by Lila Kane
He opened the tin and took out the tea ball, considering it for a moment. Put the tea leaves in the ball, he assumed. And dip it in the hot water.
That’s right, he could manage a household.
So he still didn’t have any milk for the cereal in his house and he’d slept on a cot last night. But Morgan had a bed, and he kept her fed, and she was healthy for the most part. He was doing a damn good job if he said so himself.
Better than Deirdre. Better than he had when he was still with Deirdre. It was easy to get caught in her reckless enthusiasm. Let’s go out tonight. Let’s get a drink. Let’s smoke some pot. And it was just as easy to get caught in her depression. I’m too miserable to go out. Let’s have another drink until we can’t think anymore. Let’s forget the bills this month. It’s not fair we have to pay them anyway.
Once Morgan had turned three, he’d had enough. You couldn’t raise a child with that kind of inconsistency. He’d told Deirdre it was over.
He hadn’t expected the fight. Hadn’t expected her to get a lawyer and drag him to court. In the end, she’d never shown up for the custody hearing. She’d packed her stuff one day when he was at the park with Morgan and after that, only showed up when she needed money or someplace to stay.
By the time Morgan turned four, he was a single parent. By the time she’d turned five, he was ready for a new start.
Cole found a mug, filled it with water, and heated it in the microwave. He brought Morgan to the couch and sat her with Cooper, urging her to drink some of the tea. When it cooled enough she wouldn’t burn herself, he left her with it, made sure the front door was locked and grabbed a quick shower.
By the time he stepped out, Morgan had finished her mug and sat on the floor with Cooper. “More tea, please,” she said in a high-pitched voice like it was her dog talking.
“Cooper wants more tea?” he asked, walking to the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“Is he going to share it with you?”
“Of course. He can only have half a cup because he’s allergic to peppermint.”
Cole chuckled.
He made more tea, added a paper cup of Cheerios, and dropped them off for Morgan before snagging his laptop. So much for work today. He needed to get the basics taken care of first. Groceries. Medicine in case Morgan got a fever. Phone numbers in case she needed to go to the doctor.
He glanced out the window in his study, catching sight of one of the colorful windsocks on his neighbor’s porch. Tori would know all these things. He stepped closer and looked for her car in the driveway, but saw it was empty.
Probably at work. She said a shop. Someplace that has tea.
He’d have to figure that out, too. To check the place out. Stop in and say hi and thank her for the tea.
Just being neighborly. That was how it was done around here, as it seemed.
So he’d work to fit in. After all, if things went well, he and Morgan might be here a while.
The warm afternoon brought a wave of regulars to the back patio. Many opted for iced tea instead of their usual hot tea and chatted to the sound of the creek behind the shop and the laughter of kids playing on the animals.
Tori brought another round of blackberry tea to the red table, dropping a tray of quiche tartlets along with it. Hannah made breakfast, lunch, and afternoon fare fresh every day. Much better than Grounds, if she had to be honest.
“Whatcha got going next for the zoo?” Layla Morton asked, snatching a quiche tart and popping it in her mouth.
She, her mom, and a cousin from just south of the city owned their own hair and manicure salon at the end of Main Street. It must have been cousin Jess’s turn to man the store.
Tori brushed her hair from her cheek, a dark strand curling in the humidity. “I’m pretty sure I can convince Jack to make a goat.”
Layla’s mom chuckled. “A goat?”
Tori nodded. They already had a pig, a goose, and a pony. More and more families came in the afternoon, so they needed a larger zoo.
“What about a rooster?” Layla asked.
Tori watched a young boy she didn’t recognize scoop up wood chips and pretend to feed them to the pony. “A rooster would fight with the goose.”
“You could do a sheep. Or a dog. That’d be precious,” Mrs. Morton said.
The boy’s mom shouted at him when he left the circle of animals and wandered toward the wooden swing by the creek. “You stay away from that water!”
Which was a hard feat when there were already three other kids wading up to their ankles. One carried a quiche tartlet, and Tori made a mental note to talk to Hannah about adding them to their menu every week.
“I’ll think about the dog,” Tori said. “Anything else I can get you?”
Layla snagged another mini quiche. “Not yet, but we’d love a jar of your Grams’ clotted cream and a bag of scones when we head out.”
Mrs. Morton rolled her eyes. “Got my sister coming into town tonight. I pretend I can actually bake and she pretends she’s not a huge pain in my ass.”
Tori grinned. “Sounds like a fair trade.”
“What would be a fair trade is if she’d do the cooking for once. She’s the one who eats it all anyway.”
Before Tori could turn for the shop again, Layla cast her a sly smile. “You talked with that neighbor of yours yet?”
“Brought him lasagna last night, warned him about Mrs. Chutney’s casserole.”
“Bless your heart,” Mrs. Morton said. “You should tell Cass to outlaw Mrs. Chutney’s tuna casserole. Doc Westbrook doesn’t have time for that nonsense, not with this cold that’s been going around.”
“You feel a tickle in your throat, you take some of our peppermint tea home with you tonight and have a cup before bed and one tomorrow morning.” Tori touched her shoulder. “It’s on the house.”
She left over more discussion of Cole, the same kind of gossip she’d warned him of. But it was going around today as she’d expected. Garden Creek didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday afternoon.
They had a new band playing at Stonewalls tonight, but that wouldn’t get going for another four hours yet, and it seemed everyone had taken off work early to gossip out by the zoo of animals.
Grams stood inside at the register, bagging four tins of their lemon tea. “It’s all chatter out there,” she said, shaking her head.
“Which is why you let me man the patio today.” Tori gathered empty mugs from the bin by the register.
“I don’t want to be biased. I want to see for myself.”
“See what for yourself?”
“See him for myself,” Grams said. When the woman by the shelf of tea merchandise stepped back to the register, Grams rang her up and passed over the bag. “Enjoy the tea.”
“You mean my new neighbor,” Tori said.
Grams wiped her hands on her apron and cocked her hip against the counter. “That’s right.”
“What makes you think you’d be biased? He’s just a regular guy. With a cute little girl, and probably no interest in walking around a town that can’t stop talking about him.”
Grams lips curved. “Defensive.”
Tori frowned and carried the mugs to the back, where Hannah was washing up the rest of the pans from lunch. “Those quiche tartlets were a big hit. I think we should make them a Friday regular.”
“And the new blackberry tea,” Grams said, “because I don’t think I’ve sold anything else to our patio customers all day.”
Tori nodded. “Blackberry tea and quiche special. Maybe a scone to go on the side.”
“Or one of those double fudge brownies,” Hannah suggested.
“Too sweet,” both Tori and Grams said at the same time.
Grams followed her back into the shop, carrying a rag to wipe the counter. “So you brought him lasagna?”
“By him, I’m assuming you mean my neighbor. Cole. The one you don’t want to hear any gossip about.”
Grams grinned. “When you tel
l it, it’s not gossip.”
“It’s conversation?”
“Exactly.”
“He’s nice.”
“And?”
“He’s tall.”
“And?”
And I want to run my hands under his shirt, just to feel how hard his pecs and abs really are under there…
“His daughter has blond hair?” Tori asked, trying to focus. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here, Grams.”
“Reasons,” she said with a nod.
“What reasons?”
“Why you’re not talking about him like the rest of town. Even Cass was in here earlier. And, sure, she’s not a gossip either, but she didn’t have any trouble mentioning how fine she thought he was.”
Tori couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine?”
“Handsome? Is that better? What you’d expect from an old lady like me?”
Tori wrapped her arm around her Grams’ shoulders. “You’re not old.”
“Sophisticated. Experienced. Whatever.”
“Use all the synonyms you want, I still don’t think you’re old. Now, when I’m pushing you around in a wheelchair and you start cooking like Mrs. Chutney, then I might call you old.”
Grams grimaced. “She brought him the cat food casserole, didn’t she? Oh, Lord, you made it there in time, didn’t you?”
“Just in time to see Natalie sashaying back home, and yes, in time to stop him from making a trip to see Doc Westbrook.”
Grams wiggled her eyebrows. “Now, this is the kind of gossip I’m talking about.”
Tori lifted her hands. “That’s all I’ve got. He seems normal, which is out of the usual for my neighborhood, but what can I do?”
“Turn him to the dark side,” Grams snickered.
With a laugh, Tori stepped to the register and spotted Brooks pulling up in front of the store. Her spine stiffened.
Grams followed her gaze, then her nose wrinkled. “Go on, now. Out the back.”
“We don’t close for another hour.”
“You came in early. Get yourself some wine, take it easy tonight, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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