Chapter One

Jessie stepped from the glass monolith where she worked into the mist of a late afternoon drizzle. Her thoughts were bouncing, trapped like mice in a maze, looking for the pathway to complete the computer program she was building. She looked north along 3rd toward Union, considered taking the metro, then decided to walk instead, hoping the fresh air would clear her head. As she headed south, she saw Hattie, her favorite bag lady, sheltered under the eaves.

“Spare change, miss, for a cup’o?” She held out a floppy straw hat as a begging cup. Jessie dropped in a dollar, and was rewarded with a sun beam smile.

“Hattie, go to the shelters tonight, okay? You’ll be dry, and they’ll feed you.”

“Aye, miss, but ‘tis a warm rain today, “twill make me grow.” Hattie’s belly shook at her own joke, and Jessie laughed with her, feeling her tension ease.

She turned west on Union, drawn as always to the waterfront , the scents of salt and fish working their daily magic on her knots. The fishing boats were in, most already unloaded and docked for the night, but still the wharf was busy. A merchant ship was setting out, the vacated dock looking empty. As she watched, a seal popped his head up, far too close to the busy shipping lanes for safety.

Not ready to face her empty house yet, Jessie wandered into the warehouse district. She found the junkyards fascinating. She watched as the shadows settled on the odd shapes of salvage junk, the sun casting golden light as it settled down. The breeze off the bay refreshed her, blowing the cobwebs from her thoughts as it tangled her hair. Finally, she brushed the curls back and captured them into a barrette. Walking down a side street she was unfamiliar with, she saw a light pouring welcome onto the sidewalk from a small shop window. In an ancient scroll on the glass words announced, "Rowan's Books and Oddments, Apothecary and Tea Shop”.

“Tea! That’s a novelty in Seattle.” Feeling adventurous, she stopped.

She approached an unusual door. Actually, it appeared to be four doors in one, nested, smallest to largest, one inside the other. Each door had its own knob, sized to match the door, and its own bell. One door seemed placed for birds, as it was high and small. There was a child-sized door, a traditional, adult sized door, and a giant size door. Jessie picked the adult sized door. She rang the bell, but no one answered. She pushed it open and knocked over a tall thin man who was stacking books on a high shelf just inside the door. 

"Oh! Are you alright?" Jessie dropped to her knees beside him.

"Are you in a hurry? I wasn't invisible." The man sat in a befuddled heap amidst piles of books. 

"I rang the bell. I'm so sorry, really I am. Can I help you up?"

“I wasn’t invisible,” he repeated, sounding confused. He looked up and Jessie felt drawn into the clearest green eyes she'd ever seen. "I, uh, no, thank you, I'm fine," he stammered. "I'm sorry, what were you saying? May I help you with something?"

"Oh, yes." Jessie laughed, intrigued by the man she faced. His slightly graying long hair and beard marked him as one of the town's arty population, but somehow he seemed different. He wore the tweed jacket of an English scholar and blue jeans worn at the knees; he had a easy air.

"The sign in front says tea shop," she said.

"It does? Oh, yes, of course it does. Please come in-- have a seat."

Jessie looked around, but couldn't see a single chair. "Where?"

"Right here, right here, my goodness. How is this?" He stepped aside and two ancient wing chairs appeared behind him.

"Well. I didn't see those! That will be lovely." As Jessie sat down, the clerk ran to prepare her order. Almost at once he returned with a lovely tray of tea and cookies that filled the shop with the aroma of orange spice. He had added candied walnuts and mints.

"May I join you?" he asked.

"Won't you get in trouble? I mean, the shop owner doesn't care?"

"No, no. I think not." he smiled. “I am the owner. Actually, I’m it. Sort of a one man band, you might say. I’m Rowan.” He extended his hand, and Jessie took it.

“I’m pleased to meet you Rowan. I’m Jessie.”

“Welcome to my shop. Looks like you got indoors just in time.” The rain began a steady patter on the front window.

“Looks like it. The radio said it would be clearing this evening. Guess the forecaster must be new to Seattle. I should know better than to buy that line.”

“What brings you to the warehouses so late in the afternoon?”

“I wander around the docks when I’m trying to puzzle out a solution for work problems. Today, I just kept walking. So here I am.” Jessie grinned. “Your shop is unusual for this area.”

Rowan laughed. “This shop is unusual for any area.”

“What are the ‘Oddments’?”

“I’ve collected some junk, over the years. Couldn’t think of a better description for my stuff. You’re welcome to look around.”

"I'd love to see whats hidden away in this treasure trove," Jessie replied and then rose to begin exploring.

"If I may lead the tour?" Rowan asked as he wiggled his eyebrows and offered his arm.

Jessie laughed at him, took his arm, and they were off. The first row was mostly the books, and the variety he favored appealed to Jessie. There was poetry and fantasy, mystery, magic, theater and dance. Picking up an  ancient volume figured with Celtic knots on worn leather, she said, "Oh now, this looks mysterious."

Taking the book from her, Rowan thumbed through until he reached a passage.
"tweode gifena in ðys ginnan grunde.        Heo ðar ða gearwe funde
mundbyrd æt ðam mæran þeodne,        þa heo ahte mæste þearfe,
hyldo þæs hehstan deman,        þæt he hie wið þæs hehstan brogan"

"Whoa! What language is that?" Jessie asked.

Rowan laughed. "It's Old English. This is translated from Runic English. It is from a fragment of a ballad titled 'Judith'."

"Perhaps I should just stick to modern day English," Jessie commented, and taking back the book, she returned it to the shelf. Rowan laughed heartily, and bowed, then offered his arm again. Jessie took it, shaking her head at his formalityr.

Turning a corner at the back of the shop, they came into a section that definitely deserved the name oddments.  There were antique spoon rests next to carved alabaster bookends; faded silk lampshades supported on walnut coat trees; a stuffed owl peered down from atop a corner hutch filled with china mice, and of the whole a certain magical whimsy prevailed. Rowan’s shop contained bits and pieces of the hidden corners of the past, and Jessie was enthralled. One large barrel contained old door knobs, all types, from brass to porcelain to crystal. She found a small, solid brass one in the shape of a flower.

“Oh wow! My Aunt Lizzie had a doorknob just like this on the door to her bedroom. She always called it her boudoir. It seemed mysterious to me.”

“Then you must have it. Please, take it as my gift.” Rowan dipped his head as though bestowing a royal favor.

“Thank you kind sir, I will cherish it always,” Jessie curtsied back to him, teasing. Rowan simply turned to continue his tour. Jessie shook her head, puzzled at his antiquated ways, and tucked the door knob in her pocket.

Coming upon a coat tree covered in hats, Rowan paused to try on a large flat one with a huge feather. "This is my musketeer persona," he said. He twirled, parried with an imaginary sword and then posed jauntily.

Jessie clapped and laughed. "A mighty fine musketeer you make, my friend." Spying a cigar box filled with rings from old Cracker Jacks boxes, she donned several. "I will be your lady." Rowan colored and Jessie quickly returned the rings to the box while Rowan put the hat up.

Returning to the tea, they ate cookies in silence for a few minutes. "What brought you to Seattle, Rowan?"

"Oh, I followed friends many years ago. How about you?"

Jessie hesitated, wondering how many years ago, "I came up here to attend the university, and then I got a job and, well, life goes on.How did you learn old English?"

The conversation wandered from Seattle to literature to art and back until the front bell clattered, followed by a person calling loudly, "Rowan are you here?". Rowan jumped up abruptly, spilling his tea.

"I'm coming, just a moment. Jessie, will you excuse me?" Not waiting for her reply, he shot out the front door.

Jessie looked about her as though she had just awakened. "It's gotten quite late, I must get home!" She gathered her briefcase and purse to leave.

"But what do I owe for tea?” The shop was echo silent and gloom was overtaking it. She realized she hadn't seen another customer the entire afternoon.

"Rowan? What do I owe you?" She heard no answer but the rustle of mice in a wall.

"I'll just leave five dollars. I hope that covers it," she called, and hurried into the street where, once again, she bumped into Rowan, this time as he was returning to the shop.

"I'm so sorry! I left money..."

"I'm so sorry! I was coming right back..." The two spoke at once, then laughed.

"I had a very pleasant afternoon. Thank you for your hospitality."

"So did I! Please come again, won't you?"

"I think I will, thank you." After a moment they said good night.