“Business major,” she said. “Pretty boring stuff. I did minor in architecture, though, because I’ve always been interested in it.” A strong breeze, smelling of cloves, rushed down the alley and tangled Tessa’s hair in her face. She spit strands of hair from her mouth and shoved it out of her eyes. “If I’d have known how much I’d love studying architecture, I might have majored in it instead. Maybe gone on to receive a master’s degree.”
Cecilia scraped her trowel through the dirt in an absent-minded way, making parallel lines in the earth. “Why didn’t you?”
“Get a master’s?” Tessa asked. “I guess I never had the drive needed to be an architect. I would have enjoyed learning more, but I love it here. I liked being at the office with Mama before she retired. I like helping people find their homes. It’s a rewarding job, and real estate is what I know. It was a safe and sensible choice, coming home and taking over the family business.”
“As if children ever do what is safe and sensible,” Cecilia said with a small smile. “Children do what they want, regardless of what parents say.”
The air swirled with bristling energy, and the soil beneath Tessa’s hands warmed by degrees. She pulled her hands away from the earth. The plants around Cecilia shivered.
Tessa cleared her throat. “Like your sons?”
“Not Eddie. He’s always been sensible and taken the safest route, even when he was a child. He calls me every week. We see him at holidays.” Cecilia stood and brushed dirt from the knees of her gardening khakis.
“But not Paul?”
Cecilia exhaled a sigh, and basil leaves fluttered. “Paul never did anything the easy or sensible way. He has a master’s degree, and what does he do with it? Nothing. He gives up a successful job so that he can travel all over the globe writing travel stories.”
Tessa thought of the map in the apartment. “The pushpins on the map . . . those are where Paul has been?”
“Harry’s doing,” Cecilia said with a dismissive wave. “He’s proud of his adventurer.”
“And you’re not?” Tessa stood and brushed her hands against her pants.
Cecilia shrugged and deadheaded a fennel flower. “It’s not that I’m not proud. I worry. I’m his mother. Do you know what becomes of an old adventurer who travels the world alone, never settling down, never having a family?”
A dandelion pod released its feathery seeds into the windy air. A dozen mini puffs of escaping wishes danced around her before being swept down the alley. “He sits around telling great stories?”
“And who does he share these great stories with when he is all alone?” she asked. “I don’t want him to grow old without anyone, but more than that, I’d like to see him. It’s been five years. It might as well be a lifetime.” She walked up the alley toward the front of the diner.
Tessa knew the conversation was finished. Plants seemed to lean away from Cecilia as she passed, pushing against one another for comfort. Tessa reached out and pressed a sage leaf between two fingers, releasing the oils onto her skin. She sighed and wished for a man she’d never met to come to Mystic Water.
Chapter 4
Mint Tea and Caramel Creams
Tessabalancedapotof mint on her hip while she wiggled the key into the apartment lock. Cecilia had given Tessa the herb and insisted she take care of it. She worried about the repercussions if she were unable to keep the plant alive. Finding herself wilting beneath the look she’d seen on Cecilia’s face a time or two sent a shudder down her spine. Mr. Borelli stood behind Tessa on the landing as she pushed open the door.
“You know y’all didn’t have to do this,” Tessa said. “You’ve done enough already, letting me stay here for free. Y’all didn’t have to make food for me. I can cook.”
Mr. Borelli smiled and carried two bags full of fresh food into the kitchen, pushing the door closed with his foot. “That’s not how Lily tells it. Seems I remember a story about a turkey catching fire in the oven and a casserole dish exploding on the stove. Last Thanksgiving, was it?” He grinned to show he was teasing.
Tessa groaned and shook her head. “Lord have mercy, they’re never going to let me forget that.”
“Or cook Thanksgiving dinner again, I suspect.” Mr. Borelli unloaded the bags and began sorting foods in the refrigerator.
Tessa noticed a wooden plant stand in the living room, so she situated the mint on it and scooted the stand near the bookshelf and window. “Mr. Borelli, you don’t have to put away the groceries too,” she said as she opened the living room window. A breeze slipped in and tickled magazine pages, causing them to flutter and whisper. She listened for a moment and then returned to the kitchen.
“Call me Harry, and I don’t mind helping. Neither one of us do. There are a lot of people in a bad way right now, and we’d like to help any way we can. You’ve been supporting us since we opened, and we appreciate that,” he said. “Besides, helping you keeps me out of Cece’s way a bit longer. She’s in a mood.”
Tessa bit her bottom lip. “I think that’s my fault.”
“You can’t take the blame for Paul,” Harry said. A scent of cloves blew through the open window. Tessa breathed it in.
“How did you know her mood was because of him?” Tessa stacked fresh tomatoes in a colander on the countertop.
“No one else makes her want to whip up a batch of strawberry pancakes and French toast made with challah bread,” Harry said. When Tessa’s forehead wrinkled, he added, “Those were Paul’s favorites as a little boy.”
Tessa leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “And eating it makes her feel closer to him?”
