From across the grave, Ava continued reading, “ ‘… without becoming the slave of his passions, will obtain success in everything he may do.’ ” She closed the book, a misty smile quivering. “So true.”
Everyone nodded, wiping their eyes and sniffling.
Aware of Kristen’s critical gaze, Ellen forced herself to murmur, “Wonderful.” Wonderful that it’s over.
Ava handed the book to her sister Sarah, who’d quietly come to stand beside her. Although Sarah was five years younger, she looked enough like Ava to be her twin. The younger Dove sister wore a flowing, multicolored maxi dress under a long blue coat, which clashed with her bright orange sneakers.
People in this strange little town thought Sarah was a “book charmer,” which would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. They thought she could talk to books and—more ridiculous yet—books could talk back, telling her which people they’d like to visit. Ellen supposed such a skill, if it existed, would be useful to Sarah, who was the town librarian. All the Doves think they’re so special. Well, they’re not. They’re strange, that’s what they are. Every one of them.
She wondered briefly where the other Dove sisters and their mother were. Perhaps, tired of the strangeness of this tiny town, they’d moved away. Which would be completely understandable.
Sarah patted the book and favored the group of mourners with a far-too-cheerful smile. “Julie asked me to set this book aside at the library in case any of you would like to check it out.”
“So kind,” the preacher said. “Thank you for that reading, Ava. And, Sarah, thank you for making the book available. After that lovely excerpt, I’m sure a lot of us will be checking out the Kama Sutra.” He beamed around the group. “I met with Julie and Kristen as they planned this service, and I was impressed with their determination to bring joy today rather than having ‘the usual weep-fest,’ as Julie called it. She wanted all of us to leave today filled with hope and love. In keeping with that wish, before you head out, please take the time to hug your neighbor.” He smiled. “God bless you. See you all Sunday.”
Hugs? With this group? No, thank you. Ellen turned toward Kristen but found her hugging her friend Missy.
“Mrs. Foster?”
She instantly recognized Ava Dove’s voice and, stifling a sigh, reluctantly turned to face the young woman.
Ava stood beside Mrs. Jolean Hamilton, known throughout town as “Aunt Jo.” Ellen remembered the round, cane-carrying, artificially black-haired, ebony-skinned old woman well, as she had a startling tendency to say whatever was on her mind. At Aunt Jo’s side sat a fat, wheezy bulldog, who was tentatively sniffing in Ellen’s direction.
Ellen ignored the animal and offered a polite smile to Aunt Jo and Ava. “How nice of you both to come and say hello. Kristen said she didn’t know what she or her mother would have done without you two these past few weeks.” When Ellen had arrived at Julie’s, she’d been relieved to find Ava staying with Kristen. Ellen now knew that Ava and Aunt Jo had taken turns cooking and cleaning and generally looking after things when Julie had grown too weak to get out of bed.
Ellen’s jaw ached. That should have been me. But it hadn’t been and, between waves of disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel a deep, genuine gratitude. “I owe you more than I can say.”
Ava’s smile trembled, but she held on to it. “I’m going to miss Julie.”
“The whole town will.” Aunt Jo cocked an eyebrow at Ellen, a challenge in her clear brown eyes. “You haven’t been in Dove Pond for quite a while. I daresay most of the people here today are strangers to you.”
“I remember the Doves, of course,” Ellen replied smoothly. “And I remember you, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“I remember you too,” Aunt Jo said. “You and Julie used to yell at each other in your front yard just about every morning.”
Ellen’s face heated. “We had a contentious relationship, but she was my daughter and I loved her.”
Aunt Jo clicked her tongue. “Sweet Betsy, I wasn’t criticizing you. Children are our greatest joys and our greatest pains in the ass, too. Mrs. Foster—Ellen, isn’t it?”
Ellen nodded.
“Ha! I did remember it. You look as if you could use one of those hugs the preacher ordered.”
What? Oh no. “That’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary. I was just about to tell Kristen we should le—”
“We all need a hug now and then.” Aunt Jo handed her cane to Ava and rolled up the sleeves of her bright pink windbreaker.
Ellen took a step back. She rarely hugged people, even those she was close to. She’d already put up with so much today and—
“Grandma.”
Ellen found Kristen at her elbow, her face set in stubborn lines, her friend Missy standing behind her wearing a similarly disapproving expression.
Fine. Ellen pasted on a smile, one she was sure looked as if it had been cut from cardboard, turned back to Aunt Jo, and bestowed an air kiss on the elderly woman’s round cheek. There. That should do it.
She was just straightening when Aunt Jo slipped her arms around Ellen and gave her a massive, enveloping hug. Despite being shorter by at least six inches, Aunt Jo lifted Ellen to her toes, sending one of her high heels tumbling off. It rolled across the grass, stopping perilously close to the open grave.
Gasping for air, Ellen was planted back on her feet and released. Her remaining heel sunk into the soft grass, and as she stepped back, trying to regain her balance, she almost tripped over Aunt Jo’s bulldog. Startled, the dog barked, hopping around and threatening to wrap them both in his orange-and-purple-striped leash.
Staggering back upright, Ellen caught Kristen trying to hide a grin.
“You almost stepped on Moon Pie,” Aunt Jo admonished. “You should be more careful. He’s more fragile than he looks.”
Face hot, and too upset to speak, Ellen left the small group and went to collect her shoe.
“Welcome to Dove Pond, Grandma!” Kristen called after her as both she and Missy stifled giggles.
Jaw tight, Ellen slipped her shoe back in place. She took her time, calming herself with the thought that in just a few minutes, with the exception of Kristen, Ellen would be shut of this place and these people. I cannot wait. Calmed, she forced herself to return to the small group, ignoring the dog that was still barking loudly.
“Moon Pie, shush!” Aunt Jo said to the animal. “I’ve already told you twice that it isn’t polite to bark at a funeral.”
Moon Pie, panting, dropped to his haunches and sat politely as if all he’d needed was a reminder of that earlier talk.
Kristen beamed at the dog. “Who’s a good boy? You are!”
The dog’s tail wagged so hard its butt wagged with it.
Glad to no longer be the center of attention, Ellen murmured, “Such a good boy.”
Ava eyed Ellen with surprise. “You like dogs?”
“I love dogs like Moon Pie.” Which was true. She loved any dog she didn’t have to clean up after.
Ava looked relieved. “That’s good. You’re about to inherit four of them.”
Ellen’s smile froze in place. “I beg your pardon?”
Aunt Jo shot a hard look at Kristen. “You didn’t tell your grandma about your wolf pack.”
Kristen grinned. “It slipped my mind.”
“What wolf pack?” Ellen asked, trying not to let her irritation show.
“Kristen’s doggos,” Missy explained. “They’ve been staying at my house for the past two weeks since Ms. Julie was so sick.”
“How’s Chuffy’s hair?” Kristen asked.
“Still falling out even though we’ve been bathing him in that smelly stuff you sent over.”
“Forget Chuffy,” Aunt Jo said. “It’s that black-and-white one that’s a menace. He’s so full of gas that it’s a wonder he doesn’t propel himself out a window.”
Missy giggled. “Mom says if we could bottle it, we could sell it as bug spray at the Spring Fling.”
Fortunately for Ellen, the years she’d spent working for the largest architectural firm in Raleigh, which was filled with demanding clients and bossy men, had taught her not to rise to obvious bait. “I can’t wait to meet them. I’d pick them up myself, but I’d hate to get dog hair in my new Lexus.”
Clearly disappointed in Ellen’s calm reaction, Kristen said in a less excited tone, “Missy has a truck. She can bring them home.” Kristen turned back to her friend and they were soon lost in conversation.
“I’d best get to going,” Aunt Jo announced. “I have a roast in my Crock-Pot. It was good to see you again, Ellen.” The older lady retrieved her cane from Ava and then called to her dog. “Ready, Moon Pie?” Yawning, the dog followed her as she headed toward the parking lot.
Ava turned to Ellen. “Listen, if you need anything, Sarah and I are just a few houses down. Julie was—” The words caught in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to continue. “Julie was special.”
The bruised expression on Ava’s face was familiar to Ellen. She saw it every time she looked in a mirror. Julie had friends here. Real friends. Ava’s obvious emotion eased Ellen’s irritation. Perhaps, with a little work, she could turn Ava into an ally of sorts. I could use more of those. “Kristen says she’s been working for you after school, getting your tearoom ready. It’s helped her to stay busy.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without her. I was hoping to open in February, but now—” Ava grimaced. “I’m behind schedule. It’ll be mid-March at the earliest.”
“Most of my work involves rehabbing older buildings, so I know the trials and tribulations. I’d like to stop by sometime and see what you’re doing. How about Monday?”
“That would be nice.” Ava’s smile was steadier now. “I’ll fix you a cup of tea.”
Ellen kindly returned the smile. “I’d love that.” Feeling a little less alone, Ellen gave the dragon flag–draped coffin one final look and then turned to collect Kristen.
Item One was officially completed. On to Item Two. If everything went as planned, she and Kristen would soon be done with Dove Pond.
CHAPTER 2 Ava
On Monday morning, Ava Dove stood in her unfinished tearoom and stifled a yawn. For over four long, interminable months, she hadn’t slept for more than three hours a night. It wasn’t because she was worried about opening her tearoom, even though she was way behind schedule. Nor was it because of the death of her friend Julie Foster, although Ava missed her more every day. The reason Ava couldn’t sleep was because she had a secret.
It wasn’t a small, unassuming secret either, one that affected her and no one else. Her secret, a horrible mistake she’d made long ago, threatened the happiness of those she loved the most. And so, desperate to keep it hidden, she’d long ago trapped the ornery thing in a shoebox, duct-taped it closed, and then shoved it under her bed. She’d told herself that when the time came, she’d confess, set the secret free, and make things right.
But somehow that time never came. For months and months, she’d researched dusty tomes and ancient manuscripts and had spent hours upon hours performing experiment after experiment, but her efforts had all failed. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t undo her mistake. Worse, as the years progressed, the secret had gotten stronger and was now fighting to break out of its prison. Long after dark, night after night, it banged against the bottom of her old wrought-iron bed until the idea of sleep was nothing more than a hollow hope.
The tape holding the shoebox closed was beginning to fray, the box itself starting to tear. She’d tried re-taping it, but each morning, the new tape would be on the floor, wadded in an angry knot, the old tape stretched and exhausted. She knew deep in her heart that one day soon the secret would rip through the duct tape, and her world would fall apart.
Ava rubbed her tired eyes, trying to wipe away her anguished thoughts. “I don’t have time for this,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the panic that fluttered in her stomach. She knew from long experience that obsessing over her problems wouldn’t help. She inhaled a deep breath, taking in the smell of freshly cut wood and new varnish, and then eyed the stacks of boxes and paint supplies that sat against the opposite wall. A neat pile of unassembled wrought-iron tables and chairs was dwarfed by boxes of supplies waiting for shelves that hadn’t yet been installed. There was more painting to be done, a floor that needed to be repaired and refinished, windows that needed to be reglazed, and more. So much to do, so little time.
Stifling an exhausted yawn, she located the watering can she’d stashed behind the long mahogany bar that had just been installed, filled the can with water, and carried it to the row of plants she’d brought from her greenhouses. A healthy line of bamboo palms and dragon trees sat along the front window, basking in the late-morning sun. On a cart sat small decorative pots of mother-in-law’s tongue, which were destined to be centerpieces for the tables. Ava loved green things and they loved her. She never felt more at peace than when she was surrounded by her plants. And right now, she greedily gulped their peacefulness the way a parched man would gulp a glass of sweet tea.
The door swung open, and her sister Sarah came in, staggering under a load of boxes. “Help!”
“Oh no!” Ava set the watering can down and hurried to take some of the boxes off the stack. She carried them to the bar and slid them onto the shiny surface.
Sarah placed her boxes next to Ava’s. “That’s the last time I go to the post office for you.” Sarah rubbed her arms. “What’s in there? Rocks?”
Ava peered at the boxes. “The four smaller ones are the wooden stir sticks, but those larger ones are wrought-iron trivets for the teapots.”
Still rubbing her arms, Sarah walked to the center of the room, her bright yellow coat flaring as she turned, her gaze moving around the room. “Oh, Ava, it’s going to be beautiful.”
Ava agreed. She’d bought the narrow late-nineteenth-century redbrick building on a whim. The bottom level used to hold a florist’s shop, while the upstairs had been divided into small offices and one too-tiny apartment. The businesses had folded long ago during an economic downturn, and the vacant building put on the market, the price dropping as the years passed. Last year, Ava had recognized the building for the bargain it had become and had snapped it up.
Not only was the building solid and perfectly located in the center of Main Street, but it was blessed with a ton of striking, unique architectural details from its earliest years, all carefully preserved by the previous owner. The front of the old florist’s shop had a gorgeous cast-iron bow window where Ava planned to display her teas, and the entire building was floored in beautifully worn wide oak planks. Best of all, the ceiling was lined with original pressed tin ceiling tiles.
Ava loved it all. Even now, as exhausted as she was from yet another near sleepless night, she couldn’t help but feel proud. “I hope it’s done in time. I have to open in March. I can’t afford to wait any longer.”
“It will be ready.” Sarah smiled and came to slip her arm around Ava’s shoulders. “Your tearoom is going to be amazing.”
That was Sarah. Of all the people Ava knew—and between her tearoom and landscaping company, she knew just about everyone here in Dove Pond—her sister was the most positive person she’d ever met. Sarah had always been that way, even when she’d been a tiny thing.
Sarah hugged Ava. “It’s going to be fine. Better than fine. Just look at this.” Sarah went to the mahogany bar and ran her hand over the shining surface. “Dylan did a great job.”
Dylan Fraser was a local contractor who lived in Dove Pond but worked mostly in Asheville. Ava had been doing his landscaping for years, and he’d cut the price of her reno in return for a discount on his yard. “That bar adds a lot of drama to the ro
om. I love it.” She cut her sister an amused look. “And to think that when you saw it at that auction house in Atlanta, you thought it was too big for this room.”
“I was wrong,” Sarah admitted. “Like most librarians, I can look at a pile of books and instantly know how much shelf space they’ll take, but I can’t seem to do that with plain old furniture. I—” A delicate bell chimed, and she pulled out her phone. “It’s Kat. She wants the new Mariah Stewart book.”
Kat Carter was a local real estate agent and one of Ava’s best friends. “She’s been going on and on about it.”
“It came this morning, and I already have a waiting list, although Kat’s first.” Sarah dropped her phone back into her pocket and sighed. “There’s another book that has been bound and determined to visit her, one about the history of turpentine.”
“What does turpentine have to do with Kat?”
“I have no idea, but the book was insistent. I’d better get to the library before Kat.” Sarah headed for the door, pausing when she got there. “I’ll come back after work. Kristen should be here by then. Between the three of us, I bet we can get some of those tables assembled.”
“Thanks, Sarah. That’ll help a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Now stop looking so worried. You’ll get it done in time, and everyone in Dove Pond will flock here the second you’re open. You got this.” With a bright smile, Sarah left.
The door softly closed behind her. Alone again, Ava rubbed her temples, where a faint ache was growing. Rubbing didn’t help, so she decided to ignore the ache and instead retrieved her watering can. She watered the dragon trees, pausing to trail her fingers over the glossy, sword-shaped leaves. The plants hummed happily under her touch, easing her tiredness and making her smile. There were times she found her Dove gift a grave responsibility. But more often than not, it was soothing in ways she couldn’t explain.
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 2