Chapter 14
Fourteen
Mira dragged herself out of bed – or rather, off her mattress – at the crack of dawn, after a combined four hours of sleep, which was probably a charitable estimate.
With her stomach in knots and constantly startled out of dozing by thoughts of what she might have forgotten, only to immediately remember that no, she hadn’t, Mira decided to give up and at least get a head start on the day.
Which involved twice as much tea as usual, and stronger to boot, because she did not trust herself to put on her customer service face otherwise.
Almost too nervous to eat breakfast, she convinced herself that she could stomach a slice of toasted bread with butter, and took both outside on the back porch, to enjoy some peace and quiet before her first proper day as a shop owner would begin.
It was almost a little too chilly still to sit outside, but Mira didn’t mind.
Breathing in the crisp morning air, she looked out over her garden.
The little corner of it that she had tamed, with its patch of vegetables by the porch and the apple tree near the fence, and the much larger chunk in the back that was still waiting for her to give it some attention.
Mira doubted that she’d get to that this year, before autumn slowed everything down and winter blanketed the world.
Next year though. She’d make sure that she’d get to it next year.
It was a strange mix of optimism and terror. She’d make sure – how though, that remained to be seen. She’d figure it out, somehow. Hopefully.
Feeling slightly queasy, but mostly alert, she eventually returned inside.
She took care to clean herself up, dress in her most professional clothes, and tame her hair as best she could.
She’d considered washing it again the night before, but letting it dry overnight in a bonnet would be decidedly worse than what she was dealing with now, so she’d let it be.
Now, she strategically applied a dozen pins and a nice ribbon to make herself look presentable.
Finally, she looked at herself in the mirror above the sink – cheeks surprisingly rosy, collar neat, curls all held in place.
The last touch – the apron that she’d ordered from a shop in Heartfield, complete with a little potion bottle stitched into the outside of the left pocket.
Now she was ready. She looked like she belonged behind that counter.
Now it was time to go and prove that she did, in fact, belong there.
She was in the shop half an hour before she would open.
For now, she had set tentative times from nine to two, with a half-hour break for lunch at twelve.
It was, she had found, approximately the time frame most businesses operated out here – a far cry from the emporium, which had never been open for less than ten consecutive hours barring the weekend, when it closed at four.
Even the store here in town was open from eight to four every week day.
However, the rest of Emberglen did not operate on that schedule, so Mira had decided that she wouldn’t, either.
She spent that half hour searching for specks of dust that didn’t exist, straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening, and generally hoping she wouldn’t throw up right in front of the counter.
At nine on the dot, she opened the door and turned the sign. And waited.
It was a nice early summer morning, just slightly breezy.
Perfect to go out and get some errands done.
Which nobody appeared to be doing, at least not out here.
People knew though, Mira was fairly certain.
Harper had kept her promise and put the sign in her window.
Mayor Lloyd had allowed her to put on one the notice board as well.
Anyone who would be interested in potions would know when and where to buy them.
Of course, that didn’t mean they would do so immediately. Mira tried not to wring her hands too much while reasoning with herself, bouncing from foot to foot behind the counter. They had other things to do. She could wait.
And wait she did, almost until ten, when Hamish made his way through her newly clean front garden, up the stairs, and into her little shop.
“Morning Mira!” Hands in his hips, he looked around. “My, you’ve put some work into this.”
Whether he meant the potions, the spotless shop floor, or the flower decorations, he did not say. Perhaps all three. Mira pulled out her steadiest smile, trying not to hide too much behind the old facade. That wasn’t popular here.
“Thank you! It took a while, but I think it turned out well.”
“I will say.” He nodded. “I saw your primroses. They’re lovely.” He winked at her. “Your uncle’s recipe, I hope?”
“The very same.” She gestured at the shelf closest to the door. “I’m stocking it now.”
“Perfect! I’ve been waiting all week since Clara saw that sign at the general store. You know, my roses.”
“I remember.”
And just like that, Mira had made her first sale that was not on someone else’s behalf.
Just a single bottle, but a sale nonetheless.
Hamish was beaming when he paid, and profusely wished her good luck on his way out.
It was enough to take the edge off her nerves. It would be fine. She was doing fine.
After Hamish, it took another half hour for the next person to come in – a haggard-looking woman wearing a headscarf and tugging two young children behind her.
“Good morning. Do you sell something for weeds? Against weeds? Oh, quiet, Amri, we’re having a snack soon, I promise!”
“I do.” This time, Mira didn’t wait for her to get it herself. She went and indicated the bottles. “What do you have problems with, exactly?”
“Creepvines. They’re strangling the seedlings as soon as we put them out, and we have to plant the tomatoes now.”
“Creepvines… Give me a moment.”
Trying not to let her embarrassment show, she went to the till and pulled the recipe book from the drawer.
It would be some time until she had memorised every single use for every single recipe.
Faking it didn’t feel right; this poor woman deserved the right product without guessing games on Mira’s part.
“Right.” Mira closed the book and quickly went to retrieve the correct bottles. “How much do you need? They’re high yield, but if it’s more than a small personal garden, one bottle might not do.”
“Four,” she replied immediately. “We need it for the farm.”
“I see.” Mira went to ring her up and wrap the bottles in old newspaper for safekeeping. Between the farm closures and the people she’d met, there weren’t many options left, and headscarves weren’t too prevalent here, which meant this was likely… “Mrs. Ata, I assume?”
“Yes, yes. A pleasure.” She grabbed the smaller child by the back of their jacket. “No wandering off, how many times do I need to say that?” She glanced up from the pouting child. “Say, you don’t have anything in stock that makes those little devils behave, do you?”
Mira cleared her throat. “I’m afraid not. I’ve been told it gets better once they go to school, though.”
The woman huffed, but the ghost of a smile appeared.
“Oh, I know, my oldest just started last year, and it has been a blessing.” She managed to put the bottles in her bag without losing her grip on either child.
“I suppose I’ll just take the herbicide for now, then.
Maybe letting them help with the tomatoes will burn off some of that energy. Good day!”
She ushered her squirmy offspring out the door, somehow deterred one from falling down the stairs and the other from beheading Mira’s primroses, and disappeared down the street.
Mira watched them until they vanished behind Clara’s impressive hedge of dog roses.
She winced in sympathy when both children tried to reach into the hedge and their mother just about managed to stop them.
If she ever decided to start a family, she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted more than one, if that was what was waiting for her.
Until noon, she got to use the till two more times.
A pair of what was obviously tourists spent a good ten minutes in the shop, which was approximately nine minutes more than they needed to browse every single shelf, and ended up buying nothing, instead asking if they could pick some of the primroses, which Mira firmly declined.
They left in a huff. Someone else made up for it by buying one of almost everything besides the worm treatment shortly after.
When Mira turned the sign to take her break, she did so with mixed feelings.
She had definitely hoped for more. As it was, she was still glad it hadn’t been a supremely lonely morning.
The afternoon brought clouds, and the trickle of people slowed down even more.
In the middle of a very quiet hour, the bell chimed, startling Mira out of her reverie.
She quickly turned away from the shop window, only to find nobody there.
Puzzled, she peered around, out the door, and eventually around the counter.
When she finally looked down, she found yellow eyes and a bushy tail.
“Meow.”
“Oh. Hi, Marigold.” Mira watched as the cat jumped elegantly on the counter, strutting up and down before she approached Mira with a silent but obvious request for petting, which Mira obliged. “You’re lucky everything’s in bottles in here, or I’d have to put you outside.”
Marigold’s response was a purr, which made Mira smile. Hard to feel like a day was wasted when you got to pet a cat.
“I assume you don’t have any disposable income to spend here?”
Marigold stretched with gusto, flicking the tip of her tail close to Mira’s nose. She did, however, not produce a wallet from an unseen pocket dimension.
“Of course. It was worth a try.”