by Blythe Baker
“No.” My voice came out surprisingly loud. I was firm in my decision.
“What?” He scoffed as if he didn’t hear me correctly. Anger glinted in his eye, and his charm started to crumble.
“I said no. I’m not interested.” As I repeated the rejection, I felt my confidence grow.
“Ha. Okay. I see what this is. You’re a shrewd business woman, Miss Morgan. How about I pay you twice what it’s worth?”
“No amount of money is going to change my mind.”
His face reddened. “Look here, one way or another I’m going to get that property. I’ll give you some time to think it over, but I promise you that you haven’t heard the last of me!”
With his chest puffed out to make himself seem larger, Daniel Walker turned abruptly and stomped out of the living room. The house shook when he slammed the front door shut behind him.
“Rawk! Last of me!” Moonshine squawked from under his blanket, repeating Walker’s last words.
For once, I agreed with my feathered guest. I too hoped we’d seen the last of Mr. Walker. I peeled the covering off Moonshine’s cage. “He was a bit of a slimy snake, wasn’t he, Moonshine?”
“I’ll say! What a rude little man.” Mamma Jackie slipped into the living room. She made no apology for having apparently been eavesdropping on my conversation with Walker. I was too worked up from the meeting and Walker’s threats to mind.
“Rawk! Little man!” Moonshine bobbed his head and echoed his mistress.
I told my ex-mother-in-law, “Don’t worry about him. I can handle Daniel Walker. I have everything under control.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She held up her glass. “I was just coming down for a refill. I’m headed back to bed now. Do you need anything?”
I was grateful for the uncharacteristic offer of help. “No, I don’t need anything, but thanks for asking.”
I smiled solemnly and watched her walk back up the stairs. Did I really have it under control? In the short time since I moved to Little River, there had been a dead body, a police investigator that suspected me of murder, and angry, threatening neighbors on both sides of the business’s property. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew. Was I crazy for following the advice of a fortune cookie and leaving behind everything to take over the garden? I left behind my friends, family, and a stable job. Now, I had been thrown into a whirlwind of secrets and uncertainty. Silently, I wondered if I had made the right decision.
Chapter 12
“They’re here!” Boxes were piled in front of the gate at the tea garden. The word Fragile was printed in large, red letters across the sides. The souvenirs had finally arrived. I skipped out of my car and scooped up a few of the boxes. It was possible that I was more excited about their arrival than the guests would be.
“Need a hand?” Kelly locked her car with a beep.
“Yeah, sure. Just grab a box or two.”
The two of us lumbered awkwardly up the hill to the giftshop. I shimmied the key into the lock and kicked the door open gently with my foot. Placing the boxes on the floor, I used the tip of my key to pierce the tape and pull back the cardboard flaps. Teapots wrapped in layers of bubble wrap were nestled happily inside.
“This is great!” I took the time to free one of the pots from its wrapping. Beautiful green brushstrokes decorated its dark grey body. A faux bamboo handle straddled the opening on the top. I placed it gently on one of the shelves for a display item.
“I have the fans.” Kelly pulled out a light green fan and batted it playfully in front of her face.
If we had been in different circumstances where I didn’t suspect that she was a murderer, I might even be able to see myself as friends with her.
“Did we get everything?” I asked.
“Uh, I think there might be one more box by the gate. Do you want me to go grab it?”
Kelly started to stand up, but I stopped her. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it. You finish setting up. I could use the sunshine.”
It was a beautiful day. Besides, there wasn’t really anything in the office anymore aside from some old book keeping I was holding on to for tax purposes. I was confident there was nothing in the office to pique the interest of a possible murderer. With that reassuring little thought in mind, I walked down the hill to the gate.
“Good morning, Miss Morgan.”
“Detective Sullivan! What are you doing here?” My stomach bottomed out as I saw him.
“I’m not here to arrest you or anything. Just thought I should clarify that. But…”
“But what?” I didn’t like where this was going.
“We had a complaint filed by Agatha Jenkins.”
“What?”
He rocked back and forth on his heels. “She said you were stalking her.”
“That’s ridiculous! No, I’m not!”
“Did you show up at her quilting club meeting?”
“Well, yes, but I wasn’t stalking her. I just wanted pointers on how to sew some curtains together.”
“I see. Under the circumstances, I think it would be best if maybe you didn’t go back to another meeting or hang around someplace if you see her show up. She’s still grieving, and it wouldn’t take much to make her irate right now.”
Irate enough to kill? “I’ll take your suggestion into consideration. I can’t believe she said I was stalking her. Do you have any leads yet on the murder?”
“None that I can discuss.”
I glanced down at the ground. “Do you still think I’m a suspect?”
“I think we haven’t ruled out anything at this time.”
“That seems like a very noncommittal answer.”
“Oh, yeah. They teach noncommittal answers and press evasion 101 at the precinct. I was top in my class.” Laughter glinted mischievously in his eye.
A smile broke across the anxious expression I had been wearing. “Do you want a bottle of water or anything?”
“No, thank you. I need to be getting back. I just wanted to stop by and give you a heads up about the stalker situation. Although, if Agatha asks, it was a verbal warning to leave her alone.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. The further away she is from me, the better.” I hoisted up the last box and turned to go up the hill as the detective left.
“See you around, Miss Morgan.”
I waved awkwardly with the tips of my fingers. It was the best I could manage with my arms full of trinkets.
Stalking her? Agatha had actually gone to the police to tell them I was stalking her? The nerve of that woman! I may not have had the best intentions about going to the quilting club, but I certainly wasn’t there to stalk her. What kind of grand delusions did she have for her to believe that nonsense? I lugged the box up the hill to the store.
Kelly was leaning in the doorway. “Was that the same detective who took you in for questioning?”
“Yes, it was.”
“What did he want?”
“He was just letting me know that Agatha filed a complaint against me. She thinks I’m stalking her.”
Kelly lowered her voice and squinted at me. “Well, are you?”
“What? No! Of course not.”
“Relax! I was just joking.” Kelly laughed and playfully patted my arm. “Who would want to stalk her, anyway?”
“Beats me.” I opened the last box. Containers of loose leaf tea were jam-packed inside.
Kelly picked up a tin of shincha and rolled it in her hands. “This one was your grandmother’s favorite.”
“It was?”
She nodded, lost in a memory. “She would brew us some tea at the end of the day so that we could enjoy the garden the way it was intended to be enjoyed.”
“You know, I’m kind of sad that you knew her better than I did.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized I had said them.
“She talked about you a lot.”
I looked up, surprised. “She did?”
“Yes. She was very proud of
you. She even had a picture of you on your wedding day that she kept in her purse.”
It was hard for me to imagine that. Someone who had been to the wedding must have sent the photo to her. “I miss her.” The regret that had been building up inside me suddenly brimmed over the top.
“When I miss her, I just look at the garden. I think her spirit is still here with us. She breathed life into everything here. It was a part of her.” Kelly’s voice was wistful as she spoke.
“I hope she would be pleased with everything we’ve done,” I said.
“She would be. I think you’ve surpassed her wildest dreams. You’ve really taken great care of this place, Maddie. Towards the end, she had to close it down, and it broke her heart. She just couldn’t do it anymore. Even walking from the gate to the souvenir shop was too much for her. I tried to tell her that I would keep things going so she could stay home and rest, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She hated sitting still. She was the kind of woman who always felt like she had to be doing something. Even if she just stayed home for one day, she started to get cabin fever.”
“I can relate. I’m the same way. When the police had the place shut down during the investigation, I was ready to climb the walls. I hated staying at home all day.”
“See? Maybe you have more in common with your grandmother than you thought.”
“Maybe.”
Kelly glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time to open. I better get down to the gate. Can you finish setting up on your own, or do you need some help?”
“No, I’ve got it. All I have to do is arrange the merchandise. You go ahead.”
“See you later, boss!” She tossed me the tin of shincha tea and headed back to the front gate.
I stood up with a melancholy smile on my face. Kelly was right. It did feel like my grandmother’s spirit was in the garden. It had been her life’s work. Such a special place deserved to be preserved. How could Daniel Walker even suggest that I should sell the place? He was wrong. The land might not have a lot of monetary potential for me, but it was still worth something. Preserving my grandmother’s work meant more to me than a guy like Daniel could ever understand.
I peeked out of the window. A few early guests were wandering inside. The beautiful weather made the day perfect for a stroll. One couple had a picnic basket cradled in the crook of their arms. A red and white checkered blanket flew like a summertime flag from the corner of the wicker basket. Nostalgic wistfulness draped my mind in a cobweb of old memories.
I could remember my grandmother taking me outside when I was little. Her hair had been wrapped up in a neat bun. The smell of sweet flowers mingled with the buzz of insects. We sat on a blanket on the ground, and she told me stories about her life and about Japanese culture. We ate rice balls and drank tea while she talked. It was one of the few memories I had of her.
During one of our teatimes, I had accidentally broken my cup. Even though I was little, I knew that it had belonged to my grandmother’s favorite tea set. I had been devastated. Grandmother had merely taken the pieces and folded them into a silk handkerchief. That was the day I had learned about Kintsugi. She explained that gold was used to mend broken pots and cups. Even though something was broken, that didn’t make it any less beautiful or useful. At the current divorced-and-career-floundering spot in my life, those words gave me hope that I would be mended too one day.
The time went by quickly enough. Some souvenirs were bought by the visitors. I found myself glancing towards the rock wall separating myself from the Jenkins property line. There was no sign of Agatha. Part of me expected to see her grey head pop up over the wall at any time. A thin layer of anger rested like sediment in the pit of my stomach. First, she accused me of murdering her sister, and then she accused me of stalking her. If it was left up to Agatha Jenkins, I would be run out of town in no time flat.
“Mommy, look!” A sweet faced little girl pointed to a teapot on one of the lower shelves.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” The woman stroked the little girl’s hair. “Don’t touch, Megan.”
I smiled warmly at the woman. “How can I help you?”
“I was hoping to get some loose-leaf tea for my mother-in-law.”
“Do you know what kind of tea she likes?”
“Actually, I only know that she hates black tea.”
I started to reach for a tin of tea. “That’s okay. We have several other options.”
“No. I don’t think you understand. I want the black tea.”
“I thought you just said she hated it.” I cocked my head to the side questioningly.
“Oh, she does. That’s why I want it. It’s a little game we play. She gives me olives that I’m allergic to, and I give her black tea.”
“I see.” Say what I would about Mamma Jackie, at least my ex-mother-in-law didn’t try to kill me with foods I was allergic to. “Here you go. Kocha should do the—”
A crash shattered the calmness of the little store. “Megan! I told you not to touch stuff!”
“I-I didn’t mean to.” The little girl was almost in tears.
“Ugh. Look at this mess.” The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“It’s fine. Really. I’ll clean it up.” I handed the woman the tea and took the creased bills from her clutched hands.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry about this. Megan, apologize to the lady.”
Through teary eyes and a snotty nose, the little girl managed to mumble a few words. “I’m s-s-sorry.”
“It’s okay. I promise.” I waved them out before rifling through the cabinets for a dustpan and a hand broom.
The woman grabbed her daughter’s hand and pulled her back outside. Once they were out of earshot, I could tell by the body language that the little girl was getting a lecture. On the floor was a broken teapot. Chunky shards were scattered near where the girl had been standing. I squatted down and began to clean up the mess.
As the sun began to set, the last few visitors trickled out of the garden. Kelly trotted up the hill to the souvenir shop. She placed her hands on her back to brace herself. “How’s it going, boss? You ready to head home?”
“Yes. I just have to finish cleaning this up first.”
Kelly’s eyes landed on the shards in the dustpan. “Oh no! What happened?”
“It was just a little accident. A customer knocked it down. I’ve almost got it all cleaned up.”
“Okay, I’m going to go ahead and go then.”
I continued sweeping up chunks of porcelain. It was a good thing I had bought the souvenirs at a discounted price in bulk. It was more important to me that the little girl hadn’t been hurt by the shards. I could always replace the teapot. The tea garden was supposed to be a place of tranquility and happiness. I didn’t want the girl to grow up and associate the beauty of nature with a bad memory. My knees popped as I stood up to dump the dustpan.
The sky outside was deepening to a blood red before the last fingers of sunset curled under the horizon. I grabbed my keys and locked up. Sweet floral scents wafted gently on a tender breeze. The sound of the waterfall was slowly becoming white noise to me. Insects sang lullabies in the grass.
Then, the skin on the back of my neck prickled. I had the sensation that someone was watching me. My eyes scanned the area, but I couldn’t see anything. Maybe my imagination was finally getting the better of me. With a deep breath, I shrugged it off and walked to the parking lot.
Just as I was about to climb in my car and head home, I saw a box in the backseat of my vehicle. Shoot! I forgot all about that! I had found some large silk fans and a few other things in my grandmother’s attic. When I had seen the merchandise by the gate earlier, I had forgotten to bring in the other décor items. Not wanting to have to unload the box at home and bring it back the next day, I decided to just go ahead and carry it up to the giftshop.
The contents jostled with each step. Darkness blanketed the garden. Starlight lit up the path in front of me. Blotches of sky were
blacked out by clouds. I cradled the box lovingly on my hip as I wiggled the key into the doorknob. The switch flipped on and flooded the little building with golden light. My fingers unjammed the cardboard flaps holding the box closed. If I stayed a little later, I could get everything set up before work in the morning.
Hanging the fans and other items I had found in the attic somehow made the place feel homier. A heavy frame held a picture of my grandmother as a young woman in front of the gardens when they first opened. In a way, I felt like I was sharing my family history with the guests. I only wished I knew more of that history personally.
Taking a step back to admire my handiwork, I heard something rustle nearby. I froze with my heart in my throat. Was I imagining things? The sound happened again. It was inside. Summoning my courage, I ran towards the back room that was a storage room combined with my grandmother’s old office. Shadows shrouded the back room. I burst inside just in time to see an indistinct figure scrambling out through an open window. Standing on my tiptoes, I pressed my fingertips into the wooden windowsill. It was too dark to make anything out for certain. What had they been doing? The desk!
I whirled around. The desk had been gone through, but it didn’t look like anything had been stolen. My foresight to take home all of the important documents had paid off. The adrenaline in my blood soon faded to nervous shaking. Someone had been in the shop with me, and I hadn’t even known it until it was too late. Had it been the murderer?
My first panicked thought was to run. Blood pounded in my ears. I had enough sense to grab my things and lock the store up, but the run down the hill was a blur of shadows and greenery. I was in my car before I had time to register that I had made it. Fear shook my body. Ragged breaths clawed their way in and out of my lungs. The parking lot was still dark. Why hadn’t I made those extra lights a priority? Vibrating with terror, I managed to start my car and pull out onto the road.