I’ve only visited once, but I remember its grand, gray-stone presence. It’s like a villa from a fairy tale—a landmark on Main Street.
And it now belongs to me.
Chapter 4
Gossip, Drama, and Murder Cats
Merriweather Tea Shop is one of the loveliest businesses on the street. Ivy trails up the side, covering much of the stone. The door is deep teal, as is the decorative trim, and there are a few inviting tables out front.
Yellow roses bloom in the flowerbeds around the building, scenting the air with their sweet, floral perfume.
The window boxes are empty, as Ash said. But I can picture them overflowing with flowers and imagine patrons sitting at the tables as they take a moment to enjoy a quiet cup of tea.
It’s a pretty picture, but right now, the shop is dark and empty. A closed sign hangs on the door, sticking out like a sore thumb on the bustling street.
I glance at Ash and find him frowning at the building. He’s clearly not happy with its current state. The councilman draws the carriage to the edge of the walkway and stops. “You go ahead. I’m going to park, and I’ll join you shortly.”
I step out of the cabriolet and down to the walkway. A few people pause to watch us, enchanted by handsome Ash and his equally handsome horse.
“How much for a ride?” a man asks before the councilman can continue to wherever he’s going.
“I’m accompanying Miss Merriweather today,” Ash answers pleasantly, smiling for the tourists as he gestures toward me like I’m some sort of town figure. “But our local livery stable is only a few blocks down, and you may speak with them about a ride. I’m headed there myself. I’d be happy to take you that far, for no charge, if the lovely lady in your company doesn’t mind sitting on your lap. My carriage only has two seats, I’m afraid.”
He’s laying it on thick for the tourists.
The woman laughs, enchanted, and then she and the man step into the cabriolet. Once they’re settled, Ash continues down the street.
The councilman is such a strange juxtaposition of charming and abrupt. I want to know what shaped his personality. Was he born prickly, or has life made him that way? But that question will have to wait. I have more important things to think about right now.
I turn toward the tea shop, my eyes pausing on a nearby man. He was also watching Ash. Mildly disgusted, he shakes his head and steps forward, intending to continue.
But he stops when our eyes meet.
He’s fae. What type, I don’t know. But I don’t think he’s a pixie or a shifter. He’s pretty like the high fae, with the sharp good looks that are a hallmark of their people. But something doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s the way he’s dressed. I’ve never seen any high fae man or woman wearing jeans or a T-shirt—and never both at the same time as this man is.
He glances at the sign above the tea shop. “You must be Laverna’s great-niece.”
“I am. Everyone calls me Kit.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” The man offers his hand.
His hair is a medium shade of brown, and he wears it short. He’s probably in his early thirties, four or five years older than I am.
“I’m Marshall,” he says after we shake. “My family owns the garden nursery down the road.”
“Ash is taking me there later,” I say, my spirits lifting when I realize I’m already meeting one of my new neighbors. “I’m going to buy flowers for my window boxes.”
He studies the empty planters, his expression becoming pensive. “This is the first year they’ve sat empty.”
“At least the roses are blooming beautifully.” I walk over to the bushes, my magic awakening as I take one of the soft yellow buds in my hand. “Someone must have pruned them this spring.”
Marshall contemplates me. “Laverna loved those roses. It was an honor tending them in her absence.”
“Youpruned them?” My heart swells at the act of kindness. Unfortunately, my magic slips past me, enveloping him. But maybe he won’t notice—maybe he’s already in a good mood. Delusionally hoping that’s the case, I continue, “They’re so happy—you did an excellent job.”
“You’re a summer?” he asks, guessing my season.
So much for him not noticing.
