Page 27 of Summer Longing
As much as Ruth would have loved to download the crazy story of the baby into Clifford’s eager ears, she resisted the impulse. She was frustrated with Elise and Fern; angry, even. But she didn’t want to cause trouble. “I think Elise and Fern are having second thoughts,” she said vaguely.
“Second thoughts? What does that even mean? You’ve paid them, you’ve moved in—it’s done anddone,sweetheart.”
“Clifford,” she said. “I was never thrilled with the idea of renting in the first place. You know that. I want to make sure we’re still keeping an eye out for a house for me to buy.”
“Ruth, what am I going to do with you?” he said, fanning himself with a Japanese paper fan decorated with a cherry-blossom design. “Icannotsell you a house thatdoes notexist. As much as I would love tosnap my fingers,that’s simply not how it works. Unless you’re willing to look at some of the new construction just a bit farther out…”
Ruth crossed her arms. “No. I want something in town, a true Provincetown beach house, not some prefabricated nonsense.”
“Well, you’ve moved here and that’s a good start. People sell to people they know. They sell to people theylike. Good houses sometimes don’t even make it to market. Keep your ears open.”
“Keep my ears open? Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
“If you hear a whisper, I’ll turn it into a shout.”
Ruth, shaking her head, stood up and walked to the door. Clifford followed her.
“What’s really going on here?” he said. “I can smell a good story a mile away, so you might as well just tell me.”
Oh no. She wasn’t going to be put in the position of outing Elise and Fern’s baby drama. All she wanted was some privacy. “Nothing is going on. I’m just impatient. I’d prefer to rent a house with the option to buy. They’ll never sell Shell Haven.” This much, at least, was true.
“For the record, I think you’re assuming too much when you say Fern would never sell Shell Haven. The woman is nothing if not practical. Money talks.”
Was he right? Should she approach Fern about this? Her phone rang. Olivia. “Hello?” she said.
“Hi, Mother,” Olivia said, her tone noticeably less frosty than it had been during their previous conversation. “I’m calling to say I’ll be out there this weekend to see you.”
The difference between a perfect brew of tea and a bad one can be a matter of seconds. Elise made sure to label all of their retail tins with exact timing instructions, and she explained it to their customers. At the start of the day in the shop, she informed a woman perusing the tea tins that she had a little more leeway with herbal teas.
“It can steep longer because it’s not made from tea leaves,” Elise explained, gesturing at the cup the woman was holding. “So you won’t get that bitterness if you overheat it.”
“What do you mean, it’s not made from tea leaves?” The woman looked down at her Juniper Berry iced tea as if she’d just been informed she was drinking Diet Coke.
“The herbal tea is a compilation of herbs, spices, fruit, and flowers. That’s why it’s caffeine-free.”
The woman contemplated this and seemed to accept it. She bought a tin of chamomile. Across the shop, Fern arranged a display of artful bracelets that were also organic mosquito repellents. They were made by a local who’d approached them about making them available at the shop.
“Why not?” Fern had said. “We have the space. Maybe we can expand to other locally made goods. Maybe even art.”
Elise thought it was a distraction but wasn’t about to debate it. Compromising on this was the least she could do, considering what was going on.
The front door jingled, heralding the arrival of Jaci Barros.
“Hey!” Jaci said, smiling. Her long dark hair was up in a high ponytail, and she was dressed in a white V-neck T-shirt, cutoff denim shorts, and sneakers. “It smells like licorice today.”
“Masala chai,” Fern and Elise said in unison, then smiled instinctively at each other. It was the first time Fern had smiled at her in twenty-four hours, so that was a good sign.
Rachel was looking after Mira. She seemed happy to do it, maybe testing the waters for a baby of her own soon. But it made Fern uneasy to have to ask for help.
“People have their own work to do, Elise. We can’t burden them with this.”
But it didn’t seem like Amelia and Rachel felt burdened. They were taking it in stride. She wished Fern could share their attitude a little more.
Jaci looked up at the menu. “I guess I don’t need to debate what to try today. I have to go with masala chai. What is it, exactly?”
“It’s black tea with spices mixed in—lots of anise and fennel,” Fern said, moving behind the counter.
“So I was talking to a friend of mine from school about this place—she got a summer job at the Boston Seaport farmers’ market. I told her how I wanted to work here instead of the oyster farm—”
