Tuesday Tales 2023-2-7 Smoke

In old Ireland spring began on February 1, the halfway point between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. The holiday was known as Imbolc, meaning “in the belly,” the time when ewes were lambing. Brigid, later blended with Saint Brigid, was the associated patron goddess. Ireland is officially celebrating a Saint Brigid / Imbolc holiday again, starting this year. Time now to get ready for Tuesday Tales, February 7, 2023, where authors write excerpts incorporating word and picture prompts. I am working on a cozy mystery. In this snippet we move back to an earlier portion of the book. The word this week is smoke. When you finish reading my snippet, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

“Good news, I’ve figured out how to squeeze in a small coffee bar–maybe.”

Robin’s eyes lit up, and a broad smile parted her burgundy lips. She patted my shoulder. “Peri, it’s a good woman who knows how to move with the times and keep her best friend happy.” She gazed around. “More people are showing up than you expected, aren’t they?”

I nodded. “I guess tea, cookies, and heritage are still popular in Glisten.”

She laughed. “I’d take bets that even those who don’t give a flying fig about heritage are showing up because they’re curious about Douglas House and if you are going to keep the tearoom going. You are, aren’t you?”

“It’s my intention,” I told her.

“But you still want to move back to Florida?”

“I have the Spooky Stroll business there.”

“You could do that here.”

“If I have energy left over from house renovations and Tea Thyme.”

“You’re good at organization. I prefer a best friend who lives in the same town as me rather than the next state down.”

“Me, too,” I assured her. “Believe me, it’s just—I’m not certain yet. Bear with me, will you?”

“Yep. But nagging is my superpower, so don’t blame me if I keep after you to stay.”

We moved away to allow guests freer access to the cookie table. My thoughts wandered. “I can almost see my godfather, smoking his pipe and reading one of his antique books. I wonder if he knew what a commotion he’d start by leaving me his house.”

“Well, it was your family home—”

“For about a year,” I objected.

“But in your family for decades before that.”

“True. I’m still in disbelief, to be honest. I swore I was hearing things when Lawyer Hawtrey read that part of the will. I never dreamed Lyon had anything like that in mind. I thought he’d leave everything to his wife.”

“They haven’t been married that long. Plus, he left her most of his money. Where is Dovie anyway?”

“She said she’d be here. She’s generally a little late for things.”

“You all set up in the other room? Need me to do anything?”

“No, it’s all ready for Hesta’s presentation.”

“Then I’ll go check for Gazette updates with Bill, schmooze the crowd for a couple minutes, and be back before show time.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet inspired by the word smoke. Thanks for stopping by. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories

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