The old library in Westmere had shelves for romance, history, crime and weather. It also had one locked cabinet labelled Aromatics, which the new librarian, Bea, opened on her first day with a brass key and unreasonable excitement.
Inside were jars of spices, each tied to a story. Cinnamon held lullabies. Bay leaves held family arguments. Pepper held everything else: shipwrecks, proposals, failed soufflés, political scandals, camping trips and a wedding where the groom sneezed during the vows.
Bea began adding pepper notes to the catalogue. Readers came asking for 'something with bite' or 'a novel that wakes up halfway through'. She always gave them a book and a peppercorn. 'Crack this when the plot slows,' she said. Nobody ever returned disappointed.