“I don’t bite.” Ellen tentatively leaned back against the table leg behind her, glad it stayed firmly in place. When Kristen didn’t answer, Ellen let the quiet linger, giving her a little more time to calm down.
She looked around at the bright greenery and listened to the quiet hum of the irrigation system in the background. “It’s very peaceful here.”
Kristen lifted a leaf to her nose and sniffed it. “Mom loved peppermint.”
Ellen took a deep breath and could just make out the peppermint scent over the others. “She did.”
Kristen’s mulish expression softened.
Ellen reached across Kristen, picked up a peppermint leaf that had fallen to the ground, and sniffed it, the scent stirring so many memories. “When your mom was little, I could never keep candy canes on the Christmas tree.”
“I know. She told me she’d sneak in at night and steal them.”
“Every last one.” Ellen smiled. “Later, I’d find them under her pillow, some of them half-eaten and stuck to her pillowcase. Once, she got two of them stuck in her hair. I thought we were going to have to cut them out.”
Kristen gave her the smallest of smiles.
Ellen chuckled. “I used to fuss at her about it, but honestly, I didn’t care.”
Kristen tilted her head to one side. “Then why did you fuss at her?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought that was what I was supposed to do. They don’t give you a manual on parenting. You have to figure things out for yourself, and I’m not afraid to admit there were some things I could have done better.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry, Julie.”
Kristen’s eyebrows rose. “You talk to Mom?”
“I do now.”
“I do too.” Kristen hung her head, a strand of her hair falling across her cheek and partially hiding her face. “She can’t hear me, but—”
“Nonsense. She can hear every word.”
“You really believe that?”
“I don’t just believe. I know it.” Ellen reached over and tucked the strand of purple hair behind Kristen’s ear.
Flushing, Kristen jerked her head away. “Don’t.”
Ellen sighed, adjusting her purse on her lap. “I’m sorry about the way you found out Dylan is your dad. But please don’t judge him too quickly. He’d just gotten a huge shock. I understand why you’d be mad—”
“I’m not mad,” Kristen said sharply. “Not at him, anyway.”
“Oh. You’re mad at me, then?”
“I’m mad at myself.” Kristen pulled up her legs and clasped her arms around her knees. “When I first started looking for my dad, I thought I’d tell him who I was, and we’d live together happily ever after. Like a movie, you know.” She made a face. “That was stupid.”
“I wouldn’t call it stupid.”
“It feels stupid now. I know Dylan. I know him better than the other men I thought could be my dad, anyway. We’ve worked at Ava’s for the past few months, so we’ve talked here and there. And while he’s a nice enough guy, I couldn’t live with him. It would be weird.”
Ellen nodded slowly. Hmm. This was progress of a sort. “Can I tell you something?”
Kristen shrugged.
“I feel sorry for him. He never dated your mom, you know. Not even once.”
“He had to have.”
“I thought that myself at first. But the truth is this.” Ellen turned so she was facing Kristen. “Your mom picked your father from a listing at a sperm bank. Dylan had no idea he was your father.”
Kristen’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“You weren’t an accident. In her own way, your mom planned everything out. She decided she wanted to have you, but she didn’t want the complication of a partner, so she went to a sperm bank. She knew he’d been a donor and knew enough about him to pick him out of their book or computer listing or whatever it is.” Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know exactly how that works.”
Kristen’s hazel eyes, which Ellen now realized were the exact color of Dylan’s, had darkened. “He didn’t have any idea?”
“None. If he gave it any thought at all, which I doubt he bothered to do. He was quite young at the time, barely in college. I suppose he knows it’s possible he has children out there somewhere, but none here, in his own backyard, as it were.”
Kristen was silent a moment and then, to Ellen’s surprise, she chuckled. “Mom was something else, wasn’t she? When she wanted to do something, she just did it. I could never be as brave as she was.”
“Your mom was an original. I think she’d like being called brave.”
“She’d love it. She used to say she could never say no to an idea, even a bad one.” Kristen rested her chin on her knee. “I don’t think she believed that was a good thing, though.”
“No. But you’re right, in many ways, your mother was as brave as they come.” Ellen looked at Kristen. “You really believe you’ll be miserable in Raleigh?”
“I’ll try to make it work. I’m going to miss Missy and Josh. They’ve been good friends, as annoying as they sometimes are.” She swallowed as if her throat had tightened. “I hate leaving them. I feel like I’ve lost so much lately, and I don’t want to lose them, too.”
It was frustrating because just as Kristen was agreeing to do what Ellen had been praying she’d do—willingly move to Raleigh—Ellen was beginning to believe that would be a mistake. I guess it’s not just Dylan who has to face an uncomfortable truth today.
Ellen sighed. “Fine. We should go ahead and just say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you’ll be miserable in Raleigh.”
Kristen looked guilty. “I said I’d try and make it work.”
“You could try, but we both know it won’t work. Meanwhile, you feel safe and are happy here in Dove Pond. You have a job and friends and a home you love.” Ellen leaned her head against the leg of the metal table. “I don’t know what the solution is, but there has to be one. We just have to figure out what it is. And, Kristen, we have to figure it out together. That means we have to talk things through, you and I, even if it’s sometimes uncomfortable.”
Kristen’s eyes had widened. “You think there’s a way that I can stay here?”
“There has to be. We’re both smart. Maybe if we put our heads together, we’ll find a compromise that leaves us both, if not perfectly happy, at least satisfied.”
“You’d compromise?”
“I will. Will you?”
She nodded.
“Pinkie promise?” Ellen held out her pinkie.
Surprise flickered across Kristen’s face, but after a moment, she smiled and linked her pinkie with Ellen’s. “Pinkie promise.”
Kristen dropped her hand back into her lap.
“Feel better?”
“A little.” Kristen shot her a curious look. “I have a question. How did you know I’d be at Mr. Lind’s the other day?”
Ellen’s gaze dropped to her purse, where the canister rested. She owed Kristen the truth. “You’re going to laugh at this, but—” Ellen opened her purse and pulled out the canister.
Kristen flushed. “I can explain that.”
“Good, because I can’t.”
“I brought it home hoping you’d sleep so I could search Mom’s bedroom for clues as to who my dad might be.”
“Ah. I see. You knew this was Erma Tingle’s bad tea?”
Kristen shrugged. “It didn’t hurt her. She just had weird dreams.”
“It did a little more than that. It let Erma speak to her dead uncle.”
“It just made her think she’d talked to her uncle.”
Ellen smoothed her thumb over the torn label. “Kristen, this tea let me talk to someone who’d passed away, someone I loved dearly. Someone who needed to tell me something.”
Kristen’s mouth dropped open, and her gaze locked on the canister. “Mom?”
“She’s the one who told me you were searching for your father. That�
�s how I knew about Mr. Lind.”
“Oh my God.” Kristen’s gaze lifted back to Ellen’s face. “You saw Mom. You really saw her?”
“More than once. The first time, I thought it was a dream, but she told me about the red cube, which you showed me.”
“That’s…” Kristen swallowed noisily. “How was she?”
“When she wasn’t arguing with me? She was great.”
Kristen gave a short laugh. “You two went at it?”
“A little.” Ellen added with a wry smile, “It was good that we had a limited amount of time. She looks the same way she always has—wild clothing, too full of opinions and emotions. She was happy, too. She likes where she is, wherever it is.”
“I’m glad she hasn’t changed.” Kristen twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, her gaze pensive. “I worry that I’ll forget her voice. She made some videos for me, but I can’t look at them yet. They’re too much to handle right now.”
“They’ll be there when you are ready.” Ellen sighed and, her mind filled with memories of her daughter, she hugged the canister. “I never understood your mother. She and I were too different in many ways. But talking to her has made me realize that perhaps I didn’t need to understand her. I just needed to accept her and love her as she is.” I wish I’d figured that out years ago. Ellen blinked back tears, and she was so blurry-eyed that she didn’t see Kristen lean closer and envelop her in a hug.
Ellen slipped her arms around her granddaughter and hugged her back. For a long while, they sat there, leaning against each other, soaking in the warmth of the hug and the faint scent of peppermint.
Ellen rested her cheek against her granddaughter’s soft hair and closed her eyes. She would have missed this if she’d approached this moment the way she usually did, pouring out unwanted advice right and left, stamping out the quiet required to listen, really listen, to another person.
This time, she’d been honest and had shared her true thoughts and feelings, and had done her best to take Kristen’s into account as well. Julie was right yet again. Ellen’s “helpful hints” were neither helpful nor hints. They came across as cold, hard criticism that could maim if not kill fragile spirits. Oh, Julie, that was never my intention.
Kristen gave Ellen a final hug, then pulled back, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry I’ve made this so difficult. I haven’t been myself since Mom died.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong. You were just trying to be heard.”
Kristen nodded. “We’ll figure something out.”
“We have to, now that I told your mom we would.”
Kristen smiled. “Thanks. Can… can I ask you to do something for me?”
“Anything.”
Kristen’s clear gaze met Ellen’s. “Will you tell Mom I miss her but that everything is going to be okay?”
Ellen looked down at the canister. Only one more visit. That’s all I have left.
No. It’s all I had left. She hugged the canister one last time. For you, Julie.
Her eyes so blurry she could barely see, Ellen took a deep breath and handed the canister to Kristen. “Tell her yourself.”
Kristen’s hands closed over the canister. She raised her startled gaze to Ellen. “Are you sure?”
“There’s not much left. Just enough for one short visit. But long enough.” Ellen slipped her arm around Kristen and kissed her forehead. “Long enough to remind you what your mom’s voice sounds like. Just don’t do what I did, and waste your time arguing.”
Kristen choked back a sob as she hugged the canister, smiling through her tears. “Thank you! I don’t know what to say.”
“Save your words for your mom.” Ellen gathered her purse and stood, stopping to brush the dust from her slacks. “I’ll leave you to your peppermint plants, but before you go home, I think you should talk to Dylan.”
Kristen’s smile dimmed. “Right now?”
“He came all the way here to see you. He deserves a few minutes of your time, at least.”
Kristen held the canister tightly, seeming to struggle with her answer. “I guess I’m going to have to talk to him sometime. It might as well be now.”
“I’ll tell him you’re ready, then. I’ll see you at home for dinner, right? We have a lot to talk about, you and I.”
Kristen nodded.
“Good.” Ellen smiled and headed for the door. She’d just gotten there when Kristen called out, “Grandma Ellen?”
Ellen looked back. “Yes?”
“I’ll tell her you love her.”
Ellen’s lips quivered as she tried to smile. “Please do.” With that, she left.
Dylan was leaning against a table, watching Sofia pot some basil plants, but on seeing Ellen, he stood up straight.
“She’s waiting for you,” Ellen said. “I’ll be outside when you’re done.”
She watched him head for the back room and then, struggling to contain her tears, she murmured a goodbye to Sofia and went outside.
The refreshingly cool breeze rose up over the field below the greenhouse and wafted over the parking lot, bringing with it the smell of damp earth as it dried Ellen’s eyes. She lifted her chin and let the breeze blow over her, strands of hair coming loose and tickling her cheek.
She wasn’t sure why, but she felt lighter than she had since the day she’d heard of Julie’s death. And younger, too, as if the weight of her past mistakes had lifted a little.
Ellen sighed, her breath mingling with the breeze, then disappearing from sight. And somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the unmistakable sound of Julie’s unique laugh.
CHAPTER 23 Ava
Ava nervously straightened her apron as she looked at the clock that hung over the kitchen door. The Pink Magnolia Tearoom’s soft opening had started a full twenty-two minutes ago, and they had only three customers—Grace, Trav, and Daisy. The three of them were all seated at a table near the door, sipping cups of hot chocolate and sharing a piece of chocolate silk pie from Ava’s supplier, the Moonlight Café.
The tearoom was off to a sad, sickly start. Ava, trying not to stare at her only customers, was dying to ask Grace about Sarah, but she refrained, as she didn’t want to put any of them in an awkward position. So instead, she pretended to be cleaning the already scrubbed bar while casting furtive glances their way.
Kristen brought out a tray of muffins from the kitchen. Dressed in a cheery blue apron with a pink magnolia embroidered on the pocket, she placed the tray beside the bakery case and used the tongs to arrange the muffins beside a long line of cream scones, blueberry bars, and bear claws.
Ava had resisted questioning Kristen about what had happened yesterday, but the teenager seemed fine, if a little quiet. When Dylan gets here, I’ll ask him.
She watched as Kristen put another muffin into the case. “Leave the rest in the back. We’re not going to need more food.”
“Grandma Ellen is coming.”
Ava sighed. “I hope she brings a few people with her.”
Grace got up from her table and brought two empty cups to the bar. “I’ve requests for more of your delicious hot chocolate.”
Ava took the cups and refilled them. “How was the pie?”
“Divine.” Grace idly picked up a menu from the stack on the bar. “I see you’re doing both breakfast and lunch. The list of quiches is making my mouth water.” She dropped the menu back in place and watched as Ava added whipped cream to the cups. “How are things?”
“With the tearoom? You can see for yourself.”
Grace glanced around. “People will come. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope so.” Ava placed the cups of hot chocolate on the bar and asked as casually as she could, “So… how’s Sarah?”
“You’ll see.”
Hope flared. “What does that mean?”
Grace grinned. “You’ll see that, too.” She winked, took the cups, and carried them back to her table.
Maybe… maybe Sarah was coming? P
lease, yes! Despite the no-show at her opening, Ava was suddenly happier than she had been in the past three weeks. She’d give up every one of her businesses just to see her sister smile.
Kristen closed the back of the baked-goods display, set the tray in the sink, and came to stand with Ava. “It’s okay to jump up and down if you feel like it.”
Ava laughed. “Is it that obvious?” At Kristen’s nod, Ava said, “It may not mean anything. Sarah could come here just to tell me off.”
“At least she’d be talking to you,” Kristen pointed out.
“That’s true.” Ava caught the teenager trying not to yawn. “Still not sleeping?”
“Oh, no.” Kristen cut Ava a wide grin. “I slept like a baby.”
There was something in the way she said it that made Ava eye her a bit closer. There was a softness to Kristen that hadn’t been there in a long, long time. “You seem different today.”
“Last night, Grandma and I had a long talk.”
“And?”
“We haven’t reached an agreement yet, but we have some ideas. She’s going to talk to you about one of them when she comes.”
Ava could have told Kristen that her grandmother didn’t think enough of Ava to “run ideas” by her but decided against it. Instead, she asked, “And Dylan?”
Kristen made a face. “It’s weird thinking of him as my dad. But I guess he’s okay. Not everyone can say that about a parent.”
“Did you ask if you could live with him?”
“No!” Kristen flushed. “I don’t want to, either. It would be awkward.” She shook her head. “That was a stupid idea.”
“It wasn’t stupid. It was hopeful. And sometimes hope works. You never know until you try.” Ava’s gaze moved around her tearoom. “Not that hope works every time.”
“Things will turn out fine. Call it a hunch or a—”
The door opened, and Ava turned. She’d just opened her mouth, ready to welcome her next customer, but instead she came to a surprising halt. “Dylan?”
She’d expected to see him, but not in a well-tailored suit. Not only that, but sometime between yesterday and today, he’d gotten his hair cut and his beard trimmed.
He looked good.
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