“I’ve been making your fussy oolong at home with boiling water.”
“I forgive you.” Though his response is patronizing, it’s also laced with humor.
I smile as I turn to the wall of teas behind the counter. “All right. A black tea. What about a Darjeeling, since we were just talking about it? This one says it was harvested in autumn of last year.”
“I actually prefer most Darjeeling at 185 degrees.”
Frustrated, I turn back to look at him. “But it’s ablack tea.”
He gives me an owl shrug. “When it comes down to it, most tea rules are merely guidelines.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Now I need to remember guidelines, too.”
Rowan chortles, which is an interesting sound for a bird to make. “Just take notes. You’ll be fine.”
By the endof the day, I’ve tested twenty-seven different teas, all varieties grown in India. Rowan said focusing on a region is the best way to start picking up on tasting notes.
Even though I only had one or two sips of each, I’m feeling a little jittery as I stare into the tea garden, dreading my bike ride home. The rain that was promised in the forecast is currently coming down in great sheets.
The plants are happy—I can sense it. But I am less so.
“Can you fly in this?” I call to Rowan.
“Not well,” he replies from his perch on the chair in the tearoom. “Owls are designed for stealth, not rainstorms. My feathers aren’t waterproof like a duck’s.”
I wander back into the room. Even with the drapes open, it’s dark in here thanks to the storm. If we stay any longer, I’ll have to turn on the lights.
“Do you want to ride back in my purse?”
He sighs. “I was once a respected mage…”
“Yes, and then you turned yourself into a bird.”
Something is bothering me about that—something I can’t put my finger on. It’ll come to me eventually, but right now, it’s making me crazy.
A knock sounds at the front door, drawing our attention. Ash stands just beyond the rain-soaked window, holding a black umbrella in a feeble attempt to stay dry.
He didn’t mention he was going to come by today.
“Make yourself scarce,” I command Rowan, hurrying to the door.
“You’re already sparkling,” he scoffs and then flies to the upstairs apartment.
“Hi,” I say when I open the door, nearly losing my grip on it when a cool gust of wet air sweeps inside and tries to yank it from me. “It’s gotten chilly out there, hasn’t it? Come on in.”
The councilman enters the shop and then turns, closing the umbrella outside and giving it several shakes to remove as much water as possible.
“I think it’s a lost cause,” I say. “Just lean it against the door. I can mop up the water later.”
Ash turns to me. “You best lock it, or you’ll have early patrons.”
“Tea is nice on a rainy day,” I say, feeling bad that I’m not open yet. “Would you like a cup? I believe I owe you one.”
“That would be welcome, but I’m not here to impose on you. I saw Laverna’s bike out front, and I came to ask if you’d like a ride home.”
“Did you bring your cabriolet again?”
“I did.”
