The Enchanted Garden Cafe (South Side Stories Book 1)

by Abigail Drake

  She gave me a look of total innocence. “Whatever are you talking about, Fiona darling?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “If you are giving aphrodisiacs to a bunch of senior citizens and one of them has a heart attack, we could be in some big trouble.”

  She batted her eyelashes at me. “But what a way to go . . .”

  I threw up my hands and went back to the kitchen, feeling Matthew’s gaze on me. It was terrible. I was the bad person in this situation. He just proved to be an extremely kissable innocent bystander. I wondered if all the reiki and magic fountain nonsense had finally gotten to me. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

  My phone rang. It was Scott. Just seeing his name on my caller ID made my heart sink. I needed to be kind but firm, and I didn’t want to give him any hint to how frazzled I felt at the moment. He might pick up on it and read it the wrong way.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering his call. “Hey, Scott. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to check on you. I got back from my parents’ a few minutes ago.”

  “How are they?”

  Kind but firm. So far so good. I’d been making out in the garden while Scott took care of his parents, but he didn’t have to know. No one had to know. Ever. I truly was a terrible person.

  Scott snorted. “They’re a pain, but they’re my parents. What can I say?”

  “I can relate.” I relaxed a bit. We were having a normal conversation. Maybe we could end up being friends someday. I decided to treat him like a friend and complain to him about my life. “My mom is driving me crazy.”

  “What’s it about this time?”

  “We have a big crowd today, and I’m worried about what my mom may have put in the tea.” I sniffed the Love is in the Air. It seemed fine, but you never knew with Mom. “She’s mixing funky things together for the old ladies. I’m afraid she might be slipping them something to enhance their libidos.”

  Scott laughed. “Aphrodisiacs?”

  “Stop. It isn’t funny. If one of them should have a blood pressure problem or something, we could be in a lot of trouble. Mom doesn’t always make the best decisions.” I shook my head at my understatement.

  “It’s a good thing she has you around to help. I have to go out of town for a few days for work. Maybe I’ll stop by when I get back. Okay?”

  “Sure, Scott,” I said, feeling guilty, confused, and kind of manipulated, although it wasn’t Scott’s fault. I needed to work more of the firm part of my kind but firm mantra.

  As soon as I hung up my phone, Matthew began to play. The music drifted in through the kitchen window, and without making a conscious decision, I moved outside to watch his elegant fingers move over the strings of his guitar. His dark head was bent, his hair brushing his shoulders, and his arms were strong and muscular. Not the kind of muscles a person got in a gym. Matthew, it seemed, had earned his by doing something. He likely hiked and kayaked and skied and enjoyed the kind of outdoorsy stuff I’d never been any good at, and he looked naturally athletic too.

  He caught me staring at him, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He played a new song. “I call this one ‘Girl in the Garden.’ I finished writing it last night.”

  My heart constricted in my chest as he played. It sounded like our fountain, sad and soft and sweet and full of longing and hope. It was complete now, not just a few refrains, and I stood there like a statue and listened to the entire beautiful, heartbreaking melody. When he finished, I clapped along with the old ladies, but inside I wanted to weep.

  I don’t know how I managed to carry on for the rest of the day. I worked in the shop and sold the ladies tea and phalluses and bongs and jewelry, but inside I was numb. Mom, Kate, and Chad eyed me with concern, but I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t lie to myself either. I had feelings for two different men. Knowing the truth didn’t make my heart hurt any less.

  Matthew didn’t say goodbye, which was for the best. His song had been more of a farewell than I deserved.

  After the tea ladies left, I went outside in my pretty pink dress. Mom sat on the bench, drinking a cup of tea. I curled up next to her, put my head on her lap, and cried. She stroked my hair, said soft soothing words, and waited patiently for the storm to pass.

  “I didn’t know it would be this hard,” I said with a little catch in my voice.

  “I know, baby. Love is never easy.”

  I sat up, wiping my eyes. “Scott should be the perfect guy for me.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “But I have feelings for Matthew.”

  She nodded again. “He’s completely lovable.”

  “What should I do?”

  Mom laughed. “I can’t answer your question, dearest. You need to listen to your heart.”

  “I don’t know if listening to my heart would work. I always use my head.” I thought about my heart chakra and how Auntie Mags said it was blocked. “Is there something wrong with me?”

  She sighed. “Sweet girl, you are a logical, wise person, but sometimes the most important things can’t be seen on a spreadsheet or worked out like an equation. Sometimes the best things don’t add up.”

  “I broke up with Scott.”

  Saying it out loud made me feel a bit ill. I’d imagined being with someone like him my whole entire life. Giving up on that dream would not be easy.

  “When?”

  “After the dinner at his parents’ house, it all felt so wrong . . .” I chewed on my lip. “Do you ever wonder if you made the wrong decision? About your fiancé?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I don’t regret ending my relationship with William, but I will always regret not being more honest with your father. It was the worst mistake of my whole life.”

  I sat up and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  She patted my back. “I’m content, but I want more for you. Contentment can sometimes be a curse. Even more than the curse on the Campbell women.” She gave me a wink. “I want you to have more than contentment. I want you to have passion and romance and most of all, true love.”

  I didn’t believe in true love any more than I did in chakras, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “How will I know?”

  “The kiss. The magic is either there or it isn’t.”

  I winced. “I kissed Matthew. Last night.”

  She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “And I guess it was pretty remarkable, or you wouldn’t be so upset right now.”

  My lips quivered again. “Remarkable doesn’t even come close.”

  She sighed. “I was afraid of this, my poor Fiona.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your head still wants Scott, but your heart wants Matthew. You’re split right in half. No wonder your chakra is blocked. We should call Auntie Mags.”

  I groaned and flopped back onto her lap. “Oh, great. Another reiki session with Auntie Mags. Do you think it will help?”

  She laughed at the expression on my face. “It couldn’t hurt. But I know one thing that will make you feel better.”

  I looked at her in confusion. “What?”

  She grinned. “I stashed some cream puffs in the fridge for us. Let’s go and eat away our sorrows.”

  As she pulled me into the kitchen, the sun was setting through the trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw something sparkling in the fountain, but when I turned my head, it was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Keep calm and put the kettle on.

  ~Aunt Francesca~

  The next morning, the summer heat came back with a vengeance, but it was cool and comfortable in my air-conditioned room. “Thank goodness for Marty,” I mumbled to myself, and then a strange and unexpected noise broke the delightful silence as someone pounded on the front door of our shop.

  Sitting straight up in my bed, I heard words that instilled fear into my heart. “Department of health. Open the door.”

  I tossed on my robe and ran down the steps two at a
time. Wafts of incense pierced my nose as I got closer to the main floor. “Please no naked yoga, please no naked yoga,” I whispered to myself. When I reached the bottom, Mom was already opening the front door. The room was filled with people on yoga mats, all of them completely dressed. I sagged against the doorjamb in relief, but it didn’t last long. The men from the department of health were serious types with clipboards. One had a nametag saying “Mike” and the other “Ron,” but they otherwise seemed completely indistinguishable.

  “What’s this about?” asked Mom.

  “We had a complaint you were conducting . . . uh . . . naked yoga classes. We were called in to check it out.”

  She looked around, bemused. “We’re all wearing clothing, sir, and there is nothing illegal about a yoga class.”

  Most of the people in the room, senior citizens, let out nervous chuckles at the very idea of naked yoga. I wanted to laugh myself since I’d seen their saggy, bare bottoms here only last week. This could have been a total disaster. The last thing we needed right now was a fine from the department of health.

  I’d thrown my robe over my nightie but felt a little exposed. “I’d better get dressed.”

  Mom smiled. “I’ll take these nice gentlemen in the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat.”

  Mike seemed uncertain. “We’ve also had a complaint about your teas, ma’am.”

  She froze. “My teas?”

  He nodded. “We’ll have to inspect the other rooms, too, I’m afraid.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Come on back. Do you mind if my friends continue with their yoga class?”

  Mike and Ron looked at each other and nodded. I hightailed it up to my room and dressed faster than I ever had in my life. But by the time I made it downstairs, Mike and Ron were already putty in my mother’s hands. They sat at the island, drinking coffee, eating cream puffs, and chatting like old friends. Mom had charmed the uncharmable once again.

  They took a few samples of the different teas, had a quick look around the kitchen, and thanked my mom for the best cup of coffee they’d had in a long time.

  “And fine work on those cream puffs, miss,” said Mike with a smile.

  My mom gave them each a bag of cookies to take home to their children and a hug when they left. She was the hippie version of Mother Teresa.

  After they were gone and all the yoga people left, I grabbed her arm. “Was there anything in those teas? Should I be worried?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Of course not, darling. The magic isn’t in the tea, although all are a fine mix of the best ingredients possible. The magic is in the water.”

  I froze, hoping she wasn’t talking about what I thought she was talking about. “The water?”

  She pointed to the fountain in our garden. I groaned, put my head down on the island, and tapped it several times against the cool marble surface. It took a few minutes before I could lift my head and face her.

  “Are you making tea using water from the fountain outside that’s more than one hundred years old?”

  “Closer to two hundred, but who’s counting?” I inhaled through my nose and exhaled slowly. Mom watched me. “I’m happy to see you using your yoga breaths, but I cannot understand what has you so upset.”

  I stopped midbreath. “The water from the fountain might not be clean. It could be contaminated with hundreds of itty-bitty microorganisms. You could make our customers sick.”

  She had the audacity to roll her eyes at me. “It’s from an underground spring. The freshest, healthiest water you could possibly drink, and you aren’t even considering the fact that it’s boiled before it’s served to anyone. This is exactly why I never told you. I knew you’d overreact.”

  I no longer did yoga breathing. I’d started to hyperventilate. “You hid this from me on purpose? You’re so unbelievably sneaky and dishonest. Can’t you be an adult for once in your life?”

  I turned away from the shattered expression on her face and stomped up to my room. I had cookies to bake and the books for the week to go over, but I felt too angry to do anything right now. I wanted to hit someone.

  I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling as a horrible thought occurred to me. Worse than when I suspected Mom gave aphrodisiacs to old people. Worse than knowing she used unclean, unsanitary river water for her tea. This thought almost caused me physical pain.

  Mike and Ron said they’d had a complaint about the naked yoga. None of the people doing yoga would have called to complain. And although I’d told Scott about it, I trusted him. He had no reason to call the department of health on us. What would be the point?

  There was only one possible conclusion, and the culprit was the person who’d walked in and seen the naked yoga class just minutes after I did. “Matthew.”

  His name came out of my mouth in a whisper. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, it had to be true. He’d witnessed the yoga, and he must have overheard me asking about the teas as well. He’d hovered around me a lot, eavesdropping on my conversation with Old Blue Hair and acting all charming and perfect and gorgeous. It was all a ruse. He may have even eavesdropped on my conversation with my mother that day as well, the slime bucket.

  Another strike against him? He’d shown up right as we were in danger of losing the shop, offering his services to us at no charge. I found it odd that such a talented musician would happen to have every single Saturday night free in an area packed with bars and nightclubs for an entire summer. Something felt wrong about this whole situation, and the fact he kept showing up at the shop on days when we weren’t expecting him was very bad another sign. It made me sick to think about it, but my first instinct had been right, and I suspected Mr. Matthew Monroe was not at all what he claimed to be.

  There was no point at all in telling Mom. She’d never believe me. I had to figure this out for myself. She thought Matthew walked on water, but he must have blabbed to someone. I had no proof, only a deep gut instinct. After being silent for so long, my gut had started saying a lot lately. This time I decided to listen.

  He made me suspicious from the start, but he’d used his charm, his sexy French-pirate looks, and even his kisses to lull me into complacency. He was so freaking kissable. Time for me to wake up and take action.

  Mom had gone out into the garden to work, upset about what I’d said. We’d sort it out later. Right now was the perfect opportunity for gathering information.

  I opened the door to her tearoom and slipped inside. A desk sat in the corner, piled high with books. It was dark and cool inside and smelled like jasmine, lemon, and rich, exotic spices. I snuck a glance out to the kitchen, pulled open the drawer of her desk, and took out her address book.

  She had the address of nearly everyone who’d ever stepped foot in this shop, and she sent out hundreds of handmade Christmas cards out every year. Sort of an addiction with her. I found Matthew’s address almost immediately and jotted it down. He lived only a few blocks away. I shoved the address into my pocket and grabbed my accounting book from the shelf above Mom’s desk. As I walked back into the kitchen, she came in from the garden.

  “I’m sorry, Fiona,” she said softly, her eyes red from crying.

  I gave her a hug. “Me too.”

  She pulled back and looked at my face. “I should have been honest with you. I realize you’re right now. I’ve been irresponsible and impulsive. It must be torture for you to work here.”

  “No. I love working in this shop.”

  Surprisingly, I meant it. I loved the baking and the books and seeing all the funky people stroll in and out. I also loved the garden and all our wonderful friends. I’d grown up here but never realized before how nice it was.

  She didn’t look convinced. “You deserve more. With Moses being hurt and that horrible company trying to knock down our block, it may have been the wrong time to tell you about your father and pressure you about Scott. You’re right. I need to be the adult, but you have such an old soul. I forget how young y
ou are sometimes. Forgive me.” She got teary again.

  I gave her a gentle squeeze. “There is nothing to forgive. We’ll pretend it never happened.”

  She smiled like sunshine peeking through rain clouds. “I’ll try to be more honest, darling.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Will you stop using the water from the fountain?”

  Her smile faltered. “In the interest of being more honest, I have to say no.” I groaned, and she held up a hand to stop me. “But I will get it tested by the local water authority to make sure it’s safe.”

  “Thank you.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Although really there is no point. You’ve been drinking the water for years, and you’re fine.”

  Her eyes went to the cup of coffee I just poured, and my mouth dropped open in surprise. “You put in in the coffee too?”

  She grinned as she washed her hands in the sink. “It’s why my coffee is the best in town.”

  Praying Ron and Mike from the department of health did not end up with diarrhea today, I finished the cookies in record time and went out into the garden with a steaming mug of coffee to work on the books. I sat at a table near the fountain, staring at it for a long moment. It seemed perfectly normal today. Not shooting water at anyone. Not making me kiss people. An innocent, gurgling fountain with a crumbling stone basin.

  “This had better not make me sick,” I muttered under my breath, taking a sip of the coffee. It was delicious, as always, and even knowing where the water came from didn’t make it taste bad. I opened my books and tried to relax.

  Nothing soothed me as much as accounting. It wasn’t as fun when Mom overspent on something ridiculous like stone phalluses, but today I enjoyed it. We were doing well. As long as nothing big or unexpected came up, we’d be fine for the rest of the month.

  The columns of debits and credits recorded in my tidy handwriting made me think about Matthew’s yin and yang necklace. Accounting was like yin and yang. For every out, there had to be an in, or chaos reigned.

  Matthew insinuated if I were less responsible Mom would become more responsible, which sounded like complete nonsense. I wasn’t an enabler. I was more like a caretaker. If I became less responsible and my mom didn’t step up to the plate, we’d be ruined.