Page 1 of Scr*wed By the Minotaur in Hallow's Cove
Chapter one
Lea
Myshearshoveredoverthe plant in front of me, but my mind wasn’t on the task of making the sad rose bush look passable. Inspiration just hadn’t been striking like it used to. So, I’d been staring out the shop window again, watching happy people enjoying the sun, like I was some morose garden ornament until a voice startled me.
“Hey, I think we need to talk.”
It was Britt, my shop manager and best friend. Those words never prefaced anything good.
“What about?” I asked carefully.
“I think you need to take a step back.” Britt fixed on the scuffed wooden floor.
““Well, yeah, before I behead this entire rose bush I should probably get some water.” I tried to make a joke, but the knot of confusion tightened in my chest.
“Lea, you’ve been working yourself to the bone since… well, since everything happened.” Her voice faltered, and Iunderstood she was trying to be sensitive. She didn’t want to say, “since your mom died” out loud.
“Ah.” I didn’t comment further, pressing my lips together as I returned to carefully snipping at the wilting petals of the truly hopeless rose bush perched by the window. The room fell into silence, Britt watching me closely while I avoided her eyes, focusing on the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft thud of petals hitting the floor.
“Ah? Ah… what?” she finally asked. “Ah as in ‘Ah, Britt is right and the wisest best friend in the world’ or ‘Ah, I’m going to pretend I’m listening but won’t do anything about it’?”
I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes. She was right. Deep down, I knew it, and she did too. But I wasn’t ready to give in just yet.
“Ah, Britt is right, but maybe I’m not ready to admit it?” I said after a long, deep breath, my voice tinged with reluctance.
“I thought so.” She gently, but efficiently, took the shears from my hands and guided me to one of the worn chairs nestled behind the cash register. She squeezed in beside me, our knees touching like we were just two teens swapping the day’s gossip again, and not two adults coping with one of the worst things that could possibly happen.
We sat without speaking, listening to water drip through planters and the cooler for the cut florals click on in the background. Britt was waiting for something, I could tell. Everyone wanted progress reports on my grief, like it was something I could move through and check off my list. Lea, done with mourning, situation normal.
No one wanted to hear that it didn’t work that way.
“Well?”
“Well.” I scrunched up my face, trying to hold back tears and failing. “Well. I just can’t be here without thinking about her. I see her everywhere. It’s like her ghost is following me around.” The words hung in the air.
Britt grabbed my hands as she watched the tears stream down my face. “Then you need to stop. You need a fresh start, away from the old memories.”
“What do you mean?” I bristled, already on the defensive.
I didn’t want to close the shop. It hurt right now, sure, but my mom had been so proud of it. I couldn’t give that up just because I was feeling sad. Mom wouldn’t want that for me.
“The shop is doing great. I know you have been able to put away a big chunk into savings and that your mom’s life insurance policy has you set for more than a few years. What if you opened a second location?”
I blinked. That isn’t at all what I’d expected her to suggest. My mind started running with it immediately. I did have the cash to open a second location, I could even pay the deposit in up front. Mom had ensured I wasn’t left in need. A second location to put my own stamp on? To start all on my own? I suddenly felt excited for the first time in months.
I grabbed Britt in an impulsive hug. She only froze for a second before squeezing me back. It took a little while to collect myself, but as soon as the tears slowed, my brain started whirring through lease agreements and possible locations. Somewhere that didn’t have my mother’s handwriting on every sticky note, her perfume lingering in the storeroom—just a blank slate.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this,” I said, dashing the back of my hand across my face. “I thought you were going to make me do yoga or see a therapist.”
“I still think you need a therapist,” she said, leaning forward so her elbows rested on the counter, “but at least this is more fun than downward dog.”
I laughed, choked and snotty, but it felt good. It made the weight in my chest a little lighter. “I’m going to do it,” I said. “I’m going to open my own shop.” The final syllable hung in the quiet, dusty sunlight like a promise.#
Now I stood outside of the building I’d purchased, sight unseen, with my hands on my hips and head cocked to the side, taking it all in. The real estate agent wasn’t lying. It was in dire need of some love. The paint was chipped and faded and the wood underneath looked worn and possibly as if it had some water damage.
I was here in Hallow’s Cove on somewhat of a stealth mission. I’d booked a room at the inn and told the lovely rabbit shifter owner and receptionist, Judy, that I was just visiting and needed a quiet weekend away. What I really wanted was a chance to get to know Hallow’s Cove and some of its inhabitants without a giant “New Girl” sign painted on my back. Another reason I was up with the sun, surveying my purchase before the rest of the town woke up. I’d already looked through the inside in the barely there morning light. It had been a clothing shop before so it needed some work before it could become a flower shop, but nothing crazy. Even better it had an adorable two-bedroom apartment above it. It was bare and dusty—and in need of furniture—but it was mine.
I stopped wistfully thinking about different colors of trim and what plants I would proudly display in the gorgeous (and somehow still intact) original windows, when my stomach grumbled. Judy told me that Ted’s diner opened early so I headed over, thinking about scrambled eggs and hash browns. Luckily, it was only one shop down from mine, past the bookstore, which looked charming, but was oddly just named “Bookstore.”
