“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 alawyer?”
“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—itfeelsdifferent. 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?”
