But that wasn’t even the worst of it. While pacing around the house during a particularly boring conference call, trying desperately to stay awake, she’d found herself standing in the doorway of Julie’s studio. In the weeks since Ellen had arrived, she’d avoided two rooms—the studio and Julie’s bedroom. And yet there Ellen stood.
The studio was filled with Julie’s things. A half-done painting sat on an easel near a window. Books were scattered around the room, open and half read. A fluffy lap blanket was pooled on the floor beside a chair. Two pairs of shoes were piled beside the door where they’d been hastily kicked off. It looked as if Julie had just that second left.
Ellen’s throat had tightened, and she’d pressed her hand to it, trying to dislodge the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm her. It had taken every bit of strength she’d possessed to gather herself and continue the phone call.
Kristen placed the painting in a corner of the living room, handling the canvas as if it were glass.
A twinge of remorse made Ellen say, “I brought it down here from your mom’s studio so I could catalogue it. The light’s better in here.”
Kristen’s eyebrows rose, her disbelief obvious. “There are skylights in Mom’s studio. The light is always better in there.”
Ellen sighed. “Fine. To be honest, I can’t stay in Julie’s studio. It feels…” The words knotted, and she had to take a breath to untangle them. “I’ve been avoiding that room, but somehow I ended up in there today and I—” She just shook her head.
Kristen’s expression softened. “I haven’t been in there yet.” She sent Ellen a surprisingly understanding look and hitched her backpack a little higher. “Are the dogs still outside?”
Ellen nodded, touched by Kristen’s sympathy. “It was warm today. They didn’t want to come back in after lunch.”
“I wish you wouldn’t leave them outside all day, I—” Kristen clamped her lips over the rest of her sentence. “Never mind. I’ll let them in.” With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.
Ellen heard the thunk of Kristen’s backpack as it landed on a chair, followed by the creak of the back door. That was followed by the rumble of the dog herd being welcomed indoors. Lovely. That’s just what this place needs, a stampede of hairy beasts.
Ellen sighed and started to head for the kitchen, but her footsteps slowed before she reached the doorway. She’d thought she and Kristen had reached a new understanding. Things were definitely better. They weren’t arguing and had actually had some not-so-chilly-and-almost-normal discussions. But every time Ellen tried to talk about the future, Kristen still closed up, and Ellen, instantly missing the small connection she was forming with her granddaughter, would do the most unthinkable, most un-Ellen thing in the world—she’d capitulate and let the subject drop.
It was beyond frustrating. But time was passing, and she only had seven weeks before her new project was scheduled to begin. Seven weeks to clean out the house, schedule necessary repairs, and have the main rooms repainted. Meanwhile, Kristen still gets upset when I move a single painting.
Ellen grimaced and then, smoothing her face into a smile, went into the kitchen, where Kristen sat on the floor, hugging her dogs. Just be calm and positive. Don’t overreact, no matter what she says. She’s going through a lot.
Ellen slipped her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. “The dogs are glad to see you.” And so am I. She wondered what would happen if she said it aloud. Would Kristen send her that disgusted “you’re kidding me” look? Or would it make her smile?
Kristen gave Chuffy one last kiss on his forehead and then stood, dusting her jeans.
And just like that, the moment to say something meaningful passed. Ellen was left with the taste of defeat on her tongue. Why do I find it so hard to say what I feel? God knows I wish I’d said more to Julie.
Feeling lost, she cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that seemed to be growing. “You’re home early.”
Kristen went to the counter and pulled out a plastic jug of dog treats. She said, “Sit!,” and the dogs obediently plopped their butts on the wood floor. They waited quietly, but intently, while she gave each one a treat.
Ellen had to admit that the dogs were well behaved, although they shed far too much for her liking. She also wished they wouldn’t climb all over the furniture. But that was an argument for another day. “Is everything okay at work?”
“Yeah. Dylan got there just as I left. He’s installing the spigot. But you should see the cabinets.” Excitement warmed Kristen’s voice. “The whole kitchen looks great.”
Ellen felt a twinge of jealousy. Kristen’s voice was never that lively when she talked to her. That Kristen loved her job made Ellen miss working from her office too. Until these past few weeks, she hadn’t realized how much she depended on the camaraderie of the jobsite, the feeling of accomplishment, and the utter joy of being in control of at least one thing in her life.
Kristen closed up the dog treats and then went to the sink to wash her hands. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“Me neither. I figured I’d make something light.”
“Let me do that.” Ellen started forward. “How about a—”
“No.” Kristen offered a quick smile. “I’m used to taking care of myself. Remember?”
Which is so wrong. But you don’t know that, so… Ellen reluctantly returned the smile. “I was going to offer to make you a sandwich, not a casserole.”
“I’ve got this.” Kristen opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents.
“Fine.” Ellen slipped onto a stool behind the counter. “You know, I don’t think I ate lunch. I can’t remember.” She grimaced. “Food doesn’t have the appeal it once did.”
“Missy brought me hot chocolate, and I couldn’t even taste it.” Kristen started opening drawers in the fridge.
“It’s bad when you can’t taste chocolate.” Ellen watched as Kristen pulled out an assortment of wrapped cheeses. “Listen, about that painting. I didn’t mean to get on your nerves moving stuff around, but we really need to take inventory of what’s in the house so we can—”
“How about a cheese tray?” Kristen dropped the packets of cheese on the counter.
Recognizing the sheer exhaustion on Kristen’s face and the circles under her hazel eyes, Ellen put away her thoughts about inventories and such. She needs more time. We both do. “A cheese tray would be lovely.”
“I picked up some Brie yesterday, and we already have cheddar, Parmesan, Gouda, and goat cheese. Plus, there are two kinds of crackers and some walnuts. I even have a little honey.”
Ellen was surprised Kristen knew that most cheese trays came with honey or a jam of some sort. “Perfect.”
Kristen began unwrapping the cheeses. “Mom used to say I should have become a maître fromager.”
“Ooh-la-la,” Ellen said, smiling. “Your accent is excellent.”
“It should be. I took two years of French. Mr. Roth said I was a natural.” Kristen shot her a curious look. “Do you speak French?”
“Très bien, en fait. I go to France for a week or so every summer.”
Interest flickered across Kristen’s face, so Ellen added, “We could go this spring, once you’re out of school. I know a lovely hotel off the Champs-Élysées.”
Kristen looked as if she wanted to agree, but caution caught her just in time. Instead, she shrugged. “Maybe.”
Ellen forced herself to be satisfied with that noncommittal answer, although she added “can speak French” to the list of pleasant discoveries she’d made about her granddaughter. It was a growing and impressive list. In the last two and a half weeks, she had learned that Kristen was a hard worker who could balance work and school with seeming ease, a conscientious dog mom to her pack of wildlings, a talented cook, and a responsible teenager who completed her chores without being reminded. To her surprise, Ellen had had to go to the grocery store only one time since she’d arrived, and that wa
s only because she’d forgotten to write “soy milk” on the grocery list Kristen kept on the fridge.
She couldn’t have been more different from Julie as a teen, which was a relief in many ways and a mystery in others.
Kristen opened a drawer and pulled out a small, round slab of slate and set it on the counter. “This,” she announced, “is the cheese tray. Mom got it for me last Christmas. She bought it from a craftsman who had a booth at the Apple Festival. It comes with chalk so you can write the name of the cheese beside it, although I never do that. I don’t want chalk near my cheese.”
Ellen leaned over to look at it, nodding thoughtfully, as if she were an expert. “Very chic.”
Kristen smiled, and Ellen’s chest tightened. It was the first non-pained smile she’d seen, and it was so much like Julie’s it hurt.
The teenager added wedges of the softer cheeses to the tray, cut the harder cheeses into slices, then pulled out two small ramekins and filled one with honey and the other with walnuts.
Watching Kristen was almost soothing, and when she finished, the tray really did look as if it could have been served at a high-end restaurant. “That’s beautiful.” Ellen couldn’t stop a small yawn from slipping out as she spoke. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“That reminds me. I brought you a present.”
“You did?” Ellen couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.
Kristen wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to where her book bag sat on a chair at the kitchen table. She reached in and pulled out a canister. “For you.” She set it on the counter near Ellen and then started rewrapping the uneaten cheese. “It’s some of Ava’s specialty tea. It’ll help you sleep.”
Ellen pushed the canister away. “Thanks, but no thanks. I was with Ava when Erma Tingle came in, and I’m not a Dove family fan, the way some of the people in this town are.” Ellen caught the flash of anger on Kristen’s face and could have kicked herself. “Not that Ava and her sister aren’t nice. It’s just that I don’t believe in the Dove magic.”
“Have you ever had chamomile tea?”
Ellen sighed. “Yes, but this—”
“—is the exact same thing. It’s an herbal tea. As for Erma’s tea, Ava figured out what went wrong with it. It was a plant that had—I guess you could say it got sick. She’s not using it to make teas now, so…” Kristen shrugged as if that solved that.
Be careful what you say here, Ellen warned herself. “I’m not big on herbal remedies in general, although yes, I’ve used a chamomile tea to help me sleep. I don’t know that it worked, though.” That much was true.
And yet, even as she spoke, Ellen’s gaze wandered back to the canister. She desperately needed to sleep. Her body ached from the lack of it, but every time she lay down, unwanted thoughts came crashing in until in desperation she’d get back up, throw on some clothes, and go to work. Still, as tired as she was, she wasn’t yet desperate enough to use an Ava Dove tea. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m okay. I really am.”
“You’re not sleeping.” Kristen pushed the canister closer to Ellen. “I heard you up last night, and it was really late.” Her dark gaze rested on Ellen’s face as if assessing the circles under her eyes.
Of course Kristen had heard her, Ellen thought with a grimace. Julie’s house creaked as much as it leaked. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I was trying to keep quiet, but I accidentally bumped into the gold statue at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Did it break?” There was an instant note of worry in Kristen’s voice.
“No, no. It was fine.” Ellen paused a pointed moment and then added, “So was I.”
A reluctant smile touched Kristen’s mouth. “Sorry.” She slid the cheese tray across the counter. “You should try the Brie. It’s delicious.”
“Brie is always delicious.” Ellen was rewarded with a smile that wasn’t just polite, but warm, too. She’d been right to not press the inventory issue right now. We need to get to know each other first. Then we can sort out our differences.
She wondered if that would have helped where Julie was concerned, but Julie was gone and with her the answers to hundreds—no, thousands—of questions.
As they ate, Kristen talked about her latest math test while Ellen’s tired mind absently drifted to the painting that hung nearby. A small, plump, blond child stood watching a sunrise, a bedraggled teddy bear hanging from one hand. Ellen was just beginning to understand Julie’s success as an artist. She captured those few, precious moments of life that were important, memorable even—
“You like that one.”
Ellen realized Kristen had been watching her. “I’m sorry. I should have been listening.”
Kristen shrugged. “I was talking about math class. It wasn’t important.” She nodded toward the picture and repeated, “You like that one.”
“Yes,” Ellen replied simply. “Is that you?”
“Me and Toddy, my old teddy bear.”
“I thought it might be. Do you remember who bought you Toddy the teddy?”
Kristen’s eyebrows rose, surprise flickering through her hazel eyes. “You?”
Ellen nodded. “For your fourth birthday.” She looked back at the picture. “Your mother’s use of color is striking.” Ellen’s eyes ached, and she closed them, trying to ease the dryness.
Kristen laughed softly. “If you fall asleep on that stool, you’ll slip off and hit your head.”
Ellen laughed and opened her eyes. “I promise I won’t fall.” She fixed herself another cracker and dipped a walnut in honey, too. “The sweetness of the honey really complements the saltiness of the cheeses.”
“Mom learned that trick when she was bartending. She said a lot of the snacks were salty so people would drink more.”
“She never told me much about that job, just that she enjoyed it. She said she made some good friends there.”
“She loved working there.”
Ellen could see Kristen and Julie sitting here, at this counter, eating cheese and talking and laughing. She saw it so clearly that it was as if she’d been here, hovering at a distance. God, listen to me. I’m exhausted.
Her gaze returned to the tea canister. The last thing she wanted to do was try a Dove tea, but it would make Kristen happy. And who knew, maybe it would help. One cup couldn’t hurt. “I think I will try some of that tea.”
Kristen looked relieved, which touched Ellen deeply. She’s starting to care for me. We might make this work after all.
Ellen cast around for a topic of conversation that wouldn’t set off any alarms and make this moment disappear. “So… which painting was your mom’s favorite?”
Kristen nodded toward the arched opening to the living room. “The one you were carrying earlier. The one of the dogs.”
Of all the paintings in the house, that was Ellen’s least favorite. She looked at it now and tried to see it with new eyes. “You may think I’m kidding, but Floofy had that exact expression when I caught him drinking the milk out of your cereal bowl this morning.”
“I thought I put my bowl in the sink.”
“You had,” Ellen said drily.
Kristen’s chuckle brightened the room like a burst of sunshine on a gray day, so welcome that Ellen had to swallow back a surprisingly strong surge of emotion. She didn’t know this child well, but oh, how she longed to.
“Floofy makes the weirdest faces. Mom used to laugh at him all the time.” Kristen looked through the archway at the dogs lying on their various perches in the living room. “They’re good dogs, and now they’re all—” She clamped her mouth over the rest of her sentence, her humor disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
All I have left. Ellen heard the words so plainly that it was as if Kristen had said them aloud. Ellen didn’t want the dogs at her home in Raleigh, but perhaps, just perhaps, if it cheered up Kristen, a compromise could be reached. The things we do for love.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Kristen opened a cupboard and pulled out tw
o wineglasses and set them beside her cheese tray.
“Wine? You’re too young for—”
“No. Sparkling cider.” Kristen pulled a jug from the fridge and filled the glasses. “Mom couldn’t drink, but we liked the ambiance of these glasses.” She slid a glass toward Ellen.
“Julie couldn’t drink? Why not? Was there a problem?” Oh God. Was she an alcoholic?
Kristen had already turned to put the cider back in the fridge, but now she stopped and looked back at Ellen. “She couldn’t drink because of her bipolar meds.”
Ellen opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Kristen’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know.”
Ellen shook her head. “I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, though.”
“It wasn’t a recent diagnosis.” Kristen closed the refrigerator door, folded her arms, and leaned on the counter, her gaze soft with concern. “Right after she ran away, a counselor in a homeless shelter recognized her symptoms and got her some help.”
Ellen gripped the edge of the countertop. Julie had known about her diagnosis for years and hadn’t once mentioned it. Oh God. Yet another thing she didn’t tell me. What else did she hide from me?
“Mom should have told you she had bipolar two.”
“I wish she had. I would have—” Ellen pressed her lips over the rest of her sentence. “It doesn’t matter now, I guess. I’m not even sure what bipolar two is.”
“It’s a softer version. Mom called it ‘bipolar lite.’ ”
“I see. What are the symptoms? She was moody, but she was always moody. Teenagers argue and overdo this and underdo that.”
“The symptoms don’t always show up until late teens or early twenties. Mom said she didn’t experience full-fledged symptoms until after she ran away.”
“She told you about running away, about her illness and diagnosis. She didn’t keep any secrets from you, just from me.” Which Ellen would never understand. I wanted to help her. I told her that, too, but she would have none of it. None of me. “I suppose she told you about our fights, too.”
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 11