Thanks to everyone who read and to Priyanka and 2whitie for reviewing.

Crosses over with Meaning Makes It ch. 30-31, but both stories can be read separately.


"I'll call you when we get back," Barry said, still in his sweatsuit and obviously fighting down a yawn. "Maybe you can come over again next week."

Roddy nodded. "Yeah, that'd be cool." And hopefully he'd be feeling more like himself by then, too. Not that Barry had complained, he'd been great these past couple days, but Roddy couldn't exactly claim to have been good company. Hell, even when he'd been trying to get Barry's mind off everything, he'd barely been able to manage old-school board games in between naps.

Mr. Rabe cleared his throat, and since Roddy hadn't meant to make him wait, he grabbed his violin and waved a quick goodbye. "Later. Enjoy your camping trip." However one was supposed to do that in freezing, potentially cat-infested wilderness.

"Later," Barry echoed. "See you tonight, Dad."

"I'll pick up dinner on my way home," Mr. Rabe said, holding the door to the garage for Roddy. "Check the supplies one more time and make sure that there's nothing else that I should grab while I'm out, all right?"

Barry agreed and then the door shut behind them, and Roddy looked up as he crossed around the car. "Sorry."

"For what?" Mr. Rabe shook his head as he took the driver's seat and handed Roddy's backpack over, putting his own briefcase in the back. "I should apologize for having to wake you so early. I didn't think about that when I said that I could drop you off."

"Oh. It's okay, I get up earlier than this for school. And Rosalee said last night that she'll be at the shop in plenty of time." Officially it didn't open until like ten or something, but it had sounded like she was pretty serious about getting all of the inventory done by New Year's. That, or maybe she was just an early riser, what did he know. "You really don't have to take me all the way there, though, there are a couple bus stops right around the courthouse," he said. It was the sort of useful thing you learned when your father disturbed the peace once or twice a year.

"It's no problem. It's probably best for all involved that you avoid the buses until you're sure that you're back to normal anyway. Which would include managing something more substantial than a piece of plain toast for breakfast."

The last was accompanied by a pointed look, and Roddy would have argued—well, mildly objected, at least; about as far as he was willing to go under the circumstances—except that he was still pretty leery about the whole eating thing. He'd mostly been living off tea and soup for the last couple days.

Fortunately Mr. Rabe didn't seem to expect a response and the radio kept the silence from getting awkward, and it was enough before rush hour that there wasn't much traffic to slow them down anyway. Rosalee was outside her shop frowning up at the building face when they arrived, but she turned immediately when Mr. Rabe pulled up to the curb. "Hello, Roddy, Frank."

"Hey," Roddy said, overlapping Mr. Rabe's 'good morning.'

"You've got good timing, I just put the kettle on."

"Monroe will be back on Thursday, correct?" Mr. Rabe asked, leaning over to look up at her as Roddy climbed out with his violin and then turned back for his backpack.

"Yes, I'm picking him up at the airport at four. Or supposedly four, at least, you know how holiday travel can be."

"I do. Thank you. And good luck with your inventory." His attention returned to Roddy. "I'm sure Barry will be talking to you again soon, but if you need anything before then, call. You have my number now, and the reception should be perfectly good down at the pond."

That would happen about when hell froze over, but Roddy wasn't stupid enough not to nod. "Thanks. Have fun camping."

Mr. Rabe smiled, shifting back into his seat when Roddy shut the door, and Roddy turned with Rosalee as he pulled away. "Is something wrong with the building? You didn't look very happy a minute ago."

"Not wrong, exactly, I was just thinking last night that maybe a new paint job wouldn't be a bad idea. Freshen things up a little. But I suspect what it really needs is a good scrubbing, and that's going to have to wait until spring." She pulled the door open. "Come on in. How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"That's good. No more headache?"

"Not too much." As long as he didn't look at a screen, anyway. Or move too fast.

Rosalee nodded and led him through the main room of the shop to the private area in back, which turned out to be bigger than he'd realized. Or more than just the single room off the storefront with a staircase into the basement, at least, because she cut through that first private room and into a second where a kettle was starting to bubble. Even more bottles of random stuff lined the walls in here, along with some equipment that wouldn't have looked totally out of place in his chemistry class last year, and he paused in the doorway. It was chemistry class, yeah, but for a teacher who was seriously into steampunk which was...kind of very weird.

"Come have a seat," she said, pulling down a pair of mugs and a couple jars, one of which looked like more of the headache tea she'd brought to the Rabes' house. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah." As much as he was willing to risk, anyway. He boosted himself onto one of the stools.

"Okay, then how about a cup of tea now, and whenever you start getting hungry we'll dig into the chicken sandwiches I made for lunch? Just plain chicken and bread unless you want to add more toppings so they shouldn't be too hard on your stomach, and I've got stew going in the crockpot back at Freddy's for dinner. Or if you'd rather something else we could always duck out to one of the cafes down the street, I know I never asked you about any dietary preferences."

"No, sandwiches and stew sound great." Not that he was likely to eat a lot of either, but that wasn't the food's fault, and he definitely didn't want to waste money on different stuff that he still wouldn't eat.

She smiled, handing one mug over and turning to lean against the counter. And somehow didn't knock anything off in the process, which he would not have been able to manage.

"So what's the plan?" he asked. "Are you still working on inventory?"

"Unfortunately. But I've spent a lot of time in the basement the last couple days, and it's looking much better than it was, so I was thinking that I might move up and tackle these back rooms next. I could do with the sunlight, such as it is." A shake of her head. "I love my brother, but was a spreadsheet really so much to ask for? I mean, don't get me wrong, he was an excellent apothecary. Everything out for sale has been sealed well, no contamination, no spoilage, no loss of potency, nothing like that. And while I'd really appreciate weights and counts and that sort of thing, it's not actually the worst setup I've ever seen. But it's a different story with some of the stock downstairs, and I just can't wrap my head around it. This business is hard, we all saw that growing up, and ordering ten pounds of jasmine because the twenty he already had were buried out of sight isn't a mistake he should ever have made."

There didn't seem to be a good response to that so Roddy just nodded sympathetically, and after a moment she sighed.

"Sorry, I'm a little frustrated. I hadn't been back in Portland for years before Freddy died, but he and I did talk, and he always made everything here sound...normal. Dull, even. But then I got here and there were boxes of J in the basement, apparently Geiers in and out with all that that implies, and now I'm going through everything else, and.…" Another shake. "I found out after he'd passed that he had some other things going on in his personal life that he never told me about either, but still."

"Maybe it just built up?" Roddy suggested. "Like over time?" It was exactly as weak an excuse as it sounded, but it wasn't as if he had anything else to offer. Especially since given the J and the Geiers he didn't even want to know about anything else that her brother might have been into.

"Maybe. And I gather Nick made a point with the Geiers, and I took care of the J myself so that should all be in the past. Clean slate and all." She managed a half smile. "I guess I was just so focused on the immediate needs of the place before I went up to visit my aunt—packing and then unpacking the stock up front, making sure his regular customers were happy with the transition, all of that—that I wasn't expecting this part of the job to be as big as it's turned out to be."

He nodded again.

"Anyway, what I'd appreciate your help with is consolidating stock and measuring out portions for sale so I don't lose anything else to sheer age. But that's only if you're feeling up for it. If you're not, or if you'd rather just read or rest that's perfectly fine too. Concussions aren't something to mess around with."

"I'm happy to help with whatever," he said immediately. "Really. I've been taking a weird amount of naps, but it was only that first day that I really felt bad."

This time her smile looked real. "Well, naps when you need them are a very wise idea, and I've crashed here a few times myself so I can vouch for the cushions. How about I show you what I'm talking about while we have our tea, and you can get settled in however feels comfortable?"

Roddy nodded and picked up his mug, following her back into the other room where a couple stacks of cardboard boxes sat by a cot.

"These are all different loose leaf tea bases," she said, tapping one lightly. "I've got them organized by type: white, black, oolong, rooibos, a bunch of different things that I can make easy blends of either for us or to keep in stock for the random humans who wander through."

"You get humans in here?"

"Sure. It's not like we're hiding down a secret alley or anything, and while we have a reasonable collection of cooking spices that people sometimes come in for, given the advertising it's kind of important to have to have something out of the ordinary on offer that doesn't risk hospitalizing anyone. Teas are good for that. The problem is that...well, I told you that Freddy ordered some things that he didn't really need?"

She opened one of the boxes, and Roddy frowned at the half-dozen different-sized jars and bags inside. "Those are all the same stuff?"

"Yeah. Mint, in this case."

She flipped one of the box flaps up again and gestured at the writing on it, although his nose would have told him the same if he'd been paying attention.

"He bought them at different times from different sources, opened some and not others, and there's certainly nothing in the way of labels or weights involved anywhere. I've checked them all for contamination and potency and tossed what was too far gone to use, but what I'd like you to do with the rest is measure out two and four-ounce bags in the numbers I've got listed here," a tap of the numbers scribbled under the 'mint' label on the box, "and then combine the remainder into whatever the best of the containers is. Glass by preference, but use your judgment, and if none of them look good let me know and I'll find you a spare from elsewhere. Do you know how to use a scale?"

It should have been an immediate yes, but the thing she pointed to on the table next to the cot wasn't the normal digital kind, it was another old-school thing with a little plate on each side and funny little peg weights along the base. "I think so?"

"I'll help with the first couple if you want. Oh, and the for-sale sized bags are these. She gestured to the two unopened boxes next to the scale.

He nodded. "Do you want me to label them? The bags, I mean, once I've filled them?"

"Not just yet. In most cases I'll be adding extra ingredients to create those blends I mentioned, and I'll do the labeling after that." A pause. "And I might eschew at least that much shop ambiance and print said labels because I'm not sure how many times I can write 'Mint elderflower, three ounces' before my hand gives out."

Roddy had to smile, and as it turned out the funny little weights weren't hard to use. Weird looking, maybe, but he wasn't worried about messing up her stuff when she started up some music and then headed back into the chemistry room and left him alone.


"Roddy? I've got another for you."

Roddy looked up from his careful portioning of rooibois. "What kind?"

"Blackberry leaf."

"Seriously? You've already got two and a half boxes of containers of blackberry leaf. Are you sure your brother wasn't a Seelengut in a previous life?"

"Right about now that's as good an explanation as any, although I suspect it's more a combination of a lack of attention and blackberry bushes being ridiculously common around here." She added another large glass jar to the box he pointed to. "If you'd like to take any home, you should feel free. And if you wouldn't like any, I'm going to put some in your backpack anyway."

He grinned.

"But I just got a text from a customer asking for an early delivery since he'll be out of town for the rest of the week. Would you be okay if I left you here by yourself for a little bit?"

"Yeah, sure." He was eighteen, not eight. And except for the nap between the mint and white tea, he'd been feeling pretty good, too. He'd even managed about half a chicken sandwich at lunch. Admittedly more chicken than sandwich, and mostly because Rosalee looking was somehow more convincing than Mr. Rabe insisting which made no sense, but whatever.

"All right, thank you. I'll be gone half an hour at most, and then maybe we'll start packing up for the day? It's already after four."

"Sounds good." He'd be through the majority of the two-ounce bags of rooibois by then, and that would leave the four-ounce, the green, and the insane amounts of blackberry leaf for tomorrow.

The bell chimed as she headed out the front, and he was closer to done with the two-ounce bags than he'd expected to get when it finally chimed again, but a 'Hello?' just about made him dump everything straight onto the floor because that hadn't been Rosalee's voice. A couple customers had come through over lunch, mostly people scrambling for last-minute stocking stuffers, but he'd assumed that she'd closed the shop when she'd left.

He was debating whether he should hide or attempt to be useful, with a definite personal preference for the former, when a man stuck his head around the still-open door leading in from the front of the shop and the decision was made for him.

"Oh, oh, thank goodness, I'm so glad you're here. So glad you're open. I just got done with my last job, and I was so afraid you'd be closed. Nice to meet you. Uh, whoever you are. Family, I'm guessing?" He barely paused to take a breath never mind give Roddy time to reply. "I'm sure you're very busy, and I don't want to waste your time, but my wife stopped in a few weeks ago and bought some of the white sandalwood tea, and she really loves it. And her mother, she just tried some and likes it too, and then her sister—that's my wife's sister, not my wife's mother's sister, my wife's mother actually does have a sister but she's back in Terra Haute, and I don't know how she feels about tea—thought she might like some also, and really I'd just like to get three more bags, and then everyone can have their own, and when it's time for people to get on the road and on their planes and everything else it'll be so easy to deal with and no need to detour or wait for the shop to re-open or anything like that."

"Um," Roddy tried. Plenty of his teachers talked fast, but that had been kind of impressive.

"Not that they'd delay their trips for tea—my wife's mother and my sister-in-law, I mean, my wife isn't planning to go anywhere, or at least I don't think she's going anywhere since the kids are out of school, and I can't take them to work with me—but there'd be all kinds of insistence about who should take what, and I'd really like things to go smoothly, and just let it be a nice calm holiday, you know?"

"Um," Roddy tried again.

"Sorry, it's just been a long couple days. A really long couple days. A lot of family in town. Mostly my wife's family. And the house is, I mean, it's a very nice house, but it's just not that big, you know?"

"I'll help you look?" Roddy offered hesitantly. "I don't actually work here, I'm just helping out, and Rosalee stepped out a couple minutes ago." There was absolutely nothing threatening about the man in front of him, but he did look very stressed, and for all that Roddy had spent the day measuring tea, he had no idea where in the shop she kept the stuff that was ready for sale.

The man breathed a sigh of obvious relief. "That would be great. That would be excellent. Thank you so much."

"I...what kind was it, again?" Roddy asked, pushing himself up from the cot. His head swam a little, but not too badly despite the fact that he'd only had a few sips from his latest mug of headache tea, and he braced himself long enough to take another gulp and then send Rosalee a quick text before accompanying the man into the other room.

"White sandalwood. My wife's a big fan."

"Right." It took a little bit to find the cabinet with all the teas, and once he had he could understand some of Rosalee's distress because as far as he could tell the jars had been thrown up with no regard to type or alphabet or anything else. But presumably the one the man wanted was around here somewhere, and he bit his lip and started to scan the shelves.

"So, if you're helping out, does that mean you're just in town for the holidays?" the man asked, looking between him and the tea cabinet. "Are you family? Rosalee's, I mean?" A pause. "Or Monroe's?"

The last question was accompanied by a slight step back, and Roddy almost choked because of all the things a Reinigen didn't tend to get mistaken for, a Blutbad was pretty high up there. Then again, the possibility of a strange Blutbad would make him back up too, and he shook his head quickly before remembering that that wasn't the wisest idea right now. "No, just a friend. And I do live here in Portland, but Rosalee offered—oh, wait I think that's it." It wasn't quite on the top shelf, but it was out of his reach, and while the guy wasn't exactly tall himself Roddy was glad that he had enough extra inches to reach it because he wasn't sure that he wanted to risk the rolling ladder.

Well, until he was feeling better. It would probably be fun to try when he was sure that his stomach would stay where it was supposed to.

"This is it," the man confirmed, opening the jar and taking a quick sniff before offering the jar back to Roddy. "That's exactly it, thank you so much."

It was all loose in the jar rather than measured out for sale, and Roddy gestured back towards the counter. "Just a sec, and I'll get some bags ready for you. Three you said?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

There was another little scale up front and he measured out three bags quickly, although he was really hoping that Rosalee would reply soon because along with a lack of weights or measures on the packaging was a distinct lack of pricing. And then Rosalee herself walked in, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Hey."

"Hey, Roddy, what—oh, Bud, hello. I wasn't expecting to see you here today."

Somehow the whole tea story seemed to come out even faster this time around, but Rosalee apparently knew the guy well enough that it didn't throw her, and before long his packages were wrapped up neatly, good wishes were exchanged, and he was heading out the door again looking much happier.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot to lock the door on my way out," Rosalee said, flipping the lock and the sign as soon as he was gone. "Thank you for taking care of that."

"It's okay. He was nice. Although he seemed a little stressed."

"That is not an uncommon state of being for him." A smile. "Come on, let's get our stuff."