Zinnia Chatterwick's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The bench worked too well. People sat, but nobody bought. Zinnia figured out why by the third night. Her guests held tea, but the tea was not hers. A silver-haired vendor parked her cart down the way and poured cups all day. Zinnia's guests sat on the glowing bench, sipped, then wandered off to refill. Most never came back. She had made a place worth staying. The tea kept pulling people out the door. Zinnia stood in the doorway and counted six empty seats. Two guests rose and drifted toward the cart. She could not compete with that kettle. She did not want to. She wanted the kettle inside. Elara Ponds ran that cart. She had three eyes and braided silver hair, and she never forgot a face. Zinnia had bought tea from her once and told her a whole story about the snow globe on her counter. Elara had said nothing back, only refilled the cup without being asked. So Zinnia crossed the street and stood at the cart. "Your tea keeps stealing my customers," Zinnia said. "They come to you first," Elara said. She poured a cup and set it down. "Then they come to me. You light candles. I pour tea. Same people." Her middle eye flicked to the bench across the street. "You have eight seats. I counted twelve waiting last night." Zinnia blinked. "You saw that?" "I see everything from here." Elara wiped the spout. "You are losing them to the walk. Not the tea." Zinnia opened her mouth to talk Elara into moving the cart inside. She had the whole pitch ready. But Elara held up one hand. "Bring your cart to me and I lose my corner," Elara said. "Bad trade." She poured again. "You want my tea in your cups. I want more cups. So we split." Zinnia stopped. "Split how?" "I brew inside your shop. You slot candles. Guests sit, drink my tea, watch your flames. Nobody walks off." Elara added the quiet part. "You sold three candles last week. I remember. You will sell more with people who stay put." Zinnia felt her face go hot. She had never told anyone that number. Elara just knew. "We register it," Elara said. "The tea office makes it clean. My kettle, your candles, one bench, one door." They walked to the tea office together that afternoon. The clerks stamped a shared license across an orderly counter. Elara's name and Zinnia's name sat on the same line. By dusk Elara wheeled her kettle through Zinnia's door. She poured cups beside the lilac candles, the ones shaped like tea-sipping fire-heads. Guests sat and did not leave. Zinnia sold four candles before dark. Then the door stuck open on the crowd. Twelve people fought for eight seats, and now they had no reason to ever step out. Zinnia watched three more arrive. The bench could not hold them all.