“I’m lucky Grandma Ellen didn’t pack my stuff and toss it in her car the second the funeral was over,” Kristen said somberly. She didn’t know what she’d have done then. “She’s not very patient. I can tell that already.”
Suddenly restless, Kristen stood and returned to the wall of boxes, where she picked up a small but heavy box of silverware. She set it on the table beside the stacks of plates and opened it. Inside was an assortment of silver teaspoons, the handles flowered or engraved, each one as different as the plates. She started sorting them into stacks of ten.
Josh put an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm. “It’s too bad your dad isn’t around. He could—”
“Josh!” Missy sent him a warning glance.
“What? It’s true. If Kristen’s dad lived in Dove P— Ow!” He bent down and rubbed his shin. “Why did you kick me?”
“Because sometimes you don’t think before you talk!” Missy’s face was red. “She doesn’t know who her dad is. She’s told us that before.”
“Sorry,” Josh mumbled as he sent a self-conscious look at Kristen.
She shrugged, still counting out the silverware. “I don’t mind. Besides, my dad lives here; I’ve just never met him.”
Neither Missy nor Josh said anything.
Kristen started a new stack of ten spoons.
The silence lingered.
And lingered.
She looked up to see what they were doing.
Both of them were staring at her, their mouths agape.
“You know who your dad is?” Missy asked.
“I didn’t say that. I said he lives here in Dove Pond. Or he did four years ago.”
Josh slapped his hands on the table. “That’s it, then! Kristen, your dad is the answer. You just have to find him and convince him to let you live with him until you graduate.”
Kristen froze, her gaze locked on Josh. The idea was so beautifully simple. So perfect and simple that it just might work. She put down the spoon she was holding and said in a wondering voice, “I need to find my dad.”
“Right away,” Missy said eagerly. “Where in Dove Pond does he live?”
“I don’t know.” Kristen left the spoons and went back to the table to sit with her friends. “I know he lives in town but that’s it.”
Missy’s smile faded. “That’s it? You don’t have a name or a picture or anything else?” When Kristen shook her head, Missy leaned back in her seat, looking stunned.
Josh held up his hands like he was trying to stop traffic. “Wait, wait, wait. How does that even happen?”
“Mom never talked about him. When I was twelve, I decided I wanted to know who he was, so I asked.”
Missy blinked. “You hadn’t asked before that? Not once?”
“A few times, but not seriously. It upset Mom, so I stopped. Besides, I was happy. Mom was happy. I probably wouldn’t have asked again, but then there was that father-daughter dance in middle school. Remember that, Missy?”
“It was only the lamest evening of my life. Humiliating. My dad did the funky chicken right there in front of God and everyone.” She shuddered.
“Yeah, well, everyone went to that dance except me and Ashley Morgan. Ashley’s dad was in jail at the time—bad checks, I think—but I wanted to go, so I asked Mom about my dad.”
“And?”
“She didn’t want to tell me at first, said it was complicated and we didn’t need another person in our lives, but I begged and begged. After a while, she gave in. She said he was here, in town, and that he’d always been close by.”
Missy’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger. “I bet you were shocked.”
“I was. But she also admitted that he didn’t know about me and would be surprised to meet me.”
Josh winced. “Ouch!”
“I know, right? Not the best circumstances to get an invitation to a father-daughter dance. But I really, really wanted to go. So Mom and I got in the car, and we headed to town. And on the way, I changed my mind.”
“Why?” Missy asked, bewildered.
“I got cold feet, I guess. I’m not really sure. Mom was so relieved, though. I could see it in her eyes. She took me to the store instead, and we bought ice cream and cake and had our own dance.” Kristen laughed a little, thinking about that night. “I never asked her about it again. As I got older, I liked that I only had one parent to deal with. Mom and I were fine alone; we didn’t need anyone else.”
“So you never met him,” Missy said.
“Which means you still don’t know who he is. Whew!” Josh blew out his breath. “Your mom never told you anything else about him?”
“Nope. She never mentioned him except that one time. All I know is that he lives in Dove Pond. I guess he grew up here, too. Most people who live here did.”
“They had to have been classmates.” Missy grabbed her backpack from the floor and pulled out a notebook and sparkly pen, her eyes bright with excitement. “Let’s figure out what we know and what we need to find out.”
“He lives in Dove Pond,” Josh said. “And he’s alive. Or he was—when was that?”
“Four years ago.”
“Four years ago,” he repeated.
They were quiet a moment.
Josh slumped in his seat. “That’s not a lot to go on.”
“True,” Missy said. “But we know just about everyone who lives here, which will help. We can find him. I know we can.”
Hope warmed Kristen’s heart. Maybe she could find her dad. And maybe, just maybe, he would let her live with him until she graduated high school. Kristen shook her head wonderingly. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
“Because you’ve spent your whole life not thinking about him.” Josh tossed his empty hot chocolate cup toward the large trash can at the end of the counter. It hit the rim and, after bouncing on the opposite edge, disappeared inside. “You need him now.”
Missy tapped her pen on her notebook, the tap-tap-tap impatient and demanding. “Your mom was young when she had you, so it’s a pretty good guess she and your dad knew each other from school.”
“Probably.” Kristen watched Missy write it down. “I wonder…”
“Yes?” Missy looked up eagerly.
“Mom has a trunk at the foot of her bed filled with stuff from her high school days. Every once in a while, she’d go through it and talk about the parties and football games and some of the stuff she and her friends did. She kept everything. There are music programs, old yearbooks, a few pressed petals from corsages, all sorts of stuff.”
“Any letters?”
“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”
“You need to go through that trunk,” Missy said firmly. “Look through every single piece of paper, every picture, every note—all of it. I bet there are love letters or… or a signature in one of those yearbooks—something that will give us a clue.”
“You’re right.” Kristen thought for a moment, then grimaced. “There’s one problem. Grandma Ellen. Neither of us are sleeping well right now, and she’s always at the house during the day.”
Josh shrugged. “So she sees you going through the trunk. Just tell her you were missing your mom or something.”
“She would ask questions. She’s already suspicious.”
“Of what?” Josh asked.
“She thinks I’ll run away. That’s what Mom did when she was seventeen. They didn’t see each other for years.”
Missy’s eyes rounded. “Your mom was a runaway?”
Kristen nodded. “She slayed it, too. Never got caught. She bought a fake ID and Social Security card and got a job bartending at a golf club on Hilton Head Island. She said she made a killing.”
“Wow,” Josh said, looking impressed. “Your mom was such a badass.”
“I know, right? But that’s why Grandma Ellen is keeping such close tabs on me. If I’m so much as ten minutes late getting home, she blows up my phone. And when I’m there, she follows m
e around, trying to connect.”
“Ugh!” Missy wrinkled her nose. “I’d hate that.”
“Me too,” Josh agreed.
“It sucks. But that’s why I can’t let her see me going through Mom’s things. If Grandma Ellen figures out I’m looking for my dad, she’ll demand we leave for Raleigh immediately. I know she would.”
“She’d either do that or try to find him first,” Missy said.
Josh frowned. “Why?”
“To buy him off so he won’t let Kristen live with him. She may even convince him to deny he’s her dad altogether.”
Looking stunned, Josh asked Kristen, “Would your grandma do that?”
“She might.” To be honest, Kristen wasn’t sure how Grandma Ellen would react, but it would be safer not to know. “I need to get her out of the house so I can go through that trunk.… Maybe I could get Ava to invite her out for dinner or something.” Kristen thought about it and then sighed. “No, she’d expect me to go with her.”
“I know!” Missy said. “Hide all the Pepto in the house and pretend you’re sick. Then, while she’s at the drugstore, you can—”
“You guys are making this way too complicated,” Josh said. “Just wait until she’s asleep.”
“She’s not sleeping well, Josh. I already said that,” Kristen said impatiently.
“So she’s only sleeping a half hour here and there. How long do you need? Ten minutes? Fifteen? It’s one trunk, not an entire room.”
He had a point. It wouldn’t take long. But Kristen knew from experience that her own sleepless nights were punctuated by short dozes, most of them painfully light, so that the smallest noise jerked her awake. If only I had some sleeping pills or—
Kristen stood, almost knocking over her chair. “Wait right here!” She hurried into the kitchen, where she quickly unlocked the cabinet again.
There, sitting off to one side near the back of the cabinet, was the tea canister. She grabbed it and pried off the lid. A faint, pleasant aroma lifted to meet her, and she was glad to see that the small canister was still fairly full. She put the lid back on, dug in her back pocket, pulled out a worn twenty-dollar bill, and set it where the canister had been. She relocked the cabinet and then hurried back to Missy and Josh. “Here.” She set the canister on the table and slid into her seat.
Missy leaned over to read the torn label. “Where did you get this?”
“Ava had it in the cabinet. Don’t worry—I’m not stealing it. I left a twenty to cover it.”
Josh touched the label. “Ava made this for someone.”
“I think it’s Erma Tingle’s old tea.”
Missy’s eyes widened. “The one that made her have bad dreams?”
Josh frowned. “I heard it made her sleepwalk.”
“Whatever it did,” Kristen said impatiently, “she did it in her sleep. Look, all I need is twenty minutes or so to go through Mom’s chest. Plus, Ava said the teas didn’t hurt anyone. And while this tea isn’t perfect, it should give me the time I need.”
Missy nodded enthusiastically, but Josh still looked concerned, so Kristen added, “It’s not poison, Josh. I saw Ms. Tingle this morning, and she’s perfectly fine.” Kristen pulled the canister closer. “I’m going to give Grandma Ellen this tea tonight.”
Josh sat back in his seat. “Without telling her? Wouldn’t that be illegal or something?”
Gee, Josh was making this hard. “Fine! I’ll tell her. I’ll say, ‘Here. Try this tea. It’ll help you sleep. It’s better than chamomile.’ Which is all true. I’m not a liar. Ava’s teas always deliver.”
“Oh. I guess if you tell her, then it’s okay.”
“I just wonder…” Missy shot Kristen an apologetic look. “My mom says Ava’s teas are made specifically for one person. They don’t work the same on everyone.”
“Good God! If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work.” Kristen gave them a pointed stare. “I thought you two were going to help me, not complicate things.”
“We’re helping,” Josh said, flushing. “I was just worried because I’d heard Ava had had problems with some of her teas.”
“Only a few,” Missy said dismissively. “My mom says there’s no way a Dove tea would ever fail the way people have been saying. Jealousy is an awful thing.”
“I trust Ava and her teas,” Kristen said. “She had an issue with one little plant, but she’s not using it anymore, so—” She shrugged. She still felt guilty about what had happened to that poor plant, although Ava said it was already looking healthier, which was a relief.
Josh sighed. “All right, then.” He shot her a concerned look. “Just be careful.”
He sounded and looked so much like his father that Kristen smiled as she pulled the canister closer. “I’ll make sure Grandma Ellen’s fast asleep before I search Mom’s trunk. I’ll do it toni—”
The door swung open and Ava walked in carrying a large plastic bin filled with extension cords. “Hello, kiddos.”
“Hi, Ava!” Kristen slid the tea toward Missy, who quickly tucked it into her backpack.
“Hi, Ms. Ava!” Missy put her notebook and pen away, then tugged on her coat. “Josh and I were just leaving. We brought Kristen some hot chocolate.”
“How nice of you. How are you doing, Josh? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Josh stood, looking his usual awkward self. “I’m fine. I’ve got to go, though. Mom’s at the library checking out that Camel Sutures book you read at Kristen’s mom’s funeral.”
Missy giggled. “It’s Kama Sutra.”
“Your mother is checking it out, is she?” Ava murmured. “Interesting.” She exchanged a droll look with Kristen.
Kristen loved that Ava treated her like a grown-up. So few people did. Guilt pinched her at the thought of the tea she’d just taken, although it was old and partially used. No one will miss it, and I paid for it, too. Feeling better, she waved at Missy and Josh. “See you later.”
“See you.” Josh opened the door for Missy.
“Bye, guys!” Missy waved and left, Josh following her out.
Kristen watched her two friends through the bow window as they walked down the sidewalk, both of them talking excitedly. She turned to Ava. “I unpacked the plates and was working on the spoons.”
“Good! I—”
The door opened, and Dylan came in wearing a Carhartt jacket over a flannel shirt, a box tucked under one arm. Kristen liked Dylan. He’d worked his carpenter’s magic on the tearoom and had done it all while looking like a more mature, bearded Liam Hemsworth. It was too bad Missy had already left; she thought he was a complete snack.
Ava eyed the box he carried. “Please tell me that’s the new spigot for the sink.”
“Stainless steel and hard to break, just as you requested.”
“Great. We’ll need the hard-to-break part.” Ava walked past him to look at the teaspoons Kristen had stacked on the table. “These are even prettier than I’d hoped.” She picked up one and then another, holding them to the light.
Dylan set his box down and followed Ava to the table. “Let me see those spoons.” He pretended to examine them closely. “Dainty, aren’t they?” His gaze fell on the tea plates. “Whoa. This is some Downton Abbey–level stuff.”
Ava impatiently reclaimed the spoons he held. “They’re both dainty and expensive. So please don’t drop anything.”
Kristen watched them, trying to imagine a man looking at Mom the way Dylan looked at Ava, but just couldn’t. Mom had never dated, not once, saying she had Kristen and that was enough. But could there be another reason Mom had never dated? Was it possible she was still in love with my dad? Oh wow. And maybe he still loves her. If that was true, then there was someone in town hurting the same way Kristen hurt. The thought filled her with a fresh determination to find him.
Ava waved Dylan away. “Get on to the kitchen where you belong. I need a spigot I can count on. The one that’s in there leaks.”
Dylan gave a heavy sigh. “T
hat’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Just a handsome, brazen contractor who can fix anything, anywhere.”
“The clock’s ticking, Fraser. We don’t have a lot of time before opening day, as you well know.”
“Right. Got it. Get to work and stop talking.” He picked up his box and headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t mind me,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll just guess where to put this spigot since no one is coming to tell me. Maybe I’ll install it over the stove. That would work, wouldn’t it?” His voice drifted out of the kitchen.
Ava ignored him and turned back to Kristen. “Look at all these empty boxes. You did a lot today.”
“It’s good to keep busy.”
“It’s also good to have fun. Want to head out early?”
“Would you mind?” If Kristen hurried, she might be able to catch up with Missy and Josh, and they could work out yet more details of their plan.
“Not at all. See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Kristen grabbed her coat from where it hung over the back of one of the stools by the counter.
“And, Kristen?”
She stopped and turned around.
“If you need anything, let me know. Okay?”
Kristen smiled. Ava had already helped her; she just didn’t know it. “Will do. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
And with that, she slipped out of the tearoom and went to look for her friends. Maybe, just maybe, she’d found the solution to her biggest problem.
CHAPTER 7 Ellen
“What are you doing?”
Ellen lowered the painting she was carrying so she could see over the top.
Kristen, wearing a powder-pink ski jacket and a pair of patterned purple yoga pants, stood just inside the front door, her backpack hanging from one shoulder.
“I’m moving this painting, which isn’t easy because it’s huge, and I—” The painting was almost jerked out of her hands.
Kristen carried it past Ellen and into the living room.
Ellen followed, irritated all the way to her toes. She’d had a horrible day. Once again, she’d slept only a few hours, which had left her mind a mass of fog and indecision. She’d had far too many meetings today, and on top of that, she’d just found out that all three of her favorite contractors were booked through the rest of the year, so she’d have to find a substitute for her big fall project.
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 10
