierd serving stand with scalloped edges. On the second tier, she placed a handful of the cheese straws, cracklin's, and some green and purple grapes for a nice color. Jane returned from serving the coffee then, and helped Sandy with the last tier. One of each of the sweet treats.

Stepping back to inspect it before taking it out, Sandy nodded.

"There, that should give him a start."

With care, Sandy lifted the serving piece and walked out to the dining area wile Jane held the kitchen door open. It wasn't a long walk, and she arrived at his table smiling and placed the arrangement of food in the center.

"Here we are, sir- a little bit of everything. I'm just delighted you came to see us today, welcome to Mrs. Ruthie's. I'm Sandy. How's that coffee?"  

She glanced quickly at the table, making sure the silver sugar and creamer servers were filled enough.

billy nodded and his eyen went wide as he looked to the multi-tiered cacophony that was the serving tray. At least, he thought it was until he took a better look and realized how well and truly organized the thing was. Everything was separated into different types, sandwiches, savory, and sweet. It was very well done, but he really didn't even know where to being. He figured the girl would bring him a muffin or something. This was... well it wasn't too much, he'd probably eat all of it, but still it was the presentation of it all that thre him.

"Hi Sandy." He managed to finally say after what must have seemed like a pound of cotton needed to be seaparated from his mouth before he could speak.

"Sorry, just, not seen a spread like this since my mother's house on Sunday." He smiled then and looked to the woman properly. He curly blonde hair reminded him of his mom a bit. "Sorry, what happened to the other girl? I didn't get her in trouble did I? I thought I could just sit, there was no host stand or anything..." He looked back toward the door then to make sure he was right. If he had cost the girl a job, or gotten her in trouble he would make it up to her. But there wasn't anyone specifically being seated. The place was busy, but not full. He hand't really done any harm.

He shrugged then and turned back to Sandy.

"Coffee is good." He finally answered after composing himself. "I don't suppose you are the type that allows smoking in a find place like this?" He took a couple of cigars from his pocket, a red letter "M" emblazoned on the muted r3ed band around each of them. "I don't mind not smoking myself, but I happened to have come from my shop, and though maybe you might like a few? Or your husband?"

He glanced down at her hands, and realized too late he had made a mistake. She'd correct him though if it mattered.

"Hm? Oh, Jane? Heavens no, she's in the kitchen working on a tray of pecan tartlets for an event we're hosting later this afternoon. She's just fine. I think you made her day, she's grinning like a cat with a catch. I just prefer to come out and meet my guests and say hello, so I thought I'd bring this one out myself."

She watched him take the very fine looking cigars from his pocket,  and her eyes seemed to smile a little more.

"You go right ahead, sir. Make yourself at home. Grandaddy used to smoke those things. Oh, it made my Grandmother madder than a wet hen. She wouldn't let him do it in the house- so he built himself a woodworking shed out on the back fourty; but you know, we never did see a thing come out of it."

Sandy grinned, the memory lighting up her face for a moment before she shook her head softly.

"That's very kind of you, sir, but I don't partake myself; and I haven't got a husband to bring them home to. Been on the move too much I suppose, until now anyway. But you said something about a shop, do you own a business here in Detroit?"

​

Billy couldn't help but mouth the words 'madder than a wet hen' once as Sandy spoke. He's never heard the phrase before and likely never would again. Sometimes things just hit you in a way you didn't expect.

"Uh..." He stammered, knowing that he was aksed a question but needing a moment for his brain to catch up to what the question was so he could form an answer to it.

"Yeah." He blinked and shook his head slightly. "Yes, that is. Sorry. Yes. I own a small cigar shop and an adjoining factory. Inherited it from my family you see so it's been in the city for a while now. If you have anyone you know might have need of a cigar or two, feel free to send them my way. I'll put in a good word for the folks you send over and get them a little discount on your behalf. That way we can help each other and keep business in Motor City rather than elsewhere." He pulled out two business cards, one for the cigar shop, and the other for his warehouse in L.A.

"I also happen to own a few places in Los Angeles, but that's my warehouse where my personal offices are, so if you ever find yourself out that way, stop by and I'll make sure to show you the same level of hospitality that you've shown me today. And don't take that as a challenge, you've done more than enough already. I promise, you come out that way and you'll have a grand time of it."

Sandy took the cards from him and looked at them; reading the name and carefully working through the pronunciation of his surname as she sat down in the chair across from him. When he mentioned coming from L.A., her eyes seemed to spark with some kind of recognition.

"Well now ain't that just somethin'? I had another gentleman from Los Angeles in here just last week. Now let me think, he owned a hotel- had a real jazzy name. I thought it might have been like a stage name or something exotic like folks out there do to be more flashy, you know?"

Resting her chin on her knuckles, she let her eyes wander out the window for a few moments, but then she shook her head and shrugged a little.

"Well shoot, I can't think of it right now. But you know, now that I think about it, maybe I will come by and pick up some of your cigars. I'd like to take a gift to my business partner. That seems like something appropriate."

Billy nodded. "My father always said if you can't rember something, and it's important, it'll come back to you. So I'm sure you'll remember at some point."

He picked up one of the little sandwiches and spoke quickly again before he popper it in his mouth.

"No need to bring anything by though Sandy, I'm happy to just provide for people that need it. I feel like we might have some kinship in that, although I admit, your stuff tastes a whole hell of a lot better than mine does. My thing is more for old men who want to sit around a feel important."

He smiled a moment and then took the finger sandwich in one bite as he gazed out the window himself. He swalloed and then followed up quickly with another.

"Tell me, do you like people watching? I have a theory, and of course this might just be Hollywood influencing me, but I think anyone who like people watching, loves the cinema, and anyone who like the cinema, also likes people watching. They really are the same pasttime. What do you think?"

Looking out the window herself, Sandy's grin got a little mischievous.

"Mr. Mastrosimone, I come from the South. People watching is practically as important as college football. We have to get our cattie gossip from somewhere, you know."

She turned to look at Billy and clasped her hands together, looking down at them and smiling as a memory started to weave itself together. 

"We didn't have a whole lot of money when I was comin' up. My Daddy was a preacher, and we lived a pretty simple life; but I will never forget when I was eleven years old, we took a train from Charleston all the way to Atlanta to see the premiere of Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind." Daddy had saved up for months to surprise Mama for her anniversary. We dressed up in Sunday clothes and took a taxi to the Grand Theatre and got to see the movie right in the same room with Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh. Of course, we didn't see them; our seat were way far back; but we could see the movie clear as day. Naturally, I fell asleep before it was over, I was just a little old thing; but I remember being fascinated by everything. I thought the movie itself was just magic."

Sandy looked up at him with a hint of that same child-like wonder.

"You ever met a celebrity out there, Mr. Mastrosimone? Ever been around those places they make the movies?"

It was a slow, and painful nod that followed the question Sandy had asked.

"Yeah. I had a friend used to make movies. She had asked for my help for a while too, but then some things happened..." He trailed off and the rest of the story hung in the air like a terrible disease, choking the life from the vibrant atmosphere in the room.

He forcibly shook his head and turned his attention away from gunfire ringing in his head back to the woman at the table with him.

"Um, no. I can't say I've ever met a celebrity though. I used to deal with the people who make the movies, the ones who build the sets and fund the film. Most of those folks never get to meet a movie star, but they are just as important as the people we all get to see on the silver screen. Some of those folks are more important I think. After all, actors work just like anyone else, but they wouldn't do it for free, so there are people that are their bosses. Those people are the ones I worked for and helped."

He nodded then, and reached out for a piece of cheese, popping that into his mouth and slowly chewing. He was quickly finding that his appetite was waning. The conversation needed to move to somewhere more pleasant than Hollywood movies, and fast if he was going to stick around as long as he intended to.

"And what about you Sandy? Movie stars are from all over you know, you might not have met Clark Gable, but you ever meet anyone else? My grandfather, he met Fred Astaire. Or at least he claimed to have. I didn't really know him that well, but that's what my mother told me. Could just be one of those stories the family tells though you know?"

It was a look- or a series of looks- that Sandy had seen before. A memory, or a few, followed quickly by a reaction to the twinge of pain brought on by the memories, followed by the stern resolve to push it all away and move on; back to the way you'd felt just a few moments before something had tipped over a bucket in a dark corner you didn't want disturbed. That was something that came with being in a preacher's family. It wasn't just the pastor himself that shepherded his flock, after all. You were born with a job and you learned sympathy and social graces before you learned how to walk. 

Recognizing the reaction and having the wisdom not to press for anything further, Sandy moved along with his question.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Well, not a movie star, but pretty famous where I'm from. My Daddy went to USC with then Lt. Governor Ransome Williams, and invited him to come fishing one weekend; just didn't bother to tell Mama until the Lt. Governor was on his way. Mama informed him that she hoped the Lt. Governor brought some good clothes, because that happened to be the weekend I was graduating from High School. So, sure enough, Mama insisted that the future Governor of South Carolina pause his fishing vacation to attend my high school graduation because she wouldn't dare leave a guest at home by himself."

Sandy laughed a bit.

"Mama was the kind of lady that didn't let title override her manners. But I suppose that's the closest to celebrity I've ever gotten."

She paused a half beat and shrugged slightly.

"I suppose I've met some pretty important people since moving here, though. It's a very different world up here."

Billy smirked and nodded his approval at Sandy's mother while the story was told. "A future governor is no small feat. I've never met a politician above an assemblyman myself, so you've got a leg up on me already Sandy."

He took a bite out of one of the tarts on the top tier.

"Oooo. That's delicious." He said, not bothering to swallow first. "Is that raspberry? Do you grow those or get them from a local farm? You know raspberries can grow up in the cold places like this? Oh damn that's tasty." He finished his bite then and nodded some more to emphasize his pleasure.

"Sorry, you were saying you knew some important people in Detroit already? I can't say I've met even a single important person here, so tell me, who do I need to get to know? It's a tea room right, this is supposed to be gossip central isn't it?" He gave a wink at the last bit, hoping that his playfulness would egg her on to tell him the name of someone. He really could use a new expansion on the factory, so if she really did know someone it would be grand.

Laughing heartily, Sandy sat back in her seat and crossed her legs at the knees, taking care to make sure her skirt was covering everything evenly.

"I wish I grew everything myself- but no, all my produce comes in from a local farmer's market. The recipes are all hand-made by myself and my two kitchen hands, Norris and Remi. They come in after their shifts at the Ford factory and we get everything turned out, then they go on home to bed. The rest of the day, Me, Jane, and Miss Helen handle everything else."

She grinned a little when Billy mentioned "gossip central," being that it was exactly part of the reason she was set up the way she was- but then it hit her that she was starting to teeter awfully close to that line that she was warned not to cross. Making sure not to let her face tell anything, Sandy thought quickly for an answer.

"Well mostly I meant people like you, Mr. Mastrosimone. Big business men that own factories and do all this kind of traveling back and forth across the country. We didn't have a whole lot of folks like that in Charleston. For the most part, I get a lot of rich wives that don't have much to do but go out and shop and complain about their husbands; but occasionally I get to meet some far more interesting people; like yourself."

Billy watched as the woman crossed her legs. He could have sworn she also tossed her hair. She might have been flirting with him, and he would have thought that too if he hadn't already put money on the table, and offered her free cigars and a tour of L.A. Maybe she was flirting, maybe she was trying to see what else she could get out of him. Wouldn't be the first time a pretty girl flirted with him to get something extra out of hanging around. Most of the time though, those girls were in a casino, not a tea room.

Still, he waved a dismissive hand.

"I'm not a big business person in Detroit, come to L.A. and it's a different story. Here? You're bigger business than I am. You have more customers for one." He gestured around the room to prove the point.

"I will say it does sound like grueling work though holding down two jobs, baking these delicious things, and also building cars. Have you ever thought about how much you might be able to pay them to work here full time and let them quit the other jobs? Not that anyone wants to quite working for Ford, certinaly not in Detroit, but that's a lot to ask of someone."

"I have thought about it a lot, actually. I know the conditions at those factories; I hear them talking about it all the time and it just breaks my heart. They work here for the extra money, and I would just love to get them out of there. I've only been open a hair over two weeks, so we're just starting to see how successful this place is going to be. It's a bit of a gamble, as you might imagine. But if my little tea room blows up, you can bet they'll be the first ones I take on full-time."

Sandy grins and glances at the serving dish.

"Especially if I get more customers like you."

Her eyes widen a bit, like something hit her on the back of the head. She sat up straight and smacked her knee with her hand.

"Dynamite! That was the gentleman's name! The one from Los Angeles that came in last week. Had a face like he might have been an actor himself, but said he had a

Pleased with herself, she giggles.

"Maybe next week someone will wander in owns an airplane and I'll have a whole trip planned out for me, won't I?"

Billy almost choked on the grape he had just popped into his mouth when she mentioned Dynamite's name.

"Son of a bitch. That boy can't leave me nothing good to find on my own. Damn." He shook his head and then turned toward Sandy.

"Pardon my language, Dynamite and I are colleagues, he's a hell of a guy and knows his stuff. Surprised you forgot his name though, quite the memorable man. You're right though, he should be on screen, it wouldn't be great for his career, but he could pull it off if anyone could."

Then he quirked an eyebrow and looked at Sandy with a question.

"Did you happen to ask anyone who came in if they owned a plane? Dynamite for example? I don't know if he actually owns one, but he sure knows someone who does. He could probably get you a ride if you asked. He also owns a hotel, so accomodations are easy. He could set you up with a whole trip if he likes you!"

Billy leaned back and clapped his hands together softly.

"My my this is a small worl isn't it. I had no idea Dynamite wes here, and I know the guy really well. Part of my job is to know where he is as often as I can. Strange to think he would have found this place first. The lucky dog."

He took another patry then and sat up a bit straighter.

"So, do you have his number? Could you give him a call?"