It would take some work to clean up after the storm, but I didn’t think it would take more than a day. Hamish would be here in less than an hour and set straight to work. He cared as much about the garden as I did.
I had bent to pick up some of the fallen sticks when I heard a stick snap. I looked up and found myself eye to eye with the resident fox.
I smiled. “Hello, Uncle Ian. I’m glad to see you are all right.”
The fox blinked his blue eyes at me. I wasn’t sure how I knew that the fox was my godfather, but I knew it down to my bones. I had tried to convince the animal speak to me many times, but apparently he had nothing to say or the magic didn’t work that way. The stone hadn’t given me the ability to speak to animals, which was a pity.
“I was afraid something might have happened to you in the storm.” I left the sticks where they were on the ground and straightened.
The fox took a step closer to me. The fox had my godfather’s eyes, which I know sounds crazy. And, if I was being honest, I could have sworn that the fox didn’t just have traits of Uncle Ian—those inquisitive looks and blue eyes, that mischievous grin. I reached out my hand, but he pivoted away toward the hedgerow and around the side of it.
Around the hedge, the menhir stood with its faded triskele, a three-pronged ancient Celtic spiral, carved in the stone, and the yellow rose entwined around it. By looking at the menhir alone, I never would have known that there had been such a fierce storm the night before.
Something about the stone drew me to it, and I held out my hand as if to touch it. The fox jumped between me and the menhir. That was when I saw the two withered rose petals at the foot of the standing stone. I shivered. What could this mean? In the time that I had been taking care of the garden, the rose had always bloomed. Nary a petal had fallen from the vine in all that time, but now those two petals lay in the bright green grass.
I bent to pick them up, and the fox growled at me softly. I wasn’t afraid that he would hurt me, but I pulled my hand back in any case. The fallen petals meant that trouble was coming. I wasn’t certain how, but I knew it in my bones just as I knew the true identity of the fox. But what kind of trouble, I didn’t know.
Perhaps the menhir could tell me, but I was hesitant to touch it. I remembered the instructions my godfather had left me in the letter before he died.
Rule #1: It’s important that you and the garden stay connected. You must visit it as much as possible in your early days. In time, you will be able to leave it for longer periods, as I did.
Rule #2: The garden should be cared for and treated like any other garden. You must water, weed, and feed it. The better cared for the garden is, the stronger your connection with it will grow. Hamish will help you as he helped me.
But the most important rule was the third and final one.
Rule #3: The menhir and the rose are the heart of the garden and the source of the magic. They were there first, and everything else grew up around them. They are your true connection to the magic. To know what the garden wants you to know, you must touch the stone. Do not approach this task lightly. You will see things that you may not want to see.
I had to take care when touching the stone because I might have visions I didn’t want. And it seemed the fox version of my godfather wasn’t ready for me to see any at the moment. Today was the opening of the Climbing Rose. Whatever trouble was coming for me, it could wait.
I nodded. “All right. All right.” I stepped back from the stone.
I wished I could spend all day in the garden trimming, weeding, and planting, but I had a flower shop opening to get to. I said good-bye to the fox and left the garden.
Three hours later, Isla sat in the passenger seat as I drove my car under the stone arch that marked the entrance into the village and around the roundabout with the seven-foot-tall bronze unicorn in the middle of it. I drove my new silver Astra over the stone bridge into the residential part of the village, parking on a side street that had free parking. It made for a bit of a walk to the flower shop, but as a new business owner, I had to save every penny I could. I couldn’t be feeding a parking meter every couple of hours.
“I’ll never get used to sitting on the wrong side of the car,” Isla said as she opened the passenger door. The car was a third of the size of the SUV I’d owned and sold back home in Nashville. However, it was much more practical for the narrow roads and tight parking spots in Scotland. I would have been terrified to drive anything larger than a toaster in the United Kingdom.
“You would be surprised what you can get used to.” I opened my own car door. I had been living in Scotland for less than two months, and Duncreigan already felt like home to me.
Isla shivered and rubbed her bare arms. “It’s freezing this morning. Doesn’t the calendar know it’s July?”
I laughed. “This is July in Scotland, Isla, not in Tennessee. It’s never going to be as hot here as it gets back home. You should have worn a jacket.”
“I refuse to wear a jacket in July. It goes against everything I stand for.”
I simply shook my head. There was no arguing with my sister when she made a statement like that.
I opened the car’s trunk and removed the boxes of supplies that I wanted to take to my shop. I handed two of the boxes to my sister.
She eyed the boxes. “Those look heavy.”
I laughed. “It’s mostly tulle and wire for flower arranging. You’re not going to break your back carrying them to the shop.”
She sighed. “I guess not.”
We walked back over the bridge into the main part of town. The creek that ran under the bridge was high and the water moved swiftly under our feet. I wondered if perhaps the bridge troll that I imagined lived there had been washed away in the storm. The unicorn statue that reared up on the roundabout didn’t look any worse for wear after the storm. A troll bridge and a unicorn in the town center. The Scots liked their legends, which made me smile, thinking that Duncreigan was a part of that lore too.
A tree that had been overlooking the creek lay in two pieces, its top doused in the debris that filled the creek. Damp leaves and tree limbs were scattered all over the cobblestone roads and the sidewalk. Two village workmen collected fallen branches along the roads, while a third revved the engine of his chainsaw and approached a fallen tree.
“Looks like there was a little storm damage after all,” my sister said over the grind of the chainsaw. “I think Duncreigan got off easy.”
I bit my lip, praying that my shop was intact. Part of me feared a tree limb had sliced through the front window, allowing the wind and rain inside. I’d put everything, including the entirety of my savings and a large portion of the money I’d inherited from my godfather, into opening the shop.
I adjusted the boxes in my arms and hurried past the small Tesco and the laundromat. I knew I wouldn’t relax until I knew that everything at the Climbing Rose was all right.
As the shop came into view, the bright-yellow awning that I’d added to the facade jutted out from the building and shaded the large front windows. It had taken some convincing of the village council to allow me to vary the building, but they’d finally agreed. The awning protected the flowers in the front window displays from the heat of the afternoon sun, which would be too direct in the west-facing window. I wasn’t going to sell any flowers if the only ones that passersby could see were wilted by the sun.
Villagers made their way to the Twisted Fox, the local pub on the corner just beyond my shop, for breakfast. I made a mental note to stop in later for a scone and a bit of tea once I checked to make sure my shop was okay. I always like to say hello to Raj Kapoor, the sixty-something barkeep owner of the pub as well as the owner of the only laundromat in the village. He and his kind twin sister, Presha, had become two of my closest friends since I’d moved to Scotland. It also helped that they owned two of the best eateries in the village. Presha owned and operated Presha’s Teas. I never had to worry where I would find my next meal in the village.
I had been lucky to find the space right next door to the Twisted Fox, which was the most popular place in all of Bellewick. In addition to the Twisted Fox and Presha’s Teas, there were two walkup food stands in the harbor. One sold meat pies and the other fish and chips. For a full breakfast, lunch, and dinner menu, the Twisted Fox was it.
I came to a halt in front of my shop. The yellow awning was safely in place with THE CLIMBING ROSE FLOWER SHOP emblazoned in black letters across it. My blue-and-white window display of hydrangeas, peonies, daisies, canna lilies, and bachelor buttons was just how I’d left it. The bright-blue front door was also intact, and the rose-shaped knocker, which I had installed myself, was still there. Everything was how we’d left it the evening before the storm hit. All was well.
Isla caught up with me on the sidewalk. “Is there a reason we’re running? I’m carrying boxes here.”
“We only have a few hours before the party. There’s a lot to do,” I said. “I think—”
“Look!” Isla interrupted me and pointed at the door. There was a piece of parchment paper tucked between the closed door and the doorjamb.
My sister plucked the paper from the door and showed it to me. Across the back, my name was written in precise lettering. I reached for the paper, but my sister held it away from me.
“It could be from the adorable chief inspector who has a crush on you.” She danced on the sidewalk. “You will have your own Scottish love story a la Outlander without the hassle of time travel.” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead as if in a swoon.
“Chief Inspector Craig does not have a crush on me.” I tried to grab the note from her hand, but she was too quick. The text message Craig had sent me the night before came to mind, but there was no way I was telling her about that. It hadn’t meant anything. Craig was just a nice police officer, checking in on a new citizen under his jurisdiction. That was all. I held out my hand. “Isla, please give me the note.”
She shook her head and dropped her hand from her forehead. “I won’t read your love note. I just want to know if I am right in guessing who it might be from.” She started to unfold the parchment.
“Isla! Mom would be very disappointed in your manners right now.” I set my boxes down.
“Mom’s back on the farm feeding the chickens. She’ll never know.” She raised her brow. “And why do you care if I know who it’s from? I thought sisters aren’t supposed to have any secrets. Is Craig your secret from me?”
“Shh,” I hissed, and looked around me.
Villagers strolled up and down the street. It was Monday morning, and many of them were on their way to work or out on an early walk. The last thing I wanted was a rumor to circulate about Craig and me in the village. Although Chief Inspector Craig no longer lived in Bellewick, he’d grown up in the village and was here often.
Isla unfolded the note and began to read.
“Isla, you shouldn’t read other people’s notes!”
Her usually pale face blanched until her skin was the same shade of white as a boiled egg.
“Isla, what is it?” I asked.
She looked up at me with huge eyes. “It’s not a love note.”
Chapter Four
My brow wrinkled, and I took the piece of folded paper from her shaking hand. “Let me see.”
I unfolded the note. It read, The garden is not what you think. It will destroy you as it has others. Let this be a lesson to you. I write this for your sake. The note was signed, The Reverend Quaid MacCullen.
My stomach clenched, but I forced a laugh. “It’s just a message from Minister MacCullen. He’s not a fan of Duncreigan or the garden.” I waved the note. “Maybe he’s trying to be nice.”
“Not a big deal? He cursed you! Like for real!” She took a step back from me. “He put some Scottish voodoo on you. I had better keep my distance.”
“No one has the power to curse someone. That’s absolutely ridiculous. Minister MacCullen is all talk, and I’m certain that he would be offended if he knew that you called his supposed curse Scottish voodoo. There’s nothing of the kind.” I said this as much for my own benefit as for Isla’s. “I’m not going to let him ruin opening day.”
She stepped closer to me. “That’s right, sister, and I’m here to help you.” She paused. “But if your hair starts falling out or something, I bounce.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the support, Sis.”
I unlocked the door and was happy to see that everything was just as I had left it. The flowers were arranged to perfection and ready for their big debut. The light coming through the two large windows played off their brightly colored petals and shone off their waxy leaves.
I would make this shop a success. I promised myself that as I crushed the folded note from the minister in my hand. It would be much easier to do if I didn’t have outside complications, such as a minister who thought that the garden, and me by extension, were somehow evil. It seemed to me that the minister was the only one who felt that way about Duncreigan. All the villagers knew Baird’s story, the history of the place, and that the garden’s flowers continued to grow even in the deepest and darkest moments of winter. They just accepted that was the way things were at Duncreigan. Apparently, the minister could not.
I walked into the workroom with my boxes and set them on the island. I dropped the note from the minister in the middle of the work island as well. I would deal with it later or not at all. Minister MacCullen had hated Duncreigan long before I came along. I didn’t know what I could do to make it any better.
“Where should I put these?” Isla stepped into the room, still carrying her boxes from the car.
“Set those there,” I told my sister. “One of them has tulle inside. I would like to use it for some of the last-minute arrangements I’m making.”
Isla dropped the box in the general area I asked her to. “Have you heard from Mom and Dad?”
I shook my head.
Before she went back into the showroom, my sister said, “I think it’s lame they aren’t here for your opening. They should be.”
I winced because I had thought the same thing more than once. I wanted my parents to be here to see what I had been able to accomplish in a very short time. But they had seemed more distant than ever since I’d moved to Scotland, and I didn’t think it was the geographical distance that was making them hold back. There was something more to it than that. I just didn’t know what. “You know July is a busy time on the farm. It’s hard for Mom and Dad to get away,” I called after her.
My younger sister popped her head into the workroom and snorted. “They could have gotten away if they wanted to. If you ask me, they didn’t come because they don’t want to face the fact that Uncle Ian is dead. He was like a brother to them both. They just can’t deal with it, and maybe they thought they should have inherited Duncreigan and not you.”
I didn’t want to think that any possible resentment lingered from Uncle Ian’s will. I knew my parents were happy for me. Although I also knew they would much rather have me living close by in the States. As for the shop opening, I tended to think it was their grief over Uncle Ian’s death that kept them at bay. Rather than sharing my thoughts, I turned to Isla and quirked a brow. “Those are pretty deep ideas, Isla.”
“Hey, I’m a college graduate. I think deep thoughts.” She removed her phone from her pocket and frowned at the screen.
I stifled a smile because I didn’t want her to think I was laughing at her. “Let’s get ready for the opening,” I said as I inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers and immediately felt my body begin to relax.
I hoped to do flowers for weddings, parties, and social events throughout the county. The toughest part was going to be getting my name out there—so far no one in Aberdeenshire had ever heard of me.
The shop opened at ten, so I had to have everything ready for the party before then because I would have to be available in case any customers wandered in. The party was set for two o
’clock. It was time to get to work.
Around one in the afternoon, I tucked another vase full of blue hydrangeas in the large window display and stepped back, admiring my work. It was perfect.
I was in the middle of patting myself on the back when Presha floated in. My friend pushed a metal cart that was stacked high with white bakery boxes with one hand. In the other hand, she held a large paper cup of her fragrant chai. She handed me the chai. “I thought you could use this.”
I held the drink under my nose and inhaled the sweet and spicy scent. Presha’s chai was strong, much stronger than any I’d had back in the States, but over the last several weeks I had become accustomed to it. If I ever ordered chai back home again, I knew it would be too weak for my taste.
Presha was a sixty-something Indian woman who had been living in Bellewick for over forty years. She and Raj had left their home country for the United Kingdom decades ago, and somehow landed in the seaside village. Bellewick was certainly off the beaten path, and I had never heard the full story of how they had picked this tiny fishing village when they had so many other choices.
She had long black hair that had thin streaks of silver running throughout, and like her brother, she had high cheekbones and deep-set brown eyes.
I held up the cup. “Thank you. I really did need it.”
“I thought you might.” She winked at me. “Where’s your sister? I thought she’d be here with you helping out.”
I glanced around. Isla wasn’t there. I moved to the back of the room and peeked in the workroom. She wasn’t there either.
Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered me. But I was wound so tight over the opening and the note that the minister had left that I was more than a little irritated.
I forced a laugh. “She probably got bored and went for a walk. Or maybe went to call one of her friends back home. She’s been playing with her phone a lot.”
Presha studied me with her dark eyes for a full minute. I did my best not to squirm under her closer scrutiny.
Death and Daisies Page 3