Page 50 of Storm in a Teacup
“You will get through this,” she says.
“I know.”
Her hand drops. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot.” She digs around her bag until she pulls out a smaller bag, sheer and pulled closed with a ribbon. “Here.” She places the sachet in my outstretched palm.
“Crystals?” I observe.
“Yeah—sorry. This was last minute, so it was crystals or a doorknob Queen Victoria may have touched. I know you’re not into them, but I wanted to get you something.”
“Icouldbe into them. What do they mean?”
She opens the bag and dumps them into my hand. She points to a small, smooth pink crystal first. “Rose quartz—that one isfor your heart, emotionally speaking.” Then one that is tinted yellow. “Citrine—attracts positivity.” Next, a black stone. “Black obsidian, for protection and grounding.” Lastly, the purple crystal. “And amethyst. Like my ring. Good for stress.”
“Cool,” I say genuinely. “Thanks, Lin.” I scrunch my palm to move the crystals together before tipping them back into the bag.
“I won’t be offended if you set them on a shelf and never look at them again.”
I narrow my eyes. “You gave them to me—why would I do that?”
“Because it’s silly.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes glow as she looks up at me. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you. It was a good one.”
…
Several days later, as I’m unlocking the café, I’m startled by the door to Linny’s flat opening. I haven’t seen her since my birthday.
“Good morning, coffee bean.”
She spins around to face me, hand on her heart. “Jesus, I didn’t expect anyone to be out here this early.”
“What’re you doing up in the wee hours of the morning?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to get some work done. I’m heading to an estate sale later and won’t be in the shop for most of today. I have spreadsheets to organize.” As if evidence of her desire to spend the morning staring at a computer screen, she’s wearing her glasses.
“That’s ambitious.”
“What else have I got to do?”
I suggest, “Drink coffee in bed with your furry ball of pure love and terror and watch the news?”
“I was with you until you said, ‘watch the news.’”
“Eh, well, maybe you could come give me a hand in the kitchen instead?”
“You want me to ruin the food you sell to make a living?”
I nod.
“Sure. Why not?”
I open up the front doors, disable the alarm, then flip on the lights. I don’t normally turn on all the lights up front this early, but Linny doesn’t need to know that. I lead her toward the back to the kitchen, hanging my jacket on a hook next to the door and directing Linny to do the same. I put on a white pinny, then offer her the extra one I have hanging beside mine. I pull on plastic gloves, giving her a pair as well.
“What first?” she asks, pulling on her gloves.
