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What? How do you know?

The photos?

What photos?

The ones on the shop’s social media feed? Great name btw.

On the WHAT?

Instagram.com/@Steeped_In_Something

What the…

“Hey, Viv?” I called back to the snug, keeping my voice as steady as possible. It helped that I’d pressed my hands hard against the shop counter while taking ten slow breaths before calling her name. I’d tried talking after only three deep breaths, but my voice had come out a full octave higher than usual.

Despite all the deep breathing, my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it reverberate through my body, and I was genuinely worried that the scream working its way up my throat would erupt despite my efforts to keep it contained.

Rationally, I knew that my stress wasn’t hitting its boiling point because of Viv. We were days away from the grand opening, and the tea supplier was being cagey about when he planned to deliver the massive order that Fiona and I had pored over for two days. She was confident that he’d come through in plenty of time for us to stock the store and prepare all the blends she had in mind before we threw open the doors to the local public. But for now, the shop looked sad and bare, and I kept having nightmares of empty jars, and of disappointed customers vowing that they’d never come back.

It didn’t help that we couldn’t seem to settle on a shop name, so I couldn’t order branded packaging for Fiona’s special blends, shopping bags, or even business cards. After yet another heated debate about names, I’d thrown my hands in the air in defeat and ordered plain bags and packaging. With any luck, we’d have a name picked out in time to have some last-minute stickers printed, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

Every day I thought of one more person who’d be delighted to see me fail and come home with my tail tucked between my legs.

And now they could do it from the comfort of their own homes via the internet, courtesy of the testy teen who has something cutting to say about my every move.

“What?” Viv hollered back without getting up from the table in the snug that she’d co-opted as her permanent workstation.

“Can you please come here for a moment?” I asked, still keeping my tone in a tight choke hold.

“What?” she repeated, thumping down the five steps to come slump against the counter as though she had no energy to hold herself upright.

Oh… this is going to be good! Grandma said, sounding like she’d won the lottery. She dropped into one of the folding chairs and threw her legs up onto the other one, crossing her ankles. The pom-poms on her mules bounced in time with her feet as she jiggled them happily. Instead of her long cigarette holder, she pulled a bucket of popcorn out of thin air and adjusted her housecoat over her satin pajamas as she settled back to enjoy the show. I rolled my eyes at her before turning back to face the surly teen glaring at me.

“Do you know anything about this?” I asked Viv, turning the computer monitor around to show her the Instagram page I’d opened as soon as Mac texted me the profile name.

Viv blanched, then flushed bright red.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so it’s not an Instagram page dedicated to this shop that you started without checking with me first?”

“Okay. It is what you think. But Dad said it was okay!” she cried.

“Your dad said…” I started, then stopped to sort out my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I pinched the top of my nose and let it out slowly. “Let’s circle back to that in a minute. First, we need to discuss this name.”

Viv straightened up slightly and frowned at me. “You want to talk about the name? Not the account?”

“We’ll get there. The name is the bigger issue,” I replied, keeping my voice as steady and calm as possible.

“Well, you and Fiona weren’t picking a name, so I had to choose something until one of you comes up with something that isn’t cringe or pathetically basic,” she explained, as though her reasoning made all the sense in the world.

“And you went with Steeped in Something? That was the best you could come up with?” I asked, my eyebrow arched incredulously.

“Well, yeah.” Viv shrugged. “Tea. Steeps. Duh.”

“Viv, I want you to look at that handle really carefully and tell me what it would say if you took out one of the two e’s in Steeped and replaced it with another p, like, say, if someone were reading fast or scrolling by.” Clenching my teeth, I waited for her to read the handle a few times.

When her eyes widened suddenly, and her hand shot to her mouth, I nodded. “And now you know why that’s a problem,” I said.