A Cup of Silver Linings Page 6

  Of course Josh had it worse than either her or Missy. He came from a large family and both of his parents worked long hours, which left him in charge of his little sisters, making them dinner and getting them to bed. He was a good cook, though, and both Kristen and Missy agreed that their best recipes had come from him.

  What was really funny was that at school, the three of them were considered rebels, and their refusal to look and act like everyone else had cemented that reputation. Once they’d found one another, they didn’t mind either the reputation or the teasing that accompanied it. It was hysterical to be thought rebellious when they were anything but.

  Kristen opened the package of chicken. “I like cooking. Besides, Mom needed time and space to work.”

  “She was quite good.”

  “She wasn’t just good,” Kristen said sharply. She cracked two eggs into a bowl and tossed the shells into the trash. “She was brilliant. That’s what the New York Times said, anyway.”

  That caught Grandma Ellen’s attention. “The Times?”

  “Yeah. And the Chicago Trib said she was ‘a mad, female Renoir.’ She loved that.” So had Kristen. Having a famous mom was cool.

  Kristen’s throat suddenly tightened. Had, not have. Her heart was constantly clinging to the idea that Mom was just in the other room, while her brain kept coldly pointing out that Mom was now nowhere. Nowhere at all. Her eyes burned, and she turned back to the cabinets, pulling out a pan, a box of spaghetti, and a jar of sauce.

  As Kristen worked, Grandma Ellen sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts. She finally roused herself to say, “You should see the kitchen in my house. Julie used to love it. She said it made her feel like Julia Child.”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  An odd expression flickered across Grandma Ellen’s face. “Julie kept pictures of it?”

  There was so much hope in that question that Kristen hated to admit the truth. “I saw it in a magazine at the doctor’s office while I was waiting for Mom.”

  Although Grandma Ellen’s face never changed, Kristen felt the invisible disappointment.

  Grandma nodded as if she wasn’t surprised. “My home has been featured in Architectural Digest twice now. Since you’ve seen it, you know the kitchen is especially nice. I have a part-time chef, too, who could teach you to cook new dishes, if you’d like.”

  A chef? Please, no. “Your house looked huge. How many people can eat in that dining room?”

  “Thirty. I usually eat in the kitchen, though. To be honest, it gets a bit lonely now and then.”

  A faint quaver crackled along Ellen’s words, surprising Kristen. Unsure what to say, she turned away and filled the pan with water before setting it on the stove.

  “When you move to Raleigh,” Grandma added, “you’ll enjoy—”

  “Do you like mushrooms?” Kristen opened the refrigerator door again. “I usually add mushrooms and spinach to the sauce just to get more vegetables in there.” There was no answer, so she glanced over her shoulder.

  Grandma Ellen’s gaze locked with hers. Kristen held up the package of mushrooms. “Yes? Or no?” There was a long silence, and Kristen could feel her grandmother’s frustration.

  But after a moment, Grandma shrugged. “Sure. I love mushrooms. And spinach, too.”

  It was a tiny capitulation, but it felt like a big win. Score two, Wonder Kristen. For the first time today, a genuine smile touched Kristen’s mouth. “At least we can agree on that.”

  Grandma Ellen’s gaze softened ever so slightly. “That’s a start, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” Kristen turned back to the stove, feeling a little lighter. “What other houses have you rehabbed? They have to have been bigger than this one.”

  “Some of them were, although the project I’m the proudest of wasn’t much larger than this. It was an old Victorian located in downtown Asheville.” Grandma continued to share the details of the rehab she’d overseen, her enthusiasm softening her voice until it was actually pleasant to hear.

  Kristen asked a question now and then to make it seem as if she was listening, but her mind raced over her next steps. Whatever she had to do, she would find a way to stay in Dove Pond. It might take a miracle, but she was Wonder Kristen, and she’d figure it out.

  Somewhere in the distance, over the soothing sound of water boiling and Grandma’s long tale about the Victorian house she’d brought back to glory, Kristen could almost hear Mom whisper, “Always.”

   CHAPTER 4  Sarah

  Monday afternoon, scanner in hand, Sarah Dove reached for the next book waiting to be checked back into the library system. The second her hand brushed the cover, scenes from the book flashed through her mind, vivid and immediate. The book was a young-adult work called Children of Blood and Bone, a riveting, magical sort of tale that had been beloved by every middle schooler who’d read it.

  At the end of the flash of scenes came a crystal-clear image, that of young Daisy Wheeler. She must read me, said the book.

  “I’ll ask her.” Sarah scanned the book and then made sure it had been logged into the computer correctly. “But I have to warn you; she’s gotten picky about what she’ll try, so I can’t promise anything.”

  She will like me. When Sarah didn’t answer, the book added in a cajoling tone, A lot.

  “I’ll ask her when she comes in tomorrow for Children’s Hour.” Over the past two-plus years, Daisy had become the unofficial queen of Children’s Hour. The feisty eleven-year-old was a natural entertainer, and the number of children coming to her weekly reading was almost more than could fit into the library’s largest conference room.

  Sarah put a Post-it with Daisy’s name on the cover. The book rustled impatiently, so she smiled and gave it a comforting pat. “I’ll do my best. I promise.” That seemed to reassure the book, as it settled down and didn’t speak again while she went back to work, checking in the other books.

  Since the day she’d turned seven, Sarah had been able to talk to books. Even better, they talked back. They told her their stories and shared their worries and hopes, and once in a while would tell her who in their small town needed to read them. That made her job as town librarian easy as pie.

  Of course, with great gifts came great responsibilities. Momma had pounded that fact into her daughters’ heads from the time they were children. She had insisted Sarah and her sisters only use their gifts for good, which wasn’t always as easy as one might think. Right now, poor Ava was stressed out because, through no fault of her own, one of her teas had gone wonky. For the past week, Ava had pored over her notes and various ancient herbal books, looking for a solution. This morning, Sarah had come downstairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes and longing for some coffee, and had found her sister exactly where she’d been the night before, sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by piles of books and papers. It was obvious that Erma Tingle’s misbehaving tea was weighing on Ava something fierce.

  That was no surprise, as Ava was a bit of a perfectionist. Not only was she worried about her reputation, but she also believed the family’s good name rested on her shoulders. The people of Dove Pond knew that when the Dove family had seven daughters, as they did now, good things happened. Centuries ago, in 1702, the Dove family had stood on the crest of Black Mountain and looked down into the green valley below at a sapphire pond and declared themselves “finally home.” Since then, there had been dozens, if not hundreds, of times the family had brought good fortune to their town.

  In 1744, when window glass was a precious commodity, Agnes Dove, the oldest of seven sisters, had used alchemy to make glass for the homes being built in their growing town. Fourteen houses from that era still stood in Dove Pond, and none of their windows had ever had so much as one pane crack. In fact, when a fire had gutted the old Hendersen house in 1978 after sixteen-year-old Robbie Hendersen fell asleep smoking a forbidden cigarette, the only thing left in the ashes had been the windows, which looked as if they were brand-new.

  And in 1933,
at the height of the Depression, when everyone was struggling just to put food on the table, the town had been delighted to discover that whenever eight-year-old Clarissa Dove, the third of seven Dove sisters, played her violin on her front porch, her family’s cows and chickens produced ten times what they normally did. Not only did they produce more, but the milk was extra creamy and most of the eggs had double yolks. Naturally, being a Dove, Clarissa had shared her gift with her neighbors, playing her violin for any Dove Pond farmer who asked. Soon all the farms in their small town were producing more than enough milk and eggs to keep their little town fed.

  There were dozens of stories like that about the Dove sisters. Still, as Momma Dove always pointed out, no matter how many stories there were, or how many good things the Doves brought to their hometown, there would always be those who didn’t believe. Momma had warned her daughters about the dangers of letting others place doubts in their minds about their own abilities. They alone knew the limits of their gifts.

  Of course, like all life lessons mommas handed down to their daughters, some took and some didn’t. No matter how much Sarah wished it otherwise, she still cared what other people thought. And so, too, did Ava. Sarah wasn’t surprised her sister was taking the failure of one of her teas so personally. No one had a bigger heart.

  Sarah had just reached for the next stack of returns when someone thunked a book onto the desk in front of her.

  She looked up to find Kat Carter standing on the other side of the desk, her face flushed. Tall and brunette, Kat was a real estate agent who specialized in commercial properties. Her mother, a notoriously sexy flirt, was currently preparing for her fifth—or was it sixth?—marriage. Sarah couldn’t keep up, and neither could anyone else in town. According to local lore, Kat and her mother had what was called the Carter gift. Wealthy men fell madly, crazily in love with them, although, at least with Kat’s mother, it didn’t seem to last. As if to defy tradition, Kat had had the same beau since high school, although she’d been steadfastly refusing to marry him for over twenty years now.

  Kat shoved the book across the desk. “Why on earth would I need a book on the history of turpentine?”

  “I don’t know. It said you should read it, so I sent it your way.”

  An impatient look crossed Kat’s face. “I don’t need it. It was boring as heck, too.”

  The book on the desk hissed, She skimmed. Ask her what oleoresin is.

  Sarah frowned at the book. “I’m not going to give her a pop quiz just because you say she skimmed.”

  Kat gasped and then glared at the book.

  Sarah crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, which creaked loudly in the quiet of the library. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

  Kat threw up her hands. “Fine! I skimmed. It’s not my fault. The History of Turpentine isn’t exactly a riveting read.” She slanted a cautious look at the book. “Not that you didn’t try. I just—” She grimaced. “Oh God, I’m talking to a book.”

  Sarah smiled and placed the book on the return cart. “You’ll regret you didn’t read it.”

  Kat eyed the book with a sour expression. “Did it tell you why I need to read it?”

  “They never do.”

  “Can you ask?”

  Sarah sighed and picked up the book once more. “Well?”

  She’ll find out when the time is right, the book replied grumpily.

  Sarah repeated the book’s answer to Kat and then added, “I’d read it if I were you, but it’s your decision.”

  “I don’t even know why I asked,” Kat said in a petulant tone. She stared at the book uneasily, finally saying, “No. I’m not going to read it. It’s about turpentine. Do people even use that stuff these days?”

  Yesssss, hissed the book angrily.

  Sarah ignored it, tucking it back out of sight behind a pile of other books. “I’m glad you stopped in,” she said to Kat. “How are things in the commercial real estate world?”

  Kat’s irked expression eased. “Great. Better than great, in fact. Remember the old Seed and Feed on SR 20? I’m showing it to a guy who’s thinking about opening a Farmers’ Depot.”

  “Oh wow. I’ve heard those were nice.”

  “Everything a farmer needs. That’s what the ads say about those places. It’s a huge deal and…” Kat waved her hand. “But never mind that. I had another reason for stopping by.” She frowned, worry plain on her face. “Is Ava okay? I’ve never seen her so distracted. I’m worried about her.”

  “Me too,” Sarah admitted. “She didn’t say three words at lunch today. She’s behind on the tearoom, and that messed-up tea is bothering her, too.”

  “Which one?”

  Sarah blinked. Which one? “I thought only Erma Tingle’s tea had messed up.”

  “Two more were returned this morning.” Kat frowned. “Ava didn’t tell you?”

  “She didn’t say a word. That explains why she barely touched her meal, though.”

  “I’ve never seen her like this. She’s absentminded, quiet, and just…” Kat impatiently raked a hand through her dark hair. “I didn’t want to say anything, because she’s already upset, but people are starting to talk.”

  Sarah’s shoulders sunk. “What did you hear?”

  “An hour ago, I stopped by the Moonlight Café to pick up some coffee, and Marian Freely was telling everyone at the counter how Ava’s teas were all messed up.”

  Sarah winced at the mention of the gossip-hungry waitress at the Moonlight. “Oh no.”

  “Marian said that until she knows it’s safe, she’s going to stop drinking the tea Ava made to calm her psoriasis.”

  “How many people heard Marian say that?”

  “Everyone in the café. She was talking loud enough that I heard every word she said and I was sitting on the other side of the dining room.”

  “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

  Kat agreed. “Does Ava have any idea what’s gone wrong?”

  “No. Which other two teas were messed up? I assume you heard names.”

  Kat looked around to make sure no one was close by, and then leaned closer. “Ava made Jon Ferguson a tea a few weeks ago to help him be more romantic with his lady.”

  “Romantic? He and Ellen have been going out forever. I’d think he’d have already figured that out.”

  “Ellen has been telling him her love language is affirmations. She wanted him to write her notes and poems and stuff like that.”

  “Jon? Write a poem?”

  “Exactly. So he asked Ava to make him a tea to help him be more creative in expressing himself.”

  That sounded simple enough. Sarah had seen Ava’s teas do much, much more. “And?”

  “He tried her tea a few days ago, and it didn’t make him more creative at all. Instead, the tea made him blurt out his feelings. And he couldn’t stop.” Kat leaned closer, her eyes wide. “Sarah, he talked for two days and nights.”

  “Noooo!”

  “Oh yes. He talked so much he lost his voice. Ellen finally drove him to Doc Bolton, who had to give the poor guy a muscle relaxer just so he could shut up.”

  “Poor Jon! And poor Ava too.” Sarah thought of how pale her sister had been at lunch. It wasn’t just tiredness. She is worried to death. “What other tea was messed up?”

  “Just before lunch today, Jessica Long brought back her tea. Ava’s been making Jess the same tea for years now to help her deal with her anxiety, and it’s always worked perfectly. She only drinks a cup when she’s stressed out, so Jess hadn’t had any from the new batch until this past Saturday.”

  “And?”

  “When she got out of the shower, Jess found herself staring at her own reflection in her bathroom mirror and she couldn’t stop. She ended up stuck there, unable to move for hours. Fortunately, her mom keeps pretty close tabs on her and knew something was wrong when her phone kept going to voice mail. When Jess didn’t answer her door, Mrs. Long climbed in through the kitchen window and saw what wa
s happening. She had to throw a blanket over Jess’s head just to get her away from her mirror.”

  “That’s… I don’t even know what to say. Are Jon and Jess okay now?”

  “Sort of. Jon is staying away from Ellen for now. His voice isn’t quite back to normal, but it’s better. Plus, now that he hasn’t had Ava’s tea for a few days, the impulse to tell Ellen his feelings has lessened. Jess felt fine after she stopped looking in the mirror. She even went on to work, although once she got there, she was near useless because she couldn’t stop staring at her reflection in the coffeepot. They finally sent her home. She’s probably there now. But, like Jon, since it’s been a few days since she had the tea, she’s getting better as time passes.”

  “Sheesh. Ava’s never had anything like this happen before. Kat, what are we going to do? Ava’s reputation will be in shambles. All our reputations will be in shambles.”

  “We just have to hope that Ava can fix whatever is wrong with her teas. And the sooner the better.”

  Sarah thought about Ava’s exhausted expression at lunch. “I’ve got to talk to her. She said she was heading up to her greenhouses for the afternoon. Now I know why.” Sarah stood and reached for her phone. “I’ll text Grace and see if she can work the desk for an hour or so while I go see Ava.” Grace Wheeler was the new mayor of Dove Pond and was both Sarah’s best friend and next-door neighbor.

  “Grace can do that? Just come and work here in the library?”

  “She’s the mayor. She can do anything she wants.”

  Kat had to smile. “I wouldn’t tell her that. She’s bossy enough as it is.”

  “I won’t.” Sarah texted Grace, and the answer came back almost instantly. “She’s on her way.”

  Five minutes later, Sarah and Kat were hurrying up the sidewalk to Kat’s white Audi roadster, which was parked in front of Paw Printz.

  As they neared it, the door to the pet store swung open.

  Kat stopped and spun to face Sarah. “Don’t look.”