Chapter 24
Nigel got off to a slow start the following morning. In fact, he made it down to the shop mere minutes before Miss Talbot’s arrival. He’d stayed up rather late the night before—into the wee small hours of the morning, rather. When the streets were mostly abandoned. Witching hours.
No, make that sorcering hours.
There was no better time than the darkness post-midnight for the working of spellcraft.
Particularly the intricately wrought and anchored spells he’d placed around The Arcane Bouquet.
Placed with such subtly and guile, no SSSD officer would ever recognize them.
He’d used the distilled Dire Matter, which he kept in a bottle in his shower caddy, disguised behind a strong scent of sandalwood.
The price for the power contained in that bottle was paid long ago, and required no immediate draining of any nearby lifeforce to activate it.
Which meant no evidence. So he’d performed his spells, taking time over each and every one, and not retired to bed until after three am.
Only Debbie’s insistent squawking in duet with the ringing of his alarm clock finally got him to roll out from under the covers that morning.
Somehow Nigel managed to shave, dress, and stagger bleary-eyed down the stairwell to stand in the middle of the shop, staring around blankly at the flowers.
Trying to remember what all he was supposed to do.
Luna arrived soon after, letting herself in. “Good morning, Mr. Grimm!” she called brightly. “I see you got home all . . . right . . .” Her voice trailed off as she drew nearer and set her purse down behind the counter. Then she turned and studied him more closely. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” he grumbled.
She tsked and shook her head. “You must have had such a fright from that wretched dog! And then that long walk back home again? It can’t have been good for your immune system.
” She snapped her fingers, closed one eye, and pointed a finger at his nose.
“I’m going to make you a tea. Something to shape up your innards and ward off ill humors.
Echinacea and . . . yes, and some cardamom should do the trick.
You drink it, while I get the shop ready for opening. ”
Too tired to protest, Nigel allowed himself to be bustled back into the nook behind the counter. Luna went about boiling and brewing, in her element. Soon tea was pressed into his hands. It didn’t smell too terrible.
Nigel sipped, not altogether pleased with the sharp taste of cardamom on his tongue, but it did seem to have a reviving effect.
He moved from the nook to the counter, where he could watch Luna as she fed the plants.
And perhaps his sleepy gaze did linger rather, when she bent over the bag of Mama Morgana’s to scoop out breakfast for the double-delight rose—
“Never mind!” croaked Debbie.
Nigel swiftly bounced his eyes, staring fixedly at the ceiling as he took another gulp of tea.
“Well now, we’re looking much better, aren’t we?
” Luna said some while later, as she checked the tiger lilies in their pots.
She picked up the last pot of the row and held it up for Nigel to see.
“None the worse for wear in the end,” she declared.
“Look! We’re even putting out some new petals already. ”
The rogue lily was looking quite revived, despite its adventures of the evening before. Nigel held his teacup out in solemn salute, as Luna tucked the pot back in among its fellows. “It was quite the little romp last evening, wasn’t it, Mr. Grimm?” she said, chuckling to herself.
An image flashed through Nigel’s brain of shapely legs draped over his shoulders. “Quite,” he managed.
“I’ve been thinking,” she added, turning suddenly to look back at him where he stood at the counter, “about that sorcery you used to blast open the gate. Do you think it might have left any . . . residue? Something Officer Ward may have detected?”
Nigel opened his mouth to answer at once with a confident negative. He wasn’t some sorcerer’s apprentice, after all! He didn’t practice messy magic.
Still, that dead tree might be a giveaway for someone trained to know the signs to look for.
If an SSSD officer were to go over the site with sorcery sensors, they might detect the energy transfer which had taken place.
But that wardsman last night hadn’t seemed particularly keen on further investigation, distracted as he was by the pretty girl in the vicinity.
Nigel decided to put a brave face on it. “Certainly not, Miss Talbot,” he said with more confidence than he felt.
Luna accepted this and turned to the task of selecting blossoms for the day’s front display.
“It was nice of Officer Ward, wasn’t it?
” she said, musingly. “To help us out I mean. I thought our goose was cooked for sure when he first showed up! But then he put that Lord Bruxley in his place, and it did my heart good to see. And the way he handled that dog!”
Nigel suddenly wished he’d blasted that dog to oblivion, rather than booking it down the street. Headlong flight was not the best way to impress a girl with his manly prowess . . . though, something told him Luna wouldn’t appreciate dog-murder much either.
He drained the last of his tea, thinking with satisfaction of the magic he’d performed in the dark hours of the night before.
Officer Ward shouldn’t be a bother in their lives anymore.
Things would go back to the way they ought to be and, eventually, memory of his petty heroics would fade from Luna’s mind.
The clock chimed nine. “Opening time, Mr. Grimm!” Luna declared.
The day began with a line out the door. Ten Silly Young Things, all eager for fortunes to be read.
Luna maintained her policy that tea was for buying customers only and directed their attention back to the flowers, but Nigel was under no delusions.
He knew why this queue had gathered. Still, the flowers of The Arcane Bouquet were luscious and fresh; he had to believe the flower shop’s reputation would catch on sooner or later.
During a lull around 2 o’clock, after the lunch-hour rush, Luna brewed up a pot of tea just for the two of them. “One of these days,” she declared, setting a porcelain teacup before him, “I’m going to discover your tea, Mr. Grimm.”
Nigel looked at her uncertainly over the rising steam.
“It’s my belief,” she continued, splashing a dab of milk into her own cup, “there is a right tea for every drinker, if one can just be properly matched. Auntie Arabella used to say it was like love—you didn’t know it was the real thing until it happened to you.”
Nigel’s throat tightened. “Every tea you’ve made for me has been delightful.”
“Yes, but that’s the way of it with love too, isn’t it?
You might be fooled for a time with substitutes, thinking you’ve found the real thing or close enough.
Then wham! True Love! A craving which can only be quenched by the Right One!
” Luna grinned, raising a speculative eyebrow.
“I’m sure I can inspire craving in you eventually, Mr. Grimm. ”
“I’m . . . sure you can, Miss Talbot,” Nigel whispered rather hoarsely. He took a quick gulp. It scalded over his tongue, and he couldn’t say if it was his True Love Tea or not, because he didn’t taste a drop.
Luna sipped her own tea and looked musingly around the shop.
Her expression was contemplative, her brow set in that little line which Nigel was coming to recognize as her thinking face.
As thought generally meant action when it came to Luna Talbot, he knew he would soon be on the receiving end of whatever idea she was forming.
He drank a little more tea to fortify himself.
Then it came: “What would you think about getting a couple of tables?”
“Tables?”
“Yes. Tables.” Luna turned to him, head tilted to one side. “As our customer base seems to be really keen on the teas, I thought we might set up a few tables and maybe invest in another kettle and a couple more teapots. We could serve more people that way.”
“You mean like . . . a café?”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
“But it’s a flower shop.”
She grinned and took another sip. “Of course, Mr. Grimm.”
Nigel studied the remains of his own tea.
Just a drop left. Luna had strained it carefully, so there were only a few flecks of leaves at the bottom, not enough to glimpse any future in.
Somehow, he suspected, if he could glimpse anything, he’d see an image of his shop filled to bursting with tea-drinkers and tables. He wasn’t certain he liked it.
“I’ll have to check with Mrs. Goddard,” he said at last. “I’m not certain my lease covers . . . food service. There might be licensing involved and . . . applications . . .”
“Don’t worry about it then.” Luna shrugged dismissively. “It was just a silly thought.”
But it wasn’t a silly thought. Not really.
Because Nigel could count on one hand the number of customers who’d entered the shop not in pursuit of teas and fortunes.
And, while he wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to set up direct competition with Mystic Infusions just around the corner, was it anyone’s fault if discerning tea drinkers preferred Miss Talbot’s blends and the futures she divined?
The rest of the day passed busily. A steady stream of Silly Young Things came and went, all buying bundles of flowers while they waited for their tea to steep.
When closing time arrived at last, Nigel felt ready to drop.
Luna bade him sit and drink another cup of purple echinacea tea, while she closed down.
It made him feel strangely warm and fuzzy.
Perhaps he was on his way to finding his forever tea-match after all.
Luna was outside on the step, fetching in her display, when she uttered a startled exclamation. She sprang to the door and shouted inside: “Mr. Grimm! He’s back!”