“Reg!” five voices said with a combination of shock and laughter.
“It’s true,” he said. “Not that I’m encouraging that behavior, young man.”
They hung around the sheriff’s office so long, congratulating each other on their accomplishments, and narrow escapes, they were still outside when Jimmy was brought along in cuffs. While Sheriff Wender fumbled with the station door, Jimmy turned to the group.
“I’m sorry that you lost your boyfriend,” he told Willow with a shake of his head. “But I can’t apologize for what I did, even though I’m now ready to admit to his killing. That man needed to find out what it feels to have your life destroyed.”
Willow was so filled with outrage at the cold-hearted speech that, for a while, she couldn’t answer. Her cheeks flushed red with heat and her hands curled into fists.
“Why did you do it now?” she finally asked. The question frustrated her when there were so many more she wanted an answer for, but it was the one she alighted on first.
“Billy no-name came along, looking for money,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “I usually just move him along, but he said he’d carry the sign and walk up and down all day in return for a bottle of spirits. He said no one would ever know it wasn’t me. It just got the wheels turning in my head.”
“And what?” Tear filled Willow’s eyes as she stared at the blank face of a man she’d never really known. “You thought this is the perfect opportunity to murder someone in cold blood?”
Sheriff Wender made a move as if to escort the prisoner inside, but Reg stepped forward and held up a hand. “Let him give her an answer, hey? You might be saving all of us a lot of sleepless nights spent wondering.”
“Roger took all the best parts of my life and used them to fund his weekend golfing.” Jimmy’s face twisted with rage. “I would’ve killed him years ago, but I was scared to spend my life in prison. When Billy made the offer, I realized I don’t have a life. Not anymore. Roger stripped it all away from me.”
“I nearly spent those years in prison for you,” Trisha said, stepping forward. She poked a finger into Jimmy’s chest and the sheriff grabbed her hand and moved it away with a stern expression. “And if it hadn’t been me, it might’ve been my boy!”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have let that happen.” Jimmy straightened up his shoulders. “I’m not an evil man, just a bad one. Perhaps, if I’d been a better man, I might’ve been able to move on instead of dwelling on everything I’d lost.”
“You never even tried. Out front with your billboard every day.” Trisha’s lip curled. “You could have been out getting a job and putting your life back together. Roger did more harm to me and I never even thought of doing what you did. You made the choice to look backward instead of forward. You chose to seeth and wreak revenge on somebody who was just doing a job.”
“My life wasn’t a business deal!” The flash of hatred in Jimmy’s face was so strong Willow fell back a step, curling her hand up against her chest. “I was a real person, not just some number on a spreadsheet. I mattered!”
“So did Roger!” Willow felt the tears fall but didn’t bother to wipe them away. She’d suppressed them for long enough. “He was a kind man and a humorous one, and I loved him. How dare you take him away from me?”
Jimmy stared at her, his own face crumbling into disarray until, finally, he couldn’t look her in the eye any longer and stared down at the floor. “What’s done is done.”
Sheriff Wender jerked Jimmy forward and pushed through into the office to lead the man down to the cells. Reg put an arm around Willow’s shoulders and she leaned against him, grateful for the support.
“I suppose if I take your advice, Trisha, and look forward instead of backward, I should be glad the real killer has been brought to justice,” Willow said. “I know Roger had a very different influence on your lives, but I’m grateful for the time I got to know him.”
She thought of the Roger she’d grown close to, the man who would drop by at night with a surprise gift and a twinkle in his eye. “I’m also happy I no longer need to watch my back for a killer.”
“Amen to that,” Trisha said with a smile. “And yes, despite all his numerous flaws, I think deep down, Roger could be a good man.”
“Very, very, very deep down,” Mael grumbled, causing his mom to laugh again.
“I think we should do something to celebrate,” Harmony said. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Willow said, hooking her arm through Reg’s and Harmony’s, “you should all come back to mine for a nice cup of herbal tea.”
It would give her great pleasure to see the tape being taken down from her precious garden and life going back to some semblance of normal. No matter what regrets she wept over in the small hours of the night.
Chapter Fourteen
Willow pressed down the lid on the cardboard box and held it in place with her elbow while she wrestled with the masking tape. After having filled up a half-dozen boxes already, she was now something of an expert at packing.
She was also tuckered out.
The kettle whistled its cheery tune to say it was ready and waiting. Willow maneuvered the last box into the hallway alongside its brothers, all ready and waiting for the St. Vincent van to drop by and collect them.
Eschewing her usual mid-morning mint tea for a second cup of coffee, Willow walked to the kitchen door and opened it to peer out at the view beyond. With the memories of the terrible sight that had greeted her one morning too strong to stand, she’d dug up the path from the garden to the shed.
There was now a new route, sewn with a trail of brightly colored pebbles instead of old concrete tiles. The spot where Roger had been discovered was now bare earth.
Although it wouldn’t be fit for planting until the spring, Willow had turned over the soil in that patch and mulched in lots of fertilizer, readying it in preparation for the seasons ahead. As soon as the weather grew warmer, Willow planned to sew lots of daisies into the ground there.
That would be a much better reminder of Roger than the haunting memory her mind threw at her currently. A row of the flowers he both loved to see, smell, and drink when brewed up in a nice pot of chamomile tea.
In the years to come, Willow also hoped her memories would recede into the bittersweet pangs of what might have been instead of the sharp needle of loss she felt now.
“Anybody home?” Harmony called out from the side of the house. She held up a pail of manure as a present—and the reason she hadn’t let herself into the front of the house.
“Thank you so much,” Willow said, taking it out of her friend’s hands and placing it around the back, by the shed door. “My garden will love you for this all next year.”
“My neighbor said you’re welcome to as much of their horse droppings as you can stand to collect,” Harmony said, giving Willow a fragrant hug. “Although I must say, he looked shocked when I first asked him.”
“I can imagine,” Willow said with a laugh, shaking her head as she ushered Harmony indoors. “It’s not every day someone offers to clean up after your animal and pay you for the privilege.”
“He wouldn’t take the money,” Harmony said, pulling some crumpled notes out of her pocket. She held them out for Willow, who shook her head. “Your door-to-door service is worth it. Hold tight, and I’ll get you a brew.”
Harmony’s tastes changed like her interests, stopping in one port for a few weeks before sailing forth to another. For the past month, it had stopped on rosehip, and Willow was eager to find out where her friend’s taste buds would lead her next.
“I swear, this tea is good enough to sell,” Harmony said, taking a seat in the lounge and waving at Mavis, who was sunning herself inside her new home. “You should packet it up and try the Sunday markets. I’m sure you’d make a killing.”
“Actually,” Willow said, choosing her words carefully because the idea behind them was so tender, “I had been thinking about something along those lines. The solicitor
handling Roger’s estate contacted me to say he’s lodged probate and in another six months—barring any unforeseen appeals from long lost family members—I should receive his bequest in my account.”
“That’ll be a relief, I’m sure,” Harmony said.
Willow nodded at her friend, taking another sip from her cup to forestall the words she wasn’t sure she was ready to say aloud.
Luckily, her dead mother was there, inside her head, with a quick lecture—don’t be such a coward, Willow. You’re the head of the house now.
“There’s enough money there to try something that’s been in the back of my mind for a while now.” Willow ducked her head forward, letting her hair cover up her face as she struggled to share the secret hope she’d been growing in her mind. “I want to open up a tea shop.”
“Well!” Harmony said, her arm jerking a little but recovering before the tea left in her cup could spill. “I suppose I’d better take advantage of your generosity now, then. Before you’re in high demand.”
“You think I’d be in demand?” Willow felt as shy as her first day at school as she looked at her friend beneath lowered lashes. The idea out loud sounded both sillier than it had in her head, and more robust—like something that might actually come into being.
“They’ll be beating down your doors,” Harmony said firmly. “I suppose you’ll be converting the conservatory out back into the tearooms? That’ll get the best of the sunshine during winter but be nice and cool in the middle of summer.”
Willow leaned forward, nodding. That had been her plan exactly. “I think if I extended it out a little, then it should easily have enough space to fit a dozen tables. Maybe more.”
Harmony clapped her hands together in excitement. “Let’s go and walk it out together. I’m much better at imagining things when I’m standing in the right spot.”
Mavis poked her head out of the end of her tunnel, staring at them from her big, blue eyes in astonishment. Willow leaned down to give her a quick stroke along her back, letting Mavis fight a battle with her forefinger as she withdrew.
“We might have to find a perfect spot for you to sit inside there, too, little one,” she cooed to the kitten.
“Somewhere nice and big,” Harmony said with a giggle. “Have you seen how large a Maine Coon cat grows to be? Soon, she’ll be giving you a run for your money.”
They walked out the back door from the kitchen, chatting excitedly over Willow’s future plans.
Chapter One
For the few minutes after Willow Foxglove woke, she believed it might be possible to fall back asleep. There was no light stealing into the room, although she’d left the curtains open. That meant it wasn’t yet a decent hour. Even in slow creep toward mid-winter, being awake before the sun was too early. Without light, she couldn’t go out into the garden to dig around and start the day good and proper.
No. Definitely a few more minutes—perhaps a few more hours—of sleep was needed before Willow could even consider cracking open her eyes.
A painfully loud hammering began in the room beneath her.
Willow tried valiantly to ignore this new intrusion into her attempt at unconsciousness. The pillow upon which she’d been resting her head took a small journey, ending up on top of her face, pressed tightly against her ears.
If only the builders would stop their racket for a minute, sleep still seemed possible.
Mavis jumped on her chest. The kitten had grown in leaps and bounds since their first acquaintance. Every time Willow mentioned how big the cat was getting, Harmony gave her a twisted smile and said, “You wait.”
Willow still didn’t know much about cats. She’d decided after an eye-glazing session at the library that apart from house-training, everything could be learned simply by cohabiting with her furry companion for a while. So far, it had worked perfectly.
“Go downstairs,” Willow whispered, abandoning the pillow—it was useless as a set of earplugs. “If you go through the conservatory all the builders will stop to admire you and ensure you’re out of harms’ way.”
Willow stroked the soft fur underneath Mavis’ chin, just where she liked it, and the kitten closed her eyes in ecstasy. “If you do that, Mommy can have at least another five, maybe ten minutes of snoozing before she needs to face the day.”
The mission shared, Willow shooed her kitten off the bed to go and do her duty. Mavis got halfway across the floor before deciding she’d prefer to curl up inside one of Willow’s slippers. That she no longer fit in there, didn’t faze her in the slightest.
“We’re going to have to sort out this situation, kitty. I can’t have you disobeying orders when we’re in a war against noise!”
Mavis appeared to have no such trouble with the battle, closing her eyes and promptly falling asleep.
Another furious spate of hammering didn’t even have the kitten stirring. Willow wished her own nervous system could handle the terrible noise of her conservatory being renovated into a commercial tearoom with the same equanimity.
“Move along, Mavis. I need my slippers.” Willow prodded the unresponsive kitten with the tip of her toe and received only a low purr of satisfaction in response. She sneezed, a hint of her allergies still lingering despite the success of the shots the doctor had given her to dull them. At least the hives were a thing of the past.
To keep the kitten captive in her cat house might have been a breeze for Mavis, who loved the playrooms, but it had been torture for Willow. She was a woman who loved to roam where she pleased and wanted her cat to have the ability do the same.
Now her allergic reactions were more controlled, it gave Willow great pleasure to see Mavis wandering around the house at her leisure. Except for right this minute, when she was being a decidedly naughty cat.
Unwilling to kick Mavis out of her temporary bedding, Willow fetched another pair of slippers from the cupboard. These ones were newer and less used because they were less comfortable but for the short trip downstairs, they’d have to do.
A flowing silk robe over her nighttime pajamas completed Willow’s transition from nighttime to morning. She would have another change in her near future, from a robed woman to one showered, made-up, and adequately dressed, but one step at a time.
First off, Willow needed a mug of hot tea—something with a caffeine kick to start the day right and make up for the lack of sunlight. While walking out of the bedroom, she decided on an estate black with a touch of cayenne pepper.
She didn’t often drink teas outside of what her own garden could produce, but when Willow did stock them, they were the best she could afford. If that level of refined heat couldn’t get her heart pumping, nothing would.
“Morning, Miss Foxglove,” one of the builders called out, trekking across her kitchen.
Willow tried not to see the lumps of mud falling off the side of his soles, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the young man’s open smile.
“Good morning.” Willow had a brief struggle to remember his name, then dismissed it with a toss of her head. “You got off to an early start today.”
“Just the usual time, missus.” As Willow reached out for the kettle, he warned her, “You’ll need to boil that again. We’ve been through at least two full jugs already.”
When the builders set up shop in her conservatory—a time that seemed like months ago to Willow but was in actuality just a few weeks—she’d told the men they could help themselves to her tea chest of goodies.
At the time, she’d thought them an excellent experimental base for what might be popular when the tea shop opened. In retrospect, all she’d done was make sure whenever she wanted a nice cup for herself, she was at the back of a very long queue.
You’re the one who told them they could, Willow reminded herself as the young lad left and an older worker arrived. This time, at least, she could remember the man’s name. “Good morning, Charley.”
“Morning, Miss Willow. How’s Monday treating you?” he asked, reaching for the kettle and g
iving a sigh as he flicked the cold container on to boil. He held his white mug aloft. “Always miss out, these days. Soon, the boss’ll be through the door, calling me back to work without any refreshment.”
Sure enough, halfway to the jug boiling, the head builder, Jeff Waterman, stuck his head into the kitchen, nodding to Willow and glaring at his employee. “Break time’s over. The rest of us are starting work.”
Charley nodded, and Willow took his empty mug. “I’ll bring this in when the kettle’s boiled,” she said. “Berry with stevia, isn’t it?”
That earned her a shy smile as Charley nodded. “That’s the one.” He patted his rotund stomach. “Got to watch the sugar intake.”
As he walked back through to the increased banging and crashing from the next room, the boss stayed put.
“It’s nice of you to offer things for the boys,” Jeff said. “But I need them working to a timetable. Otherwise, I’ll never get this lot finished.”
“A few minutes won’t hurt,” Willow said, yawning and easing out the stiffness in her shoulder. “Charley missed the hot water, that’s all. Otherwise, he would’ve been back in there already.”
“Hm. Not from what I’ve seen,” Jeff said, his normally mild face screwing up into an expression of contempt. “That one’s even lazier than the young lad, and I’m on the verge of firing them both.”
Willow stared down at her feet. The slippers were far too garish, she decided. For some reason, that made them even more uncomfortable than the ill-fit warranted. Not nearly so uncomfortable as the talk of hiring and firing made her feel, however.
At least Jeff seemed to root out the problem and soon made amends. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk shop in front of you. We’re on track for the building, so that’s the main thing. I’ll sort out my workers as need be.”
“It’s good to hear that,” Willow said. “Not that you’ve been a bother or anything, but it will be nice to get the place back to myself.”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 9