Chapter 5. The Stranger

The bell above the shop door gave a cheerful chime, a bright little sound that pierced the quiet morning like sunlight breaking through fog.

Mira looked up from the counter where she was carefully counting dried calendula petals into folded paper sachets. The shop smelled of lavender and lemon balm, the morning sun casting soft golden bars across the wooden floor. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, expecting one of their regulars—maybe old Mrs. Dalton with her cough, or the sailor’s wife needing more saltwater poultice.

Instead, two unfamiliar figures stepped through the door.

“Mikey!” Martha called before Mira could even open her mouth. The old woman bustled in from the back room, her apron already smeared with pine resin and flour. Her face split into a grin as she wiped her hands on the fabric. “Well, look what the tide dragged in. You never visit unless trouble’s afoot”

The older of the two men—stocky, weathered, with a badge pinned just above hi