“You mean Rafe?” I peer over at the sleek, purring body on my shoulder. “He’s not so bad. He’s asleep on my shoulder right now.”
“Are we talking about the same cat? He’s a little shit, and he can get away with whatever he likes because he technically owns the shop.”
“What?”
“Yup,” Angela laughs mirthlessly. “My grandmother left her shop to that cat. I manage the property on his behalf, which also means I have to feed him and clean his litter tray. Sir Scratchalot does not approve of the discount wet food I’ve chosen. But if he’s taken a liking to you, maybe that’s a sign? Please let it be a sign. My grandmother was big into signs.”
“Okay, okay.” I smile at Rafe. “I guess I’ll take the shop. And the cat.”
“Amazing. What name am I putting down on the paperwork?”
“I’m Autumn. And the shop’s name is…” I smile as the perfect name appears in my head like magic. “The Bee-Witching Brews Meadery.”
II
Inspector Hayes: Mrs Abernathy, I wanted to update you on the investigation.
We’ve asked around the neighbourhood, and at least two witnesses saw your husband leave in his car that morning. CCTV has traced the vehicle to the edge of King’s Copse Wood just outside of Argleton, where instead of getting on the motorway towards London, he turned off into the woods. A critter got into the camera in that part of the woods, so we don’t have any footage, but we also don’t have footage of him leaving the woods, either, so we’re concentrating our search there.
I’ll keep you updated if we find anything.
It’s mine. All mine.
It’s two hours later. I popped over to the bank, still with Rafe nestled on my shoulder, and explained that my husband is missing and I needed to withdraw money from our joint account. The nice clerk had already heard the gossip from the village rumour mill, and she was only too happy to help. A bee waddled over her keyboard while she handed me some forms to fill in, but I had to set Rafe down on the counter. He strutted around with his tail in the air while I signed a couple of documents without reading them, and she passed me a thick pile of cash.
Rafe thanked her by hacking a hairball on her mousepad.
She even gave me a bank card, which I’ve never had for our bank account before. I hold the little plastic rectangle in my fist like it’s a piece of treasure, even though I know that I’ll probably never use it. Ithas a picture of a fat ginger cat with a self-satisfied smirk that reminds me of Rafe.
My bond and deposit secured, Rafe and I meet Angela Hardcastle at the shop. I can barely read a single word because my vision has gone all blurry and my heart thunders in my ears.Am I really doing this?At any moment, I expect Warrick to burst in and yell that I’m wasting our money on my frivolous little hobbies.
But that doesn’t happen.
Now I’m back in the shop, eating my second cream doughnut while I draw a floor plan and to-do list and try to stop Rafe from eating my pencil. I have so much to do.
Clean Old Widow Hardcastle’s junk from the backroom.
Clean shop top-to-bottom.
Repaint walls.
Check on mead stocks at home – do we have enough for opening?
Transport and secure barrels and taps.
Refrigeration? Ice machine? (Can I get ice cubes shaped like bees? Is that too cutesy?)
Build bar, shelving, tables, and stools.
Artwork for the walls.
POS system.
Mead wench outfit?
Give each mead a pun-infused name.
WHAT TO DO ABOUT RAFE?
