Zoe eyed Ava over her cappuccino. “I’m jealous. Not a single construction hunk called out to me when I entered, and I’m wearing a push-up bra.”
Ava laughed and sent her friends a sweeping look. “You’re all jealous. I kind of like that.”
Kat grinned. “Possibly.” But she wasn’t, and she and Ava knew it. Kat had her own guy, Mark Maclean. He lived in Charlotte but came to town frequently, usually to try to pester Kat into marrying him, which he’d been doing almost every year since high school. Personally, Ava thought Kat was afraid of marriage, and no wonder, looking at the number of times Kat’s mother had been married.
“Well, I was jealous,” Grace said.
“Better not let Trav hear that,” Sarah said.
“Trav and I have an understanding. Looking is healthy, touching is a solid no.”
Zoe laughed and said, “Ignore them all. Ava, you had one of the best-looking men in town hanging on your every word. If any of us had been in that position, we’d have forgotten the rest of us, too. Besides, it’s less than a week until Valentine’s Day, so it’s smart to give off a romantic glow to attract beaus.”
“Zoe, you make me sound like a lightning bug! I’m not celebrating Valentine’s Day this year. I’m working all day Monday, so there will be no ‘romantic glow’ for me.”
“Will Dylan be there?” Grace asked, her gaze sharp.
“Yeah, but he’ll be working in the kitchen while I work in the dining area, so—”
“Will you talk?” Kat asked.
“And laugh about stuff?” Sarah added.
“I guess, but—”
“Then it counts,” Zoe said firmly. “You’re glowing and you don’t even know it.”
Grace, Kat, and Sarah nodded.
“Look, Dylan isn’t—we’re not—” Ava’s headache wouldn’t let her think straight enough to argue. She looked around the café, searching for the waitress. “Where’s Marian?”
“She’ll be around soon,” Sarah said. “We ordered you a BLT, light on the mayo.”
“Thank you.” Ava leaned back, resting her aching head against the back of the booth. It didn’t help, so she rubbed her temples.
“What you need is some Tylenol.” Kat pulled her purse from under the table and dug out a packet. “Mom keeps these in a candy dish on her desk. She’s always prepared for the worst.”
Ava took the Tylenol, hoping it would work quickly.
Zoe waited until Ava had put her tea glass back on the table before she asked, “What’s brought you up for air? No one in town has seen you out in weeks.”
“I’m sure you all heard about the wonky-tea incident.”
Grace nodded. “Kat and Sarah mentioned it. Sarah said you’d figured out what went wrong. Are you sure those three teas were the only ones affected?”
“Positive. They were the only three made at that time, and we discovered the sick peppermint plant before I used it again.”
“One less thing,” Sarah said cheerfully. “Now all you have to do is open the tearoom, and all your problems will be solved.”
Ava had to fight the urge to scowl at her sister’s understatement of the year. Her headache thudded sickly, making her eyes water. What was it with this headache? She’d never had one that pounded against her temples in quite this way.
“Stressing?” Kat said with sympathy.
“Yeah. I don’t know why. I mean, everything is going well, except—” Ava gestured. “The tearoom and stuff.” To be honest, it was the stuff that was bothering her the most.
For the last week, the taped-up box had been even noisier than usual, banging for hours at a time. Unsatisfied with waking her up in the middle of the night, now it wouldn’t let her fall asleep to begin with.
But most unsettling of all was what had happened when she’d woken up this morning at 4 a.m. She’d found the battered shoebox sitting near her door, two long strands of duct tape trailing off one corner. If Sarah had seen that—
No. Ava couldn’t think about that. Not now.
Not ever.
Grace pulled her water glass closer, her engagement ring sparkling against the mason jar. Now that the election was over, new mayor Grace, with the help of her niece Daisy, was planning a big June wedding to her fiancé, Trav Parker. Ava liked Grace but found Trav intimidating, even though he and Sarah had been friends since elementary school. He was a smoldering, never-smiling sort of guy, and Ava preferred… well, she didn’t know what she preferred, but it wasn’t the too-serious type.
Ava looked up and caught Sarah’s concerned gaze.
“Are you okay?”
Ava managed a laugh. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking a lot about what happened with that poor peppermint plant.”
“What did happen?” Grace asked, flicking a curious glance Ava’s way. “Sarah never gave us any details.”
“One of my peppermint plants was infused with grief.”
Zoe squinted at Ava. “Did you say ‘grief’?”
“What do you mean ‘infused’?” Grace asked.
Ava rubbed her temple. “Someone wept over one of my peppermint plants, and it soaked up their sorrow.”
Zoe’s thin eyebrows rose. “Plants can feel?”
“Plants have always felt things, much more than people realize.”
Grace nodded thoughtfully. “I read an article the other day that scientists have proven that stressed plants emit high-frequency noises, sort of like screams, when they or a nearby plant need water.”
Zoe cast a shocked glance at the tiny pink-and-green succulent that decorated the table. “Are you serious?”
“Look it up,” Ava said. “Plants move on their own, too. Heliotropic flowers turn their faces toward the sun. Sunflowers will even level their leaves so they get the full impact.”
“The sunflowers you planted beside my garage do that,” Kat said, wonder in her voice.
“Plants are not hard, cold objects. I used some leaves from that peppermint plant to make a few teas and, well, there you have it. It changed the purpose of those teas. Apparently grief can force us to face unpleasant truths.”
Grace and Zoe exchanged a look.
Ava stifled a sigh and explained. “When a person dies, we stand around at their funeral and remind one another about the good things we knew about that person, but grief is a lot more honest.” Ava thought about when her mother died. “When you love someone, you remember every single bit of them, good and bad, happy and sad. All the wonderful traits and unpleasant truths can cause both bitter regrets and empty wishes for things that can never be.”
“You guys are making me miss Mama G.” Grace’s eyes shone brightly.
Zoe freed a napkin from the holder sitting on the table beside the ketchup and handed it to Grace, who gratefully took it.
About three years ago, Grace had moved to Dove Pond with Daisy and her adoptive mother, Mama G. Mama G, who was born and raised in Dove Pond before moving away, had been loved by everyone. Sadly, when she returned to town, she was already suffering from the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. She’d passed away in her sleep two years ago, and they all missed her and her wisdom.
Sarah put her hand over Grace’s. “We can talk about something else.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” She turned to Ava. “Back to your peppermint plant. Who infused it with grief? It sounds like—”
“BLT, double tomato, heavy on the mayo.” The Moonlight’s red-headed waitress, Marian Freely, settled a large tray on an empty nearby table.
She knew all their orders, and they busied themselves passing plates to one another.
Ava looked at her BLT and wished she felt hungrier. The headache was lessening a little, though, so that was something.
“So,” Grace said, salting the tomato on her BLT. “Who griefed up your peppermint plant?”
“Kristen Foster.”
“Poor kid,” Zoe said. “She’s had it rough these last few weeks.”
Kat put ketchup on her fries. “She’s
a good one, but I’m not sure how I feel about her grandmother.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Zoe said, “but Ellen Foster doesn’t seem like the warm, cookie-making grandma we were all promised in the movies.”
“She’s stiff,” Ava agreed. “I think her heart is in the right place, although I’m worried about Kristen. She’s been distracted lately.”
Grace’s face softened. “It takes a special person to be there for someone else’s child, even if they’re a relative. When I asked Mama G how I could help Daisy understand death, you know what she said?”
Ava, who knew this would be counseling gold, leaned forward. “Yes?”
“Talk to her.”
Everyone stared at Grace, who took another sip of coffee.
Sarah’s shoulders dropped. “That’s it?”
“It sounds simple, but it’s not. Ava, talk to Kristen, encourage her to talk to you, and never pretend things are better than they are.” Grace put her coffee cup down. “She’ll act as if she doesn’t want to talk, but just knowing you’re there and willing to listen—that’s some good stuff right there.”
That’s at least doable. “I’ll do what I can. I hate to admit it, but I’ve avoided mentioning Julie when Kristen is around. I don’t want to make things harder for her.”
“Big mistake,” Grace said.
“I didn’t want to rush things. I figured Kristen would talk about her mom when she was ready.”
“That’s what everyone thinks. That means no one is talking to her about her mother, which can feel isolating.”
“I never thought of that.” Ava would bet everyone in Dove Pond was tiptoeing around the topic.
Grace smiled. “One of the good things about Kristen is that she has friends—close ones, from the looks of things.”
“Missy and Josh are great,” Ava said. “Although I doubt they understand fully what she’s going through.”
Sarah agreed. “She needs an adult in her life. I wish I had more confidence in Ellen, but I don’t get the impression she and Kristen mesh.”
“I doubt Ellen meshes with many people,” Kat said. “That woman reminds me way too much of Mrs. McIntyre.”
Grace grimaced at the mention of Blake’s mother. “She’s ice-cold, that one. I see her at some of the community forums and I’ve yet to see her smile.”
“I feel sorry for them both,” Sarah said. “They don’t seem very comfortable with themselves. I—” She gulped and went pale.
Ava followed her sister’s gaze. Blake McIntyre had walked in, the dull gleam of his badge evident even from where they sat.
Sarah dropped her fork on her plate and eyed the door as if judging how fast she’d have to sprint to make an escape.
Ava watched, her heart sinking. “Sarah, just ignore him. He’s—”
“I can’t!” Sarah pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I need to, but I can’t.”
Grace sighed. “He won’t bite you. He’s a really nice guy.”
“I know that! He just— Oh! He’s looking this way. I—” Sarah stood, half in the booth and half out. “I need to go.”
“Please sit down.” Ava’s headache roared back to life.
“You haven’t finished your lunch,” Zoe pointed out.
“Stay there,” Grace ordered. “Just ignore him. He can’t—”
“I’ll see you all later.” Sarah grabbed her coat and hurried for the door, one hand tangling in a sleeve as she speed-walked away, her face as red as her scarf.
Blake said something to Sarah as she passed, and she shot him a panicked look, then hurried on, one arm still caught in her sleeve.
He stopped, watching her struggle with her coat as she went out the door. Still fighting the inside-out sleeve, she dashed past the front window in the rain, her head down, her coat only halfway on.
Ava watched, her heart aching with each frantic step her sister took.
Blake watched until she was out of sight, then made his way to the counter.
“Ay-yi-yi.” Zoe broke the silence. “Those two.” She shook her head. “Do you think they know they’re in love with each other?”
“They know.” Ava put her fork down and pressed her fingertips to her head, which was pounding worse than it ever had. I hate seeing Sarah so upset. If only I could fix it. I have to do something about this. I can’t stand to see her suffer. My—
CRACK! Outside, thunder rumbled, and rain sluiced down even harder.
Ava rubbed her temples and murmured, “This is killing me.”
Zoe was still staring at the door Sarah had disappeared through. “I don’t get it. Sarah’s so upbeat and positive in every other area of her life except Blake.”
“She can barely talk to him.” Grace looked perplexed. “Sarah’s not shy, either. She can talk to anyone else without hesitation, even strangers. But him? She can’t even breathe when he’s nearby. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Kat picked up another French fry. “It’s weird, almost like she’s—”
“I’ve got to go.” Ava pushed her plate away and stood. “I need to get back to the tearoom.”
Kat looked surprised. “You barely touched your lunch.”
“My head is killing me. Plus I’m supposed to deliver some teas later this afternoon and I haven’t labeled them.”
Zoe dipped a spinach leaf in her vinaigrette dressing. “You have a lot on your plate right now.”
“Too much,” Kat said.
“I can handle it. Once the tearoom is up and running, everything will be simpler. Grace, thanks for the advice about Kristen. I’ll try it.”
“Let me know if it helps.”
“Will do. Bye, you all. See you around.” Ava headed to the door, her feet unconsciously moving to the throbbing beat in her head. She collected her coat, careful not to look toward Blake as she went, although she could feel his questioning gaze.
Without waiting, she put her head down and hurried out into the rain after Sarah, the cool air welcome on her hot cheeks.
CHAPTER 10 Kristen
Kristen parked her Camry in the driveway and slumped down in her seat, staring at her house. The chilly afternoon drizzle pattered on the car roof as she watched her grandmother through the living room window. Grandma Ellen was cleaning bookshelves, handling the duster with the fierce concentration of a professional cleaner.
Since the night Grandma Ellen had used Ava’s tea, something had changed. She now watched Kristen with obvious suspicion, and more than once, she’d showed up at the tearoom as if checking to see if Kristen was where she said she was. Did she figure out what I was doing? That I gave her that tea so she’d sleep while I searched through Mom’s things?
God, I hope not.
Kristen dropped her head against the headrest. I’ve made things worse. I should just run away like Mom did. But sadly, the genetics gods hadn’t seen fit to gift Kristen with her mom’s bravery. Kristen wasn’t the sort to throw caution to the wind. She was a homebody and loved the familiar so much so that Mom used to tease her about it, calling her Cozy Home Bear.
Sighing, Kristen looked at her home and tried to imagine living somewhere else, but couldn’t. From the first time she’d seen the rambling, faded mint-green house, Kristen had loved it. Everything about it felt like home—the creaky floors, the wavy glass in the huge windows, the heavy brass doorknobs. Mom had made their place even more homey by filling it with her paintings, especially the Wonder Kristen mural in the front hallway. I wish Grandma Ellen understood that.
Grimacing with frustration, Kristen crossed her arms over the steering wheel and looked up at the window over the front porch. Mom’s studio was dark, the curtains drawn, as empty as the rest of the house. Kristen’s chest tightened, so she closed her eyes, took a long breath through her nose, and hummed. “Release your pain and irritation into the world,” Mom would say. “Let it go. Don’t let it fester in your heart.”
It didn’t help. It never helped.
Inside the house,
Grandma Ellen set aside the duster only to reappear with a hand vacuum. She attacked a chair near the window as if she were trying to vanquish a pack of demons. I bet the dogs are hiding under the dining room table. That’s where I’d be, too.
Kristen dropped her arms from the steering wheel and slid her hand into her pocket, her fingers closing over the kazoo. She still kept it close. Sometimes, when no one was around, she’d play “Dancing Queen” over and over.
She sighed and leaned back against the headrest once more. Oh, Mom, this is hard. Harder than I ever imagined. Her eyes grew blurry, and she angrily swiped at them. In a box in Kristen’s closet at this very minute, jumbled with scrapbooks and photos and other memorabilia, was a thumb drive containing dozens of videos of Mom. There was a clip about learning new things, a few about having children, a half dozen on the importance of balance—in all, Mom had made more than forty videos for Kristen to watch as she grew up. Mom had wanted her to wait as each topic came up in her life, but right now, Kristen couldn’t even watch the two Mom had recorded about death. Every time she tried, she’d cry too hard to hear or see it. And not a soft, weepy cry, but the deep, bellyaching, ugly cry that people usually did when they were alone and no one could hear or see. The same thing happened whenever Kristen tried to look at the picture albums she and Mom had made or when she went to burn the good-memories candles Mom had left. Kristen couldn’t do any of it.
Worse, she didn’t want to.
What she wanted was her mom back.
A loud rumble announced the arrival of a truck with a bad exhaust pipe as it pulled into the driveway behind her. Kristen wiped her sleeve over her eyes one last time and then adjusted her rearview mirror and watched as Missy hopped out.
Kristen waved, and Missy dashed to the car, her head ducked against the cold drizzle.
Missy opened the passenger door and plopped into the seat, the car rocking as she closed the door. “Geez, it’s cold!”
“At least it’s not snowing.”
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 14