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I laughed, recalling how Peggy had described her daughter as being a down-to-earth Jill-of-all-trades passionate about tea and not much else. Hardly the first impression I was getting.

Fiona pulled the strap of her cross-body bag over her head and dropped the whole thing onto the small kitchen counter, opening it wide so she could see into its depths. With a triumphant cry, her hand darted into the bag and came out clutching a midsize metal tackle box that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the bag, let alone get lost in its depths. She snapped the bag closed before I could get a closer look and plunked the box onto the counter, flipping the lid open at the same time.

“Let’s see. Let’s see,” she said to herself, looking me up and down as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “What d’ye need?”

“What is that?” I asked, peering down at the packed box she was intently studying.

“Tea,” she replied distractedly without looking up at me.

The well-worn metal box which had once been either blue or green—but had long since faded to a dull gray—was divided into neat rows of squares filled with small colorful vials and folded squares of parchment paper—each carefully labeled in handwriting that seemed far too neat to belong to Fiona and yet undoubtedly did.

She ran her index down the first row, tsking softly as she paused occasionally to think.

“Linden? No?” she muttered, glancing up at me before shaking her head once sharply. “No. Definitely not.”

“What does linden do?” Viv asked, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity.

“Good for nervous energy. Calming,” Fiona answered without looking up.

Viv snorted. “Maybe don’t skip that one.”

“Hey!” I protested.

Fiona shook her head again. “Wrong kind of calming for Meg. I have something better for her. Ah! There it is!” she cried, plucking a little square of parchment paper out of the box. “Lemon balm. Calms the brain rather than the body. Slows down the spinning. Ye ken?”

She popped open the little makeshift envelope and held it out so we could smell its contents.

“Lemon!” Viv cried.

I sniffed again. “With a hint of… mint?” I asked.

Fiona flashed me a proud grin. “Yes! Despite its name, lemon balm is from the mint family. Which reminds me…” she said, turning back to her tackle box and selecting another little paper packet. “Peppermint. Very helpful when ye’re overwhelmed.”

“Definitely, that,” I said, suddenly remembering everything I wasn’t doing.

“Also…” She studied my face intently before looking back down at the box, nibbling on the tip of her left index as she gave it a little more thought. “I’d say motherwort, but I dinna think ye’re ready for that yet. Och, I ken. Oatstraw, eyebright, and…. hum… rose!”

“What are those for?” I asked, sniffing each as she held them out. The oatstraw and eyebright both smelled bright and earthy, a little like freshly cut grass, while the rose made me think of a lotion that my mother had loved when I was a child. I wasn’t sure I’d like how all those flavors would taste mixed together, but Fiona didn’t wait for my approval before taking a hearty pinch of each and dropping them into a little drawstring muslin bag.

“This is cheating a bit. It’d be better to let the leaves steep directly in the water, but it’ll do fer now. Oatstraw is nourishment for the soul, eyebright to help ye see more clearly,” she said, giving me a knowing look that I didn’t know how to interpret. “And rose for obvious reasons,” she finished, nodding firmly.

Viv caught my eye with a questioning look in hers, but I could only shrug.

“Which would be?” I asked.

Fiona looked surprised when she looked over at me. “Och, ye are a newb. Rose is emotionally soothing. Does wonders for grief.”

“Why would you choose that for me?” I asked, frowning, as I took the little bag she held out to me. “I’m not grieving.”

“Aren’t ye, though?” she asked, clearly not expecting an answer. “Now, let’s see what ye need, lass,” she said, turning to run her eyes over Viv, who froze in her seat as though movement might disrupt the process.

I’d grieved hard through the whole divorce process, but I was fairly sure I’d left all that behind. So why did my chest suddenly feel heavier than it had before I’d smelled the rose?

“Och, ye’ve a lot going on, haven’t ye?” Fiona said, her voice so heavy with compassion that Viv’s eyes filled with tears that she angrily batted away. “Dinna fash. I’ve just the thing. Put the kettle on, Meg, while I pull a few things together for our girl here.”

Viv jerked almost imperceptibly at being called “our girl,” but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lip, and she sat up a tiny bit straighter as Fiona pulled packets from her box.

“Linden. Without a doubt,” Fiona said, nodding confidently.