A Cup of Silver Linings

by Karen Hawkins

  Just saying “I’m sorry” wasn’t going to be enough. But what else could she do? There had to be some way to repair their torn relationship. Some way she could earn back Sarah’s trust. But what if I can’t? What if Sarah never speaks to me again?

  Ava was thoroughly battered and bruised. Seeking comfort and perhaps sympathy, over the past week she’d made the mistake of calling her other sisters, who’d staunchly supported Sarah. Even Ella, who was closest in age to Ava and was usually sympathetic, hadn’t offered much in the way of comfort. Ava couldn’t blame them; there was no excuse for breaking Momma’s rules.

  Sighing, Ava slid her toes under the pile of pillows near her feet. It had been a horrible, awful few weeks. Not only was Sarah gone, but Ava’s professional reputation had been shot to heck, too. From Sofia’s somber demeanor this morning, the number of canceled tea orders must be even more appalling than Ava knew. Her lawn service was normally dormant this time of the year, but people were calling to cancel their annual contracts there as well, as if Ava wasn’t getting enough kicks in the shins. It felt as if the whole world was now against her.

  Last night Kat and Aunt Jo had brought her dinner—a pan of Aunt Jo’s famous heirloom tomato pie, some fresh-baked rolls, and a large salad. Ava had appreciated it, though she couldn’t eat much of anything. It wasn’t until they were leaving that Aunt Jo had turned to Ava and asked in her usual direct way, “Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to keep a secret from your own sister? You knew better than that.”

  Kat, looking embarrassed, had quickly interceded, hustling the older woman out the door and to her car, but the disappointment in Aunt Jo’s deep brown eyes had already cut Ava to the quick.

  She rested her forehead against the cool glass, looking out into the rain. Somehow, some way, she had to make things right with Sarah. I just wish I knew h—

  Sarah’s blue truck pulled into the driveway next door, the big tires splashing through puddles.

  Ava sat up straighter, the blanket dropping away.

  Sarah got out of her truck, rain pattering down on her raincoat. Ava could see she was wearing a bright yellow shirt and her favorite pair of leggings, which featured the covers of famous books. Water glistened on Sarah’s raincoat as she reached across her seat to gather a book from the passenger side.

  Ava watched wistfully as her sister went onto the porch, pausing beside a box that had her name written across it.

  Sarah stood for a while, staring at the box.

  “Open it,” Ava whispered. “Please.”

  Sarah’s shoulders lifted and then dropped with her sigh. She set her book on a porch chair and opened the box.

  Inside the box were some clothes Ava had thought Sarah might need; her first copy of Pride and Prejudice, which Ava had bought for her from the annual library sale when she was still in middle school; a holograph bookmark of an eagle that Ava had won for Sarah at the local fair when she was thirteen; a small bottle of wheat pennies they had collected over the years and now used as a paperweight; and, most important, a long letter Ava had spent the past two days writing. Ava had poured her heart into the letter, saying everything Sarah wouldn’t let her.

  Please read it. Please, please, please?

  Sarah, digging through the items, pulled out the envelope. She stared at it for a long time and then looked over to the window where Ava sat.

  Ava untangled her hand from the blanket and waved. Remember, Sarah. Don’t just think of my mistakes. Remember all the good things, too.

  Sarah dropped the letter back into the box. She removed the clothes, grabbed the books, and then went inside, leaving the open box and the rest of the contents alone in the damp.

  The door banged closed behind her.

  Ava’s disappointment pressed down on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and wondered what else she could do.

  The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked away the minutes. The silence grew, and Ava, weary to the bottom of her soul, finally shoved off the blanket and wandered through the house, absently touching various pieces of furniture before ending up in the kitchen. She supposed she should make herself something to eat, but after staring into the depths of the fridge, she decided to make herself a cup of hot chocolate instead.

  Outside, the skies opened up, and the heavy thrum of rain echoed off the porch roof. Ava had just pulled out the milk with a pan when a brisk knock sounded on her front door.

  Ava’s heart leapt. Had Sarah read the letter after all? Ava had already taken a swift step toward the door when she realized she was still holding both the milk and the pan. Muttering to herself, she set them on the counter, then hurried to the foyer.

  Heart pounding, Ava threw open the door, the sound of the pouring rain rushing in.

  Blake stood on the porch, dressed in his uniform, his coat and hat sparkling with rain.

  His gaze flickered over her. “You’re already in your pajamas.”

  She looked down and realized how she must look. Not only was she in her favorite two-sizes-too-big pajamas, but her hair was in a messy braid, her feet were bare, and she was sure her eyes were circled and red. “I finished work early today, so…” She shrugged. “What’s up?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Just what I need, a stern lecture from a furious law enforcement officer. But she supposed she deserved it, and so she stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  He walked past her, shrugged out of his wet coat and hat, and hung them on the rack. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  “Not at all. I was making some hot chocolate. Would you like some?”

  “Do you have marshmallows?”

  “Do I look like a novice?” She led the way from the foyer to the kitchen. “Have a seat.” She nodded to the tall chairs that lined the island.

  He adjusted his gun belt as he sat down, his gaze sweeping the kitchen. “I remember this kitchen from back when your mom was alive, and it looked nothing like this.”

  “Those dark cabinets, dark flooring, dark paneled walls…” Ava shuddered. “I appreciate the quality of woodwork in this house, but the kitchen had disappeared under the weight of it. Sarah and I left as much of the original details in the other rooms as we could, but we declared the kitchen a free zone and never looked back.” She pulled a can of powdered hot chocolate from a cabinet and set it on the countertop. “So. What’s up?” She poured the milk into the pan and set it on the stove.

  “I’ve been asked to check on you. People are worried.”

  Her throat tightened. She felt so alone that it hurt to accept even a kind thought. She had to swallow twice before she could speak. “I’m fine. I appreciate the concern, though.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She pulled a spoon from a drawer and stirred the milk. “Is this one of those wellness checks I’ve read about?”

  “Actually, no. I knew you’d be fine. I just thought you could use some cheering up.”

  “That’s very kind of you, especially since”—she waved the spoon, a drop of milk falling to the counter—“you know.”

  He grinned, a lopsided smile Ava was glad Sarah wasn’t nearby to witness. “Don’t anoint me a saint yet. I have an ulterior motive.”

  “Oh?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Let me guess.” Steam curled off the milk, so she stirred it a little more. “You want me to move to another country. That’s how most people in this town feel about me right now.”

  “Give them some time. They’ll remember all you’ve done for them. Right now, they’re just being protective of Sarah. I’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  When he put it like that, Ava had to agree.

  “Speaking of people behaving badly… I owe you an apology. I was angry and I shouldn’t have said some of the things I did.” He gave her a faintly sheepish grin. “We McIntyres have a temper.”

  “I’ve noticed that.”

  “It’s not a secret. I could have hand
led that moment better. I know you love Sarah and would never purposefully do anything to harm her, or anyone else, for that matter. I’m sorry I blew up.”

  Wow. She hadn’t expected that. “Thank you. But you were well within your rights to be angry. I shouldn’t have given either of you that stupid tea.”

  He shrugged. “Fortunately for us both, I don’t have the energy to carry a grudge. When I was twenty, maybe. But not anymore.”

  She could relate to that. A surprisingly comfortable silence fell between them, one broken by the quiet clink of her spoon as she stirred the heating milk.

  Blake crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. “I spoke to Dylan yesterday.”

  “Why?”

  “I figured he’d know how you were holding up. He reminded me how young you were when you made the choices you did, and what you were facing, raising Sarah. He had a lot to say.” Blake flinched. “I’ll save you the details, but he was brutal. He straight up called me an ass.”

  “That’s surprising. Dylan’s usually pretty mild mannered.”

  Blake’s gaze met hers. “Not when it comes to you.”

  Ava flushed and busied herself, turning down the heat on the milk.

  “The worst part is that he was right,” Blake continued. “It’s just that I have strong feelings where Sarah is concerned.”

  “She would say the same thing about you.”

  Blake shrugged. “That’s the tea talking.”

  “Is it?” Ava put her spoon down and collected two mugs from a cabinet, stopping by the pantry for a bag of marshmallows. She returned to the stove and placed everything on the counter next to the canister of hot chocolate mix.

  She stirred the gently steaming milk one more time, then filled the mugs and added the chocolate. “I’m assuming you really want marshmallows and weren’t just being polite when you asked about them earlier.”

  “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

  She smiled and added a generous pile to his mug, then slid it across the counter. “About that favor you requested. You know I’m going to say yes. I owe you and Sarah both a few hundred favors or more.”

  “I’m counting on it.” He picked up the mug and took a sip. “Oh wow. That’s good.”

  “That’s Momma’s hot chocolate recipe. She began with whole milk, then added powdered milk to make it creamier, dark chocolate to give it some depth, sugar to make it richer, and cinnamon and nutmeg to enhance the flavor.”

  “I hope you’re selling this in your tearoom.” He took another drink, then put his mug back on the counter. “At some time here in the next few days, I’m going to ask your sister out on a date.”

  Ava had just lifted her mug to her lips, but at that, she froze. Slowly, she lowered her mug. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heartbeat.”

  Oh wow. “That’s… Does she know?”

  “No one knows but you and me. I’m trusting you won’t say anything to her or anyone else.” He gave her a wry smile. “I feel confident you won’t tell. If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s keep a secret.”

  She flushed. “I won’t say a word. I promise.”

  Blake took another sip of his hot chocolate, which left a faint band of melted marshmallow on his upper lip.

  He didn’t seem aware of his new mustache, which made Ava smile. “Blake, I don’t know what to say. I’m happy—relieved even—that you want to give your relationship with Sarah another shot. But I don’t know if she can—”

  “Whoa! Stay in your lane, Ava. Whatever happens between me and Sarah, you’re not to get involved. You can consider that an order.”

  “Message received. But if you don’t want me involved, then why tell me?”

  He put his mug down and reached for a napkin. “Because I need some advice.” He neatly wiped away his marshmallow mustache. “No one knows Sarah better than you.”

  “I hope you’re not going to ask me how to reverse the effects of that darn tea. I spent years trying to figure that out and couldn’t—”

  “No, of course not. You made it clear you’ve done everything you could about that. Ava, I don’t want magic teas, talking books, or any other kind of voodoo. But despite everything, I still can’t get your sister out of my mind.” He gave a frustrated laugh. “And oh, how I’ve tried. I’ve tried since I was seven years old, and it’s not possible. She’s special.”

  Ava nodded. She missed Sarah so much. “She’s the most positive, happy, loving person I’ve ever known.”

  “Agreed. Which is why I’ve decided it’s time Sarah and I approach our situation in the one way we haven’t tried—the old-fashioned way.”

  Ava sent Blake a confused look. “What’s the old-fashioned way?”

  “We’re going to talk it out. You know, like a normal couple.”

  Oh dear.

  He didn’t seem to notice her concern. “From here on out, whatever problems we face, whether it’s a bad-tea hangover or a fight over who gets to hold the TV remote, Sarah and I are going to confront it together, as a team.”

  “Ah.” Ava dropped her gaze to her mug so he wouldn’t see her doubts. She took a slow sip of her hot chocolate. “You seem very determined about this.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” He hesitated and then added, “She’s worth a shot. A million shots, in fact.”

  Wow. Ava didn’t know what to say. Whenever Blake was around, Sarah was either silent, too tangled up in her own thoughts to say a word, or babbling incoherently in a way that made conversation impossible. How could they establish a relationship under those circumstances? Ava started to say as much, but the intensity of Blake’s gaze gave her pause. Heck, she didn’t know what would or wouldn’t work. Why not try the old-fashioned way?

  She put her mug down. “Count me in. What can I do to help?”

  “I want to take her on a date. What things does Sarah like to do besides read? We need something we can do together that’s active enough to bridge awkward silences, but quiet enough to let us talk.”

  “That’s a tall order.” Ava considered it for a moment. “I wouldn’t suggest a movie. If even a portion of it is based on a book, she’s bound to hate it. According to Sarah, movies never do justice to a book.”

  Blake nodded thoughtfully. “What else?”

  “She likes casual more than dressy. She loves all sorts of food but hates buffets of any type.”

  “Noted.”

  “Every time we go out, I’ll suggest she bring a sweater because she’s always cold, but she never does and then she shivers and complains of the temperature.”

  “Good to know. Anything else?”

  Ava bit her lip, thinking through the things she’d heard Sarah say about other dates she’d had over the years, although there hadn’t been many. Very few, in fact. “She’s not a bowler, but she enjoys Putt-Putt, although it’s too cold for that right now.” Ava grimaced. “I’m afraid I haven’t been much help.”

  “You’ve given me a good start. But I need one more thing.” His steady gaze locked with hers. “Whatever happens between me and Sarah—good, bad, doesn’t matter—I want your promise that you and your teas will stay out of it. Sarah and I need to figure this out by ourselves. If we can, great. And if we can’t…” He shrugged. “At least we tried.”

  She could see from his expression that he was as serious as a heartbeat. “You didn’t have to ask; I’ve learned my lesson. And Blake, I’m really, truly sorry for what I did.”

  “I know.” He gave her a ghost of a smile and then glanced at his wristwatch. “As nice as this has been, I’d better get going. I’m doing night checks at the middle school. We have a vandal who thinks he’s hi-lar-ious spray-painting pictures of a dancing hot dog on the wall behind the cafeteria.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask a bored twelve-year-old and see what he says.”

  She had to laugh as she followed Blake to the front door. “It sounds like you know who
it is.”

  “I have my suspicions.” He gathered his coat and hat and had reached for the door, when he stopped and turned to look at her. “I’ve been wondering about something. The tea you used on Sarah has lasted for years. None of your other teas seem to last like that.”

  “I got the recipe from my great-great-great-aunt Mildred’s book. Some of her teas are brutally strong. I didn’t realize that until after I’d made that one.”

  “I think I’d avoid that book from now on.”

  “I never want to see it again.” Ava had to fight the urge to shiver. “When I was a kid, I used to think that the fact that my teas didn’t last long was a weakness. Now I realize it gives the people who drink them more control.”

  “Kids never understand power.” Blake hesitated. “Speaking of kids, Kristen was one of the people who asked me to check on you.”

  “That was nice of her. She’s probably noticed how distracted I’ve been.”

  “It’s hard to miss. But I’d suggest you keep an eye on her, too. She’s got a lot going on, that one.”

  Ava wondered if she was imagining the flash of worry that crossed Blake’s face. Before she could ask, he said, “I’d better be going.” He stepped out onto the porch and shrugged into his coat.

  The rain from earlier had stopped, leaving a chilly dampness in its wake. He adjusted his hat, which shaded his eyes from the porch light. “By the way, I visited my mother earlier today, and she mentioned she was having trouble sleeping. Would you mind making her some tea? I think she’d like that.”

  Not a single person had placed a new order in the past few weeks. No one but Blake. Her voice was thick as she said, “I’d be more than happy to.”

  “Great. Let me know when it’s ready, and I’ll pick it up. Or, better yet, I’ll grab it at the soft opening for your tearoom. Friday the eleventh, right?”

  She nodded. “From five to eight. The soft opening is more of a party. We want to introduce everyone to the space and the menu. We’ll open the café for real that Tuesday.”