Page 49

“Och. The inspector’s my cousin, ye ken. It’ll be all right,” Fiona said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Why am I not surprised?” I laughed.

Fiona winked. “Small towns. Both a blessing and a curse. Noo, who’s ready for some tea?” she asked as the kettle clicked off on the counter.

Looking relieved, Viv tucked her phone back in her pocket, though I saw her hand twitch toward it when Fiona poured water into the first cup and dropped one of her homemade tea bags into it.

Instead, she reached for the cup and took a tentative sniff, wrinkling her nose at the blend of scents. It was hard not to laugh at her look of dismay. I was more successful at suppressing my amusement than Fiona, who grinned at the horrified teen.

“There’s no tea so bitter that a wee bit of local honey can’t sweeten it,” she said, pulling a small squeeze bottle from the depths of her bag and pouring a healthy dollop into Viv’s cup.

I doubted the teen would have been brave enough to hazard a sip if she hadn’t been so intent on impressing Fiona. As it was, she barely dipped her top lip in the tea before putting down the cup and releasing it like it was electrified, all while uttering an enthusiastic “Yum!” that made us both chuckle.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Fiona said encouragingly, patting Viv’s arm.

Having laughed at Viv’s response to tasting the tea, I had no choice but to behave like the grown-up I was supposed to be and swallow my first sip.

As a child, I’d once been forced to play baseball when Mac’s team had been short a player. The coach had stuck me far out in left field, where, instead of paying attention to the game, I’d rolled around, munching on bits of grass to pass the time.

My tea tasted exactly like that, only I wasn’t six or trying to irritate my mother from afar anymore. Fiona laughed at my expression, and, after a beat of hesitation, Viv joined in.

“Would ye also like some honey?” Fiona asked, holding up the small bottle.

Sheepishly, I took it and squeezed a little into my cup. The next swallow was much tastier, and I smiled gratefully at Fiona.

“That’s good honey,” I said, taking a second sip, marveling at how its sweetness smoothed out the edge of the tea’s bitterness and revealed the herbs’ more subtle notes.

“Aye. I get it from a beekeeper up the way,” Fiona said.

When she glanced away, I couldn’t help noticing that the tips of her ears had reddened slightly. If we’d known each other better, I might have teased her about her mysterious beekeeper, but I didn’t quite dare.

“This is delicious.” I wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the power of suggestion and how much of it was real, but I was already more relaxed after two sips than I had been all day.

Shooting me a wary look, Viv picked up her cup and took a slightly more daring sip. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “That’s not terrible!”

“Och, weel, with an endorsement like that, we’re sure tae be successful,” Fiona drawled, laughing. As Viv blushed furiously, she added, “Will that be yer first Instagram post for the shop, then?”

“Wait, what?” I said, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

“I want to make an Instagram for the shop,” Viv muttered, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her cup.

“Why would I want that?” I asked, genuinely baffled. “Isn’t Instagram where people share pictures of their dogs and their lunch?”

Viv rolled her eyes at me as if she couldn’t believe how dumb I was.

“If you don’t have an Instagram, it’s like your store doesn’t even exist,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“What would we even post on it?” I asked, frowning. I’d never seen the point of social media. It had always struck me as a way for people to showcase the most curated versions of their lives, which felt like too much of a lie to enjoy.

“Pictures of the shop! Of the cookies! Videos of you decorating them! Maybe the customers! I don’t know!” Viv cried, crossing her free arm across her chest and jutting out her chin defensively.

“I don’t think the customers would appreciate us posting their photos online,” I said, still confused and wondering how we’d gone from enjoying our tea to fighting. “Maybe we can discuss it again later when we’ve launched and things are less stressful.”

Viv rounded on Fiona with an imploring look. “You like my photos, right?”

“Wait, what?” I asked, my head spinning. When had this become a debate about the quality of her pictures?

At the same time, Fiona threw her hands up defensively in front of her. “Yer photos are lovely, but I don’t think I’ve been here long enough to weigh in on any of this.”