The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane (Life in Icicle Falls) Read online

  “Except nobody ever got food poisoning from an Oreo,” she muttered and gobbled down another.

  Okay, this really wasn’t helping. And it sure wouldn’t help to spend money she didn’t have on a whole new wardrobe. She shoved away the comfort food and turned off the TV.

  Then wondered what to do. Whenever she was stressed or bored, she always found herself in the kitchen. Except the last thing she needed was more food. She’d be right back to the problem of developing cookie-jar hips. Anyway, if she went to the store for supplies, she was bound to run into someone she knew. Not any of her close friends, though, since they’d all moved away, but someone.

  She thought of her girlfriends Mitsy and Bitsy still living it up in L.A. They were probably getting ready to go dancing at some trendy club while she sat around her sister’s place like a bored babysitter. Only boring people are boring, she reminded herself, quoting her mother’s favorite response when, as a child, she’d complained of being bored.

  Quoting her mother made her remember the book she’d tossed on the guest room dresser. Other than cookbooks and Bon Appétit, she wasn’t a big reader, but her mother had obviously wanted her to read this newest book of hers. Well, she had nothing else to do.

  She fetched the book and settled back on the couch with it. She ran her fingers along the gold-embossed script. New Beginnings. That was her.

  She studied the artsy photograph of a red rose blooming in a blurred black-and-white garden. “Looks like a gardening book,” she muttered as she opened it to the first page. But her mother wouldn’t have given her this if she didn’t think there was something in it for her. She began to read.

  Death in Winter, Growth in Spring

  A garden is God’s constant reminder to us that we live in a world of change, a world of birth, death and rebirth. What happens to us is often exactly like what happens in our gardens.

  What had happened to her had been nothing like what happened with the little garden she’d been growing in pots on her apartment patio. She’d lovingly watered her basil, rosemary and mint, and everything had thrived. She’d worked hard to grow her business, and that should have thrived, too.

  Winter comes and the garden dies. But in reality it’s not dead. It’s merely dormant, waiting for the warmth of a new spring to bring back to life those perennials we so enjoyed the year before.

  Bailey frowned. There was no bringing back her catering career.

  It’s often the same with our lives. We plan for certain things and hope for positive outcomes, dream big dreams, only to see our plans crumble and our dreams die.

  Now Bailey felt as though her mother had written this just for her. Was Mama psychic?

  You may be mourning the death of a dream, but you don’t have to mourn without hope. Like a flower in winter experiencing a period of dormancy, use this time to heal and gather strength for spring, when a new dream will crop up.

  Bailey frowned and tossed the book on the coffee table. She wasn’t going to be a caterer again, so she didn’t see how any new dream could “crop up.” Anyway, it was already spring, and she was all dead and shriveled.

  What was on the Food Network now?

  * * *

  Luke did manage to register higher on the zing-o-meter dial later that night when he kissed Cecily at her door. It started as a soft kiss, with his fingers threading through her hair, and then got a little more adventurous with his tongue teasing the corners of her mouth. Okay, that was nice.

  But was it as nice as Todd’s kiss?

  Todd Black was a practiced seducer. Comparing the two men, Luke, who was Mr. Upright and Noble, and Todd, who was... Well, it was like comparing Superman and Jack Sparrow.

  But she liked Jack Sparrow.

  You are not going to get your heart broken again, she informed herself.

  Except she didn’t know for sure that Todd was going to break her heart.

  This was awful, like choosing between dark and white chocolate.

  Oh, now there was a great analogy—comparing an important life choice to picking a favorite candy.

  She had to make a decision. Which man do you want?

  “Both” was not an acceptable answer. Anyway, you already decided.

  Bailey was still parked on the couch and still vegging out in front of the TV when she came in. Different show but still the Food Network. “Did you guys have a good time?” she asked, using the remote to destroy the evidence.

  “We did,” Cecily said.

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  Yes, he was. And a smart woman would pick the nice guy.

  But when she drifted off to sleep, she found herself in a wedding gown, climbing aboard a pirate ship. And there to meet her was Todd Black wearing pirate clothes and guyliner.

  “What am I doing here?” she cried, taking in the seedy ship and his equally seedy crew, who looked suspiciously like the regulars at The Man Cave.

  “Hey, YOLO,” said Todd the pirate.

  “You mean, yo-ho-ho,” she corrected him.

  “I mean YOLO. You only live once,” he said and held out a tankard of rum.

  The dream went from her drinking rum while Todd’s crew sang the same ditty sung by the Pirates in Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean ride to doing a wild tango with Todd. He was just making her walk the plank in her bra and panties when she woke up.

  Oh, good grief. What was she doing?

  Chapter Six

  After church the Sterling women gathered at Samantha and Blake’s house to celebrate Mother’s Day. Blake’s parents had come over from Seattle for the occasion, and his grandparents, Tom and Janice Lind, were present, as well. Samantha had prepared a chicken casserole, and Caesar and fruit salads, and Bailey had contributed rosemary scones and a white chocolate cheesecake to round out the menu.

  Cecily had made brown sugar facial scrubs for all the women, while Bailey, who was in charge of drinks and had made Bellinis, handed them to guests as they waited for Sunday brunch to make its way to the table.

  Samantha was busy dishing up, so Bailey set her drink on the counter. But once they all were seated at the table, Cecily noticed Sam still didn’t have hers. The only glass at her place setting was for water. Hmm.

  “These scones are delicious,” Janice told Bailey.

  “I bet she’d give you the recipe in exchange for your banana cake recipe,” Samantha teased.

  Janice shook a playful finger at her. “You know that’s top secret.”

  And fabulous. Every year Janice’s cake won the Raise the Roof bake-off that collected funds to maintain historic town buildings. She’d been heard to joke that when she died she’d leave her recipe box to Youth Power, her favorite local charity, to be auctioned off.

  Cecily was in no hurry to lose Janice, who was a town treasure, but if that recipe box ever came up for auction, she’d definitely bid on it. It would make a great Christmas present for Bailey. Even though she was probably never going to cater again, Cecily felt sure her sister would wind up doing something food-related.

  They were just about ready for dessert when Blake tapped on his water glass for everyone’s attention. Then he stood. “We’re really glad you could all come today, and I want to propose a toast. To our mothers, who do so much for us.”

  “To our mothers,” everyone echoed and clinked glasses.

  But Blake was still standing, and Cecily knew why.

  “And to our future mothers,” he said, raising his glass to Samantha, who was suddenly blushing.

  “Oh, my,” Mom whispered. “Does this mean what we think it does?”

  Blake grinned and nodded. “We’re pregnant.”

  “Oh, sweetie!” Mom jumped up and hurried to hug Samantha, as did all the other women, including Cecily, while the two other men present clapped Blake on the back.


  This was followed by a barrage of questions. When was the baby due? Had they picked out names yet? Did they know what they were having? Did they want to know? “In December,” Samantha answered. No, they didn’t know the sex of the baby yet, but they should be able to tell when Samantha had her twelve-week ultrasound. “We haven’t picked out a boy’s name yet,” Samantha said, “but if it’s a girl we’re going to name her Rose, after Great-Grandma Rose.”

  The woman who’d started Sweet Dreams Chocolates. “Perfect,” Cecily murmured. Sam deserved to be happy. She’d held their family together when they lost their father and had saved the company from ruin after their stepfather died. Like all proper heroines, she’d been rewarded with a good dose of happily-ever-after, and the baby was the latest installment.

  And, of course, they’d all get to enjoy the baby. Cecily could hardly wait to become an aunt.

  But she also wanted to become a mother. And a wife. She wanted that happily-ever-after she’d always been so good at helping other people find. She’d hit the snooze button on her biological clock, but now Samantha’s announcement had set it off again, and it was ringing loud and clear. Darn it, she didn’t want to wait until she was pushing menopause to get pregnant.

  You have time, she assured herself. Even if her twenties would be ending this fall, it didn’t mean her life was over. And it didn’t mean she couldn’t get pregnant. Samantha was over thirty, and she’d had no trouble conceiving and her baby was going to be fine. So there was no need to panic...as long as she didn’t keep making man mistakes. She had to be smart this time round and choose someone who was truly her perfect match. Not perfect—just perfect for her.

  Meanwhile, she would be happy for her sister. “We can have the baby shower at the condo,” she offered.

  “I’m not sure you’ll be able to fit everyone in the condo,” her mother said. “Not with all the people who’ll want to come.”

  “Then we can do it at my house,” Janice said. “We have plenty of room.”

  Talk of the new arrival continued through dessert and coffee, and by the time the party broke up, the child’s life had been decided. Of course little Rose—Samantha was convinced the baby would be a girl—would grow up to run Sweet Dreams Chocolates. Naturally, she’d marry a local boy.

  “Marrying local is going to become a Sterling woman tradition,” Samantha predicted, smiling at Cecily. It wasn’t difficult to guess whom her sister was thinking of. Yep, keep the production manager by bringing him into the family. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. If she was going to be practical. If she could stop having stupid pirate dreams.

  * * *

  Todd called his mother Sunday afternoon to wish her a happy Mother’s Day. He hoped his little brother was taking her out. Or had at least sent flowers. Or a card. Or something.

  “Oh, Toddy, the flowers were lovely,” she gushed. “And chocolates, too.”

  “Nothing’s too good for you,” he said.

  “You know, the best Mother’s Day would be to have you here.”

  “I know.” His mom lived in Medford, Oregon, now, not exactly close to Icicle Falls. Still, one of these days he needed to hop on his bike and drive out there to see her. “It’s hard to get away with the business and all, but count on me for Thanksgiving. So, what are you doing today?”

  “Oh, just hanging out.”

  Which meant his brother wasn’t on the job. The turkey was living in Medford now. He had no excuse not to go see their mom on Mother’s Day.

  Todd frowned. “Where’s Devon?”

  “I haven’t heard from him. But I’m sure I will,” Mom hurried on, always ready to cover up her younger son’s neglect.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you will, too,” Todd agreed, because as soon as he got off the phone, he was going to call the little twit and give him a verbal boot in the ass.

  “I did see him the other day,” Mom said. “He came by for dinner.”

  Oh, yeah, if there was a chance to sucker Mom into cooking for him, Devon would be there. Probably brought a load of wash for her to do, too. Well, that was how it worked when you were the baby of the family, the golden boy.

  Devon was Dad’s darling, too. And why not? He’d grabbed the brass ring (for about two seconds) and had that pro ball career. If you could call being on a farm team for a couple of years a career. Devon had trashed his shoulder, and that had ended his pitching days, but not before he made it into the family hall of fame. He was still living on the old glory days, drifting from one construction company to the next, getting DUIs and generally living it up. Yep, the darling of the family.

  “Do you still have that tavern?”

  Mom was getting better at hiding the disgust, but Todd could hear it lurking there. Very low class of him to invest in a tavern. Even if it was a little gold mine, it was a tacky one. “Yeah, I’ve still got it. I just bought another house.”

  “A house?”

  Now, that interested her. “It’s commercially zoned, great location. I’m going to rent it out to someone for a shop.”

  His mom had been to Icicle Falls to visit, and while she didn’t approve of The Man Cave, she did approve of the town with its lovely scenery and intriguing shops.

  “Or you could put in a shop yourself,” she said.

  “It might be hard to run a day business and a night business.”

  “There is that,” she admitted. “What sort of shop do you see going in there?”

  “I don’t know. The house is an old Victorian, lots of gingerbread.”

  “Oh, how sweet. So, what don’t you have up there?”

  “Nothing.” They had shops for everything a tourist could want, from clothes to specialty soaps and bath items.

  “Oh, there has to be something.”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe a restaurant, but the town has plenty of those.”

  “It doesn’t have a tearoom.”

  “A what?”

  “A fancy little restaurant where ladies can go for tea.”

  “I don’t know,” he said again, doubtfully. “A whole restaurant for tea?”

  “Like in England, with fancy china, little tea cakes and sandwiches. When I went to London with your aunt for our birthdays, we went to Harrods and had tea. It was lovely. Expensive, too,” she added. “They must make a fortune off silly tourists like me and Aunt Sue.”

  “This isn’t exactly London.”

  “No, but you’ve got a female population and a lot of visitors. Done right, it could be a real moneymaker.”

  “Maybe,” he said. He’d have to do some research. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll think about it.”

  “I’m sure whatever you put in will be lovely. You’ve become quite the businessman, sweetie. One of these days you’ll be flying down to see me in your own private plane. But don’t wait that long,” she quickly added.

  “Thanksgiving, Mom,” he promised again.

  They chatted for a few more minutes, and then he hung up and called his brother.

  Devon mumbled a sleepy hello.

  “You’re still in bed?” Todd demanded.

  “Hey, I had a late night.”

  So had Todd. He hadn’t gotten home from work until after two, but he was awake. “Yeah, well, it’s time to get up, Sleeping Ugly. It’s Mother’s Day.”

  “What, you want me to send you a bouquet?” joked Devon.

  “No. I want you to get your butt out of bed and go over to Mom’s and take her out to eat, dickhead.”

  “Hey, I was going to go over there.”

  “Don’t sucker her into cooking for you, either.”

  “What do you think I am?”

  Selfish, irresponsible.

  “I’m gonna go by and surprise her, take her out to dinner.”

  Now that Todd
had called and reminded him. Sheesh. How could anyone manage to forget Mother’s Day? There were ads promoting it everywhere you turned.

  “Hey, I’m glad you called,” Devon said.

  Uh-oh. Todd gritted his teeth. Here it comes.

  “I’m having kind of a cash-flow problem. I was hoping you could float me a loan for a couple of weeks.”

  Oh, no. Had he lost his job? “You still working?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s just that, well, I had a losing streak at poker, and I owe this guy some money.”

  “Ask Dad.”

  “Come on. You know I can’t.”

  Yes, their father would draw the line at paying a gambling debt. “You can be stupid with your money,” the old man liked to say, “but I won’t give you mine to be stupid with.” He’d said as much to Todd when he’d wanted to buy The Man Cave. It had almost killed him later to admit that Todd had made a smart investment.

  “How much?” Todd said, resigned to his fate.

  “Just a couple hundred. Well, three to be exact.”

  Todd swore under his breath.

  “I’ll pay you back, come payday,” Devon said immediately.

  Todd doubted that. His brother forgot more debts than he remembered. “Okay. I’ll wire it to you.”

  “Hey, thanks.”

  “But only after I hear from Mom that you took her out for Mother’s Day.”

  “I said I was going to.”

  “Yeah, well, this will make sure you do.”

  “You’re a real shit sometimes, you know that?” Devon snapped.

  “I try,” Todd said and ended the call. And there was another codependent moment to deposit in the old memory bank.

  Family ties—they could strangle a guy. In his opinion, romance writers and the movie folks both did their part to keep the propaganda going, convincing people that a happy life meant the house with the white picket fence and the dog crapping in the yard and the kids running around spilling stuff and fighting. And Mom and Dad in the middle of it all like the center of a wheel, stable and content and keeping everyone together. He figured it worked that way for some people, but if you asked him, the whole family thing was the world’s biggest crapshoot.