“Nice to meet you, Ms. Mills,” Juniper says, extending a hand.
“Come on in, girl,” Ms. Mills says, pulling Juniper in for a hug. “Any friend of Lyric’s and Sister Viv’s is welcome here. Now—I have the sitting room all set up for you young folks. Sister Viv—come withme. I have a nice spot for you in the kitchen. We need to catch up. Did you see this week’sBelow Deck?”
Ms. Mills takes Grammy’s arm, and the two of them disappear down a narrow hallway, gossiping about reality TV.
“Come on,” I say to Juniper, leading her into the formal sitting room with the fire. We take our coats off and sit in two big armchairs close to the flames. The rest of the room is filled with five small tables and chairs.
“Are we the only ones here?” Juniper asks.
“For now. The teahouse opens to the public on Saturdays and Sundays, but we’ve known Ms. Mills since we moved to Lansing. She’s like family. She helps me out with Grammy Viv on days I can’t be home in time, and instead of paying her, she lets me bake and prep things here when I can. Sorry I didn’t warn you about bringing my grandma. I meant to, but I was rushed and forgot. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. I really like your grandma. She’s hilarious. If you’re open to sharing, you said you take care of her a lot now, so what do you mean by that?”
“She had a stroke a few years ago and has some long-term effects that limit her mobility. And I think she mentioned her hip in the car. I spent last summer helping her recover after surgery. She just needs more support than she used to, but it’s not a big deal. We make it work.”
Juniper nods and after a beat says, “That must be a lot sometimes, on top of school and your job. She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I say too sharply. “Grammy basically saved my life. She could never be a burden.”
“Oh—no, I didn’t mean to imply that she’s a burden. I just meant that you, uh, have a lot on your plate, that’s all. It’s impressive you can keep up with it all.”
I don’t, my head screams.I feel like I’m drowning all the time.But I swallow this down and change the subject.
“So, uh, get comfy. You’re about to experience the best hot chocolate of your life, and then we’re going to help Ms. Mills make hot chocolate bombs before the rush tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry—have I just stepped onto a movie set?” Juniper says, looking around. “This is unreal. I’ve got to tell my moms about this place…”
“You and your moms are really close, huh?” I say.
“Yeah—we are.” Juniper nods, biting her lip. “I mean, we have our issues, but we’re a unit—they’re my best friends.”
“Well, that’s a new one,” I blurt out.
Juniper’s eyes flash confusion for a moment, but before I can say anything else impulsive, Ms. Mills comes bustling into the room.
“Alright, girls,” Ms. Mills starts, setting down a tray of treats and handing us two steaming cups of hot chocolate. Mine is in a mug shaped like a gingerbread woman and Juniper’s in a mug shaped like a Black Santa. “Here you go—hot chocolate to warm the soul.”
“This mug is amazing.” Juniper laughs. “I love a Black Santa. Thank you!”
“Really?” I say with a grimace. “Black Santas weird me out. To me, they always look like those racist caricatures of what white peoplethinkBlack people look like.”
“Caricatures? My word, Lyric,” Ms. Mills tuts. “It’s about representation, and Black joy, and seeing ourselves in figures that everyone just assumes are white. You think too much.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree, Ms. Mills,” I say, grinning at her sweetly.
“Just as stubborn as your grandma.” Ms. Mills laughs. “Now, don’t rush yourselves, but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be in the kitchen and ready to have your assistance.”
“Thank you, Ms. Mills,” I say, inhaling the chocolatey goodness.
“Yes, thank you!” Juniper echoes. “I hear all other hot chocolate will be ruined for me after this.”
“Well, that just means you’ll have to come back and see me again,” Ms. Mills says, beaming. “Now, I need to get back to Sister Viv—we have so much more TV to talk through.”
Juniper and I sit in silence for a minute, listening to the fire roar and letting our hot chocolate cool a bit. Then I raise my mug. “A toast,” I say, meeting Juniper’s eyes. “To do-overs.”
“To do-overs,” Juniper says. “And maybe sharing some real things about ourselves, so we can make this look authentic for your followers.”
I nod. “Yes, that too.”
