A Cup of Silver Linings Page 5

  She realized her hands had curled into fists and she stuffed them back into the front pocket of her hoodie before her grandmother noticed. Geez, but she was so mad. It was as if every bit of her boiled with fury, and she was exhausted from fighting the urge to explode.

  Her anger was childish, but she couldn’t seem to snuff it out. It simmered through her off and on throughout the day, growing as the hours ticked past. Worse, she wanted other people to be angry, too, especially her uptight, critical grandmother. Slanting a look at her now, Kristen said, “You never said what you thought of Mom’s funeral. Pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

  Grandma Ellen’s smile froze in place. “I’m sure it was exactly what your mother wanted.”

  “Yes, but what did you think of it?” Kristen waited, savoring the uncomfortable expression on Grandma Ellen’s thin face. It had been painfully obvious to everyone at the funeral that Grandma had hated everything, but it was equally obvious she was also trying extremely hard not to upset Kristen. She wants me to agree to go to Raleigh without a fuss. That’s not going to happen. I won’t go. I just won’t.

  True to form, Grandma Ellen said in a bland, neutral voice, “It was different.”

  “And?” Kristen said in a challenging tone.

  Grandma Ellen’s gaze moved over Kristen’s face and then narrowed as if she knew what was going on. “It was original, just like your mother. She could never stand to be thought of as normal.”

  That’s because, unlike you, she knew “normal” doesn’t exist. It said a lot that Grandma Ellen had ignored the instructions from the invitation. Everyone else in Dove Pond had dressed in bright colors, which had left Grandma Ellen looking like a thin black crow perched in a row of songbirds.

  Turning away, Kristen opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of chocolate milk, wondering if that was what Mom had had in mind all along.

  “Well!” Grandma Ellen said brightly. “I’m glad you got to come home early today.”

  Kristen wasn’t glad of that at all. She was worried about Ava, who’d been acting weird this whole week, too quiet and inside her head a lot. What’s going on with her? She’s super on edge. It was upsetting to see her like that, and Kristen, who didn’t want to add to Ava’s stress, was left even more alone than usual. Absolutely fricking everything in my life sucks right now.

  Grandma Ellen slid into a chair on the other side of the counter. “The tearoom is going to be beautiful once it’s done. I was quite impressed with what I saw when I stopped by Monday.”

  Come to think of it, that was about the same time Ava had started acting so distracted. Kristen eyed her grandmother narrowly. “What did you two talk about when you were there?”

  Grandma Ellen shrugged. “The tearoom, some decorating possibilities, the new bar she’d just installed… that sort of thing. And you, of course. She had a lot of good things to say about you.”

  Kristen took a quick drink of her milk, hoping to hide her suddenly hot cheeks. She was glad to hear that. If she had an older sister, she’d want one just like Ava.

  “We didn’t have time to talk about much because some woman came in—I can’t remember her name—and complained that her tea hadn’t helped in the way she’d been promised.” Grandma Ellen absently traced the edge of the counter with her finger. “I suppose it’s not surprising some people feel cheated. Ava promises a lot more than is possible.”

  “Ava’s teas work,” Kristen said fiercely. “I’ve seen them.”

  “Oh?” It was said politely, calmly, but it was painfully clear what that “oh” meant.

  Too angry to speak, Kristen turned back to the fridge and poured more chocolate milk into her glass. The old woman was the queen of criticizing people without saying anything negative. Every remark was a thinly veiled suggestion that if Kristen or Mom had really tried, they could have done better. That must be what Mom had meant when she said her mother was judgy.

  Everything about Grandma was tightly controlled—her hair, her clothes, her expressions, her job—all of it. Kristen tried to picture her grandmother with a smudge on her cheek, her silver hair uncombed, a paintbrush forgotten over one ear, which was Mom’s usual day-to-day look, but it was impossible.

  Grandma Ellen folded her hands in front of her and put on her best fake smile. “Since you’re home now and we have some extra time, we should talk.”

  And there it was—the conversation Kristen had been avoiding since the day of the funeral, saying she had homework or pretending to be tired and heading off to bed at ridiculously early hours, but her excuses were running out. I’m not ready for this argument.

  And she knew it was going to be just that—an argument. She picked up her glass of chocolate milk and walked past Grandma Ellen to the dining room.

  Grandma Ellen followed, and Kristen could feel her grandmother’s critical gaze moving over the hodgepodge of colorful furniture Mom had collected. Every chair around the large, rustic farm table was painted a different color, the seats covered in decoupage pictures of various movie stars, including Mom’s favorites, Cary Grant and Woody Harrelson. She’d done the work over two nights, never sleeping and barely eating. That was how Mom had done things. When the work “spoke” to her, she was in a frenzy to get it done before the idea and her energy slipped away.

  “Come and sit.” Grandma Ellen perched on Cary Grant and patted the seat next to hers. “We need to make some plans.”

  Kristen eyed the chair. It was one of her favorites—who didn’t love Ben Stiller?—but she decided against it. If they were going to have this conversation, then she wanted—no, needed—some space between them.

  So instead Kristen walked to the other side of the table and sat on Audrey Hepburn. For good measure, she threw her feet onto Orlando Bloom’s chin.

  A flash of disapproval crossed Grandma Ellen’s face, but it lasted only a second. Still, that tiny flicker of disapproval felt like a win to Kristen, which only proved how sad her life was right now.

  Grandma Ellen put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together, her collection of gold and diamond rings glittering in the warm light. “You know I can’t stay here in Dove Pond. I’ve mentioned before that I have a big project coming up and I have to be on-site, especially during the beginning phases. I was lucky I could come here right now, but I have to be back in the office by the first week in April, which means”—Grandma Ellen’s smile became more fixed—“that you need to move to Raleigh by then.”

  Kristen jammed her hands into her front pocket and clutched the kazoo. “I don’t want to move. My friends are here.”

  Sympathy flickered over Grandma Ellen’s face, softening the hard lines. “I know,” she said simply. “This isn’t going to be easy for you. But it’s what’s best for us both. The schools in Raleigh are—”

  “I don’t need another school. This one is fine.” More than fine. Dove Pond High School was where she felt safe and at home. She loved her teachers, even the strict ones, and wouldn’t trade them for the world.

  Grandma sighed. “You and I both know there are better schools. A student with your abilities could do much better with a more rigorous academic program that—”

  “What do you know about my school’s academic program?” Kristen interrupted.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s no match for the private schools in Raleigh. There are over two dozen of them, and I’m sure we can find one that will guarantee you entry into the best colleges out there. Some of them have such good reputations that Harvard and Yale and MIT send recruiters to their college fairs. Can you say that about Dove Pond High?”

  Kristen didn’t answer.

  Grandma Ellen nodded as if she’d just won the argument. “Once we sell the house—”

  “No! And stop saying ‘we.’ This is all you, and you know it.”

  Grandma Ellen’s lips thinned. “Kristen, I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what must happen. There are no other options.”

  Each word burned through Kristen’s sou
l like acid, and she stood, her chair scooting noisily across the floor. “What are you going to do? Are you going to make me go to Raleigh? Tie me up and throw me in the back of your Lexus?”

  At her raised voice, Floofy, Dangus, and Luffy raised their heads from where they sprawled on the couch in the living room, watching through the open doorway. Even little Chuffy, his gaze wary, wagged his tail hesitantly as if he wished he could help. At least the dogs are on my side. Right now, it felt as if they were the only ones.

  Grandma Ellen’s mouth had hardened into a fine line. “We can talk about this without yelling.”

  “You’re not the one losing her only home! My friends are here. My job with Ava is here. My school, and my town, and everything I know and love is here. Everything except Mom.” Kristen’s voice cracked, but she ignored it, pulling herself together enough to say loudly, “I don’t want to sell the house and I sure as hell don’t want to move to Raleigh.”

  Instead of getting angry, Grandma Ellen merely looked disappointed. “Oh, Kristen.”

  There it was again, that judgy tone, which Kristen was beginning to hate almost as much as she hated the thought of moving.

  But it was more than that. The less angry Grandma was, the more angry Kristen became. Not once since the funeral had Grandma showed any emotion about Mom’s death. The old woman hadn’t wept or gotten mad or suffered from any of the millions of emotions Kristen was drowning in. If felt as if she were the only person on earth who was really and genuinely sorry Mom was gone. The only one who cared what happened to the house Mom had loved, and the things Mom had collected. For all her polite words, it was obvious Grandma Ellen couldn’t care less.

  “Kristen, we need to get the house ready to sell so—”

  “Don’t say another word. Just don’t. This isn’t just a house; it’s my home and it’s all I have left of Mom. I don’t want anything painted or fixed up or changed in any way. I love it the way it is.”

  “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this house. I’m sure, with a little cleaning and sorting, it could be just lovely. But if we want top dollar for it, then we have to update—”

  “No! Have you heard anything I’ve said? I don’t want to sell it!”

  Grandma Ellen frowned. “If I could do this any other way, I would. You can’t stay here alone, and it makes no sense to leave this house empty. And don’t suggest we rent it out, because I’m too busy to deal with that all the way from Raleigh.”

  “I don’t want to rent it! I don’t want anyone to live here but me. I’m not moving to Raleigh. Not now, not in two months, not ever.”

  “Kristen, don’t—” Grandma Ellen caught herself. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I told myself I wouldn’t let this turn into an argument, because it won’t solve anything. I know this is hard. I’m just trying to do what’s best for us both.”

  “You don’t know what’s best for me. That was Mom’s job and now it’s mine.”

  “I wish your mother had left us a letter to explain what she wanted, but—” Grandma Ellen gave a short laugh. “That wouldn’t have been like her, would it? Responsibility gave her hives.”

  Kristen realized she was holding the kazoo so tightly it was a wonder it hadn’t bent. She relaxed her grip, the metal warm under her fingers. “Mom was responsible. She took good care of me.”

  Grandma Ellen’s thin eyebrows rose as her gaze flickered to Kristen’s purple hair and nose piercing. “Well, what matters now is that we do what’s best for you.” She hesitated and then added, “I realize that moving is never easy, but you’ll have two whole months to say goodbye to your friends. As you know, this house is going to need some work before we put it on the market. The floors need refinishing, the kitchen and bathrooms need updating, the stairway has loose boards, and that wretched mural in the front hallway needs—”

  “I love that mural!”

  “Then your mother should have painted it on a canvas and not on a wall.” Grandma sighed, looking suddenly tired. “We don’t have time to argue. I need to line up repairmen and painters and… Seriously, we’ll be lucky to have half of it done before I have to be back at work. And it all has to be done before we list it—”

  “You’re not selling Mom’s house, I’m not going to Raleigh, and that’s that!” A tear rolled down Kristen’s cheek. Embarrassed, she swiped it away, her face hot.

  Grandma Ellen’s expression softened. “Sweetheart, we don’t have a choice. I can’t stay here, and you can’t live alone, which means—”

  “I could live alone if I wanted. I could have myself declared independent.”

  Grandma Ellen froze in place. Her hands, which had been loosely clasped on the table in front of her, were now tightly woven together. “You could,” she said slowly, her gaze never wavering. “But you’d have no money, so you’d eventually lose the house. There’s a mortgage to be paid, plus electricity and water and taxes.”

  “Mom left me money.”

  “I’m the executor of the will and your guardian. I wouldn’t release a penny to you under those circumstances.”

  They stared at each other, Kristen’s fury now focused on Mom. Why did you leave Grandma in charge? You had to know she’d try to take me away from here.

  But there was no answer. Kristen was alone.

  Her eyes burned as her gaze slid past Grandma Ellen to the mural in the hallway. And somewhere deep in Kristen’s head, she heard Mom say, “You’re Wonder Kristen. You’ll win over evil no matter how hard the fight.” Oh, Mom. I wish that were true. But I can’t win this one.

  That was the problem with superhero mythology. Unless you had real, honest-to-God powers, you were just plain old Diana Prince, whose only skill was gathering crucial information on the sly. Sadly, Kristen couldn’t think of any information that could help her right now.

  Still, there was no benefit in letting her enemy know how deeply determined she was to stay in Dove Pond. Maybe I should be Diana Prince for a while and pretend I’m growing used to the idea of moving. That would keep Grandma Ellen off my back while I look for a way out of this mess.

  “Kristen, surely we can find some middle ground here. A way to make this process more palatable to you.” Grandma Ellen leaned forward, her hands still neatly folded together, looking like a TV lawyer about to state the case-winning premise. “Would it help if I involved you in the process more?”

  No. Not even a little. But all Kristen said was “How?”

  Grandma Ellen’s tight expression eased. “How about I make a list of the updates that need to be made, and we go over them together? If you see something on the list you absolutely hate seeing changed, then we’ll cross that off.”

  Be Diana Prince, Kristen told herself. “You’d do that?”

  “I would. It might lower the overall profit, but—” Grandma Ellen shrugged. “I’m willing to compromise. I hope you are too.”

  Ha! But instead of scoffing out loud, Kristen said, “We can try it, I guess.”

  Grandma Ellen brightened. “There! Progress. And maybe, sometime over the next few weeks, we can spend a weekend at my home in Raleigh. I think you’ll love the city once you’ve gotten to know it a little. But right now, we can work on the list of updates. I’ve already started one. I’ll get it, and we can—”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I’m starving, plus I have an essay due Monday and I haven’t really started.”

  Grandma Ellen’s smile dimmed a little, but after a moment, she shrugged. “Sure. Just promise we’ll do it within the next day or so. And Kristen, difficult decisions don’t get easier with time. It’s best to attack them early and with confidence.”

  As if Kristen didn’t know that. “Sure.” There. That was easily said. All of it had been, to be honest. And she’d won a few days for herself in the process. A few days to plan her next steps. A few days without Grandma Ellen hounding her for “a talk.” Although thankful for the reprieve, Kristen felt an overwhelming need to do something comforting. Something nor
mal.

  She picked up her glass of chocolate milk and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to make chicken parm.”

  Once there, she set her glass in the sink, opened the refrigerator, and leaned in as if examining the contents, although she knew exactly what was in there. The cool air calmed her hot cheeks, and she took a steadying breath before she pulled out a package of chicken.

  When she turned around, Grandma Ellen was standing on the other side of the counter, her expression softer and far less guarded than it had been in a week.

  She thinks she’s won. Wonder Kristen: score one. “Chicken parm is one of my favorite meals.” Kristen put the package on the counter beside the refrigerator. “We have plenty of chicken, and I bought breadcrumbs when I was at the store yesterday.”

  “I noticed you’d gone to the store. If you’d let me know what you wanted, I could have gone while you were in school.”

  “I like grocery shopping. I did it most of the time, especially when Mom didn’t feel like it.” Kristen grabbed a carton of eggs and the milk and then shoved the fridge door closed with her hip. “I did all the cooking and laundry, too. I also vacuumed and dusted.”

  “And what did your mother do?”

  “She created.”

  Grandma Ellen frowned. “She should have been taking care of you.”

  Kristen gestured to herself. “Do I look untaken care of?”

  Her grandmother’s gaze flickered from Kristen’s hoodie to her purple hair. But after a pause, Grandma Ellen said in a cool, no-nonsense tone, “Of course not.”

  It was obvious that wasn’t what she thought. Kristen knew she wasn’t like most of the kids her age. She had responsibilities her classmates never thought about, which was why she had very little in common with them. They thought she was weird, and she thought them shallow and stupid.

  She hadn’t made friends—not good ones, anyway—until high school, when she’d met Missy Robinson and Josh Perez. Missy’s mother was an LPN who worked in family homes with people suffering from dementia, strokes, that sort of thing, so she was gone most nights. And since Missy’s father was the local postmaster, he was gone most mornings, which left Missy with the chores and the task of getting herself to school.