Twenty-Seven

The Aftermath

The gossip about the vanished tea shop sustained Aldermere for nearly a month.

Fin wasn’t sure how the story got out. But somehow people knew the bare bones of what had happened.

No one was surprised the tea shop had vanished. After all, it tended to do that.

What had surprised people was Ben’s involvement in a conspiracy to make the magical tea into some kind of corporate entity. There were mutterings of how it was dangerous to let newcomers into the town—which were promptly shut down when it was pointed out that Ben had grown up in Aldermere. Mayor Downer put forth some kind of new town ordinance to regulate business with outsiders, but the debate was long and cited town laws that Fin had no interest in. She spent most of that town meeting in the back, drinking hot chocolate with Mom.

Mom had finally stopped working constantly. The other manager of the inn had come back from maternity leave.

That next Monday, Eddie, Cedar, and Fin found themselves in the principal’s office. It was strange to be there—Fin had never even seen the inside of the office, except when her mother had filled out the forms to get her into school. But since the three of them had ducked out of a school-organized event without adult supervision, they were in trouble. Mom couldn’t make it, and Cedar’s parents were working at the coffee shop, but Aunt Myrtle bustled into the school, all crystal necklaces and swinging skirts and long hair. She took one look at the principal, eyeing him the way the Aldermere ravens tended to eye stray crumbs.

“You three stay out there,” she said, and marched into the office with a grim set to her mouth.

None of them knew what was said. Aunt Myrtle never raised her voice, but about ten minutes later, she strode out. “You’ll give your presentations to the science teachers at lunch on Friday,” she said, walking them out of the office.

“How?” said Fin faintly. She couldn’t believe that was all it had taken to get them out of trouble.

Aunt Myrtle let out a throaty little chuckle.

No one asked after that.

Cedar did sit with them at lunch. She brought an empanada from the coffee shop and didn’t talk much, but she smiled the whole time.

Fin filled them in on what had happened with Teafin. Eddie seemed relieved that she was gone, but Cedar looked sad about it. “She’s gone?” asked Cedar.

Fin shrugged. “No, not really. She’s—me again.”

Fin wasn’t sure how she’d been affected by Teafin’s memories. She didn’t feel evil or reckless or a desire to set things on fire. She was still anxious. But now she understood why.

“What happened at the science fair?” asked Fin.

Eddie let out a cackle. “River didn’t win since his windmill didn’t work. The girl with the seaweed display won—something about rising sea temperatures or something.” He looked pleased, then sighed. “We didn’t win either, though. So it’s a stalemate.”

“There’s always next year,” she said.

After lunch, Cedar and Fin walked to English class together. “What about the raven?” asked Cedar. “Is she still around?”

“Yes,” replied Fin. “She stopped by the big house and brought me a half-dollar coin. I think she must have found it somewhere.”

Cedar grinned. “That’s handy. You have a raven friend. You should name her.”

“I did.” Fin’s fingers tightened on her binder. It made her feel vulnerable to admit it. “Morri. That’s her name.”

“Morri?”

“Short for Morrigan,” said Fin. “Nick said that old myths had ravens in them a lot. The Morrigan was one of them, and I liked it better than Badb.”

“Much better,” agreed Cedar.

Talia came home a few weeks after the tea shop vanished.

It turned out she had been staying with her sister in the Bay area. She came home with a cane and a scowl when she saw the empty space where the tea shop had stood. The moment Fin heard that Talia was back, she raced across town, her heart pounding.

“Well,” Talia said when she caught sight of Fin. Her red-orange cane perfectly matched her lipstick. “I heard you kept Ben from making off with my mortar and burning the tea shop down. Mrs. Brackenbury’s been telling the story all over town.”

“It was my fault,” said Fin. It took all her courage to say the words, but she said them. “No one knows the real story. I mean, no one but Eddie and Cedar.”

Talia gazed down at her. “What happened?”

Fin told her. When she’d finished, Talia made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat. “Ben. He’s wanted the tea for years. It’s not your fault he tried.”

“But,” said Fin, “he only got the spare key because he saw me use it.”

For a moment, she was sure Talia would yell at her. But she did no such thing—rather, Talia held out her hand. As if waiting for something.

Fin understood after a few panicked moments. She dug into her jeans pocket and came up with the key.

It had been the raven, Morri, who’d found it. Fin had come home to the bird on the cottage rooftop, the glittery crescent moon in her beak. Fin traded a hard-boiled egg for the key, and the raven was pleased with the exchange.

Talia took the key with a satisfied nod. “All right,” she said. “I’ll start looking in the morning, then.”

Fin perked up. “You mean you can find the tea shop?”

“It’s Aldermere,” said Talia. “Keys can’t exist without a lock.”

Fin stared at her. If that was an Aldermere rule, it was one Fin had never heard. But it sounded as real as the others.

“Where will you live?” she asked.

“Mrs. Brackenbury has a guest room,” said Talia. “And I know she’s been wanting company. I’ll just have to keep Mr. Bull from dozing on my bed.” With a sigh, Talia shuffled in the direction of town, her cane flashing in the sunlight.

Relieved that Talia hadn’t blamed her, and that the tea shop might be found, Fin headed to the grocery store to begin her deliveries.

Mr. Hardin was at the counter, shooing the stray cat away from a new display of canned anchovies. The cat meowed pitifully at him, ignoring the bowl of kibble a foot away. “Oh, hello, Finley,” said Mr. Hardin, glancing up at Fin. “Good to see you. Got three packages for you. One for Mrs. Brackenbury, one for Ms. Catmore, and one for you.”

“For me?” asked Fin, frowning. She never got mail; there was no one to send it to her.

Mr. Hardin passed her three pieces of mail: a large padded envelope for Ms. Catmore, a shoebox-sized package for Mrs. Brackenbury, and a normal-sized envelope for Fin. Hers had no address—only her name, written in a tidy cursive. There was no stamp, no return address. Unease curled at the base of Fin’s spine, but she resisted the temptation to open the letter right there. Instead she smiled at Mr. Hardin, petted the cat, and carried her deliveries outside.

She stopped on the sidewalk, setting the other packages between her feet. Her envelope was strangely lumpy. She tugged it open; there were three words scrawled on the inside.

Just in case.

Fin held the envelope to her nose and inhaled.

The scent of Ceylon and spice filled her nose. Tea. There was a teaspoon’s worth of tea in the envelope.

But who had sent it to her? And what was she supposed to do with it? Shaking her head, Fin folded the envelope and shoved it into her pocket. She’d figure this out later. In the meantime, she had deliveries to make.

She was carrying the package to Ms. Catmore when she heard footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Eddie. He’d pushed his way out of the forest, leaves caught on his sleeve and what looked like a baby squirrel in his hand. “Hey,” he said brightly. “What are you up to?”

“It’s Tuesday,” said Fin, holding up the packages. She set them down, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Where’d you find the baby squirrel?”

“Fallen from a tree,” said Eddie. “Lost his parents, I think. I’ll find ‘em.”

Fin gazed at him—and realized that she’d never asked one thing. It made sense now, considering the memories she’d been missing for a year. “Hey,” she said. “Um, I’ve never asked about your dad before. Where is he?”

Eddie said, “He’s an artist up near Granite Falls, in Washington. He and Mom were good friends, but they weren’t really happily-ever-after material. I get packages sometimes, and Mom drives me up there every few years.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you ever ask before?”

“I don’t know,” said Fin. “I think I traded a lot of big memories for tea. Just never crossed my mind until now.”

Eddie shook his head. “That tea thing is weird.”

“Agreed,” said Fin. “I think I’ll keep my memories from now on.” And she meant it. Trying to forget things and lose pieces of herself hadn’t made her any happier. All a person could do was learn to live with themself. The best parts and the worst.

“Right,” said Eddie. “So when do you think you’ll be done with deliveries?”

Fin glanced at the packages. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Twenty, if Ms. Brackenbury is home.”

“I need to find this guy’s family,” said Eddie, holding up the squirrel. “Want to come with? I thought I saw some weird tracks. Could be a bigfoot. We could ask Cedar too.”

Fin glanced at the forest—at sunlight streaming through the redwood branches. At the shadows flickering through the ferns—shadows that could be from the wind . . . or perhaps from something else. She thought of a tea shop, somewhere in the woods.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m in.”