The Tea Shop Read online

  "No. Most of the town still thinks I killed her. But there was no proof. Because I didn't do it. And I saw that police officer’s eyes last night. Why would you and I be driving around at 3 AM with nothing else to do? I didn't put Mrs. Winters in harm's way. In fact, I tried to get you to get her out of the house.”

  “Maybe had you told me this when you came to my office…”

  “You could have had time to run like hell,” she countered.

  Carson went silent. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Chapter 21

  Abigail sat in her screened in porch, and she hated that she did. A quilt her grandmother had made her was wrapped around her legs. She had been nursing the same cup of the tea for an hour, and it was bitter cold.

  Carson had decided to leave, and she didn't blame him. What kind of lunatic tells you she knows the future? What man ever wants to hear who he's going to marry, how he's going to marry, and how many children he will have? Not to mention that she sounded crazy telling him how she knew of Mrs. Winters’ illness, and the fire.

  What she had to remember, was that they had saved her life. They got there before she could have walked out to the hallway when the house was engulfed.

  Later, when the chaos around her settled a bit, Abigail would go to Mrs. Winters. Why had she been the one to give her so much information? Carson said because they were kindred souls, the shared birthday. But she didn't know if that was true. Plenty of people were born on October fourteenth. If it was, in fact, a day of the sixth sense, wouldn't the world know about that?

  Sunday was a day of peace and quiet for her, but in her head, it was anything but quiet. She missed him already, and she hated that she did. It shouldn't matter that he walked out the door. There was no reason for him to come back through it either.

  News of the fire had gotten to Clare. She had called and wanted to know what she could do. There was nothing to do, Abigail told her. Mrs. Winters was in the hospital, and Abigail was sitting alone wallowing in self-pity. It shouldn't have been surprised her that Clare drove over with a crockpot full of soup. At least it made Abigail laugh. Only Clare would always have a crockpot of soup ready to go. Then again, so had their grandmother.

  As she sat at her kitchen table, still in her pajamas at three o'clock in the afternoon, Clare handed her a bowl of soup.

  Clare sat down across from her with her bowl. "Grandma said there were always reasons for soup.”

  Abigail laughed. "I sometimes wonder if she'd still be around if they'd they found that tumor.”

  "Well, I can guarantee you if you ever tell a family member they have a tumor, they'll listen.”

  "Fantastic. I'd rather not know. Look what good it's done for me." She lifted her soup to her lips, blew, and slurped. "I decided I either need to shut myself up in my house forever and never talk to anyone again, or open some ten dollar psychic reading stand."

  “We can set you up a table at the tea shop," Clare joked, and it lightened the mood.

  "It wouldn't work for every person. I didn't see things when I touched Carson. Not even when we…"

  She noticed her cousin stopping mid-spoonful. Her eyes wide open.

  "Don't act like you didn't know that was coming. I told you I was going to marry him, right?”

  Clare took a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped her mouth. "You did. I didn't think you liked him. He's going to tear down that church.”

  "I suppose now I can focus my efforts on that. Maybe if he saw me at the meeting coming up, he'd walk out. Leave the whole project and go,” she said with her hands in the air in a grand gesture. “Who knows, I might just save the town.”

  "So you're not going to marry him?"

  Abigail pushed back her soup and rested her arms on the table. "I doubt it. I wouldn't want a lunatic for a spouse.”

  "Does it work that way? Can you change fate?”

  "I don't know. Later, I'm going to visit Mrs. Winters. Maybe she can tell me.”

  Clare held up her spoon, using it to gesture towards Abigail. "You think she knows something. More than just transferring the premonition to you. You think she understands it.”

  Abigail shrugged. “I have nothing to lose, right? Besides, there was a moment in her bedroom when we were getting her out of the fire. She kept talking to Jeffery, her grandson and Carson's best friend. He's been dead for sixteen years or more. Carson thought she was confusing him with Jeffery. But I think she was talking to Jeffery.”

  “As if he was there in the room with you guys?”

  "Something like that. Anyway, it was contact with her that made me see Carson. I just want to know what happens now.”

  Carson decided that Sunday morning was the perfect time to start the flooring in the kitchen.

  He took the old beat up pickup truck, which he used for renovation, and spent the morning at the Home Depot. He wanted to go to Mrs. Winters, but he opted to call her son instead. After having her call him Jeffery, he didn't want to confuse her any further.

  Her son had confirmed that she was fine. But they had decided to get her some assistance. The house would be uninhabitable for a while, and at least she wasn't arguing about not getting to go home.

  The tile in the kitchen would take him days. Mostly because he wasn't very good at it, and because of his impatience he'd already cracked two of them. But, it would keep his mind off Abigail.

  He couldn't decide how he felt about what she had told him. Part of him wanted to call her crazy and have her locked up. The other part of him wanted to kiss away any pain she may have.

  If everything she had said was true, he had decided that was a terrible way to live. She had a gift that could help other people, but most of them, like him, were skeptical. How badly had she been treated back home to make her move this far away? He didn't believe that she had killed Katie Meadows. He might have for a few days, or had hoped she hadn't. But now, he truly didn’t believe she did. But how many people back home still thought she had?

  And now, what would come after the fire and Mrs. Winters’ house? Surely once a fire investigator was in there, they would know that Abigail was innocent.

  God, he hoped that's what they would find.

  Later, much later, he would go back to her and apologize. He hadn't stormed out, as she asked him not to. He hadn't said much either. There was too much to sort out in his head.

  As he lined up the tiles and inserted the spacers, he thought about the church on Ford Street. If they’d had a prior argument, it was about that church. Why was it so important to her that it didn't get torn down?

  He’d love to keep the integrity of the building. However, it needed to be gutted. The structure was unsafe. There were a few things he could probably do to keep some of the church, which they hadn't figured into the designs, but—he dropped another tile and it shattered.

  “Shit!” He sat back on his heels and looked at the mess around him. This wasn't clearing his mind as he had hoped it would. He needed a good long walk. The mess could wait.

  Carson walked back to his bedroom and pulled out his running shoes. He’d take a walk to the top of the stairs at Mother Cabrini's shrine. The view always inspired him and cleared his head. Perhaps a brisk cold walk to the top would do just that.

  Chapter 22

  There was something about hospitals that made Abigail sick to her stomach. She kept her hands in tight fists, in the pockets of her coat. She was afraid to touch anything. These walls could talk, and she was sure they would talk to her.

  When she had reached the room where Mrs. Winters was, she stood outside for a moment. Perhaps it was a mistake to see her. The woman couldn't remember who Carson was, and he was an important part of her life.

  "Abigail." She heard her name called from the room. “Please come in here.”

  Abigail closed her eyes and let out a long steady breath. It was Mrs. Winters’ voice which called to her.

  Abigail moved to the door, which was luckily open just the slightest bit, and pushed it o
pen with her arm.

  Mrs. Winters sat in her bed, her eyes bright, and her smile warm. Abigail hadn't been sure what she would see, but she was sure that Mrs. Winters wasn't going to look as fantastic as she did.

  "You look good," Abigail said, her voice cracking a bit.

  "I am good. Thanks to you and Carson, I’m perfect.”

  Abigail completely believed her. Had they told her of her illness? Perhaps it was better if she didn't know.

  "I'm glad you doing well. I wanted to stop by and make sure.”

  Mrs. Winters narrowed her eyes at Abigail. "You and Carson have had an argument. Over me?”

  How was she supposed to answer that? It wasn't directly over Mrs. Winters.

  “A misunderstanding, perhaps.”

  Mrs. Winters clasped her hands together on her lap. "Abigail, darling, hold no secrets with me. We are alike. Born on the same day. I've seen your life, darling. It’s a beautiful life.”

  Tears immediately choked Abigail, and she coughed trying to clear her throat. But the tears came. “How do you see it?”

  "The same way you do. The moment I touched your hand, I saw everything, and so did you. He's your soulmate, Abigail. And he's a good one.”

  Abigail wiped away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She'd never had anyone in her life who truly understood what she was going through. Mrs. Winters understood her completely. "I've always felt so alone. People don’t understand.”

  "Some of us do. Why do you think I married my husband so quickly? I knew he was the right one. It was more than seeing it in my dreams, or when I touched him. I knew it in my heart.”

  "But I don't see anything when I touch him. Not when I kiss him or make love to him," she said as she felt the heat rising her cheeks.

  The smile widened on Mrs. Winters dry lips. "No need to be embarrassed around me, darling." She reached for Abigail's hand, and without thinking, Abigail took hers.

  She saw Carson, standing atop a mountain. She saw him come to her with flowers. Instinctively, she pulled back from Mrs. Winters.

  "I'm sorry. I’m afraid to see anymore.”

  "You shouldn't be, but I understand." Mrs. Winters rested her head against the pillow. "My time here is almost over. They don't want me to know that. But it is.”

  Abigail wiped her cheeks again and willed herself to stop crying. “You have a little time left.”

  "You and I know that, but still not very long. It is long enough for me to have tea with my birthday girl.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll bring the tea party to you if I have to.”

  "You won't have to." Mrs. Winters took a moment, and Abigail assumed she had more to say. "I'm not crazy, you know. I knew it was you and Carson helping me out of my bedroom that night, but Jeffery was there too.”

  Abigail nodded. "I knew that. I didn't sense or see him," she clarified. "But I knew that you did."

  "He's preparing me. When the time is right, he’ll be waiting for me.”

  Abigail wondered how that could make anyone calm. But for Mrs. Winters, it seemed to.

  "I should let you get some rest.”

  "Abigail, don't let him go. He loves you. He'll do anything for you. But be careful, in doing so there is danger. I can't see it, but I can see beyond it— sometimes." She lifted her hands in a gesture. "Take care of each other. In your heart, you know this is true love."

  Mrs. Winters closed her eyes, and Abigail took that as her signal to leave.

  As she walked out to her car, she wondered what it had meant to see Carson atop a mountain. Was that literal? How was she to find him on top of a mountain? Well, he was the one that walked out or was pushed out. Abigail would wait for him to come to her.

  Just as Abigail moved to the front door to turn the sign to closed, on Monday afternoon, she saw Carson leaning against his car, a bouquet of flowers in his arms. He wasn't moving toward the store. Obviously, he was waiting for her to notice him.

  Abigail opened the door, locking it behind her, and sliding the keys into her apron pocket. The October air had grown cold, and she crossed her arms in front of her to keep her warm.

  "I was hoping you would look up," he said as she walked toward him.

  "You could have come in.”

  "I wasn't so sure." He handed her the flowers. "I don't think there's another woman I've ever given this many flowers to. I’ve missed you.”

  Abigail lifted her eyes from the flowers to him. "I’ve missed you too.”

  "Mrs. Winters said you went to see her.”

  "I did," she said as her voice quivered from the cold.

  Carson opened his car door and retrieved his coat from inside. He moved to her and placed it over her shoulders.

  "Thank you."

  He nodded. "I owe you an apology. I just didn't know how to wrap my head around what you told me. I've been set straight. I'm sorry."

  Abigail thought on that for a moment. “I assume this has to do with a conversation you had with Mrs. Winters?”

  “Trust me. I'm not one to argue with her."

  "Are you claiming to understand me, just to satisfy her?"

  Carson reached for Abigail's hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. "No. I'm willing to understand because I love you.”

  Abigail felt her lips tremble. "Carson…"

  He pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't, don't say anything. I don't understand this gift, or curse, that you have. But I understand now that you're not the only person. I hope that through your gift, you see good things, and want to keep me around.”

  In her heart, she had been waiting for this moment. She hadn't wanted to keep him, in the beginning. He stood for things she didn't believe in. If she didn't take a chance, she would regret it forever. She knew that she loved him, Mrs. Winters was right.

  "I don't want to lose you.”

  "I'm not going anywhere. Let me help you finish up. I want to show you my home now. We'll pick up some takeout on the way."

  Chapter 23

  They had stopped for Chinese food. Abigail sat in his luxury car with the bag on her lap. Carson drove just north of town, and through a neighborhood Abigail was familiar with.

  "Clare lives just around the corner," she said. “I remember this house being for sale.”

  "Then you remember what a mess it was," he said as he drove into the gravel that was used as a driveway.

  From the looks of the outside, she wasn't sure there had been any improvement. Then again, he had told her that much. She would save any judgment until she saw the inside.

  Carson turned off the engine and opened his door. "Don't move." He skirted the front of the car, and came to her door and opened it. "I'll take this," he said as he took the bag from her. "I know where all the divots in the floor are. I don't want you to fall.”

  Abigail laughed as she climbed from the car. “If this is a dangerous place to be, why would I want to be here?”

  "Because I'm here," he said with a wink, and then took her hand, and led her to the house.

  Carson unlocked the door and pushed it in. He reached around the wall and turned on the light. Abigail held her breath and realized that the disappointment was real.

  "I told you, this will be the last room to get done. No judging. Wait until you see the bathroom and my bedroom. Oh, and the kitchen floor.”

  Abigail plastered a smile on her face. "I'll keep an open mind.”

  Carson closed and locked the front door. He took her hand and led her through to the kitchen. Again, he turned on the light.

  "I was trying to get the floor finished yesterday. But my mind wasn't clear enough. So I took a walk to the top of Mother Cabrini's shine."

  Carson turned to her when she gasped. "Top of the mountain."

  "What does that mean?”

  She considered for a moment before going forward with the conversation. It was okay to tell him. He promised to try to understand.

  "Mrs. Winters took my hand, and I saw you on top of the mountain.”

  Carson gav
e her hand to squeeze. “I guess you'll never have to track my phone then will you?”

  She laughed, as the moment intended humor. But she worried, as Carson held her hand and she saw nothing.

  Carson, still carrying the bag of food, led her down the hallway and to the back of the house. He pushed open another door, this time she was impressed.

  “Oh, this is beautiful."

  Abigail leaned in through the doorway, afraid to walk into the room. The dark plush carpet, accented by earthy brown walls made the space cozy and warm. The trim, painted white, gave it the perfect contrast. He had an enormous king size bed, which was made perfectly with a duvet and accent pillows. She couldn't help but wonder if he planned to bring her there. An entertainment center was built into the wall adjacent the bed. Who needed a television that big in their bedroom.

  "You can come in," he said as he walked into the room. "I have a table where we can eat." He pointed to a little table in the corner.

  "I don't want to walk through here with my shoes on.”

  “Considering the construction mess and the rest of the house, I highly recommend you do leave them on.”

  Abigail stepped into the bedroom. “You eat in here?”

  “You did see my kitchen, right?”

  “So you’re basically living in your bedroom?”

  Carson set the bag on the small table and looked around the room.

  “Yep. But not forever. C’mon, sit down.”

  Abigail walked to the table and sat in one of the chairs. “You have two chairs.”

  “And you’re afraid I bring other people in here to eat?”

  She shrugged. Yes, unfortunately, that was exactly what she was thinking.

  Carson began to take out the containers and set them on the table. “It’s a table for the patio when I get the deck redone. It came with two chairs. My kitchen table is in storage, and this keeps it out of the way. Hence two chairs at my table in my bedroom.”