Jack slid out the door before Finn had time to clarify, but the intention resounded loud and clear. Single man with adorable daughter? In a small town? He looked over at Lucy, who hummed theSleeping Beautysong as she happily moved back to her picture where she’d added a “mummy and baby sister.”
Finn groaned. He was in so much trouble.
Chapter 2
@WisteriaWeekly:This just in! Former Wisteria native turned international influencer and podcaster was spotted up at @WisteriaManor with her business tycoon fiancé, Travis Langford. What’s the scoop? #InquiringMinds #SmallTownGossip
@GrannyDOfficial:Was he that fella with the real purdy eyelashes? Saw ’em from clean across the restaurant. #NotThatIWasLooking #AppreciationIsAgeless
@TheRidgesFineDining:They ate here last night and Maude overheard wedding talk. #SupportSmallBusinesses #LocalFlavorOverCatered
@PastorNateNHC:Let’s extend a warm Wisteria welcome, friends—because Hebrews 13:2 says we might be entertaining angels (or influencers) unawares.??Also, the fiancé’s car nearly inspired next Sunday’s sermon: “Where Your Treasure Is... Please Park It in Front of the Church.” Btw, Daphne @TeaThymeNC, I nearly laid hands on that car. Something you’d completely understand. #LoveThyNeighbor #AndTheirHorsepower #WisteriaHospitality
Comments:
@TeaThymeNC:I refuse to acknowledge anything related to what you’re talking about. #HowDidYouKnowAnyway? #Busybody
@WisteriaGeneralStore:Should we start printing “Lindsay + Travis 4ever” mugs or is it too soon? Asking for a friend. #WisteriaWeddings #TeamTrindsay #TooSoon
@SheriffGrady:As long as they don’t double park outside the courthouse, I don’t care if Beyoncé shows up.
The fundraiser had been a relative success. Four thousand dollars raised in only two hours of afternoon tea. Young ladies donned their best dresses, and a few dapper gentlemen brought their smiles and generosity.
And she desperately needed all the generosity she could muster, especially after plumber extraordinaire Jacob Lawson’s last visit. Old piping. A long-standing leak with water damage behind the kitchen wall.
All much more costly than she’d make in three fundraisers, let alone one.
She needed more events. Try to get another wedding or graduation party or bridal shower? Or all three.
She sighed and swept beneath the chairs, the bristles catching on the worn spots in the hardwood that told stories of thousands of tea sippers who’d come before. She straightened a picture on one wall—an oil painting of a forget-me-not that Granny had haggled for at an estate sale—before moving to the other wall to ensure all the teapots were aligned in perfect formation, like ceramic soldiers guarding the legacy of Tea Thyme.
Daphne had kept everything the same as Granny left it before she died... almost a year ago now. The floral wallpaper on one accent wall. The faded tablecloths. The recipes.
All the same.
A year ago, Daphne had done a lot of things differently. Made occasional baking videos for social media. Created adorable graphicspairing certain types of tea with beloved books or movies. Even invented recipes and her own tea blends to match moods or personalities of the dearly loved (or less loved) folks in town.
And her creativity had always made Granny smile.
But change felt different now—like betrayal, like erasing fingerprints from a treasured keepsake.
Like... losing something else she couldn’t get back.
Her gaze trailed over the tea shop space. Golden afternoon light streamed through the large front windows, casting honeyed shadows across the room and highlighting some of the dents in the wide-planked floor.
She released a long breath, stirring a wisp of hair that had escaped her practical bun hours ago. It seemed that she lived from month to month and really needed a way to move forward enough financially to breathe a little easier.
Her heart squeezed in her chest.
And perhaps change was the one thing she needed to save this shop.
New ideas? Brave chances into bigger, bolder things?
With a drop of her shoulders, she propped the broom against the wall and moved to the nearest kettle, warming up some water for a last cup of the day.
Even a year ago, the shop hadn’t brought in massive amounts of revenue—unless you counted the amounts of elderly gossip exchanged over Earl Grey, which sadly couldn’t be deposited into a bank account. But with increased repairs for the aging building and the rising costs of supplies, Daphne was feeling the crunch of growing Tea Thyme on her own.
She swore she could hear Granny muttering about “highway robbery” every time she placed an order for loose tea that cost twice what it had just three years ago.
