A Cup of Silver Linings

by Karen Hawkins

  Ellen’s face softened. “Julie always loved peppermint. When she was little, she’d steal all the candy canes off the Christmas tree and hide them under her pillow. I tried to get her to stop so there’d be a few left for Christmas morning, but she never listened.”

  Ava smiled wistfully. “She didn’t like rules.”

  “She hated them.” Ellen sipped her tea, seeming far more at ease.

  “How are you and Kristen holding up?”

  Ellen lowered her mug and sighed. “I worry about Kristen. She’s been very quiet.”

  “She’s quiet sometimes. She’s also smart, capable, super polite—I couldn’t ask for a better employee. She’s helped at my greenhouses for two summers now, and she’s great with people she knows, although she’s a bit shy when it comes to talking to new customers.”

  “I guess I fall into the ‘new customer’ category.” Ellen put her mug back on the bar. “So far, our conversations have consisted of one-syllable answers and chilly silences.”

  Ava winced. That didn’t sound like Kristen at all. “Julie’s death hit Kristen really hard. I’m sure she’ll adjust in time.”

  “It’s more than that. She knows I expect her to move back to Raleigh with me, and I can tell she hates the thought.”

  Oh dear. That wasn’t good at all. Ava tried to pick her words carefully. “Kristen hoped she would be able to stay in Dove Pond at least long enough to finish high school.”

  Ellen shook her head. “I can’t spend a year and a half here. I have a new project coming up in April and I have to be there to oversee it. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she shuts me down every time I mention it.”

  “Teenagers are tough. May I give you a suggestion?”

  “About Kristen?”

  “About teenagers in general. If she’s giving you the silent treatment, she’s telling you something, whether you understand what it is or not.”

  “She’s being childish.” Ellen picked up her tea and took another sip. “I suppose that’s no surprise, though. It’s obvious from her purple hair and that horrible nose piercing that Julie left her daughter to fend for herself. Kristen may not like having a real parent, but that’s what she has now. And the sooner she understands that, the better for us both.”

  Ava put her mug down. “Have you seen Kristen’s grades?”

  “I have an appointment with the school counselor tomorrow. I’m sure Kristen will need some tutoring to catch her up before she moves to another school.”

  “She’s at the head of her class.”

  Ellen’s mouth opened and then closed, her gaze searching Ava’s face as if half expecting Ava to say she was joking. When Ava merely raised her eyebrows, the older woman’s mouth pinched into a frown. “Kristen never mentioned that.”

  “She has straight A’s. She hasn’t missed so much as a single day of classes, even with her mother being sick. She works here most afternoons, too. She’s responsible and very mature for her age.”

  Surprise flickered across Ellen’s narrow face. “That’s good to know. But it doesn’t change the fact that piercings and purple hair are the sort of decisions that can make life much more difficult. You know how people judge.”

  “The way you did.” The words slipped out before Ava could stop them.

  Ellen flushed and set her mug down so firmly that it thunked. “I thought you might help me convince Kristen to listen to reason, but I can see that was a misplaced hope. I—”

  The door swung open, and Erma Tingle entered wearing a red puffer coat, her usually perfectly coiffed gray hair in disarray. Short and square, with deep brown skin, Erma was an active member of the Dove Pond Improvement Committee and was known for her no-nonsense attitude. She also had a tendency to wear her hikers every day despite the fact that she owned the Peek-A-Boo Boutique, a surprisingly fashionable shop just down the street.

  She scanned the room, brightening when she saw Ava. “Thank God you’re here!” Erma hurried up and placed a tea canister on the bar directly in front of Ava. “This tea is messed up.”

  In all the years Ava had made her teas, no one had ever declared any of them “messed up.” She picked up the canister. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s poison,” Erma said firmly. “That’s what is wrong with it. Pure poison!”

  Ellen’s finely plucked eyebrows arched, her gaze sharpening.

  Ava bristled. Great. Of course this had to happen in front of Ellen. Refusing to look her way, Ava opened the canister and sniffed gently. The scent of lavender, peppermint, chamomile, a hint of coriander, and a half dozen other herbs wafted up out of the tin. As she always did for this recipe, she’d mixed the soil around the base of a lavender plant with a teaspoon of dried oregano and a drop of white vinegar that had been exposed to a waning moon for two days.

  Ava replaced the lid. “This is the same tea I’ve made you for the past four years.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s cursed, I tell you!” Erma eyed the canister as if it contained a coiled snake.

  “What happened?”

  “It made me fall asleep the way it’s supposed to, but I wasn’t all the way asleep.” Erma leaned closer, her eyes wide. “Ava, I spoke to my Uncle Jeb, the one who passed away a month ago!”

  Ellen made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh. When Ava and Erma looked her way, Ellen glanced at her watch. “Goodness, look at the time. I just realized I’m missing an appointment. Ava, thank you for showing me your tearoom, but I really must go.”

  “Of course. I can put your tea in a to-go cup if you’d li—”

  “No, no. I’ve had more than enough, thank you.” Ellen headed out, putting on her coat as she went. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Good luck with your tearoom!” The door swung shut behind her.

  Relieved Ellen was gone, Ava turned back to Erma. “About the tea… maybe you just had a dream.”

  “No. It wasn’t a dream. It was him, Ava. And he was as mad as a wet hen.”

  “About what?”

  “That I gave his antique cupboard to his ex, my Aunt Susan. He yelled so much that I was sure Christine would wake up, but she never missed a snore.” Christine DeVault, who owned Antique Alley, which was just a few doors down from the tearoom, was Erma’s longtime partner. The two lived over the antique store in a delightful apartment with large windows that overlooked Main Street.

  “Ava, it was horrible!” Erma shuddered. “Uncle Jeb wrote in his will that he wanted one of his nieces—either me or one of my two sisters—to have that cupboard, but it’s huge and Lord, is it ugly. I don’t know who made it, but it had big ol’ birds on each corner with their beaks open and their wings spread like they were getting ready to attack. The whole thing looked as if it belonged in a bad horror movie. So when Susan asked for it while we were sitting around after the funeral, we were more than happy to give it to her. She deserved something for staying married to that old coot as long as she did.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t a dream?”

  Erma gripped Ava’s arm and leaned closer. “Before he faded away, Uncle Jeb said there was a secret drawer in the bottom right panel of that cupboard and that there was a treasure in it, one he wanted me and my sisters to have. So the second the sun came up, I called Aunt Susan and asked her to look for that drawer. And Ava”—Erma’s eyes widened—“she found it!”

  Ava’s heart sunk.

  “Inside that drawer were three like-new 1843 Seated Liberty dollars, one for each of us girls. Those coins can go for ten thousand dollars or more apiece. It was a treasure, just like Uncle Jeb said.”

  Ava’s stomach churned. Did my tea do that? She wanted to argue but didn’t know where to start. Her gift had come with precious little instruction. Momma used to tell Ava and her sisters, “Trial and error will tell you what you need to know. Just be sure there’s more trial and less error, and never, ever hurt anyone.”

  Ava rubbed her temples and wished for the hundredth time that she wasn’t so t
ired. “This is—geez.” She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Erma, I don’t know what happened to your tea, but I’ll figure it out and make you another batch.”

  “No!” Erma’s frightened gaze locked on the canister. “I don’t need more tea.” As she spoke, she backed toward the door. “But I appreciate the offer. I really do.”

  “No, wait!” Ava followed her. “Erma, let me fix this. I’ll figure out what went wrong and make sure it never, ever happens again.”

  Erma paused at the door. “Never?”

  “Never. Maybe I got the wrong amount of something by mistake or—or maybe the canister wasn’t prepared right, or…” Ava gave a helpless shrug. “It could have been a number of things.”

  Erma eyed the tea with an uneasy expression. “Maybe it got too hot in your truck.”

  Ava managed a wan smile. “It’s possible. Whatever it is, I’ll figure it out. And I’ll make you another, free of charge, of course.”

  “Well… I would miss having my nightly cup of tea,” Erma admitted. “I never sleep well without it. Plus, it’s not like Uncle Jeb hurt me or anything. He just yelled.”

  “And told you about the treasure,” Ava added, hoping that made things better.

  Erma brightened. “That’s true. To be honest, I was more surprised than scared. I guess I’ll take a fresh batch of tea, but only after you figure out what went wrong.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry if I ruined your morning. I was just weirded out by the whole thing. But you’ll fix it. I know you will.”

  Ava could only hope that was true.

  Erma glanced at the clock that hung over the kitchen door. “I’d better get back to my store. Thanks, Ava.” With an encouraging smile, she left.

  Ava stared at the door, her head throbbing even more. She’d faced delay after delay with her tearoom opening, she’d lost her new friend and was deeply worried about Kristen’s issues with her grandmother, and now this—one of her teas had misfired, something that had never happened before.

  But even worse, hovering over her like an ominous cloud only she could see, was a growing sense of panic that the secret she had locked away in a frayed shoebox under her bed would soon escape. Life could get no worse.

   CHAPTER 3  Kristen

  Kristen dropped her backpack onto the long green bench by the front door and tugged off her coat. She listened for the familiar tap-tap-tap of dog nails on the wood floor but was met with silence. The dogs must be in the backyard. Figures.

  Grandma Ellen didn’t like dogs. From what Kristen could tell, her grandmother didn’t like much of anything she’d seen in this house. Which is stupid. This house is the best. I love it here. The thought of leaving it behind made Kristen’s stomach ache like she’d eaten a bad burrito. I don’t want to move. Ever.

  A door opened somewhere in the house, and she could hear Grandma Ellen talking on the phone about deadlines and permits. From the number of phone calls she got, it was obvious she was pretty important to her office.

  I wish she’d go back to Raleigh. They can have her. Kristen sunk onto the bench and slouched against the wall as she shoved her hands inside the front pocket of her hoodie. Her fingers curled around her kazoo, the metal growing warm under her fingers. She used to like coming home, especially on Fridays, like today, when the freedom of a weekend was within reach. I used to like a lot of things, but that was before Mom—

  Her throat tightened. She couldn’t even think it. Kristen released the kazoo and swiped at her burning eyes. In the distance, her grandmother’s voice grew sharper and more annoying.

  Kristen hated everything about her life right now. The way her teachers and friends talked to her as if afraid she might break, the pity on people’s faces, the way the smallest thing made her so angry she wanted to scream. But more than anything else, she hated that Grandma Ellen was here, in the house that used to feel like home, pretending everything was fine when they both knew it wasn’t.

  Kristen took a deep breath, fighting the urge to burst into tears. She and Mom had been closer than most mothers and daughters, handling their world the best way they could. For years Kristen had watched her mother travel between what she called light and dark days. On light days, no one was more fun. No one. Mom was creative and bright, and she laughed at everything. She’d sometimes wake Kristen up in the middle of the night, talking a mile a minute, elated about a breakthrough she’d had with a painting. Chatting loudly, she’d make ice cream sundaes for them both while they talked about life and love and, well, everything—or rather, Mom would talk and Kristen would listen and laugh, because no one was as fascinating as Mom when she was feeling light.

  But the dark days always followed the light. Mom, listless and silent, would go to bed and stay there, sometimes for days, curled up in a ball, staring out the window, unable to care for herself or Kristen.

  Over the years, Kristen found ways to deal with the dark days. She and Mom were a team, so when Mom couldn’t do things, Kristen did. She did the laundry, fixed meals, and got herself to school. Even before she could drive, she’d do the shopping, riding her bike three blocks to the Piggly Wiggly and returning home with her backpack full of ravioli and ramen noodles. Kristen was proud of her independence, and she liked helping Mom too. They were a team, she and Mom.

  Around the time Kristen turned fourteen, Mom finally found a good mix of meds that eased her dark days so they were at least bearable, but by then, their pattern was set. When Mom didn’t feel her best, Kristen stepped in. It wasn’t the way other families did things, but that was fine because, as Mom always said, everyone danced to the beat of their own drum.

  Well, except Grandma Ellen. Kristen couldn’t imagine her probably-ironed-her-jeans grandmother dancing, not even a little.

  Impatiently shoving a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Kristen looked down the hallway to the mural Mom had painted for her. Years ago, when the new Wonder Woman movie had come out, Mom had bought them opening-night tickets. Oh, how they’d loved that movie. It was wild to see a woman—a whole island of women!—who were total badasses. After the movie, they’d started reading all the Wonder Woman comic books, watched the older movies, and even sat through the corny but fun TV series. Kristen had wanted to be Wonder Woman so badly that she’d started staging pretend fights with the couch cushions, using a pool noodle as a sword. If Mom was having a good day and had the energy for it, sometimes she would join in.

  One day, after an epic pool noodle/sword fight, Mom had had the idea of painting a mural of Wonder Woman kicking a brown-shirted bad guy in the face. To Kristen’s delight, Mom had replaced Wonder Woman’s face with Kristen’s and had called the mural Wonder Kristen Saves the World (Again).

  After that, whenever Kristen was curled up on the lumpy violet couch in the living room doing her homework, she would look into the hallway at the mural and imagine she really was kicking evil in the face. For a moment, she’d feel powerful and unstoppable. It had been months since she’d felt either way.

  Her gaze moved from the mural to the stairs. When Mom was alive, as soon as Kristen got home, she’d let the dogs out, make a snack for two, and take the tray upstairs to Mom’s room. There they’d talk about Kristen’s day at school, about Kristen’s work with Ava, and everything else.

  But Mom was gone now, and here sat Kristen, alone. Forever.

  Her chest tightened until it felt as if someone were sitting on it, but it was nothing compared to the hollowness that now echoed in her very soul. That was the hardest part, the loneliness. Even when she was sitting with her friends or walking through the crowded halls of her high school, she felt deeply alone. She didn’t know why, but she did. It just was, and now that feeling was a part of Kristen.

  Suddenly restless, she got up and went into the living room. But everywhere she looked, she saw bits and pieces of Mom. Paintings, figurines, sketchbooks, and cups of colored pencils were scattered around the room like a trail of breadcrumbs.

  “You’re home early.” Grandma El
len stood in the opposite doorway, her phone in one hand.

  Kristen shrugged. “Ava had something to take care of at the greenhouses.”

  “Ah. I didn’t even realize you were here. I’ve been on a conference call with the office all afternoon.”

  Grandma Ellen was dressed in blue slacks and a shimmery cream-colored shirt, her hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck. She looked as if she were in a commercial for an expensive brand of old women’s makeup rather than standing in Kristen’s and Mom’s messy house.

  Not that there was anything wrong with a messy house. Mom used to say that dust bunnies were the spirit animals of creatives.

  Grandma Ellen smiled in her too-stiff, too-cautious way, as if she expected Kristen to suddenly sprout wings and a tail and fly through the air like a bat. “How was school today?”

  “Fine.” She walked past Grandma and went to the kitchen. Mom had rarely mentioned her mother, so Kristen didn’t know much about her grandma except that she was an architect and was “super judgy,” as Mom had put it. Kristen had been six when Grandma and Mom had had their big falling-out, which had led to Mom and Kristen moving here to Dove Pond. Kristen barely remembered the time before their move, and over the years, her memories of her grandmother had scattered and faded until there were few left.

  “There are so many paintings in this house.” Grandma Ellen had followed Kristen into the kitchen and now stood beside a series of small paintings Mom had made of the park downtown. “Your mother was prolific, wasn’t she?”

  “It’s who she was.” Kristen opened the back door and stood to one side so the dogs could crowd inside, their tails wagging so hard it looked as if they were dancing. She patted them all, cooing over them and smiling as they wandered off to their various perches on the living room couches and chairs.

  “Your poor furniture,” Grandma Ellen murmured.

  Kristen ignored her. Grandma Ellen could dislike the dogs all she wanted, but Kristen loved her doggos and wasn’t about to part with them—not a one.