FIFTEEN
Fifteen
Lottie carefully placed a sticky label on the centre of a jar and pressed it down. With market day fast approaching, she’d dropped by after work to give her mum a hand finishing off some of the packaging for her herbal teas. The vast array of different teas always amazed her. The packaging also set her mother’s handmade teas apart. She made designer test tube–type sample teas as well as glass jars in a variety of sizes and beautifully presented gift and pamper packs. Her attention to detail made the whole display a gorgeous feast not only for the eyes but the other senses too, the fragrance of so many ingredients filled her mother’s mixing room, it was almost like stepping into a warm, loving hug.
Her mother’s work room had once been an old stable, and its stone walls were over a hundred years old. She’d converted it, as well as a number of the other outbuildings that had come with the property, restoring them and turning them into functional spaces—accommodation, work rooms and yoga studios. This was Lottie’s favourite, though; the whole front section of the building where once timber doors would have been had been replaced by large glass windows that allowed sunlight to seep into the room. On cold winter days, it created the perfect place to work in beautiful warmth, no matter how bitterly cold it was outside. Large timber tables ran down the length of the room, where her mother worked her magic and packaged the teas she made, and shelves lined the walls, holding large bins of every imaginable herb, flower and essence necessary to create her tea orders each week.
‘Are you going to tell me who this mystery man you’ve been seeing is?’ Hannah asked, breaking the companionable silence.
‘What man?’ Lottie asked, trying for an innocent tone. She should have known word would have already spread, yet it still amazed her the speed at which gossip always travelled in town.
‘The one you were spotted on a date with, and then again on the back of a motorbike heading out of town,’ her mother continued serenely.
‘I was not on a date with him,’ Lottie retorted. ‘He’s the guest of honour for the festival. I was being hospitable.’
‘And the bike ride? Was that just being friendly too?’
‘He wanted to see Frolesworthy. I played local tour guide.’
‘Hmm,’ her mother said as she carefully measured out some beautiful blue dried leaves and scattered them into a bowl. ‘Careful. It almost sounds like you enjoyed yourself.’
‘Now you sound like Cher,’ Lottie said, trying not to show she was discomfited by her mum’s teasing.
‘Well? Are you going to tell me about him?’
‘There’s nothing to tell. He’s a history professor. He’s here early to do some research for his new book. He’s … nice.’
‘Nice?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, not you too,’ Lottie muttered under her breath. ‘He’s very interesting and good-looking and I like spending time with him.’
‘So … you’re seeing him?’
‘It’s not like that,’ Lottie said, absent-mindedly running her finger across the timber tabletop. ‘He’s interested in my research for the book, and I said I’d help him with his.’
‘Well, that sounds promising.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into it,’ Lottie said.
‘It’s good to be cautious,’ her mother replied like she’d agreed with her, and for a moment, Cher’s words came back. Had her mother’s attitude to love somehow influenced her? She’d never thought so. Lottie had nothing against falling in love and getting married … she just hadn’t ever found the man she wanted to do that with. Hadn’t found? Or haven’t allowed yourself? a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Cher seemed to ask. The question gave her pause.
‘Have you been seeing anyone lately?’ she asked now.
Her mother blinked in surprise. ‘What a strange question.’
‘Why? You’re still young. You’re attractive, independent and own your own business. Surely you get lonely, Mum?’
‘I’m too busy to get lonely.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Why on earth would I want to get mixed up in a relationship at my age?’
‘You’re hardly over the hill.’ It was true that her mother had just turned sixty, but no one ever believed it. She barely looked to be in her fifties. She had flawless skin and the grace of a ballerina, long legs and even though she’d let her hair go grey, it was dark grey and had natural highlights which, instead of making her look older, only added to her beauty. Lottie often wished she had got her mother’s height, grace or complexion.
‘I’m old enough to know I don’t want to mess up my life by adding a man to it.’
‘Don’t you want companionship? Someone to grow old with?’
‘I have plenty of company. I also have male friends I can call when the urge arises—I’m a big believer in a healthy sex life, darling. Just don’t confuse great sex with the need to make it a long-term commitment. The two can be vastly different things.’
Lottie tried not to wince. Her mother had never been one to sugar-coat the truth, and sex had always been an open conversation—mainly, Lottie suspected, because her mother hadn’t wanted Lottie making the same mistake she’d made. And she was glad her mother seemed to be still active in that department, but the fact she was so adamant about being alone somehow made Lottie feel sad.
‘Well, this isn’t either,’ Lottie said.
‘What’s this professor of yours researching?’ her mother asked, and Lottie was glad for the change of subject.
‘He’s writing about the gold rush era and the Compton gold mine. Did you know that Alexander Compton’s wife just vanished off the face of the earth?’
‘No, can’t say I did.’
‘Damian’s trying to figure out what happened to her. You should see all the research material he’s been going through searching for clues. It’s really interesting.’
‘Sounds like quite the mystery. How strange that it’s not more widely known. I don’t think I even know that much about Alexander and his gold mine either. Clearly the Jack McNally legend was far more interesting at the time.’
Lottie made a low sound of agreement. ‘How are the new blends going online?’ she asked, picking up a label that read Just Act Natural , with chamomile to help you unwind when you’ve become overstimulated. She chuckled before picking up the others to examine. Menopause tea called Night Sweats and Rage . Partied Too Hard , a pick-me-up tea. Ain’t Got Time for a Cold , immunity boosting tea. Morning Woodstock , for men.
‘Selling like hotcakes,’ her mother said happily. ‘Online and in the cafe orders too.’
‘That’s really awesome, Mum. I’m so proud of you, making all this such a success.’
‘Do what you’re put here to do and you can’t go wrong,’ she said, lifting her gaze from her blending to smile.
Who knew that a once hard-partying, carefree-drinking woman would end up wearing an organic hemp ensemble, creating natural medicines and teas and raking in a fortune? Her mother was a certified, born-again hippie, if that was a term. Complete with her philosophies on natural herbs that she used to make special bespoke teas, using a variety of not-so-legal, organically grown herbs, that her clients swore by for pain relief. Lottie had given up trying to warn her mother of the consequences should her special blend ever get brought into the public eye, but her mother stubbornly refused to let something as annoying as the law interfere with what nature had provided. Thankfully, that particular tea wasn’t going to make an appearance at the market.
Lottie had just arrived home and taken the samples her mother had given her to the kitchen when there was a knock on her front door. Turning on the outside light, she opened the door and felt a pang of surprise leap in her chest.
‘Hi,’ Damian said. ‘I hope it isn’t too late to come around. I didn’t get into the shop this afternoon and I wanted to see you.’ His words seemed to rush out and he looked uncertain.
‘No, it’s fine. I just got home from my mum’s. Do you want to come in?’
‘Thanks. If you’re sure I’m not interrupting anything?’
‘Nope. I was just about to put the jug on and try out a new tea blend my mother gave me. Would you like to join me?’
‘Uh, sure. Tea?’ he asked.
‘My mum makes herbal teas.’
‘Oh. Nice.’
Lottie led him into the kitchen, her gaze stealthily darting around the room, checking it was tidy enough for unexpected company. He took a seat at her kitchen bench and shrugged off his bike jacket. She tried her best not to stare at the way his shoulders and torso moved as he twisted then straightened but swore slightly when the jug overfilled in the sink, splashing her hand.
‘What kind of tea are we sampling?’
‘Well, there’s a sleepy one.’ She held the packet up for him to inspect.
He chuckled. ‘“Sleepy AF?” Really?’
‘Yeah, my mother puts her own spin on her marketing.’
‘I like it.’ He nodded appreciatively.
‘Or, if sleep isn’t your thing, there’s one for studying.’
‘“Dude, Focus!”’ He grinned. ‘I like your mum’s style.’
‘Yeah, she’s hilarious,’ Lottie drawled, but smiled. She kind of was.
‘Think I’ll go with the focus. I have to ride the bike home, so being Sleepy AF might not be a great idea.’
‘Good point,’ she nodded, selecting the tea and bringing out two one-cup glass teapots. When she finished making their tea—she chose the sleepy one, knowing if she tried the other, she’d be awake for the rest of the night—she placed the cups on a tray. ‘Let’s go to the comfy chairs,’ she suggested, leading the way out to the lounge room, Damian following close behind.
‘How’s the research going?’ she asked, turning slightly to face him once they were seated on the soft sofa.
‘Not bad. I took a ride into Armidale, to the university. I’ve got an old mate who teaches there,’ he said, reaching for his cup from the coffee table. ‘I’ve got him looking for any mentions of Catherine in his research material.’
‘Nice,’ she said, sipping her own tea, relieved to discover it tasted rather lovely, with a soothing mix of lemongrass, lavender and a few other things she couldn’t quite name.
‘I also met Daphney. She caught me on the way out this afternoon, so I didn’t get to talk for long. She’s quite the taskmaster.’
‘Yes, she’s the kingpin,’ Lottie said, biting back a smile. ‘I didn’t think it would take long before she heard you were in town.’
‘She seemed a bit put out that I was here early.’
‘How dare you arrange something on your own without committee approval,’ she said mockingly.
‘That’s pretty much the impression I got.’
‘Well, I expect a summons to an emergency meeting any minute now,’ Lottie said seriously. ‘Prepare to be wined and dined.’
‘This was why I wanted to come early without anyone knowing.’
‘She’ll be too busy to bother you that much,’ Lottie said reassuringly. ‘The festival is way too close for her schedule to have many times open for unexpected entertaining.’
‘I hope so. I’ve got too much work to do.’
‘Maybe we need to take our research sessions at the shop more seriously. No more make-out sessions,’ she said teasingly, casting her eyes down as she sipped her tea.
He didn’t reply, and Lottie felt a flash of panic. Why would you try to be cute?
She heard him set his cup down on the coffee table and slowly lifted her eyes to find him watching her. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest and she found herself trapped in his heated gaze as he slowly leaned towards her until there was barely a hair’s breadth between them.
‘I don’t think so.’ His lips were strong and warm against her own, and his hands felt enormous as they slipped around her waist and pulled her gently closer.
God, he smelled divine—a mix of something sweet, yet smoky, masculine and salty and altogether way too intoxicating. Lottie couldn’t believe a kiss could make her head feel so light and her body as though it were on fire. Maybe her mother had snuck some special herbs into the tea?
The kiss deepened, and Lottie found her hands were pulling his head even closer. She couldn’t get enough of this man. Even though they were practically glued against each other, it still wasn’t close enough—not nearly enough. She needed more …
This is crazy.