The bulk tea available for purchase lines the left side wall in large metal tins. They’re marked with cheerful teal labels, and a small sample tin is provided for smelling in front of each one.
Directly ahead of us, on the far-left side of the back wall, there’s a doorway that leads into a hall. The rest of the space is dedicated to the tea counter and prep area, which are used for serving customers who choose to take their tea here.
A chalkboard menu hangs from the ceiling behind the counter. Just underneath it, there are shelves holding hundreds of smaller tea tins, just like those along the side wall, but miniature. These are also marked with teal labels.
A glass case sits empty on the counter, looking lonely without pastries.
Though everything is perfectly organized and tidy, the shop feels abandoned.
Ash’s eyes move to a wilting plant near a window. “I hired a service to dust while the shop was closed. They were supposed to water the plants.”
I walk over to the poor philodendron, touching its soft, wilting leaves. “It’s not too far gone. I can nurse it back to health.”
There are others around the shop, including an orchid with a spent stalk, several succulents, and a collection of hanging ferns.
Poor plants. At least they had plenty of sunlight—the space is naturally bright.
“I have no doubt,” Ash says.
I turn toward the councilman, feeling like I need to get something out of the way now. “I have a confession to make.”
He lifts his eyebrows, waiting.
“I know nothing about tea.”
Ash waits a beat, and then he replies, “Then you’ll have to learn.”
I open my mouth to respond…and then close it again. Frowning, I nod, turning away from him.
“I’m aware of the conditions of your inheritance,” he says. “If you don’t keep the shop open, all the trouble you’ve put into this move will be for naught. You were given a modest allowance for living expenses and shop upkeep, but your aunt’s fortune and the deed to the cottage won’t be released to you unless you run the shop for three years.”
Intrigued, but not because of the specifics of Laverna’s estate, I turn back to him. “Were you close to my aunt?”
“As close as anyone in Moss Hollow. She was a summer pixie.” Though his face is solemn, his lips twitch. “You’re hard not to like.”
Don’t sparkle.
“Do you know why she made me her beneficiary?” I ask. “She was a lovely woman, but I admit I didn’t know her well. We lived so far apart, and my mother isn’t fond of travel.”
“She had no children. You were her only kin who didn’t have solid roots.”
“I suppose I’d hoped it was something more,” I say softly, walking to the back counter.
Like, perhaps, in the few times we met, she saw something in me that made her want to leave me her legacy.
Ash follows me as I enter the back hall and then push through the door. As soon as I’m outside, I sigh, feeling like all is right with the world.
Thisis 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 suspectthisis 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.”
