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The shelf was a tiny bit too high for her to reach. When she stretched onto her toes, her shoe slipped, and she lost her balance. I saw the whole scene unfold a fraction of a moment before Viv cried out. Barely enough time for me to catch the jar in one hand and grab the teen’s arm to stabilize her before she went down.

Viv gaped at me, rubbing her arm where I’d gripped her a little too hard, her eyes as wide as saucers. “How did you do that?”

I was spared from having to answer when the front door flew open again, slamming against the table just as hard as it had earlier.“Tea! She’s putting tea in them! And I, fer one, cannot wait!”

Startled, I turned to see who had barged in and gawked at the woman beaming at us, her arms still held open as though she was waiting for some kind of reaction from us.

“Uh… hello?” I said.

She was probably used to getting all sorts of reactions from people. Silence was probably not one of them.

Her hair was cotton-candy pink, and her makeup would have made a social media influencer jealous. But what really stood out were the bright patchwork overalls she wore over a white racerback tank top. There was no doubt in my mind that the overalls were homemade, but they were so unexpectedly stylish, I would not have been surprised to see people fight over them on Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles. If I’d worn her outfit, I would have looked like a middle-aged hippie. She looked like the coolest person I had ever laid eyes on.

From the look on Viv’s face, I wasn’t the only one starstruck.

“Me mam sent me. Said I can mebbe help ye. I’m Fiona, by the way. Ye must be Meg. And ye,” she said, turning to Viv, who stared at her with wide eyes and her jaw hanging slightly open. “I’m not sure who you are, but ye look fun!”

Viv brightened like a sunflower seeing the sun for the first time. “Hi. I’m Viv.”

“Well, it’s very nice tae meet ye, lovey,” Fiona said graciously. She clapped her hands and grinned at me. “Are we ready tae talk tea, yet? Mam says yer a total tea novice. Is that true? Have ye never drunk tea?” she asked, her face crumpling into a perplexed frown as though she were asking if I’d never breathed air.

I laughed at her expression. “I’ve drunk plenty of tea,” I replied, grinning at her. “I just don’t know the first thing about selling it. Or buying it, aside from grabbing a box at the grocery store.”

“Grocery store?” Fiona frowned again. Then her expression cleared. “Och! Ye mean the market! Don’t get yer tea there,” she said, her lips pulled back in disgust as she shook her head. “I’ve got ye. I’ve forgotten more about tea than most people will ever ken in their lifetime.”

Perplexed, I frowned. How could someone who’d forgotten everything they knew about tea be helpful?

It was her turn to laugh at my expression. “Dinna fash. I ken plenty.” Her eyes widened as they landed on the cubbies behind us. “Love the jars. Is that where we’re storing the tea? Brilliant. Pretty and functional. Perfection. Or should I say, ‘perfunction’?” Her laughter was as bright and delightful as the rest of her, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her even though the pun was arguably terrible. Even Viv seemed surprised to find herself chuckling. “What kind of tea vibe are ye setting yer sight on? Because I have ideas. Lots.”

My eyes narrowed slightly at her word choice as I studied her face to see if it had been accidental or intentional. She winked at me and grinned. “Mam talks. More than a wee bit,” she said, laughing again.

It was impossible to be upset when faced with so much infectious positivity. “I’d love to hear your ideas.”

“Me too,” Viv piped up. “But can I get my notebook first? This might be a fun project for my class. That’s okay, right, Meg?” she asked.

SEVENTEEN

“First things first. Where’d ye keep yer kettle?” Fiona asked, looking around the still relatively bare shop with a slight frown.

“In the kitchen, back there,” I answered, gesturing to the door behind the counter.

Fiona’s frown deepened, eclipsing her bright smile for only an instant. “Plenty of time tae fix that. When were ye planning on opening? Mam didn’t know, but she thought soon, maybe.”

Unsure what to address, I settled on answering the question. “I’m not sure. The sooner the better, but there’s still so much to do before I can open my doors.”

“Dinna fash. We’ll get it all done. Ye’ll see. Kettle?” she prompted.

“Right. Yes. Kettle. This way.”

Fiona was rummaging in her bag as she followed me into the shop kitchen, so it wasn’t until she looked up that she saw the room that made me grin like a kid in a candy shop each time I stepped through the door.

Even though it was tiny, the kitchen was sunny, and so well equipped with all its new appliances that I couldn’t imagine a space where I’d rather work. I’d been baking cookies whenever I could carve out a little time from the renovations and shop preparations so that the freezer would be well stocked with cookies ready to be painted when we opened.

“Och! This is nice! Mam said, but ye know how she is,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes affectionately.

“If you mean a miracle worker who can do no wrong, then yes, I do know,” I said, feeling protective of the woman who’d done so much for me in such a short amount of time.

“Well, of course, that too,” Fiona replied, her eyes dancing playfully. “But she does like tae exaggerate a wee bit.”