Gossip, Drama, and Murder Cats #2
This is what I remember most about my aunt’s shop—her tea garden. It’s a magical space, with a stone patio enclosed by two walls of the shop and a six-foot stone fence encasing the others. Large flowering shrubs soften the edges. There are roses, hydrangeas, and viburnums. Lilacs perfume the air.
Butterfly bushes will bloom in a month, and trumpet vines will scent the entire space come midsummer.
Though it’s not a large area, a flower-lined path disappears between the large bushes, leading people to secret nooks and alcoves. There are tea tables scattered about the patio, perfect for garden parties and quiet afternoons.
The pavers could use a good power washing, and many of the perennials and roses need to be pruned or deadheaded. But for the most part, the garden is happy and healthy—unlike the poor houseplants inside.
Ash steps up next to me, surveying the space. “I suspect this is why Laverna left you the life she created. You might not know tea, but you will be an excellent caretaker of her beloved gardens.”
I smile as I walk to the raised goldfish pond in the middle of the space.
A miniature waterfall cascades into the elevated pool, bubbling in the most delightful way.
“You’re just saying that because it pains you to see the shop closed.
Worried I lack the confidence to open it, you’re stroking my ego. ”
“Perhaps.”
I turn to face him. “Give me a few weeks to acquaint myself with all of…everything.” I gesture toward the door that leads inside. “I’ll open soon.”
He studies me for several seconds before he finally says, “By the Firefly Festival.”
“When is that?” I ask, not about to agree before I have more information.
“The second weekend in June.”
I pull out my phone to check the date. It’s almost three weeks away.
“That should be doable,” I say hesitantly. “But I also have to make sure all the business stuff is in order. I don’t suppose you could point me toward someone who can help me with the legal side of things? The estate lawyer gave me a lot of information, but I didn’t understand a word of it.”
“In fact, I do know someone.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
My smile becomes skeptical. “Really?”
“I helped prepare your aunt’s estate.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“I am. I chose law over magic and went to school in New York.”
That’s convenient. Sort of. The man was already intimidating, and this doesn’t help.
“So, you’ll help me get everything in order?” I ask. “I’m afraid I never expected to be a business owner. I have no idea what kind of mess I’m getting myself into.”
“I will, though I’m afraid my rates are high.” Ash bestows me with a benevolent smile. “But reopening your teashop is in Moss Hollow’s best interest, so perhaps we can negotiate my fees?”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask carefully.
“You can pay me back with tea. Once a day for a year, I’d like a free cup.”
Skeptical because it sounds too good to be true, I ask, “What kind of tea?”
For all I know, the variety Ash prefers is worth its weight in gold. It might be picked on foggy spring days by silent monks, washed in gathered dew, and dried in the heat of a dragon’s cliffside cave.
“A nice Irish breakfast will be fine.”
Slowly, I nod. “Let me think about it.” And talk to an owl. “And I’ll let you know this evening.”
“Of course.” He walks back into the tea shop, heading for the front door. “Now, why don’t I introduce you to your neighbors?”
“Mr. Neilfellow?”
I feel weird using his last name, especially when he’s not much older than I am. I would never dream of it back home. But Moss Hollow is different—it feels different. I know the ambiance is a charade, but even I’m falling for it.
He turns back just before he reaches the door. “Call me Ash, please.”
“Ash.” A nervous smile tugs at my lips. “I appreciate your kindness. I’ve been dreading this move, and you’ve made it pleasant. I’m sure you do this for all the newcomers, but—”
“I don’t.”
“I…what?”
He takes two lazy steps forward, putting us quite close. “I usually deliver a muffin basket and call it a day.”
“Oh.” I bring my hand to the back of my neck. “So, I’m getting special attention because you’re feeling guilty about giving me fruit?”
Ash studies me. “I don’t really care about that.”
The golden flecks in his espresso-brown eyes are distracting. I find myself getting lost in them, thinking things I shouldn’t. “Then…why are you being so nice to me?”
He looks reluctant to answer, but he finally says, “Even though I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours, I’ve already discovered something.”
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t like it when you bring the rain.”
My good mood is doused. I might as well have been knocked over by a rogue ocean wave.
Ash noticed? How humiliating.
“Oh.” I avert my eyes, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry about that. I was a bit homesick last night.” I try to work up a cheery smile. “So, that’s what this is? You’re keeping me company so I don’t chase away the tourists on this long holiday weekend?”
The councilman turns toward the door with an air of practiced nonchalance. “I’m afraid you misunderstood. What I mean is, I prefer it when you shimmer.” Then he casually tacks on, “And I find it quite intriguing when you shimmer for me.”