Oh dear. She could only hope she could keep quiet.
“I need to tell you something and I…” He gave an unsteady laugh, and she was glad to see that he was laughing at himself and not her.
He moved a little closer, just a few steps, but close enough that she noticed his dark hair was getting longer and now curled over his collar.
She liked that, she decided. She liked it a lot. Dontsayanythingdontsayanythingdontsayanything.
He spread his hands. “I don’t know exactly how to put this or where to begin, but… Sarah, I want us to have another go at this.”
What? Her eyes widened. He couldn’t mean—
He moved closer still, and now only the cart stood between them. Sarah was suddenly aware that this morning, after a sleepless night, she’d whipped her hair into a messy braid and hadn’t put on any makeup at all. She looked down at her clothes to see what she was wearing and almost winced at the bright orange tunic top printed with a large purple cat reading a book and the leggings featuring three different unicorns burping up rainbows.
The outfit was a lot of things—comfortable, stretchy, well loved by the kids during Children’s Hours—but it wasn’t at all sexy. And oh God, how she wished she looked sexy right now.
“So.” He took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair, looking unusually uncomfortable. “We’ve both been through a lot lately. I don’t like what Ava did. But I want us to move past that, if we can.” His gaze locked on Sarah, a question in it. “We should, don’t you think?”
A million thoughts gurgled into her throat, all of them fighting for release.
He stepped to the side of the cart.
Sarah’s hands tightened around the cart handle. What was he doing? Was he—
He reached down and tried to capture one of her hands, but it was locked firmly in place and she couldn’t seem to unwind her fingers and release the handle.
He tugged again, sending her a surprised look.
Oh God. This is so embarrassing. She tried to loosen her fingers, but they were frozen in place.
He reached over and pried her fingers loose, one at a time, until her hand was free. “There.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.
A deep tingle ran up her arm, through her shoulder, and into her heart. All she could do was stare up at him, a million words fighting for release. She bit her lip and ground her heel into her other foot. Please don’t let me spoil this moment! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE. And yet she could feel her control slipping away.
Unaware he was about to be drowned in a flood of words, Blake continued, “I’ve thought and thought about it—about Ava and her tea and you and—Sarah, I think the only way for us to break this curse or spell or whatever it is, is to beat it at its own game.”
He tightened his hold on her hand. “Sarah Dove, will you go out with me?”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open, and all the pent-up words disappeared, blown to dust by sheer shock.
The books around her whispered their excitement. Do it! Do it! Do it!
Finally! said one of her favorite young-adult books.
The other books murmured along in approval.
Her silence rang louder.
Blake gave an awkward laugh. “Just to be clear, I’d like us to go on a real date, away from Dove Pond. Maybe in Asheville, safe from prying eyes, where we can just be ourselves. What do you think?”
She closed her mouth and, blinking furiously, struggling to believe this moment was real, managed one short nod.
Blake smiled, a charming half smile that made Sarah think of happiness and ice cream and secret kisses. “I heard from a good source that you don’t like buffets or movies made from books.”
That was true. Very true.
“So I’m not yet sure what we should do for our first date, but I’ll think of something. Maybe we can do one of those paint-and-sip classes, if you’re into that sort of thing, or—”
Thunk. A book landed on the floor in front of Blake. He released Sarah’s hand, bent down, and picked it up.
Sarah’s gaze dropped to the book. She could hear it laughing as it settled into his hands.
“Ballroom dancing?” he said in a thoughtful tone. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve seen ads for classes in Asheville.” He placed the book back on the cart and looked at Sarah. “What do you think of that? I can call this afternoon and see if I can find us a class.”
She nodded again, her mind going in a million directions. Blake McIntyre was asking her out on a date.
A real date.
To learn ballroom dancing, of all things.
But it was more than that. He knew she had a tough time saying what she thought in a way that didn’t bowl them both over. And instead of running away, he was trying to find a way to make things work.
Her heart danced with a violent happiness, and she had to press her fingers to her mouth to keep from burbling out a string of excited thoughts.
“Are we set, then? Want to see how we do?”
Yesyesyesyesyeswecangoonadateandmaybedanceandyourhandswillbe—
She took a gulping breath and moved her fingers aside just long enough to whisper, “Yes.” The second she said the word, she covered her mouth once more.
“It’s a date, then.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling.
Sarah took a deep breath. She had to say something. Just one sentence. That was all she needed to do. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and lowered her hand from her mouth. “I’d love that.” Her voice was breathless.
There. That wasn’t bad.
But other words edged forward. They sifted into her thoughts and tumbled toward her mouth.
She swallowed, trying to hold them back. “I’ve never taken a dance class before.” The words piled higher still, and another sentence slipped through. “I wanted to take ballet when I was younger, but we didn’t have the money. So I didn’t.” Before she could stop it, another sentence joined the last. “I wonder if we’ll learn the tango? I’ve always wanted to learn that. It looks so romantic. Or maybe we can learn how to waltz. I’ve never done it, but it seems simple enough. Have you ever taken a dance class before? I wonder if it’ll be hard or if we shouldn’t practice—” The floodgates opened, and on and on she went, the words tumbling out faster and faster until she could barely breathe, and she was helpless to stop.
To give Blake credit, he didn’t flinch. Indeed, he watched her with a warm half smile, unsurprised by her rattling.
God, but she hated this. She stepped hard on her big toe, but her mind seemed disconnected from her body and the pain did nothing but make her wince. “I read a book once about how the tango first developed in the 1880s around the Rio de la Plata, which is the natural boundary between Argentina and Uru—”
He kissed her.
Shocked, she froze in place. Oh, wow.
That was it. That was all she could think. Just that one, solid Oh, wow.
He slipped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart.
She melted against him, and the heat he’d created burned away all the words in her head like a piece of paper in a roaring fire. Oh, what a delicious, delightful kiss it was.
She didn’t know how long they kissed, but the sound of the door opening a few aisles away made him lift his head.
Sarah burrowed her face against his chest, listening to the sound of footsteps moving away and the low murmur of two voices, one of them a child’s wondering aloud where her mother and sister had gone.
Sarah realized she was holding him tightly, so she released him and stepped back a little. Her voice hoarse, she choked out, “They went to the children’s section. Other side of the library.”
“Good.” He put his finger under her chin, tilted her face up, and dropped his forehead to hers, his green eyes twinkling. “About that kiss. That was a good start, if I say so myself.”
“It was,” she said, her face heating, shyness quivering through her. Oddly enough, no other words crowded into he
r mind. Not one.
“I didn’t plan on doing that,” he said. “But I’m glad I did. It seemed to help.”
She nodded, unable to look away from his green, green eyes.
“I’ve spent years wondering what a kiss with you would be like.” He slowly released her, stepping back with obvious reluctance. “It was even better than my imagination led me to believe.” He flashed a delighted grin. “Sarah Dove, I have the feeling we’re going to make our own charms, you and I.”
She returned his smile, her heart fluttering wildly. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it and then winced. “I’ve got to go, but before I do, I should mention something. I spoke to Ava a few days ago.”
Sarah looked at him in surprise.
“I wanted to apologize to her. I was so angry when I found out about that stupid tea.…” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Anger is toxic. I just didn’t want that to be me.”
Sarah could understand that. She wasn’t used to being angry either, and she’d discovered it was as soul-wearying as grief.
“I’m worried about your sister. She seemed really down. The people in this town love you, and you should know that some of them have been pretty hard on her.”
The thought of Ava hurting gave Sarah pause. She might be mad at her sister, but that was between the two of them and no one else.
His phone buzzed again, and he made an impatient sound. “Darn it, I’m late. I’ve got to go, but if you don’t mind”—he picked up the book on ballroom dancing—“I’ll keep this for a while. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
The book chuckled and told Sarah gleefully, I bet you wish you’d read me a second time.
Sarah ignored it, although she had to admit she did wish that very thing. She smiled at Blake, frustrated when a fresh batch of words began to bubble up. She focused on controlling them and said, “I look forward to it.”
“Great. We’re going to have fun.” He was backing away, but slowly, obviously reluctant to go. “I’ll book the class. I…” He stopped at the end of the aisle, his gaze as serious as his voice. “We can do this. I know it. Thank you for taking another chance on us.”
As if she would have ever said no. She wanted to tell him she was excited about their date, that she thought they’d both enjoy dance lessons, and so many more things. But the words were building again, so instead, she settled for a simple smile.
It was enough. With a wink and a very pleased look, Blake left, the book tucked under his arm.
Sarah waited, holding her breath until she heard the door swing closed, and then she sagged against the shelves, her knees as wobbly as jelly, her heart dancing inside her chest. It had happened. It had finally happened. Blake McIntyre had asked her out.
All around her, the books whispered in excitement, some humming, some offering hints and suggestions.
She wanted to hop up and down. She wanted to dance through the aisles and kiss every book along the way. She wanted to laugh and cry, both at the same time.
But more than anything, she wanted to tell Ava.
Sarah had missed her sister so, so much. Maybe… maybe Blake was right, and it was time to let her anger go.
It was time for Sarah to move on, too. Besides, Ava’s tearoom was set to open in just a few days. She couldn’t leave Ava to face that alone. If what Blake had said was true, that people were taking out their anger on Ava, the tearoom opening might be in danger.
And it was then, while standing alone in the aisle with the return cart, that it dawned on Sarah just how she’d heal the breach between herself and her sister. She’d do it with a gift. One perfect, simple gift.
She turned back to the cart and hurried to shelve the rest of the books. She had a lot of work to do between now and Ava’s opening.
CHAPTER 21 Ava
Dylan placed the last stack of extra tiles in the box by the front door and straightened. He put his hands on his hips and looked around the tearoom. “You did it.” He grinned at Ava. “The Pink Magnolia Tearoom is officially ready for business.”
Ava, who’d been giving the prep area a final cleaning, dropped her sponge into the small bucket and looked around the tearoom. He was right. Everything was ready for the big launch tomorrow, and it couldn’t be lovelier. The wrought-iron tables were perfectly placed, the wood floors gleamed from the fresh coating of polyurethane, and the colorful paintings Julie had given Ava were neatly hung on the back wall. Overhead, the tin ceiling tiles shone with silver finish, while below them the long mahogany bar gleamed from a recent polish. Glass bakery cases at the end of the bar were ready to be filled with the cakes, scones, and pastries that were to be delivered tomorrow afternoon. On the reclaimed-wood wall were shelves where canister after canister of her teas sat in neat rows. Near the door sat two stands of tea-related items—cups, saucers, teapots, sampler boxes, infusers, tea-themed dish towels and aprons, strainers, and more, all neatly priced.
It was perfect. All of it. She should have been beyond thrilled with it all. And yet here she was, lower than low. What did she care about opening her tearoom when her own sister wouldn’t even speak to her?
“You don’t look happy.”
She realized Dylan was watching her from across the room. “I was thinking about Sarah. I really wanted her to come to the opening.”
“She’s still not answering her phone?”
“I haven’t called her in a few days. I figured she needed some time without me pestering her.” The only bright spot in the past few weeks had been Blake sharing that he was going to ask Sarah out. Ava wasn’t sure what she’d thought that might change, but the days had flown by without a word from either him or Sarah. And so, the one ray of hope Ava’d had that maybe, just maybe, things might change for the better had vanished.
Sighing, Ava picked up a dish towel and dried her hands. “I should reschedule the opening. Maybe move it to this fall.”
Dylan looked genuinely shocked. “Why would you do that? Everything’s ready.”
She shrugged.
He eyed her a long moment. “You think no one will come tomorrow.”
“People have been pretty clear whose side they’re on. Not that I think there are sides, but…” She shrugged again.
“You’re wrong. They’ll be here. Everyone is talking about it.”
She threw the dish towel onto the counter. “They’re talking about how I made my own sister hate me so much that she moved out. That’s what they’re talking about, not the tearoom.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “The tearoom won’t succeed without customers. None of my businesses will.” Her shoulders felt weighted. “Maybe I should just sell this place and move.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought. She’d sign the house over to Sarah and then get out of the way. The thought was depressing, and Ava had to swipe a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
Dylan muttered a curse and came to stand at the counter near her. “You’re a Dove. You belong here.”
She used to think that, too. “I don’t know anymore. Except for Sarah, all my sisters have moved away.”
“Where would you go?”
“My sister Ella invited me to stay with her in Paris for a while. She’s feeling the urge to move on too, though. She goes where the wind takes her. I used to think that was a horrible way to live, but right now, starting over fresh seems like a good idea.” It would be a relief to go somewhere people didn’t know her.
“Ava, this place is your dream. You can’t give up on it.”
“It used to seem so important.” Ava picked up the dish towel and folded it. “I don’t know how to get Sarah to listen to me. And even if I could, I don’t know what I’d say. I can’t explain away what I did. It was wrong and I knew it.”
“Come here.” Dylan sat down on one of the barstools and patted the one beside him. “We need to talk. That stupid shoebox has been gone for weeks, but you stil
l look exhausted.”
That was true. Even with no secret thumping under her bed, Ava had found herself staring at the ceiling all night, her troubled thoughts too noisy to quiet. “You can tell, huh?”
He patted the seat again.
Too tired to argue, she went around the counter and sat beside him.
He eyed her for a moment. “I know you’re feeling down, but things are going to get better. Just give it some time. Besides, there’s a part of this story that people are missing.”
“What part?”
“The level of skill it took to keep a book from talking to your sister.” He gave a silent whistle. “That’s some hefty lifting there. I once saw her talk to the church bulletin, and it’s just a pamphlet. She said it was complaining because the church secretary kept spelling the word communion as communism.”
Ava had to smile. “If it has pages and a binding, it’s a book. Growing up, she never had to read her textbooks. She’d just fix a cup of tea, curl up on the couch, and sit with her hand on the cover and they’d read themselves to her. Some would even explain the harder sections. I used to be so—”
The door opened, and Ellen entered. “Ava! There you are.” Ellen took a few steps inside and then came to a sudden halt. “Oh. Dylan. I forgot you might be here.”
He looked surprised that she’d remembered his name, but he lifted his hand in greeting. “Good afternoon, Ms. Foster. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She eyed him narrowly, then said in a pointed tone, “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to talk to Ava.” She set her purse on a chair, removed her long wool coat, and hung it beside the door.
He sent Ava a droll look and then climbed off the stool. “I should get my tools together.” He headed across the room to where he’d been packing his things away.
Ava slid off her stool. “Hi, Ellen. What can I do for you?”
“I need some more tea.” Ellen reached into her huge purse, pulled out a canister, and handed it to Ava.
Ava glanced at the label and gasped in surprise. “Where did you get this?”
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 30