The shop smells like leather, shoe polish, and magic. Many of the shop’s designs are whimsical, catering to the crowd who would like an old-world souvenir to take home with them. There are top hats, bowler hats, and all styles of Victorian bonnets.
The boots they offer follow the same pattern, some of which look practically medieval.
“Did you make all these?” I ask the woman at the counter, trying not to sound skeptical.
“Oh no.” She pushes her softly curling blonde hair behind her ear. “My mother is our milliner, and my father is our hatter. My grandfather used to make our shoes, but my oldest brother apprenticed him growing up, and he took over two years ago.”
“What’s the difference between a milliner and a hatter?” I ask, perplexed.
“A milliner makes hats for women, and a hatter makes hats for men.”
“I see.” I don’t really. “And you?”
“I just take turns with my siblings watching the counter.”
She’s a shifter. I’d bet Laverna’s money on it. But what kind? Her manner is soft, and her voice is gentle. I don’t think I’ve run into one like her before.
It’s also difficult to determine her age. She might be anywhere from sixteen to twenty-five.
“I’m Kit from Merriweather Tea Shop.”
She accepts the flyer I hand her. “I’m Muriel.”
“I’m doing a soft reopening. I hope you and your family will visit me. Each day you may have a cup of tea, no charge.”
“All of us?” Her nose twitches with humor.
“Yes…?”
“I must warn you—I have nine brothers and sisters.”
“Nine?” I sound aghast, much to my horror. Quickly, I try to hide it. “I mean, you had so many playmates growing up.”
Muriel laughs. “It’s all right—I know it’s a shock. Should I save this for my parents? Tell them the invitation is for them?”
“No, it’s fine. I’d like to meet you all.”
“All right.” Her eyes move to a trio of customers who step through the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I excuse myself, smiling at the three women as they coo over a tiny steampunk-like top hat constructed upon a headband.
As soon as I leave the shop, I bring my phone to my ear.
Rowan sits in a nearby tree. Sensing I want to ask him something, he says, “Yes?”
“What kind of shifter is she?”
“You couldn’t figure it out?”
“Should I have been able to?”
He chuckles. “They’re rabbits.”
Oh.
Oh.
Right.
