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“Hey! I’m not the one with the nervous energy!” Viv protested.

“Helps with other things, too,” Fiona said in a soothing tone, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She plucked three more packets without hesitating. “Wood betony to help ye find yer footing, hawthorn berry, for yer heart, ye ken.” She nodded at Viv as though she’d know what she meant. When she caught Viv’s bewildered expression, she chuckled to herself. “Ye’ll learn. It gives yer heart strength while it sorts itself out. Good stuff. And last, but not least, I think a little pinch of nettle.”

Viv frowned. “Won’t that sting my mouth?”

“Ye’d think, but no,” Fiona replied solemnly, as though Viv had said something profound. “If ye give it the attention it needs, it takes the sting out. A lot like many teens I know.” She winked at Viv, who scowled at her. “Och! I like ye. Ye’re a feisty one. That’s good. Hold on to that. It’ll serve ye well.”

The compliment wiped the scowl right off Viv’s face, leaving behind a bashful smile that made my heart ache a little. I hadn’t expected to get a peek at the little girl eager to please lurking under the teen’s prickly outer shell. The wave of compassion that washed over me caught me by surprise. I resisted the urge to go pull her into my arms. The daggers she shot my way helped.

“Noo, let’s pop these in some hot water and let them steep while you show me around, aye?” Fiona said, grabbing an unlabeled, already filled muslin bag out of the box for herself.

“Can I please…” Viv’s voice trailed away before she finished the question, but she held her phone up as if that was all she needed to make herself clear.

“Of course,” Fiona replied, grinning at her. “Want me to move it over here to the light?” She gestured to the end of the counter closest to the window.

“That would be great!” Viv gushed.

“What…?” I started to ask but stopped when I realized neither was paying me any attention.

“D’ye like taking pictures?” Fiona asked Viv, peering at her screen.

Photos. That made some sense. Though why a teen would want a picture of an ancient box of tea leaves was beyond me. I left them to it and busied myself with filling the kettle, as Viv pulled up pictures on her phone to show Fiona.

I hesitated for a minute at the tap, wondering if I should be using something else, but Fiona smiled over at me and said, “Banhaven has a well system. Lovely water. Go fer it.”

“Och! That’s a nice one. When did ye take that?” Fiona asked, leaning closer to get a better look at the picture on Viv’s screen.

“This morning. Just before you arrived,” the teen replied, pride oozing from her pores.

Frowning, I looked over. We’d been cleaning and shelving jars most of the morning. I hadn’t noticed Viv snapping photos of anything.

“Have ye seen these?” Fiona asked me, gesturing to the phone. “They’re lovely.”

I shook my head as Viv looked up at me, her mouth partially open as though she were about to say something, but she closed it without a word.

Either oblivious to the exchange or intentionally meddling, Fiona waved me over, and with a perfunctory “May I?” plucked the phone from Viv’s grasp and handed it to me. “These’ll look great on yer Instagram.”

“My what?” I asked, taking the phone.

The photo Viv had just taken filled the screen: Fiona’s tackle box with the light hitting the glass jars at just the right angle to make them appear to be glowing mysteriously. The angle and the focal point made for an interesting shot, which still didn’t explain why a teen would be taking it. Without thinking, I swiped to the picture before it, surprised to see an artistic shot of the glass jars also glittering in the light. Like the first shot, it was beautiful, but unexpected. When I swiped again, the snug popped into view in a photo taken from the cozy armchair I’d put by the fireplace. The lighting was different, but the picture did a nice job of showing the vibes I’d aimed for when I furnished the small room at the back of the shop. Seeing the shop through Viv’s eyes was fascinating. I swiped again, but instead of another picture of the store, the next shot was of Pipsqueak looking adorable, curled into a tight ball at the bottom of what resembled the cross-body bag Viv had refused to take off all day.

“Those are private!” Viv cried, lunging for the phone, hitting the screen and accidentally swiping to what looked like a selfie of herself crying, though the screen went dark before I could be sure. Her eyes narrowed as though daring me to say something.

My hand flew to my mouth as I realized how far I’d overstepped. “I’m so sorry. I got caught up. I don’t think I saw anything you might not want me to see. Except maybe the cat in your bag,” I said, looking pointedly at the bag, which, now that I knew, did seem strangely lumpy. And was moving just the slightest bit.

“You’re not mad?” Viv asked, frowning suspiciously.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “We’re not open, nor are we preparing any food. I don’t think it’s a big deal. As long as she’s happy in there,” I added, the thought occurring a bit late.

Viv grinned and pulled the bag to her front to lift the flap. “She loves it,” she said, holding it open for us to peek in at the tiny cat sleeping soundly in its depths. Pipsqueak let out a perfectly timed little sigh and stretched out her front paw as she rolled over onto her back, purring extra loudly as though she wanted us to hear.

“Aw!” Fiona and I said at the same time.

“What a wee little thing,” Fiona added. “She’ll make a fine shop cat, that one.”

Viv grinned as though she’d been awarded a highly coveted prize.

“We’ll have to see about that. I don’t know what the health code regulations say,” I cautioned, not wanting the teen to get her hopes up over something that might not be allowed.