Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 10

  “I thought you were opening up a shop?” Jeff rested against the door frame, crossing his ankles as though he planned on staying for a while.

  “Yes, I am.” Willow turned as the kettle clicked off and poured a nice hot stream over her prepared leaves before doing the same for Charley’s mug.

  “Then you’ll never have the place to yourself again, will you?”

  Willow frowned in annoyance. If only she’d made it downstairs earlier, the conversation could have commenced after a hit of caffeine was merrily waking up her bloodstream. As it was, she felt on the back foot. Willow offered Jeff a shrug, passing by with Charley’s mug and holding it up when she walked through the doorway, to draw his attention.

  “Thank you, missus,” Charley said. “Much obliged.”

  The hint of British-ness about his person delighted Willow for some strange reason. On her favorite show, Miss Walsham Investigates, the man with whom the main character had an on-again-off-again relationship also had a British accent. It was all very James Bond-like.

  “If you’re done bringing my men their morning refreshments, would you mind leaving so we can get on with the building?” Jeff asked.

  Willow frowned. His suggestion was framed in such an utterly reasonable tone of voice she couldn’t possibly take it as a slight—and yet she did.

  Trying her best to stomp in the fluffy crimson slippers, Willow tipped her nose into the air and made her way back through to the kitchen. She took her wake-up drink into the lounge, sipping furiously as she imagined a massive load of bricks suddenly falling on the rear of her house, ending with all the builders fleeing and no chance of setting up a tearoom at all.

  Willow smiled as she settled into the daydream, the thought filling her with a sneaky delight. Mavis trotted downstairs—refreshed from her nap—to curl against Willow’s thigh and promptly fall back to sleep.

  * * *

  An hour later, Willow was out in the backyard. After fooling around with half-hearted weeding—a useless effort since the pests had curled up in despair at the colder weather and basically surrendered—Willow thought the only thing the garden was growing was discontent.

  Willow wanted the tearooms—of course, she did—but as soon as she’d taken steps to make the dream a reality, it all became overwhelming. Just working out what the conservatory needed in the way of changes to transform it into commercial premises was terrible enough. Next came the hiring of the right firm.

  After that, she had to undergo the ritual humiliation of being told that nothing she’d drawn up could possibly become a reality. In the nick of time, Harmony had also saved her by pointing out she’d need to check everything she was doing through the health department to make sure the proper guidelines were met.

  What had seemed a fun project had progressively nibbled away at Willow’s enthusiasm until she wanted to fling her arms up in surrender, shouting, “I’m done.”

  But then she’d lose even more face.

  Until this project, Willow hadn’t realized how much she relied on other people having a good opinion of her. To give up publicly and say she couldn’t do it, would ruin more than her tearoom dream. She mightn’t be able to venture into the town square ever again!

  In fact, Willow would prefer to move away from Aniseed Valley forever than endure the shame of being a public failure. Even though she’d lose her best friends and her comfortable house and probably half her money to boot.

  As Willow stared in horror at the builders in the conservatory, she thought it possible she might end up a homeless discard because she’d once thought it was an excellent idea to serve people herbal tea.

  A field mouse scampered over the back of Willow’s hand, immediately chased by a very alert Mavis. That was another problem she needed to deal with, according to Harmony. The mice population around here required her to put an eradication program into production.

  How on Earth did wanting to serve tea end up with her killing rodents? Willow didn’t even mind the little creatures. They stayed in their places, and she stayed in hers. On the one occasion a mouse got into her home, the poor thing had died of fright before she could take steps to move it back out.

  Willow wiped away a few tears of frustration while getting to her feet. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the plan coming into reality. Once the tearooms got off the ground, she could luxuriate in the memory of this moment of hideous doubt.

  When they brought her onto Good Morning America or some-such program, Willow would be able to laugh while informing the host how close the business came to not opening at all.

  Willow’s heartbeat stopped racing, and her stomach loosened out of its knot of anxiety. She took a couple of deep breaths, inhaling the smell of the soil, defrosting slowly in the weak rays of the morning sun.

  Winter was the time for regrowth, and things always looked hopeless around now. The garden wasn’t a living bed of plants stretching up to the sun. Instead, it was a place of dull soil and dry sticks, with all the goodness of another harvest buried deeply out of sight beneath the earth.

  The same winter nipping at her garden had struck her plan for the tearooms, too. This was her winter of discontent, and soon it would show the first blossom of oncoming spring.

  But it couldn’t do that until the builders undertook their craft with all the ensuing racket. As Willow became aware of her surroundings once more, the piercing noise of an electric drill tore through the air.

  A headache began to pulse behind her right eye. Whether from the noise or the induced stress of her house being full of men with tools, it didn’t matter. Willow needed to get away from this place for a while and give her nerves a nice break. A café in town could cook her breakfast this morning and, while she was gone, the builders could invade the kitchen to their heart’s content.

  With renewed enthusiasm for the day, Willow tromped back through her dead winter garden to freshen up and dress in something appropriate for public viewing.

  Her plan for breakfast was unfortunately derailed when Willow finished pulling on her best slacks, only to hear the doorbell.

  It seemed life had a different plan on offer for her day.

  Chapter Two

  Reg stood at the door, shoulders slumped in total defeat. With a cry of welcome, Willow pulled him inside and sent him through to the kitchen. She placed her hand on the side of the kettle and had to stop her jaw from clenching. The jug was cold again. With a sigh, she refilled it and clicked it on to boil.

  Reg was a private man, apart from the odd enthusiasm that spilled from him everywhere he went. Although he might confide in a total stranger about every theory on offer about Roswell, if Willow tried to come at whatever concerned him now, directly, he would shy away and clam up.

  “It’s a nice morning, isn’t it?” Willow always had a well of weather-related small talk at hand for these occasions. It worked equally well in all social situations and could expand out for hours in remembrances of exciting weather from the past.

  Except Reg wasn’t in an expanding-conversation mood. “Is it?”

  “Nice for this time of the year, anyway. I ventured out to the garden to do some weeding, and the plants have all died off. Saves me quite a lot of trouble.”

  Reg stared out the kitchen window, his face dull and gray, looking much older than his sixty-seven years. “Everything dies in the end.”

  Willow shut her eyes. She could have kicked herself for forgetting the date. Today was the anniversary of Reg’s wife’s death and no wonder he was in a mood. This day was always a torment for him, much as her own anniversary of widowhood would be in a few weeks.

  “This’ll warm you up,” Willow said, sliding across the mug of mint tea. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ve got something with a kick of pepper that does the trick. I tried it myself this morning.”

  When she sat down, Willow chose the chair beside Reg rather than across from him. Together, they stared out the window, watching the gray landscape through sad eyes.

  �
��Hey, missus. Okay if I pop the kettle on again for our break?”

  Willow turned and smiled at Charley. “Go right ahead. Glad to see you getting in first, this time.”

  “Right you are.” Charley refilled the jug and stood by while it came to the boil. “You her fancy man, are you?” he asked after a long pause.

  Willow laughed while Reg snorted. “No,” she said. “This is my friend, Reg. He used to be the groundskeeper at the high school in town here, if you attended?”

  Charley shook his head. “Nah. My folks brought me over after I was finished with all that nonsense. I’d been in an apprenticeship with a builder back in old Blighty, so just picked up something along the same lines here.”

  Reg frowned. “What’s old Blighty?”

  Willow thought Charley’s laugh might have more to do with the absolute puzzlement on Reg’s face than the question itself.

  “It’s a nickname for Britain. Us ex-pats have a ton of them. If you ever want to learn a bit of slang, come down to The Old Chestnut pub of an evening, and I’ll teach you a boatload over a pint.”

  Reg’s eyes brightened a little, then faded. “I’ve got my work in the evening.”

  Jeff appeared in the connecting door, arms folded in a stern line across his chest. “You having your break early, are you?”

  Charley shot him a cheerful smile. “I’m getting the pot warmed up for everybody.”

  Willow frowned at the expression of disgust that flooded onto Jeff’s face. Poor Charley seemed utterly oblivious, continuing the conversation as though his boss hadn’t interrupted.

  “I thought you said you were retired.” The kettle boiled, Charley got to work, pouring out cups for all the builders. “How d’you have work at night?”

  “I keep an eye on the heavens,” Reg said, his eyes lighting up with the same fervor that always consumed him when he got onto his favorite topic. “I’m a UFO spotter for our town. It’s my job to view the sky every night and investigate every suspicious sighting folks in the village have.”

  “You what?” Jeff looked at Reg with a smirk on his face. “Are you mental, or something?”

  A flash of color crossed Reg’s face, displacing the earlier sadness. “No. I’m not mental. There’re plenty of sightings of things we can’t explain going on every night. Not just in this country, it’s a recognized phenomenon in every place in the world.”

  “What?” Jeff gave a bark of disbelieving laughter. “You mean, having a town nutter pointing at the sky and mistaking a star for a UFO happens worldwide?”

  Charley bristled and stepped before his boss before Reg got the chance. “Leave off him. Everyone’s got their hobbies.”

  “Yeah. You certainly treat this job as though it were a hobby.”

  Willow’s earlier anxiety crept back into position. She jumped up, grabbing a couple of the mugs Charley had already prepared. “Give me a hand with these, will you?” She threw a pointed look at Charley. “I’m sure the men are ready for a break. There’re some cookies in the cupboard, too.”

  “Lovely.” Charley’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed the box, pulling it open and plucking the top one out to pop straight into his mouth. He tucked the rest of the packet underneath his arm, picking up the remaining mugs to follow Willow through into the conservatory.

  After a quick chat with the other builders, Willow heard the raised voices of an increasingly heated argument coming from her kitchen. “I better get back.” The reluctance of her slow footsteps showed precisely how much she wanted to do that.

  Reg was shouting as she walked back in. “Are you foolish enough to think the government tells you everything? Do you really think Watergate was an anomaly? Wise up. Politicians have been blatantly lying to everyone for years. Next, you’ll be saying you believe in the moon landing.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “If you think that’s a conspiracy too, why don’t you tell it to Buzz Aldrin’s face? I’d love to see him punch you out for spouting such nonsense.”

  “Do you mind?” Willow’s voice wasn’t loud, but it made up for in anger what it lacked in volume. She glared at the head builder. “I’m trying to have a peaceful morning break with my friend, and I don’t need it interrupted by someone who should be doing the job I employed him to do.”

  Willow held her back so straight her muscles started to shake with the effort. At her full height, she stood five feet eleven. More than a match for most men and Jeff was no exception. Recognition of where he was seemed to flood into his face a second before he blushed with the shame of being told off. Although Willow sympathized, she didn’t stand down.

  “Yeah, sorry. I got a bit heated.” Jeff held out his hand to Reg, who tentatively shook it in return. “Apologies, mate. You can believe in whatever you like, it’s no skin off my nose.”

  In light of the volume his voice had been a minute ago, Willow doubted that was the case. At least he was trying to be gracious though.

  Reg wasn’t attempting the same. Willow could tell from the curl of his lip he was about to launch into another lecture on the ills of the world. On any other day, she’d show him the sharp side of her tongue as well, but today required special handling. Instead of giving him the talking-to he should have, Willow maneuvered Reg toward the exit.

  “I’m taking you out for brunch, and I won’t take no for an answer. I haven’t had anything to eat yet, and I’m about to faint from hunger, okay?”

  Reg gave a nod of acquiescence, but his eyes lingered on Jeff, glaring at his new adversary over Willow’s shoulder until she slammed the front door shut, cutting off his view.

  When it came, the café brunch was so lovely Willow had to fight an internal battle against staying seated and ordering a second one. She picked at the last crumbs on her plate and sighed as she decided seconds weren’t needed. The sunlight might not be intense today, but it was enough to chase the blues of early morning away.

  “I’m going to go down to the library and visit Harmony,” Reg said as they walked out of the café. “She can give me a nice lecture on whatever her latest reading fad is, and that should take me clear through to the afternoon!”

  Willow laughed and kissed him goodbye. She understood all too well the long, sad days a person had to crawl through to reach another morning, which might not be so bad. Her blue day would be taking place in a few weeks and given her marriage hadn’t been as enjoyable as Reg’s, it probably wouldn’t be as difficult. Nevertheless, the bond of loss was what had first brought her and Reg together, so at least they’d built something good out of it.

  Harmony didn’t work at the town library, but she spent so much time there she might as well have. In the time it would take the actual librarian to look up a book on the rickety computer system, Harmony could step in and lead the customer directly to the right shelf.

  The peace and quiet of the library greatly appealed to Willow too, but she forced herself to wave goodbye to Reg and head home. She had a kitten to think of, one she preferred not to leave alone in the company of builders for too long. She dreaded Mavis learning even half the lexicon of slang and swear words that sometimes came pouring out of the worker’s mouths. It might be a rich and varied language, but she didn’t want it sullying her darling Mavis’ ears.

  As though thinking about her was a summons, Mavis was waiting for Willow at the front gate. She stooped to pick the kitten up, earning a loud click in each knee from the effort. “What are you doing out here, little miss?”

  A second later Willow had her answer as Jeff’s loud voice came tumbling out of her house.

  “You barely work when you are here, and now you’re teaching my apprentice your lazy habits. Get on out, both of you. I don’t want to see your faces turning up to work again. Since you love moonlighting so much, earn your living doing that and see how far it gets you.”

  Jeff’s angry roar was enough for Willow to decide she didn’t need to head indoors just yet. Instead, she carried Mavis through the garden down to the back river and sat cross-legged on
the hard ground. Luckily, it hadn’t rained for some time, otherwise, the shadows from the trees lining the banks would leave the field muddy. Not that her hips or knees would appreciate the ground wasn’t soggy when it was time to stand up!

  “We don’t need that kind of attitude in our house, do we?” Mavis looked up at Willow with a grave expression, the spiky fur at the tips of her ears making her expression seem quite attentive. “That’s right,” Willow said as though the kitten had answered. “It fills the house with bad energy. No wonder the renovations haven’t been finished with so many miserable vibes in the air.”

  She stroked her finger along Mavis’s back until the cat started to lean into the rhythm, purring so loudly Willow didn’t even have to bend down to hear it. “You’re a good kitten, and I know you’d never behave in that way. Imagine yelling at your employees like that, when anyone walking past outside can hear? That’s the sign of bad breeding, Mavis. Thank goodness, that’s something neither you nor me suffer from.”

  Even though she was now sitting at least a football field’s length away from the house, Willow still clearly heard her front door being slammed, followed a few seconds later by the revving of a van engine. She turned to the road and kept her eyes peeled.

  When Jeff’s vehicle flew past, far too quick for her peaceful street, Willow breathed a sigh of relief and gathered Mavis up into her arms. It took a minute or two to get all the way back to standing, a transition that took longer with each passing year.

  “Now that horrid man has gone, let's get back home and decide what to have for dinner. I seem to remember there’s a nice fish pie in the freezer waiting to be thawed.”

  At the word fish, Mavis’s ears flicked out to either side in interest. Although Willow spent a lot of time talking to the kitten, only a few words ever managed to stick. That was one of them.

  “And, if I’m in the mood, I might see if there’s another building crew in town who wouldn’t mind finishing up the last touches to the conservatory,” Willow mused on the walk back to the house. “It’ll cost me a lot more money, I’ll be bound, but it might be nice to investigate the options.”