Roses and Honey - Preview

A soft tinkling sounds above Rhea as she opens the dingy glass. The sound is light, pleasant, a sharp contrast to the deserted room. Dust from the lip of the door frame shakes free, causing Rhea to cough. Her to-do list is beginning to feel endless. 

Cobwebs and dust coat every available surface. Multiple shelves have collapsed, spilling their contents to the floor. A few windows are broken, and the back wall has a hole through it, exposing it to the alley. The air is stale, and Rhea can taste the slightly sour notes from rotting potions. Running a hand along a counter, her fingers come back coated in gritty dust, but the stone beneath it is smooth. The floorboards creak on occasion, but they feel solid enough. 

It’s absolutely perfect.

Located in the center of town, the building was once a successful apothecary. No one knows what exactly happened to the young man who ran the shop, but locals believe the building to be cursed by his spirit. It’s why a property that should be highly sought has been allowed to fall apart. That also happens to be the reason the shop was sold to Rhea at a low price.

Dropping her small bag of supplies on the counter, Rhea sets to work. Clearly a good cleaning is in order. Digging through her bag, she finds a hammer. Not for the first time, she is grateful her carpenter father was willing to teach her little bits of his trade. It will certainly be cheaper to make repairs herself than hiring someone would be. 

Rhea makes her way to the small apartment upstairs, crinkling her nose as she enters. “This is no better than it was downstairs,” she notes with a frown.

Knocking her foot against the floor, Rhea nods. “The floors are sturdy.” She taps her fist along a few slats of the wall. “The walls are too. That’s good news.”

“The wooden furniture seems to be in good enough shape,” Rhea says as she runs her hand across a dusty table. “What I can’t use here can be cleaned up and sold.”

Seeing the shape of the upholstered furniture, however, Rhea sighs. “Moths. It’s always moths…That’s going to have to be replaced.”

It’s going to be hard work, but Rhea should be able to have the shop up and running within a week. 

Sweetwater is busier than the village she had moved from, but it’s charming. Everywhere she looks, something is happening. On one corner, a man selling flowers is pushing his wares on a young man dressed in blue; on his arm is a young woman dressed in a lavish green walking dress, eyeing the flowers. 

Across the street, a baker opens his door, the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air. A gaggle of giggling children swarm the shop, shiny little coins in hand. Simply being in town gives her a boost of energy. It’s as though the spirit of the town has flown through her, leaving her just as cheerful as the rest of its residents. 

The general store sits on just the other side of the block from Rhea’s apothecary. When she enters, she is immediately bombarded by yelling, which forces her out of the cheerful daze she had been in just a moment before.

“I don’t care if the farmer’s chickens laid fewer eggs this week! Six copper for a dozen eggs is practically robbery!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mrs. Durnam,” the annoyed voice of an older woman replies.“Foxes got three of his hens this week, so supplies are low. If you won’t buy them, I’m certain someone else will.”

An annoyed sigh escaped Rhea at the noise. She’s never been fond of being around arguments, even when she isn’t involved. They’re far too loud for her liking.

Rhea rounds a corner, the noise growing as she does, to see two middle aged women standing by a counter. One of them is dressed in a green and white walking dress, an elaborate sun hat perched on her head; she holds a basket of eggs in her hands. Her face is red with anger, as though this argument has been going on for a while now. Across from her stands a woman dressed in neutral tones, a once white apron wrapped around her brown dress. Her golden hair is pulled back into a bun - a practical style that keeps it out of her face as she works. Her face is stern, weathered with age, and the sharp look in her green eyes tells Rhea this argument is going nowhere. Mrs. Durnam won’t be getting those eggs any cheaper. 

Before she can see the rest of the conversation play out, however, a young woman close to her own age approaches. She has the same golden hair as the shopkeeper, though hers is worn loose unlike the tight bun the older woman wears. Her dress is a pale blue, faded with time, but well kept, she wears a matching apron to the shopkeeper. Green eyes, the very same as the shopkeepers but gentler, watch Rhea from under light lashes. 

“Welcome in! Sorry about the noise. Mrs. Durnam never can seem to accept changing prices,” she greets Rhea, voice cheerful. The soft tone of her voice stands in sharp contrast to the yelling, and calms Rhea’s nerves somewhat. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for cleaning supplies - a broom, rags, buckets, things of the sort,” Rhea replies. 

“New in town then? I knew I didn’t recognize you.” The girl begins to walk as she speaks, leading Rhea through the shop. “My name is Charlotte, but everyone just calls me Lottie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lottie. I’m Rhea.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhea.” Lottie grabs a wooden bucket off of the shelf before them before she continues her walk. “What brings you to Sweetwater?”

“I’m fixing up the old apothecary,” Rhea explains. “I plan to start it up again.”

Lottie drops the bucket to the floor with a clatter, loudly gasping. Her bright eyes fill with shock as she stares at Rhea as though she’s suddenly grown a second head. “The old apothecary? You know that building is cursed, right? The last owner - Sir Andilles - vanished entirely, and people say they can hear him whispering if they get too close to the shop. Only a fool would step foot in there. Tell me, Rhea, are you a fool?”

“I wouldn’t consider myself a fool,” Rhea stoops down to pick up the bucket, watching as Mrs. Durnam storms out of the store, basket empty, grumbling something about asking the farmers. With the noise from the argument finally gone, Rhea feels as though she can finally relax once more.

“Though I don’t imagine most fools consider themselves one either. I haven’t heard any whispers though, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see? Oh, Rhea, you are a fool!” Lottie bemoans. She settles her hands on her hips with a huff. “And how sad is that? I was so hoping to make a new friend. I can’t exactly be friends with you if the curse whisks you away, though.”

Rhea nearly scoffs at the mention of the curse, but holds back for Lottie’s sake. It’s nothing more than a local superstition anyways. Nothing to worry about.

“Give me a chance at least.” Rhea replies, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get rid of that curse for you.” 

“See to it that you do.”

Rhea returns to the apothecary, her arms loaded with supplies. She sets those down against the counter and looks around the apothecary once more, tying up her long, dark waves of hair. The broken jars and bottles will have to go first, along with their spoiled contents. 

Beginning her tasks, Rhea takes her broom and dustpan over to the worst of the mess and begins to sweep it away. There’s a place she can dump the waste on the edge of town, but for now she’ll just have to wrap everything up and set it aside.

By the time Rhea is done working for the night, her back is sore and her limbs exhausted. It’s dark outside, the shop now only lit by the lanterns she had bought earlier in the day. While she may be tired, her work has certainly paid off. There are no longer glass shards and piles of moldy plants littering the floors and shelves. The room isn’t clean by any means, but there’s certainly less dirt and grime around. Rhea can see the bright colors the counters and shelves were once painted. 

Overall though, it’s a good day’s work.

Deciding that she’s earned some rest, Rhea takes her bag of meager belongings and slips into the apothecary’s workshop. Nothing is broken here, the few supplies that are present are scattered but not rotten. There’s even a plush couch, not too damaged by the moths, pushed in between two large bookshelves. It seems like the perfect place to rest until Rhea can get the upstairs functioning as her home.

Just as she’s about to settle in for the night, however, the smell of roses catches her attention.

Looking around, Rhea spots a piece of stationary on the desk that is shockingly out of place. The desk is covered in a fine layer of dust, but the note looks as though it had only been placed there moments ago. When Rhea picks it up, that same smell of roses drifts into her nose, and she can’t help but be confused. Any perfumes left on this should have faded long ago.

Curiosity gets the better of her, and Rhea can’t help but read the looping scrawl on the page:

‘Welcome to my apothecary, Ms. Sorrel.’