be imagining.
What’s wrong with me?
Well, nothing had been right with me since the reading of my aunt’s will.
I quickly ducked into a tea shop, and the warmth instantly soothed my soul, along with Eartha Kitt singing Santa Baby.
I definitely picked the right shop to defrost in.
“Welcome to Fireweed.” A melodious voice floated through the cozy shop, and I spun around to locate the perky greeter.
Between Eartha singing in the background and the perkiest of tea greeters waving at me, I shivered the cold right off.
I didn’t mind being cold. In fact, I preferred it to being hot, which was why I barely understood why I lived in Arizona. Though I did just hop from one air-conditioned place to another most months of the year.
And Arizona was home.
I shook myself out of my funk and scanned the walls of tea that had been organized with such precision that I barely noticed the floating shelves holding up the tiny colorful jars and tins.
“Anything I can help you find?” The same voice questioned, and I looked over to see a woman pouring a cup of tea into a small paper cup. Her blonde hair was braided, and she rubbed her belly.
She caught my gaze on her stomach and laughed. “Sorry. I can’t help myself. I’d blame it on the burritos I had for lunch, but I don’t think my hubby would appreciate my confusing a burrito with our baby.” She turned down the music. “The truth is I’m about ready to pop, but I promised my sister, Maddie, I’d look over the shop for her tonight. I’m a complete wreck, but that seems to be my motto. I’m Holly, by the way.”
I smiled, feeling her infectious warmth run through me. “You’re absolutely glowing. I’m Sasha. Sasha Jones.”
Holly laughed and shook her head. “Nice to meet you, Sasha, but something tells me that in about four weeks, I won’t be glowing. I’ll just be screaming at my husband and vowing never to do it again.”
“You never know.” I laughed. “You could be one of those women who just pop ’em right out without even blinking an eye.”
Holly chuckled. “That is not me. My sister, yes. Me, no. I will be asking for every drug under the sun. I can’t even stub my toe without the entire town hearing about it.”
I grinned, knowing she meant it when she said the entire town would hear about it. That was one thing I remembered my Aunt Phyllis always telling me about Fireweed. Everyone knew everything about everybody’s business, for better or worse.
“Would you like a cup of tea? We’re sampling Holly Jolly Berry. It’s a blend my sister came up with, and it’s amazing. No caffeine, but it warms you right up.”
I grinned and nodded. “That would be pretty nice. So, you’re due on Christmas?”
Holly waddled to a shelf full of ceramic holiday mugs and grabbed a Santa one before filling it up with steaming tea. “Christmas Eve, actually.”
“That’s amazing.” I often wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship that lasted long enough to even think about having kids.
I was more of a ping-ponger. I didn’t sleep around, but I never moved on from two particular people, who I tended to ping-pong between.
It sounded awful even as I thought about it over fourteen hundred miles away.
“Are you visiting for Thanksgiving? Do you have family here?” Holly asked, and I shook my head as she scooted the cup across the counter. “Have a seat.”
“Well, kind of.” I smelled a hint of cinnamon with cranberry, and my mouth began to water. Maybe I was hungrier than I thought too, but everything had been a whirlwind since I stepped off the plane.
Since we’d found out my aunt had died, and I’d almost inherited her candy store, my life had been in a terrible tilt. I usually threw myself into work during the holidays to avoid the whole season, but this year would different.
I had no choice.
My eyes met Holly’s, and she blushed. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
I shook my head as my nervous laugh escaped into the air. “I—” A lump in my throat appeared from absolutely nowhere, and I glanced at the cup of tea. My aunt would want me to celebrate her, not cry over her.
And the truth was that I hadn’t shed nearly enough tears for the passing of my aunt. Instead, I had a horrible pit in my stomach that felt hollow, empty, and regretful.
I cleared my throat. “My Aunt Phyllis owned