Chapter 3
Like a Greedy Toddler
Imake a peep of pure happiness, causing Rowan to look over.
Mom is a petite woman in her late forties.
Her brunette hair is pulled back into a thick, loose braid that hangs past her shoulders.
Several strands escape the plait, curling around her face.
She wears a pink knit shirt, olive-green shorts, and strappy leather sandals, looking like she was made for the summer.
My mother isn’t a summer pixie though—she’s an autumn.
My dad is a summer, but he’s dressed like he’s still in cool, crisp coastal Washington. He wears jeans and a red flannel shirt with his usual hiking boots, standing at a respectable pixie height of five feet seven-and-a-half inches. (He’s particular about that half.)
He grins as soon as our eyes meet. With dark, sandy blond hair, laugh lines around his mouth, and an infectious smile, he’s a sight for sore eyes.
My parents’ magic spreads throughout the room, making it happier and so peaceful. Their combined gifts feel like someone just wrapped you up in a warm blanket right from the dryer and then set a squishy, fluffy puppy in your lap.
It feels like home.
“Go ahead,” Rowan says, taking over my customer for me.
I round the counter and meet them in the middle of the tearoom, hugging them both at the same time. Vaguely, I hear people around us laughing. Even the grumpiest customers are unknowingly affected by our fae gifts.
Mom’s magic smells like warm spices and walks through the woods, and my dad’s is vibrant meadows.
Together, they remind me of that brief time between seasons in late August when autumn greets summer, and the days are warm, but the mornings and evenings have a crispness that hints at the cooler weather to come.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say when I pull back, dabbing my eyes with my fingertips, refusing to cry.
“Sorry we’re late,” Dad says. “The fairy rings got a bit crossed, and we ended up in Montenegro.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh.
“I had to check the GPS on my phone to figure out where the heck we were,” Dad says.
“It was beautiful,” Mom sighs. “The fairy ring dropped us on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Adriatic Sea. Almost made me want to travel.”
“Almost.” Dad’s eyes sparkle. “She hightailed it back into the fairy ring before I could get a good picture.”
“Well.” Mom smooths the front of her shirt. “That’s because we told Kit we would see her soon. I didn’t want her to worry.”
My mother is a notorious homebody, as so many pixies are. She hasn’t left Washington in probably five years, and I don’t take this visit for granted.
“I got a rather decent one, though.” Dad pulls out his cell phone and shows me a photo of a coastal village at sunset. “Not too shabby, huh?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, marveling that they were across the world not even thirty minutes ago.
Mom eyes the growing line of customers at the tea counter. “You’re busy.”
“Fridays and weekends tend to be a little chaotic,” I say.
Her attention catches curiously on Rowan.
Curiously because I haven’t talked about him. At all. I mean, except in owl form. But I left out the fact that he is actually a gorgeous male mage.
She gives me a questioning look. “Why does that nice man look so familiar?”
“That’s Rowan, darling,” Dad says, as if this is common knowledge. “Don’t you remember? We met him when we visited Laverna years ago. He was a teen back then.”
I gape at him, startled that he remembers.
“He still works here?” Mom asks. “Isn’t that nice? I don’t think you’ve mentioned him, Kit.”
“Oh, well—”
“She’s been busy, my love.” Dad clasps his hands, excited. “Now, where are your gnomes?” He whispers the last word, aware of the humans’ presence.
“In the tea garden out back.” Even though I’m eager to have him take care of the situation, I add, “But you don’t have to worry about that just yet. I’m sure Mom would like to get settled first.”
“I really would.” She gives Dad a pleading look. “How about we head to the cottage, and then we figure all that out later?”
Dad looks torn—he really loves gnomes. But eventually, his devotion to my mother wins. “As long as Kit doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t,” I assure him. “Maybe you can come with me to the shop early tomorrow before we open?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mom says. “We brought a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? What is it?”
Mom grins, turning toward the door. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. You’ll see when you get home.”
It feels weird that Mom says “home” and is referring to the cottage. Our home has always been in Washington, in a cozy house that’s only a short walk from the beach. I thought I missed it, but now I realize I’ve mostly missed my parents.
I’m so happy they’re here.
“Do you want a cup of tea before you go?” I ask, hoping to postpone their departure.
Mom glances at the wall of tins, hesitant. “We don’t want to be in the way…”
More of a hot chocolate drinker, she’s never been a fan of tea.
“I have all kinds of varieties,” I coax. “I’m sure we can find something you’ll like.”
“Yes, I remember Laverna using that tactic as well,” Mom says with a laugh.
“That reminds me. While you’re here, I was hoping you could help me with a few hot chocolate recipes for the menu. Tea/cocoa fusion kind of things.”
“Of course I’ll help.” She gives me an impish smile. “But why would you ruin perfectly good hot chocolate with tea?”
“I think it sounds delightful.” Dad squeezes my shoulder. “I will happily sign up for tastings.”
The door bells jingle as another couple steps into the shop.
“We really should go,” Mom says reluctantly. “We’ll head to the cottage and see you tonight. Do you have a key we could use?”
“I stopped by the hardware store yesterday and had an extra made for you.” I pull it from the hidden pocket of my dress. “Now you can come and go as you please.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Dad says. “Thank you, Kit.”
“Of course. Do you know where the livery stable is?” I ask before they turn toward the door. “Someone there should be able to take you to the cottage.”
“We’ve already secured a ride. A nice man named Hudson is waiting outside with our luggage.” Dad leans in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Canine shifter—I’d bet my life on it.”
Guessing shifters’ animal forms is a game we’ve always played.
“You got it right away,” I say, impressed. “He’s a Newfoundland.”
Dad bobs his head, acknowledging the praise. “We’ll see you tonight.”
With a happy heart, I hurry back to the tea counter to help Rowan with the rush.
“The three of you wield potent magic,” he says when there’s a break between customers. “I don’t think I realized how powerful that autumn/summer combo could be.”
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He smiles. “You seem happy.”
“Almost all my favorite people are currently in Moss Hollow.”
“Almost?”
“If I could convince my friend Nadine to visit, my happiness would be complete.”
“Nadine is the one who makes the weird pinecone hedgehogs?”
“They’re not weird,” I laugh. “They’re cute.”
“I hate to break this to you, but there’s a substantial amount of crossover between cute and weird.”
“You wouldn’t make a very good pixie,” I say solemnly, heading back to the counter to help another customer.
Rowan grins, shaking his head at the idea. “On that, we both agree.”
Maknihl follows another small group into the tea shop. He lifts his hand in greeting but hangs back, not here for tea.
“I can take care of the customers,” I tell Rowan. “Do you want to help Maknihl?”
The mountain dwarf who owns the hardware store said he’d drop by sometime today to patch the roof. It’s a temporary solution, just enough to get us by until we can afford a full roof replacement.
Rowan agrees and meets Maknihl at a table. The men chat for a few minutes, and then they head to the tea garden together.
The roof repair reminds me again of Russell’s check. If the Department of Fae Code and Ethics released the mage, does that mean I can now cash it? And even if I can, do I want to accept the mage’s money?
For now, I push the uneasy thought away and focus on making tea.
Exhausted, I lock the front door and then wipe down the tea tables. As I walk back to the counter, I say to Rowan, “If it’s this busy in late June, I can’t imagine how crazy Moss Hollow is going to be during the Fourth of July.”
“It’ll be chaos for days,” Rowan confirms. “But it will be good for our finances.”
My mood falls a little. “Speaking of money, do you see any harm in depositing Russell’s check? The Department of Fae Code and Ethics already let him off the hook, so it won’t make a difference now.”
“It would certainly go a long way toward fixing the roof and attic.” Instead of sweeping, Rowan uses his wand to create a breeze that blows dirt and dust into a tidy pile for disposal.
I watch him, intrigued. “The money feels kind of gross, though.”
He makes the pile levitate and then turns his wand toward the cupboard where we keep the trash.
It rolls across the space and comes to a stop under the orb of dust. With a flick of his wrist, Rowan deposits the dirt and then returns the trash can to the cupboard.
“Will you feel better if Russell keeps it?”
“Not really.”
“Then you have your answer.”
“I suppose.” I gesture toward his wand. “You know all sorts of useful tricks.”
He rolls his shoulders as if they’re stiff and then leans against the back counter, crossing his arms. “Cleaning spells are hardly the height of my skills.”
“I don’t know. They seem a lot more useful than turning yourself into an owl.”
A smirk toys at Rowan’s lips, distracting me. The mage is handsome. Stupid handsome. Get-a-nice-pixie-into-trouble handsome.
Goodness, I want to kiss him again.
As if he can read my mind, he meets my eyes and cocks his head ever-so-slightly. Smug looks good on him.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say.
“About?”
I walk over to him, fidgeting with the thin chain of my bracelet. “Our…bond.”