Tessa obeyed and opened the pink candy bag, finding it full of caramel crèmes. Her bottom lip quivered, but she forced herself to swallow. Crazy Kate bustled around the kitchen, putting a kettle of hot water onto the stove and grabbing two mugs from the cabinets. While the water heated, Crazy Kate sat at the kitchen table.
“Lavender,” Crazy Kate said. “It helps bring peace to the mind. I’ve brought a mix of the lavender from home—what my mama planted—and Cecilia’s from downstairs. The combination should be what you need.”
Tessa doubted a mix of dried herbs would give her what she needed, especially since she couldn’t even pinpoint what would help her. “You know what happened to the house?” Tessa asked.
Crazy Kate nodded. “Yesterday I knew—”
“Yesterday? Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone? We could have done something.” Tessa’s throat tightened, and she clenched her fists in her lap.
Crazy Kate chuckled. “Done what? Cut down branches in a storm? Be sensible. You can’t stop what has already been set in motion. This was necessary.”
“Necessary for what?” Tessa’s voice squeaked as she stood with her heart pounding in her chest. Her vision blurred with tears. “The house is destroyed! Now I can’t fix it!”
Crazy Kate stood from the table as the kettle whistled. She dropped a mesh bag of dried tea into the kettle and set it on the counter to steep. Anger and frustration rose so violently in Tessa that she stomped into the kitchen.
Tessa asked, “How can you act as though you don’t care? The house—the one you’ve been protecting for years—has been torn apart and you knew it would happen? All of my plans are ruined!”
Crazy Kate leaned against the countertop and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at Tessa as though she were a child throwing a tantrum. “Robert Burns said, ‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.’ Sit,” she said, pointing to a kitchen chair.
Tessa glared at her but dropped into the chair. She swiped her fingers across her tear-streaked cheeks. Crazy Kate poured tea into two mugs and then brought them to the table.
“Drink.”
Tessa exhaled and lifted the cup. She blew across the top and sipped the steaming liquid. It warmed her throat and then her chest as it flowed into her body. Her shoulders lowered from her ears, and she blinked away her tears.
Crazy Kate cupped her hands around a mug. “We can’t plan for everything, Tessa. Misfortune can sometimes be a blessing in disguise. It can become an opportunity.”
Even as Tessa’s heart rate slowed, she still struggled to control her emotions. A sob hiccupped its way up her throat. “An opportunity for what?”
“To see what happens. To allow a new path to unfold. This is not the end of Honeysuckle Hollow.”
Tessa groaned, pushed her tea aside, folded her arms on the table, and dropped her head onto her arms. “It’s the end of having it rehabbed,” she grumbled into her arms. “A giant tree branch crushed the entire backside of the house.”
“It was necessary,” Crazy Kate said.
Tessa popped up her head and gaped at Crazy Kate. Before she could argue or snap at Crazy Kate for her complete lack of empathy and compassion, Crazy Kate pointed to Tessa’s cup of tea.
“Drink that before you say something you regret. You’re upset,” she said. “I understand, but bricks and mortar can be repaired. Walls can be rebuilt. Nothing has happened that is irreparable.”
Tessa swallowed more tea and sighed. “Sure they can, but it costs money. A lot of money. More money than I have.”
Crazy Kate shrugged. “Your money did not build that house, nor did it keep it standing all these years. Perhaps your money won’t be what repairs it completely. You’ve started the process of bringing Honeysuckle Hollow back to life. Perhaps others will finish it with you.”
Tessa’s forehead wrinkled. “What does that mean? Am I supposed to be comforted by that?”
Crazy Kate gave Tessa a scathing look. “You’re supposed to be comforted by that tea.” She lifted her mug to her lips and sipped. “You’d rather sit around here and mope? Or you’d rather I tell you that everything will work out according to your plans?”
Feeling admonished, Tessa shrugged. Crazy Kate reached across the table and placed her hand on Tessa’s arm. Tessa glanced up at her dark eyes.
“Our plans are not always the best plans,” she said. “Right now, you don’t see how this one unfortunate event will connect together to form a part of the greater story. This is not what you want, but perhaps it is what you need. What this town needs.”
Crazy Kate stood and walked into the living room. Tessa turned around in her chair and watched the old woman open the apartment door.
“You’re not cast adrift on your own in this, that alone should give you comfort,” Crazy Kate said. “Get some rest because tomorrow is a new day, and I have feeling it will be interesting.” She smiled, stepped outside, and closed the door.
Tessa finished her mug of tea. The desire to want to stay home and wallow had faded, and she decided to walk up the street to her office and work. Paperwork kept her busy for an hour, and e-mails and phone calls kept her busy throughout the rest of the afternoon. When her cell phone rang, she was startled to see it was nearly five in the afternoon.
“Where are you?” Paul asked.
“At the office. You? Find everything you needed at the library?”
“It was productive. Mom and Dad want to go out to dinner tonight. You up for it?” When Tessa hesitated a couple of seconds, Paul continued, “I thought you’d feel that way. I told them it would be just me. But I’m making dinner for you, one of my specialties called A Wicked Broken Egg.”
Tessa almost smiled. “Sounds dangerous. I’ll be there in ten minutes. And, hey, you know you don’t have to make me dinner. I can fend for myself.”
“I wanted to,” Paul said.
Tessa ended the call and gathered her belongings. A truck with a bed full of broken limbs rumbled past, and Tessa wondered if the workers had been able to clear all of the debris from the backyard and from inside the house. She should call Charlie when she got back to the apartment. After dinner. Or next year. Tessa felt sure she couldn’t deal with the discouragement she felt pressing in on her from all sides, so she ignored it as best as she could for the moment.
The apartment smelled like a sweet and salty affair, and Tessa’s stomach growled for the first time all day. “You’re going to spoil me. I’ll be ruined. Never able to return to my cereal dinners.”
Paul wore an oven mitt on one hand while he flipped a piece of ham over in a cast iron skillet. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll ever give up your cereal, no matter what I cook.”
“You’re probably right,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and peered over his shoulder at the browning ham and the yellow yolks of two eggs frying in the pan.
He bumped her out of the way with his hip and opened the oven. He pulled out what looked like a sliced bagel with cheddar cheese melted on both halves. As the aroma of the bagel wafted through the air, she wrinkled her nose.
“That smells sugary.”
“It should,” Paul said, sliding the bread halves onto a plate. “It’s a glazed donut.”
“With cheese?”
“Don’t turn your nose up. You haven’t tried it yet. After one bite, I guarantee you won’t ever be the same again.”
“Because I’ll be scarred for life? Who eats donuts like that?”
Paul stacked crisp bacon, browned ham, potato sticks, and two over-easy eggs on the sliced, cheesy donut. Then he mashed the two halves together. He placed the plate on the table with a flourish of his hand.
“Dinner is served, madam.” He folded a paper towel in half and then slid it beneath the edge of the plate.
Tessa sat and stared at the donut breakfast sandwich. “This might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“That’s doubtful. Someone mentioned a mayonnaise and barbecue Frito sandwich phase.”
>
Tessa snorted. “I was a kid,” she groaned. “But they’re good.”
“And so is this,” Paul said. “Try it. I’m going downstairs to help Mom and Dad finish up and then we’re going to dinner.”
Tessa picked up the sandwich with two hands, closed her eyes, and took a bite. As she chewed her eyebrows rose. “Mmm. Deceptively delicious. And not nearly as weird as I imagined.” She wiped her mouth on the paper towel and nodded. For such a strange combination of foods, it was palatable. “Thank you.”
Paul grinned. “You’re welcome. I might need to swing by the library again after dinner. I didn’t finish one of my projects.”
Tessa felt her expression fall even as she bit into the sandwich. For as much as she had wanted to be alone earlier, she didn’t want that so much now. Paul was obviously working on his freelance writing, which he loved. Now that the house was a destruction zone, and she wouldn’t need him as an architect to help with the rehab, would he want to stick around? Or would the call of adventure yank him from her? Without the house, she wasn’t sure she could anchor him to her anymore.
Paul leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Relax in the silence. I have a feeling tomorrow won’t be nearly as quiet.”
Tessa chewed and swallowed. “You’re the second person to say something cryptic about tomorrow.”
Paul shrugged. “Best be prepared for it then. It’ll be here before you know it.”
Paul left and Tessa finished her dinner. Afterward she called Charlie to check in on the day’s progress at the house, but she had to leave a message on Charlie’s voice mail. Then she called her parents to let them know that catastrophe had struck yet again in her life, but they, too, weren’t answering. She mindlessly flipped through television channels, but when she grew bored of lousy shows, she texted Lily and Anna. Neither one of them answered. So much for not being cast adrift on my own, she thought.
She walked over to the mint plant and ruffled its leaves. “What do you think about tomorrow? Do you think we’ll be ready for it? Will I be able to handle it? Will I be on my own?” Then she rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Tessa? It’s not a magic eight ball, which also doesn’t tell the future.”
She sighed and started toward the bedroom when she heard the sound of something bouncing across the hardwood. Tessa turned and glanced around, seeing nothing at first, but then her eyes focused on a small, red object on the floor. She walked over to it and squatted. Her fingers closed around a red, heard-shaped pushpin, which had a mint leaf stuck on its metal point. She gaped at the mint plant. Paul. Would he stay with me through this next phase? Where would he push in that pin? Tessa dropped the pushpin on the coffee table and walked backward into the bedroom, staring at the plant and shaking her head. If today a mint plant could predict her future, what would tomorrow bring?
24
Shamrock Eggs
Tessa awoke the next morning with a pulsing headache, probably due to the fact that she had slept like a fish out of water. She groaned, rolled out of bed, and dragged her feet to the shower. When she re-emerged from the bathroom, clean and more awake, she opened the bedroom door to the scent of rich coffee and warm donuts. Is Paul making more of those weird, but yummy, wicked eggs?
She shuffled into the living room where Paul sat on the couch drinking from a cardinal-red mug. He grinned at her and stood.
“Morning. How’d you sleep? Well I hope. Mom and Dad are downstairs, and they would like to see you as soon as you’re dressed and ready.”
Tessa blinked at him. “That was a lot all at once. Have you been saving your sentences for me?”
Paul’s grin widened. “Good to know your dark mood is shifting.”
Tessa made a swirling motion around her chest. “Oh, it’s still there, lying in wait like a dragon, but I’m okay this morning. I smell donuts.”
Paul’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? Hmm, maybe that’s coming from downstairs.”
Since when did Cecilia and Harry make donuts? “Did you happen to brew enough coffee for me? I have a headache from Hades, and I’d like to have a cup before I thrust this mess on your parents.”
“Enough for one cup. And I’d rather you not thrust anything on my parents.”
Tessa snorted and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. “What did y’all do last night?”
Paul cleared his throat. “We had dinner at Milo’s. Again. You were right about the lasagna.”
Tessa scratched at a dirty spot on the mug before filling it. She blew across the top of the steaming coffee before inhaling a deep breath full of the aroma of full-bodied Columbian brew. She sipped and her eyes widened. “This is way past strong for me.” She grabbed milk from the refrigerator and added it to the dark brew. “And afterward? How was the library? You weren’t here when I went to bed at ten.”
Paul washed his mug in the sink and then dried it with a towel. “I was plotting.”
“As in land or as in crimes?”
“Crimes is a bit too strong of a word. I’d like to think of it more as a secret mission. Drink your coffee and let’s go downstairs. You’ll see.”
Tessa’s wary gaze only caused Paul to continue smiling at her. Her stomach flip-flopped. “You’re trouble,” she said.
“The best kind.”
Before Tessa and Paul could round the building toward the front door of Scrambled, she heard a multitude of voices. As they made the turn to step onto the sidewalk in front of the diner, people crossed the street toward the diner and crowded around on the front patio, talking and sipping coffee from to-go cups. Then she noticed the signs that were hand painted and shoved into the garden with thin metal stakes. “Save Honeysuckle Hollow!” “Eat at Scrambled!” “A portion of the proceeds will be donated to restoring Honeysuckle Hollow!” Someone had hand painted blue block letters across the spanning front window of Scrambled: “Keep Mystic Water’s History Alive!” The diner was packed full of people.
A wooden stand, looking like a place where kids would sell lemonade, had been set up on the front patio of the diner. Fresh Baked Goods was written in pink letters across the top of the stand, and pastries, donuts, cookies, brownies, and cakes covered the table and an accompanying table beside the stand. A plastic milk jug, missing the top half of its container, sat on the edge of the stand. Money for Honeysuckle Hollow had been written in black marker across the jug.
“What is going on?” Tessa asked, stopping beside the low stone fence in front of the diner.
Paul grabbed her hand. “Mom and Dad want to help. The best way they can show their support is to encourage people to eat at the diner and then by donating fifty percent of the profit to the restoration of Honeysuckle Hollow. They don’t want you to be unable to rehab the house the way you’d—we’d intended. And it’s also an historical landmark. Dozens and dozens of people have already seen the signs and come in for breakfast. Just this morning we’ve already raised a few hundred dollars.
“And Anna and Eli asked if they could set up a bake sale to help you as well. They were up all night using the kitchen. They’re probably inside refilling up on juice and coffee. Once word spread that Anna O’Brien was baking homemade goods in Mystic Water again, people flocked here like blackbirds. I’m dumbfounded.” He squeezed her hand. “I also posted an addition to the original article I wrote for Southern Living. And I found a dozen other websites that let me post articles about the house and about the unexpected damage. I mentioned that due to a storm, the town was seeking financial support in order to restore the house. You wouldn’t believe all of the e-mails that have been pouring in, asking where they can send money. All for you, Tess.”
Tessa blinked at her tears. “For me?” She shook her head. “I—I can’t believe it. I’m speechless.”
Paul smiled. “Come inside. Let’s get you some food, and you can say hello to all the people who want to help Honeysuckle Hollow and you.”
Tessa felt so overwhelmed by the gesture that she had to remind herself to breathe. Scrambled was full of well-wishe
rs and encouraging words. People by the dozens drifted over to her table in the hour and a half she and Paul sat there eating Shamrock eggs—a recipe Cecilia had served as a special just for the occasion. Green bell peppers were sliced in rings to resemble four leaf clovers, and a sunny-side egg was cooked in the center. A side of breakfast sausage and hash browns finished off the meal.
While Tessa and Paul ate, people told them stories about how Honeysuckle Hollow had played some part in their lives or in the lives of other family members. Glad to help was the most common phrase she heard, and Tessa’s heart swelled every time they spoke it. She couldn’t say, “Thank you” enough, and after a while, she wondered if the people really knew how grateful she was, that she wasn’t only saying the words but that she felt them deep inside her.
Nell pushed open the diner door with her kids and two women in tow. Her eyes found Tessa’s, and she lifted her hand and waved. She hurried over with her group on her heels. They crowded around the booth.
“Anna said you were in here,” Nell said. She shoved a folded envelope into Tessa’s hands. “It’s nothing big, but we scrounged up some money for you and Honeysuckle Hollow. I admit I thought you were off your rocker when you said you were going to rehab it and live in it at the same time, but after knowing how much you helped all of us,” she motioned to the two women beside her, “when we were in desperate need of a place to live, we knew we had to help you. Liam said that if you need a good mason, he’s your man and he’ll volunteer his services, as long as it’s on the weekends.”
Tessa stared at the envelope and then looked up at Nell. She slid out of the booth and hugged Nell. “Thank you.” She looked at the two women and thanked them as well. “When it’s all fixed up, I’ll have y’all over for dinner. We’ll throw a big party.”
Nell smiled. “You do that, and we’ll be there. You let me know if you need Liam’s help.”
Tessa said she would, and as the women and children walked off to find a table big enough to hold them, Tessa slid back into the booth. Paul cut through a cinnamon roll that had gone cold at least half an hour earlier. He forked the piece into his mouth and eyed her.
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