Page 2 of Of Potions and Honey
And out the door he was, leaving Mira holding a crinkled envelope and the keys to her brand new property. Above her, the upper floor creaked in appreciation.
With a sigh, Mira dragged the lonely chair out from under the table and sat down. Uncle Lochlin had always had a sense for dramatics, though usually he’d put it to good use telling her and her siblings and the gaggle of cousins wild stories. Most of the time, she’d been the only one to stay and listen until the end while he was spinning tales about giants living in the mountains, sprites from the Honeywood eating the strawberries out back, and ‘creakers’ rattling the windows at night.
What’s a creaker?
Ohh, a terrible beast. It’s made out of sticks and roots, that’s why it creaks so much. It comes looking for naughty little girls who sneak out of bed at night to read books instead of sleeping.
If this had been intended to stop her from doing that, it hadn’t worked. Mira had simply begun to skirt around the windows on her way downstairs, where she could light a lamp without waking a sibling or cousin. The books she’d used to read were gone now, the built-in shelves in the living room empty. Someone had cleared out the house before the will had been read. Mira didn’t know if that had been Uncle Lochlin’s partner’s doing or the solicitor’s, in preparation for the new owner. She’d received the house ‘with all its contents as of the current date’, which didn’t amount to much. At least it spared her the work of sorting through it all herself. Though the books were a shame, she would’ve liked to keep some of those.
With not even a knife, let alone a letter opener at her disposal, Mira tore the envelope open with her fingernail. Out came a small key, and a single worn page in Uncle Lochlin’s spindly handwriting that looked so strangely like her own. He’d worriedthe edges a good deal, it seemed. Maybe whatever message he’d left for her was bad news. Mira’s stomach knotted as she started reading.
Darling Mira,
Can I still call you that? It’s been so long since you’ve visited, you’re all grown up now. I know I haven’t been the uncle you’ve known for a long time. I wish I could point to a single grand event that changed things, but there wasn’t. Everything that’s changed changed so slowly I didn’t notice for the longest time, and then I didn’t know how to change it back.
You don’t know why you’re here now, I reckon. There are people who should’ve received all of this before you. Truth is, I don’t think any of them would do right by it. By the house and the shop and the town.
Emberglen’s a nice enough place. It’s a little rustic, but if you give it a chance, you’ll come to like it, I’m sure. And I would like for you to do that – give it a chance.
Out of the whole lot that call themselves my kin, you always seemed the most at home here. In the woods and the fields and with the neighbours. Maybe you remember them, some of them are still around. Say hello to them at least while you’re here, will you? Some kept asking me what the kids are up to these days, and I never knew what to say. Maybe you can tell them instead.
The key you’re holding is for the drawer underthe till in the shop. There’s something in there for you that I hope you’ll put to good use. The shop has always been my pride and joy, even when it got hard to keep up with everything. Grady has helped me a lot, but we’re just two old fools with more stubborn pride than sense, so we had to close eventually.
I can’t tell you what to do. If you’re reading this, everything is yours now, and you can do with it as you please. All I ask is that you don’t do anything rash. Sit with your decision for a few days. Poke around. Talk to people. Remember all the times you helped me out as soon as you were old enough to stir a pot on the stove. How much that time meant to both of us back then.
Choose with your heart, Mira. That’s all I’m asking.
Yours,
Lochlin
When she was done reading, Mira’s chest felt heavy. Her cheeks hot. Oh, she hadn’t expected this to be a punch in the gut, yet here she was, missing Uncle Lochlin as fiercely as she hadn’t in years. Regret mixed in with it, too – she could have visited, once she’d been old enough to go on her own. She never had. Busy. Things to do. She’d write him a card for the winter solstice. That, at least, she’d remembered. Sometimes he’d sent one back, with the same candy he’d sent her for her birthday when she’d been a child.
Everything that’s changed changed so slowly I didn’t notice for the longest time, and then I didn’t know how to change it back.
It had, hadn’t it. They’d spent so much time here when she’d been a child, all cosied up in the living room while the adults shared the two small bedrooms. Then it had only been some weeks in the summer. Then just a long weekend. Then nothing.
“I don’t think any of us noticed”, she murmured and put down the letter. And yet, Uncle Lochlin had not only remembered her, he’d decided to leave her… all of this. Not just the house. The shop – hispride and joy.
She didnotlike where this seemed to be going. She was asales clerk. There was not a chance on this earth.
Yet she held the key in a trembling grip as she went out front and into the shop. Rounded the counter where the till sat covered in cobwebs, and found the drawer. The key went in with surprising ease, and the lock clicked open without resistance. Inside were a book and two ledgers.
Puzzled, Mira took it all out, blew the dust off the counter, and placed it down. All three items were clean, not covered in dust like everything else. Not even a moth had come out of the drawer, courtesy of a little sachet that smelled faintly of lavender, probably cut from the bushes that were growing wild out front. The leather-bound ledgers were stamped with neat printed letters –FinancialsandInventory, respectively. The book on the other hand was a simple thing, without a title or author. A book to be written in by the owner. Mira carefully opened it to the first page and found that same familiar handwriting.‘Lochlin’s Tome of Potions’it said with a flourish at the end.
Dramatics. Mira huffed, even as her heart sank. A folded page was tucked into the book, and she opened it with trepidation. The note was much shorter than the letter.
I’ve collected and refined these recipes over the years. Don’t worry, I’ve left you plenty of notes, and I’ve marked the easy ones. Consider it, will you?
“You can’t be serious!”
Mira stared at the note. No. Absolutely not. What had he been thinking? Had she gotten the inheritance because he wanted her to take over? To-
“I can’t run a potion shop!” Mira tugged at her hair, finally pulling the brown curls free of the flagging braid she’d worn all day. “This is a joke. Uncle Lochlin, I’m not laughing.”
Understandably, her dearly departed great-uncle did not respond. Of course, he hadn’t outrightsaidit. She could close this cursed book, pretend she’d never read the letter, and walk away with however much money she could sell the house for. He’d been so cryptic, she had plausible deniability, didn’t she.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t asking. Asking her toconsider, at least. Consider what? Between the letter, the note, and the book full of recipes, he could only mean one thing.
