Chapter 6
Rowan
PAINT IT BLACK BY THE ROLLING STONES
The afternoon light in the shop slants through the stained-glass window, catching the glass jars I just unpacked from a new shipment.
The shop smells of sage, lavender, and rosemary.
I’m restocking shelves with tea blends that I’ve struggled to keep in stock and lining up gemstone necklaces and bracelets.
I’m also trying to remember that I’m supposed to be calm and professional and not still thinking about the way Finn smiled at me.
Lunch was… good. He made me laugh so hard I nearly snorted iced tea, and then he paid before I could even grab my wallet. Said it was “hazard pay” for keeping him entertained. The man drives me crazy.
I’m arranging a display of teas when the door creaks open behind me. He went back to work and so did I with plans to catch up tonight after we both get off work.
“Welcome in,” I start automatically, but the words die in my throat when I see who is standing in the doorway.
Mark.
My landlord. The man who handles the cottage property where I grow half my herbs. And the man who has never once stepped foot inside Salt & Root.
His expression is tight. Nervous. Already guilty about something. That alone makes my stomach pitch. A cold wave of dread rolls up my spine, settling under my ribs like a stone. I know that look. I know exactly what it means, even before he opens his mouth.
A spark of anger flickers through the dread, sharp and hot.
The mayor has already blocked my permit, trashed my reputation in town, and wasted months of my time.
If he has dragged Mark into this too, if he is trying to choke off my business from the roots, I swear to every goddess in the sea air outside, I am going to lose my mind.
I swallow hard and steady my voice, even though my pulse is thudding.
“Mark,” I say quietly. “What are you doing here?”
He shifts from foot to foot, clutching a folder. “I came to tell you in person and I figured it was better than a notice in the mail.”
“Tell me what?”
He clears his throat. “You’re being evicted and have until the end of the month to get your things off the property.”
The words hit like a slap. “Excuse me? Mark, that’s less than two weeks. Don’t you have to give me at least a thirty-day notice?”
He won’t meet my eyes. “Sammy forced my hand, Rowan. I have no choice. He said that if I don’t do this, I’ll have to pay him out for the rental properties we have together. He also threatened to have my property condemned.”
Not actually surprised at that last part. That probably needs to be done to a few of them. Also, if he’s threatening his own cousin, that’s even more wild.
I stare at him, disbelief turning to fury. “What am I supposed to do with all my plants?”
His face twists in frustration. “You should’ve thought about that before you pushed him. You embarrassed him in front of the whole town.”
“Good,” I snap. “He deserves it. He’s a bully.”
Mark’s eyes flick toward the door like he’s afraid I’ll throw something at him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he mutters.
I fold my arms, voice low and steady. “I’ll remember this, Mark.”
Something in my tone must land, because he pales a little, grabs the folder tighter, and scurries out like a man being chased by something. The bell jingles, the door slams, and the air feels sharp.
I’m still standing there fuming when the door opens again and my mother’s voice floats in. “Well, hello to my favorite daughter.”
Lilith Maren breezes in wearing a straw beach hat and smelling like coconut sunscreen. “Just got back from Coconut Beach. The cottage was divine.” She drops her bag on the counter and eyes me. “Fill me in, sweetheart. I feel dissension in the ranks.”
I blow out a breath. “Well, Mark just evicted me. I have two weeks to figure out what to do with all my plants, Sammy has been terrorizing me, and Marilyn and Vanessa are opening up a Pilates studio and apparently find my yoga studio to be a threat.”
Her brows lift. “That’s not good. You should put them all in jars and put them in the freezer.”
“No, Mom, it’s not good. And the freezer is definitely happening. Maybe something stronger. Where am I going to put everything? Almost everything is in containers, but there’s no room here at the shop. And your yard is already full.”
“What about Donna’s? She’s got space, dear.”
I am not trashing Donna’s exquisite backyard, which is fantastically landscaped, and dumping all of my random herbs and flowers I have growing. I’m not even going to ask her because that would be insane.
“What about the tree farm? Surely Remy could find some space for you out there,” she suggests.
That’s actually not a terrible idea. It’s just so far outside of town.
I already run the shop here full time, then tend to all the plants at the cottage, and luckily it’s just down the road.
But adding an extra twenty minutes each way is precious daylight and time I don’t have. But it’s better than nothing.
“I’ll ask Remy. Thanks, Mom.” I sigh, sitting back on my stool, feeling defeated.
I didn’t expect this, but I knew something was coming.
How I’m going to fit in yoga classes, the plants, and figuring out how to get everything moved, is beyond me.
I need to hire more help but I’m already stretched thin with getting my business up and running and don’t really have the money for that right now.
She glances around the shop, trying to be positive and find something to distract me. “Well, you’re going to really need that rest and relaxation at Coconut Beach when you go. Have you packed yet?”
I blink. “What?”
Oh, no. I forgot that I had a trip coming up next week.
She looks at me with worry. “Your trip with Jessica. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
I close my eyes and press my fingers to my temple. “Oh no. It completely slipped my mind.” A breath rushes out of me, thin and frustrated. “And Jessica has been acting weird lately. I do not even know if she still wants to go.”
The truth is, it has not just been recently.
She has been off for weeks. Little things that keep snagging at me.
She stopped replying to my messages right away, even the ones she usually jumps on.
She canceled our standing coffee date three times in a row with excuses that felt flimsy, like she pulled them from a bowl of random words.
At the shop last week, she barely made eye contact.
She kept smoothing her hair and glancing at the door like she was waiting for someone else.
And there’s the way she talks when she does show up.
Careful. Too careful. The bright, chatty Jessica I know has been replaced by someone who seems like she is walking across thin ice, afraid to say the wrong thing.
She does not ask about the permit anymore.
She does not ask about Finn. She does not ask about anything real.
It is all surface-level, weather and gossip and nothing that touches who we are to each other.
Each time she pauses too long before she answers me, or forces a smile that looks glued on, I feel something inside me shift. A question I don’t want to ask. What changed and if she’s still my friend or just playing the part.
I open my eyes with a sinking feeling. “Honestly, I can’t tell if she wants to go, or if she’s avoiding me altogether.”
My mom looks at me and sighs. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I heard she’s been hanging around town with Vanessa and Marilyn, lately. I thought that was odd because those two don’t treat you very well and you and Jessica are so close.”
I stare at her. “Really?”
The word comes out smaller than I want it to. A hot twist coils low in my stomach, sharp enough to make me feel a little dizzy. It hits so fast I blink, like my body is trying to catch up to the sting.
I did not expect it to hurt like this, but it does.
I considered Jessica one of my best friends. And hearing that she’s hanging out with people that are actively trying to hurt my business…well, that hurts.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, honey.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I say, but my gut tells me she’s not taking that trip with me. We were so close and now she barely comes around, calls, or texts me back.
My mom pats my arm. “It’ll work out, honey. These things have a way of sorting themselves out. And you really do need a break. I can’t remember the last time you took a vacation.”
“That’s because I haven’t taken a vacation in years,” I mutter, trying not to sound as defeated as I feel.
“I planned that trip to our family cottage with Donna in Coconut Beach for months. I was actually excited for it. Jessica and I were supposed to have this epic girl’s week.
I bought three new bikinis like a lunatic.
I was going to lie on the beach, sip cocktails, read a stack of books, and do absolutely nothing but recharge with my friend. ”
My mom’s expression softens, the sharp edges of her features easing. She reaches out and touches my arm, gentle in a way she rarely is. “Sweetheart,” she says, “you deserve that time. Even if Jessica changes her mind, even if things feel strange, you should still go.”
The words hit something tender in me. I swallow hard.
I had been clinging to that trip like a lifeline, like proof that I could still carve out space in my life for joy.
For rest and connection. And now it feels like the ground shifted beneath me, leaving me standing alone with my suitcases full of swimsuits and expectations.
I open my mouth, then close it again. “I just thought she was excited too,” I admit quietly. “It was supposed to be our thing.”
My mom gives me a sad little smile, the kind that says she knows more than she lets on. “People change, and plans shift. But you can’t put your life on hold because someone else lets you down.”