Page 13 of Myths and Manuscripts
Fun was the last thing writing that book would be, but it was nice to know that the author’s family would be the ones deciding. Hopefully the series would end in a way that fit the author’s original vision then. Not that that was my problem. I glanced around the shop, noting all the empty jars and half-made medicines. This was our busiest time of the year preparing for winter when colds and fevers ran rampant. Writing a book just took too much time, time I didn’t have right now.
I took the flyer from Gran, noting the insane deadline. “Look at that. There’s no way I could write that book in a month!”
“But isn’t’ that how long your last one took?” Gran frowned as she took the simmering cough syrup off the fire to cool. The honeyed ginger smelled sweet and slightly spicy. “That’s half the point of the Tales and Tomes Festival.”
“Technically, yes, but I spent months planning for that before I actually wrote anything.” I took the pot from her shaky hands, putting it safely on the table. “And you know I haven’t even read the latest book yet...”
It had released the same month Grandpa passed away and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to buy it. I hadn’t thought about the series once since then, choosing to pack up all our books and merchandise for it rather than feel the pain of missing him every time I walked by it.
Gran didn’t answer as she dipped a spoon into the cough syrup, ladling it carefully into jars. The golden syrup filled the glass, sparkling warmly in the light. Every medicine we made was like a gem, vibrant and beautiful.
“I know it’s been hard,” Gran whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear her, “but you can’t just stop living, Willow. It’s not healthy to shut yourself off from the world like this.” The bell above the door chimed, saving me from responding as Gran pinned me with a stern look. “This isn’t over, so don’t even think about going anywhere.”
“Fine, fine.” I held my hands up in surrender. “I’ll just wait here and keep bottling cough syrup.”
Gran turned to greet two of our regular customers. “Welcome, Professor Ashford and Professor Min. It’s good to see you. Thanks again for helping us with those mossmews.”
They smiled back at her, the three of them chatting for a bit to catch up. Gran had a personal touch with all our customers like that, which was why I preferred to stay in the back. I was perfectly polite to everyone, but I had no interest in crossing that business casual line like Gran did. They weren’t part of our family no matter how many times she said they were. They were just our customers.
Professor Ashfordhadbeen nice enough to help us with the mossmews who moved into our garden a few weeks ago though.He was the leading expert on caring for magical creatures, but somehow, he always managed to injure himself when he was around them. One time he’d come in with burns from a fire spirit living in his fireplace, another time he’d been limping from falling off an over-excitable pegasus. I looked him over, trying to guess what was wrong this time. The dark circles under his eyes, extra pale skin, and the way his wife was fretting over him more than usual made me think sleep deprivation again, but we’d given him more sleeping drafts the last time he was here.
Gran smiled warmly at them. “Hmmm, it looks like you both could use a nap. Are your sleeping drafts not working anymore?”
“No, well, yes?” Professor Ashford winced, glancing between me and Gran. “One of the slimes I’m caring for might have drank some of them.”
Professor Min scoffed. “Some of them? Try all of them. The man didn’t get a single potion for himself, and he kept waking me up with all his tossing and turning.” Her eyes softened as she looped her arm through his. “You know I don’t sleep well unless you do too.”
The way he smiled at her made me smile too. They always seemed so happy together. People like them were willing to risk the pain of heartache to be happy. I admired that. I couldn’t do it myself, but I could respect those who tried.
Professor Ashford smiled sheepishly at Gran. “I’m sorry I wasted your tonics. The slime just loves the valerian root inside of them and proceeded to sleep all cozy by the fire. It was adorable, so I couldn’t be that upset at him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what about you? How haveyoubeen sleeping then?”
“I’m fine, Min’s just a worrier.” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling bashfully as he handed us the usual payment for his order.
He always seemed to care more about the health of thecreatures he was caring for than himself and those dark circles proved it. He’d probably stayed up late watching the slimes instead of even trying to rest. I sighed, adding as many sleeping drafts as we had to a box along with some valerian root as a treat for the slime. Maybe he’d let the professor have his sleeping draft if he had his own snack too.
Gran crossed her arms, staring him down. “I expect you to take one of these every night. Lock the box to keep the slimes out if you must, but you need your rest. If you don’t sleep, you’ll start hallucinating. Or worse.”
“Or worse?” His eyes widened. “Okay. I’ll be more careful.”
I pressed my lips together to keep my laughter to myself. Gran was so tough sometimes, resorting to scare tactics on difficult customers. The professor needed a bit of that, otherwise he’d keep putting his beloved animals before himself. He had to realize that the only way to care for others was to take care of yourself first, right?
“Try some chamomile tea during the day too.” I added a few bags to his order. “It’s on the house.”
“Oh, I can’t accept that.”
“It’s for helping us with the mossmews then.” I motioned at the tiny cat-like creatures slinking over to them like they had catnip in their pockets. “Just let us know if the tea helps or not.”
Professor Min leaned closer to Gran with a smile. “You’ve raised a good one there, haven’t you? You should both come over for dinner sometime.”
I gave Gran a look that clearly said no way, but she just smiled and accepted the invite. Great. So much for professional distance. At least I’d get to see all the cool magical creatures though.
Professor Ashford smiled and held his hand out to a mossmew who was weaving figure 8’s around his legs. The mossmew purred softly, leaning into his hand like they wereold friends. We couldn’t have made such a good home for them without him giving us tips on how to keep them comfortable and what to feed them.
“They’re really thriving here, aren’t they?” He glanced at the back door. “Mind if I take a peek at your garden? See how the rest of them are doing?”
Gran shoved the box of medication in his arms. “Another time. Right now, you need to go home and sleep.”
