It’s a long list, and it grows longer every minute as a new thought comes to me. (I need hand dryers for the bathroom, a blackboard for the menu, and how many swords can I hang on the walls beforethey’re a health & safety risk?) I have so much to do before I can open, but I haven’t been so energised for a project since Warrick and I were trying for a baby. I don’t have a lot of money – the lady at the bank seemed to think we did, but I know Warrick was always worried about money – and I don’t know the first thing about painting walls or choosing a POS system or running a shop…
“I guess I’ll figure it out as I go—Rafe,no,” I moan as he happily gnaws holes in the end of the pencil.
I wouldn’t have to resort to eating the wooden lollipop if you’d feed me. I am but a poor, starving orphan and you are forcing me to drool on your list with your cruelty.
“I fed you anhourago, and–wait a second, why am I answering you? You didn’t talk to me. It’s just my imagination. You can’t understand me. I can tell you all my most horrible, darkest secrets, like the fact that my husband is missing and I don’t think I’m sad about it, or that I read all these romance novels where the hero gives the heroine multiple shuddering orgasms and I don’t think I’ve ever had one. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I assume if they were like they are in the books, then I’d probably remember it?—”
“Knock, knock.”
Cheeks burning, I set down the perforated pencil and look up, hoping my visitor hadn’t overheard my confession.
A woman with long, reddish-brown hair reaching almost to her waist stands in the doorway. She wears a t-shirt from a band I don’t know, but all the members are carrying swords, which implies I might like them, and a pleated tartan midi skirt with bright red boots. She’s around my age but far, far too cool for Argleton. I remember her name, Mina, from the book club I went to with Celeste. Mina runs the bookshop where the book club was held. In one hand, she holds a 10L paint bucket and a smaller can of primer. In the other, she grips the harness of a guide dog.
“Hello?” I ask. “It’s Mina, right? Are you looking for Celeste? I’m Autumn. I came to your book club a few times. I’m renting the shop.”
“Rrrrrwww!” Rafe’s back arches as he regards the golden retrieverat Mina’s side. He doesn’t seem at all perturbed that a cat has just declared war.
Mina doesn’t seem fazed by Rafe’s greeting, either. “I remember you, Autumn. And it’s actually you I’ve come to see. Do you remember my guide dog, Oscar? He won’t hurt the orange terror.”
“How’d you know Rafe has orange points?” I clamp my hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, that’s rude of me. You don’t have to answer that.”
Way to go, Autumn. You’re going to make an excellent bar wench with your winning personality.
But Mina simply laughs. “Everyone in the village knows Rafe. He’s been making a nuisance of himself, skulking around the green, knocking over the bins, stealing food off people’s plates. My friend Komal woke up the other day and found him sleeping in her bed. She told me about how beautiful he is – it’s not fair that the beautiful boys have to be such villains.”
Rafe hisses again, his tail puffed out like a squirrel. I stroke his back, and he seems to decide that the dog is no threat. He deflates, distracting himself by rolling my pencil off the edge of the counter. It falls on the floor and snaps. He looks up at me, eyes shining with satisfaction, and stalks off to find something else to break.
Two bees circle Mina’s head, inspecting her. They settle on the windowsill.
“I was getting some pies with my husband Morrie at the bakery, and Celeste told us that you’ve rented Old Widow Hardcastle’s shop. Is it going to be a honey shop? You had those delicious honeys for sale at the farmer’s market a few years ago. I had the lavender one, and it helped my sleep so much.”
At the mention of my honey stall, a sharp pain twinges between my shoulders.
“I’m so happy you enjoyed the honey,” I say. “Happy bees make for the best honey, and my bees have the best garden in the village. I’ve won the Midsummer Festival Best Garden competition eight years in a row, much to my neighbour Harry Stephenson’s dismay.” I hold out my hand so a bee can crawl along my thumb and hop down onto thetable. “I’m actually going to open a meadery that will sell mead – it’s like a cider or wine made from my honey.”
“That sounds amazing. Listen, feel free to tell me to shove off if this is overstepping, but I just ran back to the bookshop to fetch these paints in case you wanted them. I know that the police left this place in a right state after Widow Hardcastle was…”
Mina shifts her weight from foot to foot.
“Brutally murdered with her own pinking shears?” I supply.
“Yeah, that. Anyway, we have a bunch of paint leftover from when my other husband, Heathcliff, decided he’d learn domestic skills and spruce up our living room, but halfway through, he got angry at the podcast he was listening to, and so it’s never been finished.”
“I thought your husband’s name was Morrie?”
“I have, er, three husbands.” Mina steps into the room and sets down the paint tins. I’m grateful that I thought to kick all the trowels into the corner. “That’s a long story that I will tell you one day over a glass of mead. I don’t know what colour this is, but if you want it…”
“That’s so sweet. Let’s have a look.” I use one of the randomly-placed trowels and a quick loosening spell to pop open the lid. “Oh, it’s a lovely soft grey. This will be a perfect complement to the dark wood and a neutral backdrop for some artwork.”
“Artwork?” Mina’s face brightens. “I might be able to help with that, too. My otherotherhusband, Quoth, is an artist. He runs the Nevermore Gallery opposite the bookshop. Pop in any time and tell him that I said you should have a discount.”
“Wow, that’s…” A lump lodges in my throat again. I struggle to form words. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“You can thank me with a glass of mead when you open.” Mina grins. “Maybe I’ll tell you that story about my husbands. And you should come back to book club. We were sad that you stopped going.”
“I may do that.”
Rafe leaps off the counter and chases them to the door, where he sits with his tail bristled up, watching them cross the green, as if he were the one who scared them away.
