“No problem,” Missy said, gathering her things.
“Monday afternoon it is.” Josh climbed out of the car. “See you guys later.”
“I’d better go, too.” Missy stuffed the physics book into her book bag. “To be honest, I forgot about that stupid test. Maybe this book will help.” She paused before she got out of the car. “Kristen… about the dad search. This is a good start.”
“I just hope it works. I don’t know what I’ll do if it doesn’t.”
“It’s a great plan. In a few days, you’ll know who your father is and you won’t be fighting your grandmother alone. That’ll make everything better.” One corner of Missy’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Besides, if Mr. Stevens is your father, you could qualify for the family discount at the hardware store.”
“A dream come true,” Kristen said drily.
Missy grinned. “Just trying to find the positive. See you tomorrow.” She hopped out and bolted through the rain. Soon Missy’s truck noisily chugged out of the driveway.
Kristen grabbed her backpack from the back seat. She unzipped it and slid in the books Sarah had given her. She had just closed the bag when she remembered the list. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it again. The names seemed to dance in front of her. I don’t know any of them. Not really.
She looked back at the house. Inside, she could see Grandma Ellen walking through the living room. She paused by the couch, her expression softening. To Kristen’s surprise, Grandma reached down and pulled a blanket over Luffy, who was sleeping soundly in his favorite corner.
Wow. When Grandma first came to Dove Pond, she’d hated the dogs. But now… Maybe things can change. Maybe, instead of looking for a dad I’ve never met and who doesn’t even know about me, I should spend time with Grandma and get to know her.
But no. That wouldn’t change Grandma Ellen’s mind about moving away. If Kristen wanted to stay here with her friends and in her house, she had no choice but to find her dad.
Sighing, Kristen stuffed the list back in her pocket, grabbed her backpack, and headed through the rain toward the wide porch. As her feet splashed through the puddles, she whispered to herself, “Please, please, please let this work.”
CHAPTER 11 Ellen
Friday morning, as soon as Kristen left for school, Ellen drove to Main Street and parked her Lexus in front of Ava’s tearoom. Outside, a new brass sign that read THE PINK MAGNOLIA TEAROOM hung over the door. Ellen rather liked the lettering, which fit the antique vibe of the place.
She went inside, where she was met by the familiar whine of a sander. Dylan stood on a ladder behind the bar, smoothing down a rough corner on the reclaimed barn wood that was now fastened to the wall. Buckets of white stain sat on a tarp by the wall, ready for when he finished.
Well, well, well. Ava Dove took my advice. Ellen wasn’t sure why that surprised her, but it did. She remained near the door, watching Dylan work and admiring his competent handling of the old wood. Everyone loved reclaimed wood. The texture was gorgeous, the scarring adding interest, the environmental benefit obvious, yet few people realized how much prep work it took to do it right.
Ellen waited for him to finish the board before she yelled over the noise, “Pardon me!”
Dylan turned and, seeing her, released the trigger. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“Of course. Is Ava here?”
“She stepped out, but she’ll be back soon. Do you want to leave a message or—”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait.”
“Sure.” He gave her a polite nod and went back to work, the noise loud as it bounced against the tin ceiling tiles.
Ellen’s gaze moved down the long bar, rested briefly on the wrought-iron tables and chairs, and ended up on the paintings Julie had made for Ava. They were hung, four in a row, right above the creamer station, fitting so perfectly they could have been designed for the space.
It had been a wearying few days. Although she’d tried, Ellen hadn’t been able to forget that odd dream. She knew it wasn’t real and yet she’d found herself searching the house for the red cube Julie had mentioned. Ellen had pretended to be on a cleaning spree so Kristen wouldn’t think she had completely lost her mind. Of course, the whole thing had been an utter waste of time. She hadn’t found anything even resembling a red cube although she’d searched just about every corner, cabinet, and closet of the house.
“I didn’t find it because it doesn’t exist,” she muttered to herself, a little embarrassed she’d even looked for it.
Sheesh, she had to get out of Dove Pond. All I have to do is complete Project K and I’ll be home in time for—
“Ellen?” Ava said over the noise. She stood by the door, bundled up in her overly large Carhartt coat, a paper sack in one hand. She looked pale and tired, which was odd, considering how early it was.
“Good morning.” Ellen had to yell to be heard.
Dylan glanced over his shoulder and, seeing them both, turned off the sander and climbed down the ladder.
“Don’t stop on our account,” Ellen told him.
“I didn’t.” He put the sander on the floor by the ladder and dusted off his shirt. “I quit because Ava brought me breakfast.”
Ava handed him the paper bag. “I lost a bet,” she told Ellen. “Never wager on a horse named Going To Win.”
“Sage advice.” Dylan opened the bag and pulled out a wrapped breakfast sandwich. As he did so, he glanced at Ellen. “Did you get in touch with the Callahan brothers?”
Ava’s eyebrows went up.
Ellen explained, “I ran into Dylan at the bank yesterday and asked if he knew any painters, and he recommended the Callahans.” She turned back to Dylan. “Eric came out last night and gave me a quote. He and Nick had a job that just canceled, so they are free for a few days. In fact, if he can get the paint, they’re starting later this morning.”
“They’re good guys, both of them, and super careful. Glad you could work it out. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to head into the kitchen to eat this delicious egg sandwich I won because I’m smart and I know things.” With a wave, he left.
Smiling, Ava shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a peg.
“Your tearoom is shaping up nicely. Are you back on schedule?”
“Getting closer.” Ava went behind the counter and grabbed a watering can. She filled it at the sink and then started watering the plants along the front window. Ellen watched her, deciding that Ava looked like one of the tomboys Norman Rockwell liked to paint, what with her coveralls and long-sleeved red T-shirt, her blond hair in a messy braid over one shoulder.
Ellen briefly wondered what Ava would look like in decent clothes, but then she shrugged the thought aside. She had far more important things to talk about than Ava’s lack of fashion sense. “I came to see you this morning because I have a question.”
Ava looked up, surprise in her gray-green eyes. “What’s that?”
“It’s about your teas. When I first came to your little shop here, you mentioned you made regular herbal teas. I believe you called those your diffusion line?”
“Right. I sell them to local boutiques and coffeehouses.”
“So those are ‘normal’ teas, then—green, Earl Grey, black, chamomile, honey lavender, lemon and ginger, and so on.”
Ava smiled politely, obviously curious as to what Ellen was getting at.
“But then you also make ‘specialty teas.’ ” Ellen air-quoted the term. “From what Kristen and others have told me, you believe those teas can do things that are… rather odd.”
“Why are you asking about this?”
“I was wondering how they work. If they’re even real.”
Ava’s smile had disappeared. “Ask the people who’ve used them.”
“That’s a rather safe answer. If you tell someone something they want to hear, they’re very likely to believe it.”
Ava’s jaw tightened. “I’m not a charlatan, if that’s what you’re say
ing.”
“Of course not,” Ellen said shortly. “I just— Look, Kristen made me a cup of tea saying it would help me sleep. It was one of yours.”
“It was probably chamomile. I’ve been encouraging her to use the diffusion teas so she’ll know them well enough to make recommendations when we open.”
“It didn’t taste like any chamomile tea I’ve ever had.”
“So… it didn’t work? Is that why you’re here?”
“No, I slept. But I—” She met Ava’s gray-green gaze and the words “spoke to Julie” stuck in Ellen’s throat.
It sounded so ridiculous.
For the love of God, why am I even here? It was just a dream. She couldn’t—wouldn’t— make a fool of herself in front of Ava, or anyone else, for that matter. What’s wrong with me?
But she knew the answer. Just like all the pathetic people who drank their Ava Dove teas, she wanted a miracle. She wanted the dream to be real.
Embarrassed, Ellen waved her hand. “It’s nothing. The tea worked, although it wasn’t a particularly restful sleep.”
“Steep it a little longer. Chamomile has been used for centuries; its name comes from a Greek word meaning ‘ground apples.’ It was used in ancient Egypt, too.”
It was obvious Ava loved her teas. Someone has to. Ellen regretted coming. There were no magical teas. No magical doors to the other world where a sad, lonely mother could speak to her only child, if only for a few moments. She knew that and yet she couldn’t stop the painful burn of disappointment that rippled through her.
She collected herself and backed away toward the door. “Thank you for the information. I just wanted to be sure I hadn’t gotten one of your ‘specialty teas’ by mistake.” Before Ava could comment, Ellen nodded toward the wall behind the bar. “I like the wall. It—the whole place, really—is looking wonderful.”
Ava’s smile returned. “We’re getting there. The soft opening is only a month away, though, and I still have a lot to do.”
“I’ll let you get back to it, then. Good luck hitting your deadline, although it looks like you’re going to do it.” With a final wave, Ellen hurried outside, the chilly air a welcome relief as she went to her car. That answered that. She hadn’t taken some sort of Ava Dove peyote-and-mushroom-or-whatever-she-uses tea after all. It was just chamomile. Now I can forget that stupid dream and move forward with Project K and get that monstrously creaky house ready to sell.
Ellen headed home, more determined than ever to press ahead. She’d lost days of precious house rehab time waiting for Kristen to accept the move to Raleigh.
They couldn’t wait any longer. She pulled into the driveway, pleased to see a white truck sitting by the walkway with the words THE CALLAHAN BROTHERS: CARPENTERS, PAINTERS, GENERAL FIXERS scrawled on the side. Eric and Nick were there, unloading ladders, drop cloths, paint buckets, and brushes.
Ellen parked her car and joined them. “You’re early.”
Eric grinned. “Are you complaining or bragging on us?”
“Definitely bragging.” She pulled out her front door key and led the way.
The dogs crowded forward to greet them, wagging their tails and begging for pats. As quickly as she could, Ellen took them to the backyard and then hurried back to the foyer where the men were setting up.
Eric looked around the front hallway. “There’s a lot of wood trim.”
“I like that about older houses,” Nick said. “I— Whoa!” He was standing in front of Julie’s mural, obviously admiring the cartoony work. “Did Julie do this?”
“She did. I hate having it painted over, but it’ll be the first thing people see when they walk inside, so…” She sighed and turned away. There were dozens of paintings by Julie in the house, more than enough to serve as a reminder of her too-short life. “Please start here in the front hall and then paint the downstairs bathroom. When you’re ready to work in the living room, the furniture will need to be moved and covered.”
“We can handle that.” Nick went to look at the living room. “Cream in the hall and gray in here, right?” At her nod, he put his hand on the heavy wood trim of the wide doorway between the front hall and the living room. “This is original. You don’t want us to paint it, do you?”
“Heavens no. Leave the trim alone. Once you all are done, I’ll clean it. It really is beautiful wood.”
“You don’t see wood trim like this anymore.” Eric picked up his bucket. “I guess that’s all we need to know.”
“I’ll be in the dining room, packing away some figurines my daughter was collecting. Let me know if you need anything else.”
The men went to work, and so did Ellen. Hours later, she put her hands on her lower back and stretched as she looked at the growing stack of boxes. She’d gone through the house this morning and collected every figurine she could find. There weren’t just dozens, but hundreds. As of now, unless Kristen wanted some, they were all slated for Goodwill. “Julie, you were such a clutter queen,” Ellen muttered as she placed a wrapped wizard carrying a lightning bolt into a waiting box.
Out in the hallway, the painters talked as they worked, swapping stories and laughing often. It was nice to hear voices during the day, and it made her realize how lonely she’d found her time here to be. When lunchtime came, she offered to fix the men sandwiches. When they discovered she was an architect, the three of them spent an hour sharing tales of the homes they’d worked on and the mistakes they’d seen homeowners make. Afterward, still chuckling, they all went back to work.
A few hours later, Ellen eyed the boxes along the wall, pleased to note that the pile was growing by the hour. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the house, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Ellen felt as if she was making some progress. The only blip on her success meter was Kristen.
Ellen’s gaze narrowed as she absently wrapped a nearly naked fairy in the sports section of the latest edition of the Dove Pond Register. In that ridiculous dream, Julie had been convinced that although Kristen would never run away, she wasn’t going to Raleigh quietly. Maybe I had that dream because my instincts were trying to tell me something. That I should be wary of the way Kristen has—
A shout from the hallway made Ellen turn.
“What are you doing?” Kristen’s voice came from the entryway. “Stop it! Stop it right now! That’s my mother’s painting, you—”
“Kristen?” Ellen set the fairy onto a table and hurried to the front hallway. She arrived just in time to see her granddaughter grab Nick’s paintbrush. “What are you doing?”
Kristen spun on Ellen. “You did this!”
Shocked at such naked anger, Ellen took a step back. “I hired painters, just as I said I would. We talked about this. Many times, in fact. We have to freshen up the house before we put it on the—”
“Get out!” Kristen spun back to Nick. “You too! You had no right to touch that mural! My mother painted it!”
Nick held up his hands. “Sorry! We were just doing what we were paid to do.”
Eric had come around the corner. His eyes widened on seeing the threatening way Kristen was holding the paintbrush. “Hey! Easy there.”
“This is my house. Both of you need to leave. And if you don’t, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll call the sheriff!”
“Whoa!” Eric said. “Take it easy! We haven’t done anything wrong. Ms. Foster invited us here.”
“Kristen.” Ellen stepped forward, embarrassed for herself and her granddaughter. “Stop this instant. These gentlemen are here on my—”
“And you!” Kristen spun back to Ellen, the paintbrush pointed straight at her. “You didn’t have my permission to do this! You know you didn’t.”
“I’m the executor of the will and your guardian. I have every right to see to it that things are handled properly. I tried to talk to you about this, but you kept putting me off. Over and over and over.”
Kristen, her face a deep red, held the paintbrush tighter, her fingers white on the handle.
&n
bsp; Ellen had seen Kristen upset before, but never like this. “I’m sorry about the mural, but there are dozens of other paintings in this house. We’ll pick out your favorites and take them with us to Raleigh. This one painting isn’t going to matter—”
“It matters to me!” The teenager’s warm hazel eyes shimmered with tears.
“We’d better go.” Eric nodded to Nick, who immediately began to gather his things. “Ms. Foster, just let us know when you’re ready for us to come back.”
“Never,” Kristen snapped.
Ellen ignored her and said firmly, “Thank you. I’ll call you later today.”
Nick put the lid on his paint can and then picked up the drop cloth he’d already rolled up. He held out his hand for his paintbrush, eyeing Kristen cautiously.
There was a tense moment when Ellen wondered if Kristen might throw it, but after a threatening moment, she handed it to him with a scowl.
“Thanks,” Nick said. He and his brother quickly mumbled, “See you later,” and then the door closed behind them.
Kristen spun on Ellen. “How could you?”
“I don’t have a choice. April will be here before you know it, and there are things that must be done. I told you repeatedly that we needed to start on the updates. If you don’t like the color choices, there’s still time to change them. I’ll call—”
“I don’t care about the color! I care about the mural! Mom—” Kristen’s face crumpled, tears filling her eyes, her hands shaking as she tried to shove her hair from her face.
Deeply alarmed, Ellen put her hand on Kristen’s arm, flinching when the girl yanked herself free and took a step back.
“I hate you!” Kristen pushed past Ellen and went to let the dogs inside. They crowded around her. She sunk to the floor beside them, put her arms around the largest dog, buried her face in his neck, and wept. The other animals, sensing Kristen’s mood, quietly lay down nearby, watching her with dark, worried eyes.
The sound of Kristen’s sobs tore at Ellen’s heart. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she stayed where she was, struggling to find words that could help them both. “Kristen… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be this upset.”
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 16