The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (97 page)

And someone to share it with.

Kitty arrived the next day, filled with apologies. While the hot water heater was being repaired, it had shorted out a circuit, and she’d had to call the electrician, who kept promising to come, then didn’t. Sean had offered to pinch-hit, but he was studying for his finals and she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. It was enough, she said, that he was taking care of Maddie. As for Tea & Sympathy, she’d left Willa in charge, with her sister Daphne taking a break from the novel she was writing to help out.

“I feel guilty, dragging you all this way,” Claire told her.

Kitty had been given the grand tour and the two were enjoying a glass of lemonade on the porch, where Gerry’s recent gift of a pair of wicker chairs was being put to good use.

“What kind of a partner would I be if I’d stayed home?” Kitty wanted to know. “Though it looks as if you would have gotten along just fine without me.” Radiant in a loose top and trousers, her loose curls the color of ginger ale cascading down around her shoulders, she looked as relaxed as ever.

“You should’ve seen me a week ago.” Claire rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m all yours for the next three days.”

“Believe me, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Kitty laughed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “By the way, when am I going to meet your new family?” She looked around as if half expecting them to spring from the shrubbery.

Claire told her they would be here any minute. “Mavis has a recipe for whiskey cake she wants to try out.” Claire was amazed at how much lighter she felt. Last night with Matt had helped put things in perspective.

Kitty drew back to eye her admiringly. “You look different. Did you do something with your hair?”

Claire ran her fingers through it. “No. In fact, I keep thinking I should get it cut.”

“That’s it, you let it grow out. I
knew
there was something.” Kitty smiled as if that wasn’t the only change she’d noticed. “Better watch out, or pretty soon you’ll be wearing a pair of these.” She cast a wry glance at her Birkenstocks.

“Most of the time I go barefoot.”

“You
have
changed.” Kitty looked as if she approved.

They were in their aprons, Kitty measuring ingredients for oatmeal-pecan squares, which would freeze well, and Claire melting chocolate for a devil’s food cake, when Mavis walked in trailed by Gerry and her kids. Without a word of introduction Mavis set down the bag of groceries she was carrying and enveloped Kitty in a hug. Seeing them together, both with the same reddish hair and Irish coloring, Claire thought they might have been long-lost relatives.

“You must be the famous Kitty Seagrave we’ve been hearing so much about.” Mavis drew back, beaming. “The way Claire goes on, I thought you’d be walking here on water.”

“I almost did.” Kitty told them about the flood in her basement, and they all had a good laugh.

Gerry turned to Claire. “She’s every bit as wonderful as you said.”

“You must be Gerry.” Kitty hugged her. “I feel as if I know you.”

Gerry’s eyes were clear and untroubled. “I’d like you to meet my younger children—Andie and Justin.” She placed a subtle emphasis on “younger.”

“Do you have kids?” Justin asked hopefully.

“One, but she’s only three.” Kitty made a consoling face.

“Is your tearoom anything like this one?” Andie wanted to know.

“In spirit,” Kitty said. “That’s the secret, actually—every place should have its own personality.”

Soon they were chattering away like old friends. Kitty regaling them with tales of her regulars. Mavis reminiscing about the Carson Springs of her girlhood. Gerry filling them in on the latest goings-on at Our Lady.

Before long Mavis was elbow to elbow with Kitty at the counter and Andie peeling apples at the table, while Justin cored and sliced. Gerry, a self-professed kitchen klutz, made herself useful ironing napkins.

She was refilling the iron at the tap when she spied the note tucked inside the pot of African violets on the sill. “ ‘Looking forward to the big day. Love, Aubrey,’ ” she read aloud, flags of color appearing in her cheeks.

“For a man with his suitcase packed, he doesn’t seem in too big a hurry,” Mavis observed dryly.

“He’s coming to the game on Saturday.” Justin tried to sound as if it were no big deal, but the look on his face was a dead giveaway: that of a boy who’d scanned the bleachers once too often in search of a father who wasn’t there.

“Which is more than I can say for
some
people,” muttered Mavis, who clearly had no fondness for Gerry’s ex.

Andie surprised everyone by blurting, “You should marry him, Mom.”

Gerry’s head jerked around. “What?”

“He’s just your type.” Andie ticked off all the reasons on her fingers. “Mysterious and unavailable … till now, that is. And he’s never, ever going to bore you. Not to mention he’s crazy about you.”

“Crazy is the word for it,” Gerry joked. “He doesn’t know what he’d be getting into.” But from the deepening color in her cheeks she’d obviously given it some thought.

“Oh, I think he has a pretty good idea,” Claire said.

“Why don’t we take a vote?” Kitty spoke as if she’d known Gerry all her life. “Let’s see a show of hands for all those in favor.”

Three hands went up. Only Kitty, who had yet to meet the man, abstained. Claire knew they’d scored a direct hit when Gerry let out a little yelp: She’d scorched the napkin she was ironing.

“I have a better idea,” she said. “Why don’t I mind my business, and you mind yours?”

“I guess that means Simon and I can elope after all,” Andie deadpanned.

“Over my dead body,” Mavis shot back, wearing a look of mock outrage.

“When you’re my age and your life is already ruined, you can do as you please,” Gerry said.

Listening to them, Claire probed for the secret envy she’d once felt as gingerly as she might have a sore tooth. But somewhere along the line it had gone. She would never be as much Gerry’s as Andie or Justin, but they had a different kind of bond: They’d chosen this as surely as Lou and Millie had chosen her.

If only Mom and Dad could see it that way.
She felt sorrow well up in her, but it was more of a phantom pain. She still hoped they’d make it to the opening, but if not … well, it would be their loss.

“It just hit me,” she said. “In less than forty-eight hours, we’ll be officially open for business.”

“That calls for a drink.” Mavis hoisted the bottle of whiskey she’d brought for her cake. She took down six glasses from the cupboard and poured a splash into each one, including Justin’s.

“Long live Tea and Sympathy,” Kitty toasted, lifting her glass.

“To second chapters.” Mavis tossed a meaningful glance at Gerry.

Justin sipped his and made a face. “Ugh.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” Andie spoke with an air of experience.

Claire looked about the sunny kitchen filled with the familiar faces of the people she loved. Was it only a few months since she’d moved here? It felt like aeons. The future no longer seemed so scary. She’d taken the biggest leap of faith in coming here, and look how it had turned out. Everything else was just encore.

“I couldn’t have done this without your help,” she said to no one in particular.

“Nonsense. What are families for?” Mavis walked over and hugged her. She smelled faintly of whiskey, but in a good way—like medicine to make you feel better.

“Not to mention friends,” Kitty chimed.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Andie made a gagging noise.

“Don’t move anyone.” Gerry reached into her bag for her camera and, ignoring Andie’s and Justin’s groans, snapped off several shots.

“I just hope they don’t make me look fat,” Andie said.

“You don’t need a camera for that.” Justin looked pleased at having scored a direct hit.

“Cut it out, you two,” Gerry scolded, though it was obvious her heart wasn’t in it.

Claire just stood there, smiling. In her mind, she’d already picked out the spot on her bedroom wall where the photo would hang.

Sunday, the day of the opening, it poured for the first time in weeks. Gerry was in a cold sweat that morning as she dressed. Of all the days for it to rain! Poor Claire. An image flashed across her mind: an array of cakes, pies, tarts, and cookies with no one to eat them. For in Carson Springs, where the sun shone year-round, the rare shower might as well be a monsoon. People stayed home for the most part, and those who happened to be out and about went racing for the nearest shelter, their collars pulled up around their ears. Some might end up here, but most would opt to come another day.

Tea & Sympathy wouldn’t go out of business, but the wind would go out of its sails. And Gerry wanted so much for it to be a success. They all had something invested, not just in this venture, but in this family patched together out of odds and ends. She paused to smile, as she was tugging on her jeans, at how little she’d understood when she was young. She’d imagined miracles to be visions of the Blessed Virgin, and signs from God on the order of the burning bush … but the miracles of everyday life were what she marveled at now: a lost daughter reclaimed, a new baby born to an old friend, unexpected love in the unlikeliest of places.

The thought of Aubrey surfaced once more. She brought a hand to her cheek, which felt warm. Yesterday after the game—which Justin’s team had won with a home run in the final inning—she’d spent the evening at Isla Verde, but something had been different about their lovemaking this time. Though Aubrey had always been considerate, there was a new tenderness in the way his hand lingered on her cheek and his mouth seemed to drink her in. He hadn’t told her he loved her, but the endearments whispered in her ear seemed to convey much more. At one point, for no reason whatsoever, she’d nearly burst into tears. Afterward, spooned up against him, she’d drifted to sleep thinking,
I could get used to this.

She frowned now as she zipped up her jeans. Why couldn’t they just go on like before? She remembered what her father used to say: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If she gave into what her heart was telling her, she could risk ruining a perfect thing.

She was on her way out the door when the rain abruptly ceased. She paused on the stoop, looking up at the blue sky peeking through the clouds, and mouthed the words
thank you.

Andie and Justin had caught a ride earlier with Finch. They’d all signed on as volunteers for the day. The girls would wait tables while Justin and Nesto bussed. Mavis would help out in the kitchen. The only thing left for Gerry to do was to pick up Sam and Ian. Sam was understandably nervous about driving and Ian was restricted to the passenger seat until his cast came off.

Pulling into their driveway, she spotted Ian on the porch with the baby. She smiled at the picture they made: little Jack in his pouch strapped like a baby kangaroo to his father’s chest, both equally content. Ian waved to her as she got out.

She stepped lightly up onto the porch, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. “Just promise you won’t get his ear pierced,” she teased, giving the silver stud in Ian’s ear a little tug. She nodded toward his cast in its blue nylon brace, every inch of it covered in writing. “Looks like you’ve had company. Is there anyone who
hasn’t
been by?”

He kissed the fuzzy top of Jack’s head. “I’m just the warm-up act. This little guy’s the main attraction.”

Gerry, who never in a million years thought she’d envy her best friend, looked into the baby’s bright blue eyes and felt a rush of … what? Not longing, more like wistfulness for what was past. Oh, for the chance to do it over again, and this time get it right!

Sam was dressed and ready to go when she walked in. Gerry took one look at her in her formfitting silk dress and said, “I hate you. How can you fit into that so soon?”

“Easy. It’s a wraparound.” She twirled around to show Gerry the ties in back. “You want to grab that?” She gestured toward the diaper bag while she went in search of the car seat, calling over her shoulder, “I’d forgotten how much paraphernalia there is. Getting out the door with a baby is like a trip to Europe.” She didn’t sound the least bit perturbed that, at her age, she
could
have been vacationing in Europe instead.

They arrived at Tea & Sympathy to find everything in place … and everyone in a high state of tension. It was shortly after ten-thirty, with the opening scheduled for eleven. The room shone from the scrubbing Claire and Kitty had given it the night before, and the shelves of the display case were lined with jewel-like tarts, pillowy buns and muffins, cakes and cupcakes, fruit pies and tarts. A vase of yellow roses stood on the Victrola by the door, and on each table was a bud vase with a sprig of clematis.

Maude Wickersham, in a lilac silk gown more suitable for an Edwardian high tea, had positioned herself at the front door. “You missed all the excitement,” she said, her periwinkle eyes aglow.

“The smoke alarm went off, and the firemen were a little overeager in getting here,” Laura explained.

“I think they wanted first crack at the goodies.” Alice, in tapered slacks and sleek turquoise top, stepped up alongside her sister. “Claire sent them off with a sack full of sticky buns.”

“How’s my favorite grandson?” Wes tickled the baby, who stared in fascination at his big, bearded grandfather. He might be on the fence about having another child of his own, but he was clearly smitten with Jack. “Want me to take him?” he asked Ian.

“Just remember, if his diaper needs changing, he’s all yours.” Ian’s smile, as he gently lifted Jack from his carrier, was laced with irony. Wes hadn’t been the most attentive of fathers—too busy empire building—but now that Ian was a father himself, he’d gained a new perspective.

Gerry envied Ian. Why couldn’t she do the same—let go of the past and look to the future?
Face it, you’re a fake, a phony.
Forever encouraging her friends to take the leap while she herself held back. No wonder she and Aubrey were a perfect fit: They were both hobbled in some way.

Claire poked her head out of the kitchen to announce cheerfully that if one more thing went wrong, she’d shoot herself, while Kitty stood serenely at the counter piping last-minute rosettes onto a cake. Mavis was making the rounds, checking to see that every sugar bowl was filled and every napkin neatly tucked in its ring. She’d had her hair done yesterday at Shear Delight, a softly swirled upsweep that made her look years younger. Gerry couldn’t remember when she’d last seen her mother so vibrant.