Page 64 of The Magical Tea Shop

“Welcome.”

He gave an abrupt nod. She ushered him over to her favorite corner table in a little patch of sunlight with the best view of the square. Sunlight cast the man’s features in sharp relief. He radiated danger, incongruous with such a handsome face.

“What can I get you today? I have a signature tea blend.”

“Coffee.”

Ivy shook her head. At his incredulity, she explained, “This is a tea shop.”

“Fine, I’ll try your signature whatever.” At his impatient, dismissive gesture, Ivy decided to win him over. Her new blend really was extraordinary.

When Ivy brought it over on a tray, he ignored the sugar and cream and drank it straight. She had steeped it dark, as that brought out its aromatic earthiness. She stood back, confident. She had spoken the blessing over her blend while she mixed it.

He took a drink and coughed, “Ugh, what is this?”

“It’s tea, my signature blend. It’s…”

“Awful.”

Ivy stood up straighter. “It—isn’t.” It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. It could only be awful to an awful person. She narrowed her eyes. She was through being intimidated by pushy people.

“Bring me something else, something more like coffee, something bitter.”

She whisked the tray away, content not to waste her best creation on the undeserving. She brewed him a pot of boring orange pekoe, inferior to everything else in her shop, and placed it before him.

He ignored her and sipped. “Much better.”

When Jaxon strolled into view—despite her annoyance with him, Ivy still was attuned to his presence in the vicinity—the man flung some bills on the table. He stopped Jaxon outside. Figures Jaxon would keep company with such a disagreeable individual.

Cece slipped in the door as the two men strode off down the street. “You know who that was, don’t you?”

Ivy shook her head.

“Derrick Cross—our soon-to-be landlord.”

Oh no, thought Ivy.What have I done?“Cece, could you try my new blend of tea and tell me what you think?” Ivy poured a cup and Cece took a sip.

“Oh my, that’s enchanting. It’s better than any tea blend I’ve ever had. Needs a touch of sugar, though. You know how I like my tea just the tiniest bit sweet.” She added a generous dollop to her cup and stirred, the silver spoon tinkling pleasantly against the bone china. Cece took another swallow. “My goodness, the second sip is even better than the first. It’s absolute perfection. What are you calling this charming creation?”

Ivy considered before settling on a name. “I’m calling it…Magical.” She gave a decisive nod. “Because it brings out your true self.”

*

Jaxon walked withDerrick to the Realtor’s office. Time to close the momentous deal he had labored toward for months. Finally, he’d be free to move on. So, why did it feel dreadful? Derrick Cross, soon to be sole owner of his building, didn’t act any happier than he did. He acted perplexed, instead of his usual assertive self. Jaxon had seen him exit the tea shop. He wondered what it was about Derrick’s experience that had left him quietly disconcerted. They spoke little on the way over. Which suited Jaxon fine. He needed time to think.

He glanced back at the tea shop, at Ivy framed by frilly lace curtains in her picture window, chatting with Cece and pouring tea from a flowered pot, sunlight glinting off her honey-toned hair. The scene beckoned, inviting him to realize all he’d lost. He almost turned back, but instead he lengthened his stride to keep in step with Derrick.

He’d made his decision, a choice that shattered his last chance with Ivy. So, fine, he would do right by himself.

They passed Hollister’s Bakery with its long queue, patrons obediently taking a number to wait their turn for baked bread and pastries, birthday cakes, and pies. People celebrating joyful lives.

Keeping in stride, he passed Cece’s Salon, stylists clipping and cutting, primping the population of Hazard into their best selves.

His own office came into view. Tiny and simple, he’d had good years designing kitchen remodels, garage apartments, and expansions for homes with growing families. He’d contributed to the community, made his mark, belonged.

Jaxon halted.

A yellow school bus full of kids rounded the corner. Boys he coached in Little League waved at him from the half-open windows. He raised a hand. Derrick scowled.

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