The Comfort of Favorite Things (A Hope Springs Novel) (10 page)

“Oh, Dakota,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes and threatening to spill, then the sound of the back door opening and closing keeping either of them from taking the subject further. “That’s probably Ellie. I knew she’d be in since the bread at the house got finished off with breakfast.”

He didn’t mind the intrusion. Hell, he welcomed it. Anything to keep him from going on about something he’d deemed off limits. Besides, he’d been wondering about something anyway so the timing was perfect. “Are you paying her and Becca? For the hours they’re here?”

“Since Bread and Bean’s not open yet, you mean?” When he nodded, she returned to the table and pumped herself a refill, taking the time to come up with an answer. “Yes and no.”

Yeah. He could see why she’d needed time to come up with that. “Thanks. Things are so much clearer now.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “I’m not paying them yet, but I will. They keep track of the hours they put in here that aren’t personal. Becca organizing the kitchen is business. Ellie baking bread for the house is not.”

Seemed fair. “And when Becca has to clean up after Ellie?”

Thea laughed, her mug cradled in both hands. “You’ve noticed that, have you?”

He nodded. One of the first things he’d done in prison was grow eyes in the back of his head. “Becca was doing a lot of work in the kitchen yesterday morning, and mumbling to herself more than once when I walked through.”

Thea frowned down into her mug. “Ellie’s not the most organized person in the world. Brilliant, yes. Like an absent-minded genius. But I’ve yet to find anyone whose bread holds a candle to hers. You think Becca’s forearm was something, be glad you didn’t run into Ellie’s, all that mixing and kneading and hefting those huge bags of flour.”

That was another thing he’d noticed. About all of them. Their shoulders and killer guns. “She’s been doing it awhile then.”

A sip of coffee, a careless shrug. “She was an art teacher before budget cuts had her looking for a new line of work. She decided bread made for a safe bet.”

“And luck sent her your way.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it luck,” she said, picking up a pencil from his table saw stand and bouncing the eraser end on the surface. “But I am very fortunate that we crossed paths.”

Another thought went through his mind. “So with Ellie baking, and Becca pulling shots, who’s going to clean the kitchen once you’re open?”

“Funny you should mention that,” she said, putting the pencil back in its place. “We actually talked about it at dinner last night.”

“You going to hire additional help?”

“Yes, once we’re closer to opening.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense. “Why not line up someone now? Someone to wash all your coffee cups and mop the floors, at least. Sounds like the perfect job for a kid wanting to earn a few bucks. Have Ellie teach him or her to bake. Becca could do the same with the latte art. You’ll end up with a jack of all trades who can fill in anywhere you need him.”

She looked at him as if he’d just made an argument she couldn’t refute. “You’ve put a lot more thought into this than I have.”

For a pretty simple reason. “I’ve been a jack of all trades. More than once.”

“Sounds to me like you should be the one running the place.”

And it sounded to him like Thea Clark was in over her head. Why would she put off something as easy as advertising for a dishwasher? Then it hit him how many of their conversations had gone off the rails, and how many of his questions she’d never really answered.

Thea Clark was hiding something big. As well as he’d known her in high school, he was surprised it had taken him three days to recognize the signs now. He pushed a bit further. “If you’ve got a reason to wait, then wait.”

She reached up with one hand to smooth the hair at her nape. Another tell. “Let’s just say it’s complicated and leave it at that.”

Complicated. Another word for “none of your business.” It was her life. Not his. Her money. Not his.

But curiosity
was
his, and a normal human condition. His suspicion, however, came from three years in the state pen and a decade of being the vagabond she’d labeled him. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark—or at least in Hope Springs. “So you’re footing the bill for everyone. The rent. The utilities. The food. Everything.”

“Well, not everything.” She drained her coffee and returned the mug to the table. “But again. It’s complicated. We all chip in, whether that’s manpower or cash. In some cases, in most cases, it’s both. Once the shop is open, we’ll get everything sorted out. Including the extra help.”

And that was that. He wasn’t going to get anything more out of her. In fact, getting anything out of her at all might take a lighter touch than he was capable of.

“Listen. I’m having breakfast with Indiana in the morning. At her cottage. You should come. The two of you could catch up.”
And keep me from having to let down my sister for a few more days.

Her eyes grew wide, animated, all traces of the barrier she’d erected to ward off his questions gone. “Oh, I’d love to see her. But I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“If you were going to be in the way, I wouldn’t have invited you.” It was only a tiny lie.

“Okay, then. Should I bring something?”

“She’s bringing breakfast tacos, but I only ordered for me.”

“I’ll grab something then. Kolaches, maybe.”

Man, when was the last time he’d had a good kolache? “With cream cheese? Or peaches?”

“You have a microwave to heat them?”

He nodded. “I do. And I have coffee.”

“Like that’s a surprise,” she said with a snort, pushing through the kitchen door and leaving him alone to wonder if Indiana would be too happy at seeing Thea to be mad at him.

And to wonder what in the world was going on with the women who lived in the house on Dragon Fire Hill.

CHAPTER NINE

L
ena had no idea what she was doing. Well, that wasn’t true. She was taking cheese to Ellie Brass. The why of the cheese was escaping her, though it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She’d been standing in the grocery store’s expansive deli department, looking for something fresh for dinner because she was so effing tired of frozen when she’d wandered into the cheese aisle. Or the cheese section really. Wedges stacked on barrels, wheels nestled into refrigerated cases, tubs bearing brands she’d never heard of, bricks in flavors she’d never seen.

There was just something about the cold and the smell and the bakery just beyond with the loaves of fresh bread she couldn’t resist. She’d picked up a wedge of hard Parmesan and remembered Ellie talking about sharp cheddar. She’d grabbed a slab of extra sharp aged, then her gaze
had fallen on a container of local chèvre, and she’d added it into her cart.

She knew Ellie had bread; the house on Dragon Fire Hill would always have bread with Ellie living there, but the rest of the pantry . . . Minutes later, Lena’s basket held Gouda, Havarti, provolone, too. And fresh soup, which she’d found in the same section as the made-in-store hummus. A good grilled cheese with a bowl of tomato basil soup and an olive hummus appetizer. Lena wasn’t sure when she’d last had such a simple meal, and her stomach had started rumbling.

None of that explained what she was doing here, however, climbing the steps to the porch of Ellie’s residence unannounced, unexpected, having driven straight from the grocery store to the big
Gone with the Wind
plantation house. She was pretty sure the women who lived here weren’t big fans of visitors. She didn’t know their stories, but Ellie wasn’t exactly hard to read.

Lena knew about causality and figured whatever Ellie had faced in her past was a big part of the need she now had to overshare. As if a big strip of duct tape had been ripped off her mouth. Or she’d been let out of a room where she’d lived alone with no one to talk to for years. What Lena feared was that Ellie had suffered a combination of both, even if metaphorically, and that sucked.

She lifted her hand to knock, really hoping neither of those was the case, though if they were, they weren’t her business. She was only here for soup. Soup and hummus and a grilled cheese sandwich. And if she was the only one hungry, well, that was fine. She had no trouble taking the groceries home and cooking for herself. She was used to it. It was how she spent most nights.

Ellie, not one of the others, answered the door, but only after a lot of noisy tumbling of locks. She seemed pleased, more than baffled, though she’d had no idea Lena was coming, leaving Lena to wonder if her arrival had been captured by a camera, and her image fed to a monitor inside.

“Lena. Hello.” Ellie’s smile was welcoming, warm and soft and genuine as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. Lena’s stomach fluttered happily. “What are you doing here?”

She lifted the plastic grocery bags. “I brought cheese. And deli soup. Tomato basil. There’s also some hummus and naan. I thought if you had bread—”

“Goodness. Tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner? And I can’t even remember the last time I had hummus.” Ellie’s face lit up as if Lena had brought her a rib eye and a stuffed baked potato. With apple pie for dessert. Then again, that was Lena’s favorite meal. For all she knew, Ellie was vegetarian. “Do you know how good that sounds?”

“Actually, yeah. I do.” Lena exhaled deeply and smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

Ellie took the bags from her hand and peered inside. A lock of her wavy hair fell forward, and she flipped it back over her shoulder, the motion—and the porch light—showing off another bunch of small circular scars above her collarbone. “And there’s plenty for everyone. Oh, Lena. You’re so sweet. Do you mind? If the others share?”

“Of course not.” She just hoped she’d brought enough. And that whatever had happened to Ellie had been over with quickly and healed without a lot of pain. “I had to guess at how much everyone would eat.”

“Oh, this is more than plenty. So much more,” she said, as if the idea of not having to go hungry was foreign.

The flutters in her stomach having tightened into knots, Lena cleared her throat. “And you don’t mind if I stay? I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, showing up like this.”

Ellie lifted her gaze and gave Lena a look. A longing sort of look, not lusty, but unfulfilled, as if she hadn’t had a true friend in a very long time. As if she’d been left emotionally empty and lost. Those were the words that came to mind. They were ones Lena wasn’t sure what to do with. Having Ellie as a friend was wonderful. But having her as more . . .

“I absolutely insist you stay.” Ellie backed into the room and reached for Lena’s wrist, pulling her inside. “No. I demand it,” she added, laughing and shutting the door. She bolted it, then turned another lock and another, finally setting some sort of electronic alarm on the tablet mounted beside the door.

The one showing the image from the camera outside on the porch.

Still holding Lena by the wrist, Ellie guided her through the house’s big front room. Lena wasn’t able to see much of it. There was the basic furniture: a couch, a loveseat, a couple of tables and chairs, a lamp or two, though neither was on, and a big fireplace.

The floor was hardwood. The walls, plain. She had no idea if there was a color scheme since everything was in shadow. It was a big house. Made sense they wouldn’t light rooms they weren’t using. But something left her thinking there wasn’t anything chic about the sense of shabby.

“Watch the flashing on the floor here,” Ellie said as they crossed out of the big front room into a kitchen and eating area equally huge. “It’s loose and I’ve tripped too many times to count.”

Lena stepped carefully then looked up. It was obvious the room used to be at least two, like a separate cooking area and dining room, and maybe even three. Near the back door, both the ceiling- and floorboards ran perpendicular to those in the rest of the space. An old washroom? Or a mudroom? “Were y’all the ones who gutted the rooms, or was it like this when you moved in?”

Ellie carried the bags to the counter. She unloaded the four one-quart containers of soup, then read the labels on each chunk of butcher-papered
cheese. “You’re seeing it in all its pre-renovated glory. Thea has all kinds of
plans, but for now it’s a roof over our heads, and that’s all that matters.”

A roof with some serious windows and doors, Lena mused, catching
sight of a monitor similar to the one at the front door beside the back. The kitchen itself, well, it was as homey as something in its condition could be,
she guessed. The sink and cabinets and all the appliances sat to the right of the door she’d come through, which pretty much bisected one wall.

To the left, toward whatever the other room had once been, a big round table sat in one corner. In the other were three cushy but mismatched club chairs, and two small side tables piled with books and craft projects. She wondered if the women living here didn’t use the front room at all.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Ellie said. “Though your expression is saying otherwise.”

“No, no,” Lena hurried to say, feeling like crap for being so judgmental, even if she’d been doing all the judging—and speculating—in her head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t really expecting Tara.”

“Tara?” Ellie frowned for a moment before her eyes went wide. “Oh.
Gone with the Wind
Tara. No. It’s nothing like that. We don’t even have drapes for our windows, much less to make into dresses. But we do have blinds, even if they’re not in the best shape.”

“Hey, whatever keeps the Toms from peeping in,” Lena said, the words hanging there until punctuated by Ellie dropping the tub of chèvre she’d been holding.

They bent at the same time, Lena’s hand closing on top of Ellie’s over the lid that had—thankfully—only loosened and not come off. Ellie’s fingers were cold, her grip deadly. Lena had to use both hands to pry the cheese away.

“I am so sorry.” She wanted to shoot herself. What in the world was wrong with her? She’d seen the security system and the size of the front door and Ellie’s scars. “I didn’t even think. I’m bad about that. Spouting off when I shouldn’t.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ellie said, shaking her head, her eyes watery, her smile weak. “They’re just words. I shouldn’t let them get to me. I’ve never even had a peeping Tom.”

But she’d obviously had something go wrong. And someone she didn’t want looking into the house where she lived, seeing her making soup and sandwiches. Lena wasn’t going to push. If it was important for her to know later, she’d push then. She certainly understood what it meant for one human being to wound another to the point of words turning unexpectedly into weapons.

Just then a toddler boy and another of preschool age came running through the kitchen, the older one jumping into one of the chairs, the younger leaning over the seat and giggling. Lena stood. Ellie followed. She was working at removing the top to the chèvre when a woman Lena assumed was the boys’ mother appeared.

She stopped just over the threshold, looking from Lena to the far corner of the room where the boys had pulled out a box of giant Duplo toys from behind one of the chairs and were dumping them on the braided rug. “I didn’t know we had company.”

Ellie left the cheese on the counter and stepped forward quickly. “Lena, this is Frannie Charles, and those are her sons, Robert and James. Frannie, this is Lena Mining. She works at the chocolate shop next to Bread and Bean. Look what she brought us for supper.”

“How nice,” Frannie said hesitantly, glancing toward her boys. “What’s the occasion?”

The woman was gorgeous, though terribly gaunt, her dark hair lank, her skin olive and flawless, save for the circles beneath her big eyes. The vibes she was giving off told Lena to tread carefully. “I was hungry, and Ellie brought me a sourdough round yesterday morning, and waxed poetic about the joys of grilled cheese.”

“I did not,” Ellie said, giggling. “I don’t have a poetic bone in my body.”

“Mommy! Mommy!” The older boy caught sight of his mother and came running, slamming into her legs and wrapping his arms around her.
He peeked at Lena with one eye. “Why is that lady’s hair purple?”

Embarrassment stained Frannie’s cheeks. “Well, I suppose she likes the color. But let’s not talk about what other people look like, all right?”

“It’s cool,” Lena said, quickly adding, “that he’s curious, I mean. I don’t mind him asking about it.”

“Did you hear that, James?” Ellie said, leaning down and ruffling his hair. “If you want to ask Ms. Lena about her hair, go ahead. As long as it’s okay with your mom.”

Frannie nodded, so Lena dropped to the boy’s level and held out her hand. “Hi, James. I’m Lena.”

He was tentative at first, then reached to shake. “Is purple your favorite color?”

“I do like purple,” she said, canting her head forward so he could see all of it. “Do you know what color this is?” she asked, lifting a scissored chunk that hung above her ear.

“That’s blue!”

“You’re exactly right,” she said, pointing to another stripe at her temple. “And this?”

“Pink!” he said, clapping his hands. “You have pretty hair.”

“Thank you, James,” she said, smiling and too aware that his clothes had probably been handed down a dozen times. His jean shorts were washed nearly white, and his T-shirt, once blue with a big red dog in the center, was just about as faded.

“Why do you have earrings in your eye?”

“James!” Frannie gasped, mortified.

Lena waved off his mother’s objection. “They’re eyebrow rings. Though I guess they do look like earrings.”

“Do they come out?”

“They do. Would you like to see?”

James nodded excitedly, his mother saying, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I offered.” She crossed her ankles and sat on the floor. James came close, holding on to his mother’s hand as he watched Lena pull open the hoops and slide them from their holes. She’d worry about getting them back in when she got home.

Setting each in the center of her palm, she opened her hand to show him, then pointed to her eyebrow with her other hand. “They go through these tiny little holes. Just like earrings go through tiny little holes in ears.”

James let go of his mother and moved closer, hunkering down to look at Lena’s eye. “Does it hurt? When you poke them in?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “It hurt some when I first had them done.”

“Did it bleed?” he asked, his little lips turned down, his eyes sad. “Did you get a butterfly?”

A butterfly? Oh, a bandage, right
. Lena shook her head. “It didn’t bleed much, so I didn’t need a Band-Aid.”

James let that sink in, frowning when he said, “Mommy needed a butterfly one time for her eye when Daddy hit her.”

“James!” Frannie reached out and lifted the boy away, carrying him toward the chairs where Robert was still busy with the blocks, leaving Lena to stare at the hoops and try to remember how to breathe. Wow, she mused, and shuddered with the hurt. Just wow.

“C’mon,” Ellie said, urging her to her feet. “There’s a big mirror in the bathroom off the front room’s hallway. It’ll make it easier to put them back in. Just watch the hole in the floor right outside. It’s got a pillow covering it, but sometimes Robert likes to drag it away.”

Lena followed her out of the kitchen and through the big dark room at the front of the house to a hallway she hadn’t noticed before. It led to the rest of the first-floor rooms, and the staircase to the upper stories. The bathroom was the second door they passed.

“You were so perfect with James,” Ellie said, pushing the bathroom door open and flipping on the light. It sputtered several times before it finally caught. “He’s such a good boy, but I know being here all the time with just us and his mother is hard.”

“He doesn’t go to preschool or have playdates?” Lena asked, walking into the room with the huge claw-foot tub, the porcelain chipped away from its gilded feet, which appeared to be rusted to the floor’s worn black-and-white tiles.