A Cup of Silver Linings

by Karen Hawkins

  Ava’s heart dropped. Oh my God. She can hear it.

  Sarah frowned, her fingers stilling. “What’s wrong?”

  “You… you can hear that?”

  “Hear what?” She looked confused.

  “There’s a—” Ava couldn’t breathe. Should she tell her? Would that make it worse? Better? No! Don’t say anything. I can figure this out and make it go away. I just need more time. Ava forced a shrug. “I just thought I heard something. Must have been a bird.” She turned around and pulled an insulated cup from a cupboard and poured her tea inside. “I’d better get to work. You coming?”

  “Sure.” Sarah went to collect her things. “Want to ride together?”

  “I wish we could, but I have to go to the greenhouses this afternoon. And I— You know, I left my key to the tearoom upstairs. Why don’t you head on out? I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “Okay. See you then.” With a wave and a final, concerned look, Sarah left.

  Ava waited until she heard Sarah’s truck pull out of the driveway before she went up the stairs to her room. She only made it three steps down the hallway before she saw it.

  There, right outside the doorway of her bedroom, sitting on the floor for the world to see, was the box.

  Her stomach grew ill. In all the years she’d fought to keep the box secret, it had never before made it out of her bedroom. Not once. And yet there it sat, thumping so angrily she could feel it through the floor under her feet. Two long duct tape tendrils lay behind it, almost like a pair of tails. One corner, crushed from being slammed on the floor, now had the beginning of a frightening rip.

  It was getting stronger. And Ava was getting weaker.

  Fear threatened to overwhelm her, and she had to take deep, even breaths before she could move. Slowly, she went down the hall and picked up the box. It vibrated in her hands, the broken and fuzzy cardboard burning her fingers. Swallowing a curse, she carried the box into her room, dropped it beside her bed, and shoved it under with her foot. Then, feeling as if she were being chased, she left, closing the door firmly behind her.

  By the time she got to work, her headache was blazing, her stomach slightly ill. Her hands trembled so badly, she had trouble unlocking the door.

  Once inside, she sunk into a chair, her mind racing in circles. She had to do something. She had to. She’d hidden the secret for far too long. If she couldn’t find a way to defuse it, she’d have to admit her mistake to everyone. Even Sarah.

  Ava moaned and closed her eyes, pressing her cold fingers to her eyelids. Maybe that would be for the best. She’ll hate me. They’ll all hate me. And Ava wouldn’t blame them.

  She heard the back door open and close, and Dylan came in through the kitchen. Whistling a tune, he put his toolbox down and shrugged out of his coat. He headed for the coatrack but stopped on seeing her sitting alone. “Ava! I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I came in early.”

  He frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Sinus headache. That’s all.” She stood and slid the chair back under the table.

  He watched, his gaze dark with concern. “You get a lot of headaches.”

  “Sometimes. It’s just this weather.” She managed a smile.

  “Can I do anything to help? Run to the Moonlight and get you some coffee?”

  She shook her head.

  He watched her a moment longer, then crossed the room, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He slid another chair so that it faced his and patted the seat. “Sit.”

  “I have too much to do—”

  “Ava.” He patted the chair again, his hazel gaze locked on her face. “Please.”

  Reluctantly, she sat back down.

  He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, watching her. “You’re upset. To be honest, it seems you’ve been upset about something for the past few months.”

  Years. It’s been years. She managed a shaky laugh. “You have no idea. I—” Tears threatened, and suddenly, it was all too much. The secret, the torn box, her hopes for her tearoom, her worries about Sarah and Kristen—all of it was more than Ava could handle. She pressed her palms over her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

  “Ava, what’s happened?”

  “Nothing.” Her voice quavered pitifully, and she hated it. A tear leaked out and ran down her cheek.

  His warm hand came to rest on her knee. “Whatever it is, you’re not facing it alone. I’m right here.”

  That was more than she could ask for. She dropped her hands from her eyes. “Thank you.” She pulled a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped away her tears. “Have you ever done something you regretted so much that you’d give anything—anything—to take it back?”

  He looked surprised, his gaze searching, but then he gave a rueful laugh. “Of course I have. I’m pretty sure we all have.”

  “Yeah, but this… I need to fix this one, and I—I can’t. I’ve tried, but I don’t know how.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me a little more? Maybe then I might think of a way to help.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t tell anyone.” Her gaze dropped to where his hand clasped her knee. His calloused fingers bore traces of the wood stain he’d used on the shelves he was making for the tearoom. One of his thumbs was bruised, the nail black at the base, while a deep red scratch ran across his wrist. It was beautiful, this rough, scarred, calloused hand. And strong, too.

  “You’re too hard on yourself, Dove.” He squeezed her knee and then released it. “I don’t know what you did, or think you did, but I know you. I’ve worked alongside you for months now. I’ve seen you make your teas for almost everyone in this town. I know the plants whisper their secrets or whatever it is they do, but, Ava, a lot of it’s you. You help so many people. And you do it every day, without hesitation. Whatever’s happened, I know you didn’t hurt anyone on purpose. You would never do that. And I think everyone in this town knows that.”

  His words, spoken so simply, so softly, washed over her broken heart like rain on a parched patch of earth. To her surprise, a sob broke from her lips as fresh tears leaked from her eyes. God, how she hoped he was right.

  He pulled more napkins out of the holder and handed them to her, watching as she dried her eyes.

  She sniffed. “I hate crying.”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t think any of us like it.”

  She laughed and wadded up the damp napkins. “Probably not. Thank you for what you said. I wish things were that simple. But this thing…” She took a shuddering breath. “I made a horrible mistake. And I hurt someone. They just don’t know it yet.”

  “You’re sure you can’t fix it?”

  She shook her head. “I tried to find a way. I tried for years. But… I can’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well. If that’s the case, then I guess you don’t fix it. You’ll have to fess up, ask for forgiveness, and move on.”

  That wasn’t the answer she wanted, but Ava supposed it was the best she’d get. “I know. I just hate letting people down.”

  “That’s both a virtue and a burden.”

  “I guess so. I have to do it, though. I have to find the right words.”

  He reached over and put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “You will.”

  She nodded, still miserable. It would be nice to stay here, sharing her burdens and weeping like a bucket with a hole in it, but she had things to do. Keep busy. It doesn’t help to just think about this. I know that. She pulled her hand from under his and forced a smile. “Thanks for listening, but we’d better get back to work.”

  He looked as if he might say something more, but whatever he saw on her face made him rethink it. “Okay, then. I’m heading over to the Moonlight to pick up some breakfast. Can I bring you something?”

  She hesitated.

  “Come on, Dove.” Dylan laughed as he spoke. “It’s Valentine’s Day. At least let me get you an egg sandwich.” He threw his hands up. “I know! It’s probably the most ro
mantic gift you’ve ever gotten, better than a diamond.”

  “They are excellent egg sandwiches,” she said somberly, fighting a reluctant smile. “They’re tastier than a diamond.” Feeling a little better, she thanked Dylan and watched him leave. He really was a nice guy.

  She went to the restroom and washed her face, wincing when she saw her reflection in the mirror. The rings under her eyes were starting to look permanent. “Great,” she muttered, drying her face with a paper towel and then heading back into the main room. She went behind the bar, pulled out a box of her diffusion line teas, and started stacking them on one of the new shelves.

  Dylan returned with their breakfast, and they spent the next half hour talking. She was glad he didn’t mention her earlier meltdown, as she was far more comfortable talking about the new vents he’d just installed in the kitchen.

  After breakfast, they set to work. Ava stayed as busy as she could, although she kept remembering how Sarah’s fingers had tapped to the box’s thumps. She didn’t know what that meant, but it wasn’t good. None of it was good.

  Lunchtime came, and Sarah stopped by with the always-elegant Zoe, bringing sandwiches and salads. Ava ate, but she had to fight to keep up with their conversation, lamenting the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and neither had plans, as they were too picky to date anyone from town. They then started talking about the former mayor, Mr. Moore, who, after Grace won his seat in the town election, had gone on to become a successful fishing guide and had even started his own YouTube channel.

  Sarah’s phone chimed. “Oops! I promised Grace I’d bring her that Alice Hoffman book, Magic Lessons, but I left it at home.” Sarah stood and put on her coat.

  “What’s it doing at your house?” Zoe asked.

  Sarah scrunched up her nose, looking both sorry and not sorry. “I might have read it last night. That’s why I’m sleepy today. That and I seem to have borrowed Ava’s headache.” She turned to Ava. “Your head still hurting?”

  “It’s better,” Ava lied.

  “Good. Do you need anything from the house?”

  “No, I—” The image of the box lying in the middle of the hallway flared in front of her. Oh God. What if it’s in the hallway when Sarah goes home? But no, Ava had closed her bedroom door and—

  “Ava?”

  Both Sarah and Zoe were staring at her, looking worried. “Sorry. I just remembered a tea I need to make later this afternoon. I don’t need anything from the house, thanks.”

  “Okay. I’ll just run home and grab it, then. I’ve got to hurry, though. I need to be back at the library by one.”

  Ava followed Sarah to the door. “If you want, I can run and grab the book for you. I don’t mind.”

  “No, no. You stay here and get this place finished. Besides, I know right where I left it. I brought it downstairs this morning, but I set it on the bookshelf by the door while I was putting on my coat.”

  At least she won’t be going upstairs. That was a relief, and yet, Ava still worried. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go—”

  “Ava! No!” Sarah sent her a confused, half-amused look. “I’m old enough to go to the house by myself, thank you.”

  Ava threw her hands up. “Sorry! That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got to go. See you all later.” Zipping up her coat, Sarah hurried outside, the door closing behind her.

  Zoe closed the lid on her salad. “That was weird.”

  “What was weird?” Ava couldn’t keep the defensive note from her voice.

  “You not wanting Sarah to go to your house by herself. What’s going on? Is she hot on the trail of a hidden birthday present?”

  “Something like that,” Ava said. “I just—”

  The door swung open.

  Aunt Jo came inside, Moon Pie following. Today Aunt Jo wore a bright red suit with a pink-and-purple-flowered shirt, her gold-topped cane matching her earrings. As if in solidarity with Aunt Jo’s brightness, the little bulldog wore a bedraggled yellow ribbon with hot-pink rosettes. “Good afternoon!”

  Zoe bent to pat Moon Pie, who’d made a beeline for the young banker while Aunt Jo stood leaning on her cane, taking in the tearoom. “Moon Pie and I came to see how things are shaping up. Everyone is talking about how nice it looks.” Aunt Jo made her way to the middle of the room. “They are right. You, Miss Ava, have a winner here.”

  “We’re getting there.” Ava pulled out a chair for Aunt Jo. “Come and sit.”

  Aunt Jo limped over and lowered herself into the chair. “Just the right height. Some chairs are too tall, like the ones at the Moonlight. My feet don’t even touch the floor.” She stuck her legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankle. Moon Pie, having enjoyed his pats, came to her side and dropped to the floor, stretching out so his stomach was on the smooth, cool wood.

  “It’ll be nice to have a place to get a cup of hot tea and a piece of pie. Nothing against the Moonlight—you know what a fan I am of their stroganoff—but it’ll be nice to have somewhere a little less dinerish.” She hung her cane on the chair next to her. “Moon Pie, think we can convince Miss Ava to make us some of that hot chocolate we heard Kristen Foster bragging on?”

  Ava was more than glad to have something to do. “I’ll be happy to. I need to practice all the drinks on the menu, and I expect the hot chocolate will be highly requested in the winter. Kristen and I have been experimenting, and I think we’ve finally got the recipe just right.” Ava ignored the throbbing at her temples and went to work. “What are you up to today, Aunt Jo? You look festive.”

  “Moon Pie needed some treats, so I had the sheriff bring me to town so I could shop. I’m to call him when I’m ready to go home.”

  “I like your suit,” Zoe said.

  “Thank you. You know me, I can’t stand being the worst-dressed woman in any situation, even at Paw Printz.”

  Ava smiled. “Momma always said you’d be the best-dressed person at her funeral, and she was right.”

  “I still have that purple frock. I may whip it out for the Baptist Cake Walk as a distracting factor.”

  Zoe shot Aunt Jo a curious look. “Distracting? For a cake walk?”

  “It shows my cleavage, and I guarantee it’ll distract certain gentlemen who can’t keep their eyes in their sockets to save their souls. It won’t help me beat Myrtle Clinch, though. She is a mean one when it comes to sweets. She’d shiv her own aunt to get her hands on a chocolate cake.”

  Ava steamed some milk and added it to the hot chocolate, then put a healthy dash of whipped cream on top. “Sprinkles?”

  “Extra, please.”

  “You got it.” Ava brought the hot chocolate to Aunt Jo’s table.

  The door opened again, and Kat poked her head inside. When she saw the group at the table, she joined them. “I knew you’d all be here! Hi, Aunt Jo, Zoe.” She gave Ava a cool nod. “Hi, Dove.”

  “Uh-oh,” Zoe said, her gaze bright. “She called you Dove, Ava. You’d better be careful. Kat’s never happy when she’s calling you by your last name. That’s a warning shot if I ever heard one.”

  Ava eyed her friend. “Are you mad at me?”

  “You tell me.” Kat crossed her arms. “I thought we were having breakfast this morning. I sat at the Moonlight for an hour, but you never showed.”

  “Tsk-tsk,” Aunt Jo said. “Ava Dove, it’s not like you to be so rude.”

  “She didn’t answer her phone, either,” Kat added, sinking into the empty seat beside Aunt Jo.

  Ava looked around the room for her phone. “I guess I left it in my truck.” Along with my sanity. Sheesh. What a day. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

  “Mmm-mmm.” Aunt Jo took a noisy sip of her chocolate. “Lord, that’s good! I almost had a ’gasm, right here in this chair.”

  Kat leaned closer to Aunt Jo. “Is that hot chocolate?” At Aunt Jo’s nod, Kat said, “I want some.”

  “I’ll make it,” Ava said. “Consider it my apology in liquid fo
rm. Zoe, do you want some too?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll save it for a colder day.”

  Ava went to make Kat’s hot chocolate.

  Aunt Jo watched from over the top of her cup. “I don’t want to scare no one, but I swear, things are going to hell in a handbasket here in Dove Pond.”

  “What things?” Kat asked.

  “I don’t know yet, but Siegfried is back.”

  “I thought he’d run away,” Zoe said. Siegfried was the town cat, a sleek black cat with green eyes who was—if Aunt Jo was to be believed—a prime mouser.

  “I thought he had, too,” Aunt Jo said. “Hadn’t seen him in a month. But he’s back and he’s doing his thing again.” Besides being the official town cat, Siegfried was also disturbingly good at predicting when something big was about to happen in Dove Pond.

  “What’s he doing?” Kat asked, taking the cup of hot chocolate Ava had just brought her.

  “He sat in front of the library all day yesterday, tapping his paw on the ground.”

  “How odd!” Kat said.

  “I saw him doing that,” Zoe said. She pursed her lips and added thoughtfully, “I wonder what it means.”

  “Oddest cat ever.” Aunt Jo pulled a napkin from a holder and delicately wiped her mouth. “He was tapping that paw like he was playing a drum.”

  Tapping. Surely not… Ava wet her dry lips. “Maybe he was trying to catch a bug.”

  “No. He had a beat going. Weirdest thing I ever saw. Sarah and I sat and watched him for a whole hour, and he never stopped.” Aunt Jo took another sip of her hot chocolate. “That beat was sort of catchy, too. Before long, Sarah was tapping her toes right along with the cat. Looked as if she and Siegfried were in a band together. I don’t think she even knew she was doing it.”

  Ava turned away and busied herself filling up the hot water urns, her hands faintly shaking. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. He’s just a cat. She should stop by the hardware store and get some more duct tape. The box is tearing. Maybe if I—

  “So you all know what that means. Something is about to happen. There’s a bite to the air today, too. A bitterness, like that of spoiled fruit about to drop.” Aunt Jo looked out the front window, her gaze narrowing as if she were looking into the distance. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s there. I can taste it.”