Pushing Up Daisies

by Katherine Hayton

  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 reminded of Roger than the haunting memory her mind threw up at her now. 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.

  Thanks for Reading!

  I hope you enjoyed the first outing of Willow Foxglove in the Tea Shop Cozy Mystery series. I hope to bring you another one in a fortnight’s time, entitled Berry Murderous. I’ve included a sample chapter in the following pages to whet your appetite.

  If you want to ensure that you never miss a Tea Shop Cozy Mystery, then please follow me on Amazon and they’ll send you an alert email whenever a new title is released.

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  Chapter One - Berry Murderous

  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 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 minutes—perhaps a few hours—more 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 with 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 slipper.” 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.

  She was also a woman who liked to sleep in until she pleased, a habit it seemed she must bid adieu to for the time being.

  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. For the 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.

  “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 giving 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 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.”

  As he walked back through to the increased banging and crashing from the next room, the boss, Jeff Waterman, stayed put.

  “It’s nice of you to offer things for the boys,” he 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 edge of firing him.”

  Willow stared down at her feet. The slippers were far too garish, she decided. That made them even more uncomfortable than was possibly warranted. Not as awkward as talk of hiring and firing, 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.”

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

  “Yes, I am.” Willow turned as the kettle clicked off, pouring 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 to draw his attention.

  “Thank you, missus,” he 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?” 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, Mavis trotting 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 weeds 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, W
illow 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.