Page 66 of Summer Longing
Ruth laughed. “I was not happy, I can tell you that.”
She didn’t know who’d left Mira or why. But in that moment, she was thankful for the mystery baby that had given her a reason to share a laugh withherbaby. Still, she feared that this small moment of bonding was coming too late. Tomorrow, her ex-husband would arrive, and his appearance would remind Olivia of her long-held belief that Ruth was the bad guy.
Her phone vibrated with a text.
Tomorrow still good for a sail? Boatyard at 10 a.m.?
It was Tito Barros. Ruth had forgotten about their talk of a boat outing. She felt certain it had just been polite conversation, maybe a mild flirtation, no firm plans. And yet she did not want to be sitting around the house when her ex-husband arrived. It was best to do something to root herself firmly in the present. The past was the past.
Yes, sounds good. See you tomorrow.
When she looked up, Olivia was observing her.
“Everything okay?” she said.
“Great,” Ruth replied. “Let’s order.”
Chapter Thirty
Their new part-timer, Cynthia Wesson, was someone Elise never would have been friends with in high school. Cynthia was too self-assured, too outgoing. Elise wasn’t proud of the fact that she had once been intimidated by the popular kids, but she couldn’t help but remember it in the face of such a golden girl.
Cynthia was tall and slender with long-lashed brown eyes and shiny straight brown hair cut in a chin-length bob. Fern had learned during her interview that Cynthia was midway through school at Emory, that her family lived in Chatham year-round, and that she was spending the summer in P’town by herself.
“Why by herself?” Elise had asked.
“Probably to get away from her family,” Fern said. “I can relate.”
Cynthia was eager to learn, and Elise tried to muster up some enthusiasm as she demonstrated how things worked around the shop despite her sleep deprivation. Mira had woken up more than usual during the night.
Elise opened the wide bay windows to let in some fresh air.
“It’s amazing you found a location with such a clear view of the water,” Cynthia said, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“Yes, but not so clear today.” The morning had begun with the type of haze that would burn off quickly. At the moment, the fog and cloud cover matched Elise’s mood.
After Fern insisted that she send back most of the nursery furniture, the rest of their evening proved unsalvageable. Ruth texted that she and Olivia were taking Mira with them to a restaurant, and Fern argued that they should take the opportunity to go out to dinner, just the two of them. Elise reluctantly agreed to go to Strangers & Saints, a Mediterranean-style taverna that was one of their favorites.
Over a shared dish of pan-roasted chicken marinated in spiced pomegranate orange molasses, Fern steered the conversation away from any mention of Mira. Elise spent the entire meal pretending to care about plans for the Fourth of July, the logistics of the seaweed-tea venture, and a possible trip to the Boston farmers’ market together. Keeping her phone under the table, she periodically texted Olivia to check on Mira.
Later, in bed, when Fern reached for her, she turned away. When Elise awoke to Mira’s cries at two in the morning, Fern pretended to be asleep.
“So, we have two instant hot taps, one at a hundred and eighty degrees and one at a hundred and sixty degrees,” Elise said, motioning for Cynthia to follow her behind the counter. “This delicate green tea from Japan, for example, needs the lower temperature for brewing or the leaves bruise and get ruined. We have a list right here of the temperatures for each tea and another list for the number of tablespoons and brewing times for each blend.”
Cynthia took notes on a small legal pad.
“This time of year, most people ask for iced tea. We start the day with pitchers of four different iced teas, but customers can request any of our blends cold. They just have to be willing to wait a few minutes for them to steep. Do you ever get iced tea from a place and it tastes so weak it’s like barely flavored water?” Cynthia nodded. “We never want that to happen, so we double the measurement of tea for iced. But the brewing time and temperature remain the same.”
The door opened—a couple with a small child.
“Hi there,” Elise said. The woman smiled and studied the chalkboard menu. She eventually ordered the Sail Away blend, iced.
It was one of their most popular teas, but Elise didn’t have any iced that morning. She told the woman it would take just a few minutes to brew and motioned for Cynthia to watch her closely. “This is a black tea with bergamot, blue cornflower, and vanilla,” she said, opening one of the tins behind the counter.
“It looks so pretty,” Cynthia said.
“Yeah, the blue cornflower is mostly decorative,” Elise said, putting two scoops into a tea bag and pouring hot water into a metal cocktail shaker she used for quick brewing. “Take one of the plastic cups and fill ice to the top, almost overflowing.”
Cynthia filled the cup and placed it on the counter.
