“The bakery was out of muffins, so I had to make do with an arrangement from the grocery store,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’ve tucked a bill for this year’s shop dues in that envelope there. They’re due by the end of the month.”
“Shop dues?”
“The dues pay for upkeep above and beyond what the town covers, along with things like flowers for the street planters, holiday decor, and festival planning. Your great aunt fell behind when she…”
“Died?”
He clears his throat like he finds me uncomfortable.
“So, it’s like a homeowner’s association?” I say, directing the conversation back.
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Along with the bill, I’ve included a printout of the bylaws that specifically apply to Main Street, as well as this year’s holiday schedule and approved decor themes. Be sure to read through them.” He pauses, assessing me. “Thoroughly.”
I look down at the envelope. “Okay.”
“When do you plan to reopen your aunt’s shop? We understand the situation was unavoidable, but having it closed isn’t good for appearances.”
“I haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t know…”
Anything.
Not about running a business and apparently not about tea.
“I understand.” The man taps something into his phone. “I’ll make a note that you’ll be opening soon.”
Clutching the fruit basket to my chest, I give him a seasick smile. “I’ll do my best.”
He looks up from his phone, frowning slightly. “Miss Merriweather, please understand Main Street is Moss Hollow’s crown jewel. Owning a shop on that coveted stretch of street comes with a high level of responsibility. Your great-aunt was an exemplary shopkeeper. I trust you will follow in her footsteps.”
Not trusting myself to talk, I nod.
He dips his head, preparing to leave. “It was a pleasure to meet you. If you need anything, I live next door.”
Oh…good. Mr. HOA is my neighbor.
He glances at the ground as he turns. “Your flowers could use tending.”
“Is that in the bylaws, too?” I ask, unable to keep the snark out of my voice.
Sighing, he walks down the flagstone path. “Sadly, no. We’re outside the commercial district and the established rules that regulate it.”
Genuinely delighted to learn he can’t come after my yard with a list of regulations, I laugh to myself.
Ash pauses, turning back. He stands perfectly still, eyes narrowed. It’s as if he’s tasting my magic and deciding if it’s to his liking. Several agonizing seconds pass, and then a smile ghosts over his lips. The shift in his expression is subtle, but it nearly steals my breath. This man, though obnoxious, was born to break hearts.
“I’d forgotten how pleasant summer pixie magic can be,” he says solemnly. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Kathleen.”
I nearly drop my fruit basket. “You too. I mean, me too. With you. Better.”
Looking perplexed and vaguely amused, his eyes sweep over me. Then he nods once, lets himself out of the gate, and disappears down the lane.
“That went well,” I murmur to myself, rolling my eyes.
Rowan flies through the open door and lands on a garden post next to me. “Please tell me you didn’t just sparkle for Ash Neilfellow.”
“No,” I scoff.
But I might have. I feel a bit effervescent. And dang it, the sun is low in the sky, and we’re in the shadows. If the blasted owl noticed, the hoity-toity fae councilman likely did too.
