Dylan finished tightening the last screw and descended the ladder. He sent Kristen a self-conscious look. “You’ll keep all of that about Ava on the Q.T., right?”
“Sure.” Kristen glanced at the closed kitchen door. “Did she tell you what happened between her and Sarah?”
“Some of it.” He carried the empty bulb carton to a black garbage bag slumped beside the bar. As he stuffed the carton into the bag, he said, “It’s complicated.”
Kristen hated it when adults said that. It usually meant they didn’t trust someone her age with important information. “Try me. I’m good at complex theory. Ask my chem teacher.”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth. “It’s not that I think you won’t understand. It’s just that it’s not my story to tell. When Ava wants people to know what really happened, she’ll tell them.” He came to stand with Kristen at the long bar, his gaze moving to the door Ava had disappeared behind. “All I know is that she’s crushed. I haven’t seen her this low since her mom died.” Dylan’s hazel gaze moved back to Kristen. “She wasn’t much older than you when that happened, and she was left with Sarah to take care of, too.”
Kristen tried to imagine being responsible for another person and couldn’t. Just being responsible for herself felt like a lot. “It’s hard losing your mom, no matter what age you are.”
He nodded. “How are you and your grandma getting along? She seems like a tough one.”
“You have no idea. She—”
The kitchen door swung open, and Ava returned. Her face was pink, as if she’d just scrubbed it, her eyes still shiny with tears.
Ava walked past them.
“You’re leaving?” Dylan didn’t try to hide his disappointment.
“I’m going to the greenhouses for a while, but I’ll be back when—” The phone’s loud trill made Ava wince, but she didn’t look at it. “Let the calls go to voice mail.” She pulled her coat off a peg by the door. “Kristen, we only got about half of the menu items into the point-of-sale program yesterday. Can you do the rest? The list is on the clipboard by the computer.”
“Sure.”
Ava put on her coat. “I’ll see you all later.”
Kristen followed Ava to the door. “When I get done, I’ll organize the stockroom too. It’s looking a little crazy in there right now.”
Ava’s gaze softened. “Thank you.”
Pleased she’d taken a little of the edge off Ava’s bad day, Kristen shrugged. “No problem. And hey, Ava?”
Ava paused, one hand on the knob. “Yes?”
“Things are going to work out.”
Ava’s smile was wobbly at best. “I hope so.” She gave Kristen a hopeful wink and left.
Kristen watched the door softly close.
“Well done,” Dylan said approvingly.
“Thanks.” While Dylan went back to installing lights, Kristen found the clipboard and headed to the computer, trying to ignore the constantly ringing phone. She finished the point-of-sale inventory, then spent the rest of her scheduled time getting the stockroom into usable shape.
When she came back into the main room, Dylan was eyeing the pictures Mom had given Ava. “One of them was crooked.” He stepped back and looked at them again. “Are they straight now?”
“I think so.” She walked closer. “Mom was a great painter.”
“I always thought so. I didn’t know her well, but she seemed like a good egg.”
Kristen smiled. Mom would have laughed at that description. Kristen was pretty sure that would have prompted Mom to draw pictures of herself as an egg, complete with a roundish shape and short, flailing arms. She could almost see the drawings now. “How did you know my mom?”
“She was older than me, so we never went to school together, although I ran into her once just after I’d started college. Me and some buddies went on a golf weekend to Hilton Head.” He laughed and shook his head ruefully. “We thought we were such ballers, going golfing. Anyway, when we stopped by the clubhouse, there was your mom, bartending. I was glad to see a familiar face. You don’t run into many Dove Pond people out in the real world.”
“She loved that job. She always said that if she hadn’t been called to paint, she would have been a bartender instead.”
“She was great at it. We must have talked two hours, just remembering this place and the people here. I think it was that conversation that made me realize I didn’t want to live anywhere else.”
Kristen cut him a curious glance. “You guys didn’t date or anything like that?”
“Nah. That was the only time we ran into each other until you all moved back to town. And then she didn’t seem interested in even saying hello, which was fine.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t really know her.”
“Sometimes she didn’t like to talk. I—” A knock sounded on the front window, and Kristen looked over her shoulder to see Missy standing outside, her hands cupped around her eyes as she peered into the tearoom.
“I think that’s for you,” Dylan said drily.
Kristen waved at Missy. “I’ve got to go. You’ll lock up?”
“Sure. I’ll call Ava and let her know.”
“Thanks, Dylan.” Kristen headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.” She slipped her coat on, grabbed her book bag, and left, the chilly late-February air making her shiver as she met up with Missy.
“Finally! I can’t parallel park in that truck, so I had to use the lot by the courthouse.” Missy hunkered down in her coat, hugging herself, the ends of her scarf dancing in the wind. “Are you ready?”
“Where’s Josh?”
“He should be on his way.” Missy clasped her bare hands together and blew on them. “Can we wait in your car? I’m freezing.”
Kristen led the way, and Missy tossed her backpack onto the floorboard and climbed in the passenger side. As soon as her door closed, Missy turned to Kristen. “Well? Did she say anything?”
Kristen didn’t ask who “she” was. Every day since the big blowup between Ava and Sarah, Missy had asked this same question. “She was really quiet, just like yesterday.”
“She knows she’s guilty,” Missy said. “I would feel guilty, too, if I’d poisoned my sister just because I was in love with her man.”
“Wait. Poison? And what man? You mean the sheriff?” At Missy’s nod, Kristen demanded, “Who told you that?”
“My mom.”
“She’s wrong. I’ve seen Ava and the sheriff talk hundreds of times, and they’re just friends. I’d bet my right arm on it. And Ava’s never poisoned anyone. You know that.”
Missy looked disappointed. “Maybe Mom heard it wrong. I can’t believe Ava hasn’t said anything.”
“Why should she? Whatever happened, it was between her and Sarah. I can tell Ava’s really hurt, though. People have been canceling their tea orders left and right. I’m worried about her, and so is Dylan.”
“Mom says people are angry because Sarah’s one of the nicest people in town.”
“Ava’s nice, too,” Kristen protested. “And she’s helped people just as often as Sarah. I don’t know what my mom would have done without Ava’s—”
The back door opened. Josh tossed his book bag onto the seat and slid in. “So? Did Ava say anything today?”
Kristen rolled her eyes.
Missy frowned at Josh over the back of her seat. “I just asked her that same thing.”
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Kristen stifled a sigh. “Look, can we talk about why we’re here? I’m looking for my dad, remember?”
“Sure.” Josh scooted forward, resting his elbows between the two front seats. “About that. I sort of wonder if we should talk to Sheriff McIntyre today instead of Mr. Lind.”
Kristen turned to glare at him. “Why would we do that?”
“On my way here, I saw Mr. Lind driving toward the highway. He spends a lot of time in Asheville, and that was the direction he was headed.”
Great. That didn’t leave
her a lot of choices. “We should wait until he comes back. I don’t want to interview the sheriff yet. Of all the dad candidates, he’s the one most likely to figure things out and tell my grandma. It would be smarter to leave him until last.”
“That’s true,” Missy said. “Plus, if he’s involved in the Dove-sister dustup, the last thing he’s going to want to do is talk to us. He’s probably too busy with the investigation to even meet.”
“What investigation?” Josh asked.
Missy shot a quick look at Kristen before she answered. “I heard that Ava tried to poison Sarah in order to keep her and Blake apart.”
“That’s not what happened,” Josh said indignantly.
Kristen was glad at least one of her friends wasn’t buying into town gossip. “See, Missy? Even Josh thinks that’s wrong.”
“It’s stupid wrong,” Josh said. “My sister’s music teacher told my dad that what happened was that Ava stole an ancient book of spells from Sarah. It’s super valuable because it belonged to one of their ancestors. Sarah was so mad she called Sheriff McIntyre to have Ava arrested, but he refused to—”
“Josh!” Kristen snapped. “That’s not true either!”
“Oh!” Missy bounced in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, Kristen! What did happen, then?”
“Whatever it was, it can’t be Ava’s fault. She’d never hurt anyone, especially Sarah.”
“Well, something happened. Daisy said Sarah’s been staying at her house all week.”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t either of those two things. Look…” Kristen pressed her fingers over her aching eyes. “I don’t have the time or patience for this right now. I’ve got to find my dad, who doesn’t even know I exist. And I’ve got to convince him to let me live with him, too.” She dropped her hands to her lap. “Remember?”
There was a long silence, and then Missy said in a small voice, “Sorry.”
“Me too,” Josh said, equally chastened.
Kristen sent them both an exasperated look. “This town gossips too much. There are way too many stories, and they’re all different except that in every one, Ava’s the bad guy.”
Missy bit her lip.
“It’s been a tough week, and time is flying by. I’ve got to stop my grandmother before it’s too late.” Kristen sighed and leaned her head against the headrest. “In between packing everything that even looks like Mom into boxes, Grandma Ellen has been hovering around with this weirdly hopeful smile as if I’ll suddenly decide I’d just love to live in Raleigh. Worse, I can tell she definitely suspects I’m up to something, too, because she’s asking where I’m going more than usual. And I’m still not sleeping, which is stupid, because you’d think I’d be over that part by now. But the worst thing is that I just miss Mom so much that I can’t…” She wiped away a tear that had leaked out, her voice trembling as she said, “Sorry. It’s just a lot.”
Missy, instantly contrite, leaned over the console and pulled Kristen into a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry! You’re going through hell right now, and Josh and I are all caught up in town drama. We’ll find your dad, and he’ll make things better. I’m sure of it.”
Kristen returned Missy’s hug and then untangled herself. “Thanks, Missy. I hope you’re right.”
“We don’t mean to make things worse,” Josh added. “I was hoping your grandma would soften up and make amends after what she did to your mur—”
“Look!” Missy said fervently. “There’s the sheriff now.”
Sheriff McIntyre had just parked his squad car and was headed for his office, each step a slam on the pavement. As he stormed along, scowling, he appeared to be talking to himself, too.
“Uh-oh.” Josh watched as the sheriff disappeared into his office. “My dad talks to himself just like that when he’s mad. Has whole arguments sometimes.”
Kristen slumped in her seat. Great. Another obstacle. “We can’t talk to the sheriff if he’s in a mood. We should wait for Mr. Lind to come back.”
“We can’t,” Missy said. “Come on, Kristen. You’ve put this off long enough. We’re here and we might as well get this over with.” She pulled her notebook from her book bag and opened it to the questions they’d come up with over the past week. “If your grandmother is already packing your mom’s things away, then we can’t waste any more time.”
Josh had grown quiet, but now he leaned between the seats and added, “I have to agree with Missy on this one. Your grandma isn’t waiting, so neither can we.”
Kristen thought of the ever-growing wall of boxes, and her stomach churned. “I hate this.”
Missy’s brown gaze softened. “Of course you do. You’re the most cautious person I’ve ever known. You never take chances without thinking it through. Heck, if your mother hadn’t dyed her hair purple, you wouldn’t have done it, either.”
That was true. Since she’d been a kid, she and Mom had dyed their hair the same color. When Mom had lost her hair to chemo, Kristen had wanted to shave her own, but Mom had refused and had instead gotten a ridiculously long, bright purple wig, which she’d worn until her own hair grew back. Then they’d matched once again. At least for a while.
Aware of her friends’ concerned gazes, Kristen forced a shrug. “I guess we have no choice.”
Josh sighed with obvious relief. “Let’s do this. Although I’ll admit it’s unfortunate Sheriff McIntyre ended up on your list of potential dads.”
“All I know is that he wrote a little poem in Mom’s yearbook that rhymed ‘hot stuff’ with ‘bold enough.’ ”
“Wow.” Josh looked impressed despite himself. “It takes a confident guy to put something like that in writing.”
“No kidding!” Missy said. “But hey, if it turns out the sheriff is Kristen’s dad, think of the benefits.”
Josh brightened. “We’ll never get a speeding ticket!”
“That too. But I was thinking that of all the dad candidates, he’d best know how to deal with Kristen’s grandma. He’s not a pushover.”
That was true, Kristen supposed. She wiped her hands on her jeans and tried to calm herself. “We all remember what to say, right?”
“Good Lord, yes,” Missy said. “We’ve practiced it about a hundred times now.”
They’d needed that practice, too, Kristen thought, remembering their stumbling efforts with Mr. Stevens at the hardware store. “We’ll have to be at our best with the sheriff.”
“Absolutely.”
“Let’s do this.” Josh grabbed his notebook, opened the door, and climbed out of the car, Missy and Kristen following.
Soon all three of them were walking into the sheriff’s office, looking around curiously. A huge bulletin board met their gaze. It was filled with announcements and notifications about lost cats, missing dogs, and small posters advertising the Dove Pond Spring Fling. Josh paused to stare at the most wanted list. “Holy cow, doesn’t that look like Preacher Johnson? I—”
“Come on!” Missy hissed and grabbed his arm, pulling him with her.
They walked around the corner to find Sheriff McIntyre seated at his desk, stacks of paper all around him. He eyed them with a faint flicker of surprise. “Well, well, well.” He closed the folder he was working on and dropped his ink pen on top of it. “Missy Robinson, Kristen Foster, and Josh Perez. Can I help you?”
Missy stepped forward. “We have a favor to ask.”
“Ask away, but if you’ve come to sell me Girl Scout cookies, I already bought ten boxes from some racket-level little angel who wouldn’t let me inside the Piggly Wiggly without buying every last box she had.”
“It’s not cookies. We just have a question to ask. A few questions, actually, although not that many.” With each word, Missy’s voice crept up an octave. For all her brassy talk and their hours of practice, it was obvious she was beginning to panic. “Just five questions, or six. I can’t remember our list, but there weren’t many and—”
“Missy!” Josh cut her off before casting
a brittle smile at the sheriff. “Sorry. She’s a little nervous. Some people get that way when they talk to an authority figure. We just wanted to do the interview for the yearbook.”
The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering over each of them. “Oh yeah, that’s what you all were doing when I saw you at the hardware store. You had just interviewed Nate Stevens, if I recall correctly.”
Kristen wet her dry lips. “We’re going to interview several men—”
“People,” Josh corrected. “Several people. Old students.”
“I see.” The sheriff stood and came around to the front of his desk. His gaze narrowed as he sat on the edge and recrossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t imagine an alumni section would be a very popular feature.”
“Really?” Josh looked surprised, although Kristen knew this was one of the things they’d expected the sheriff to say. “People like to see themselves in print. It’ll be great for ad sales.”
“I suppose that’s true.” The sheriff shrugged. “What do you all want to know?”
Kristen realized that both Josh and Missy were holding notebooks while she had nothing. Her empty hands suddenly seemed awkward, so she stuffed them into her pockets.
Josh opened his notebook and flipped through several pages as if looking for the sheriff’s name. “Let’s see. Sheriff McIntyre… Here you are.” He squinted through the list of questions they’d written up. “What is your most fun memory of your time at Dove Pond High?”
“The usual. The football games. Pep rallies. Fire drills.”
Josh, who’d been scribbling the sheriff’s answers, paused at this. “Fire drills?”
The sheriff grinned. “They can be fun if you and your friends use the opportunity to shoot bottle rockets into the dumpster.”
Josh couldn’t have looked more impressed. “Did you get in trouble?”
“Once. I was suspended for a week. My dad was furious, and I lost the use of my pickup for a month, which sucked because I had to take the bus. But it was worth it.”
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 23