Ellen a few feet away, her gaze locked on the paintings. Ava could feel Ellen’s deep grief fighting for release behind her taut expression.
To give her some privacy, Ava turned back to the paintings. “Julie was so talented. I have one of her paintings at my house. It’s of a little girl walking across a sunlit field. I’m pretty sure it’s Kristen, because they have the same hair color, but I can’t be sure, as Julie never painted faces.”
Ellen turned away, saying over her shoulder, “She was talented.”
The words were clipped, and Ava could tell Ellen was still struggling for control. “Julie was an amazing artist. She had quite a large following, too.”
Ellen nodded, suddenly intent on studying the antique bow window, which kept her face turned away. After a long moment, she managed to say in a voice that quivered only a little, “I met with the attorney this morning. Julie was doing well. Very well, in fact.”
Ava could hear the surprise in Ellen’s voice. “You didn’t know.”
Ellen returned to the bar, absently rubbing her hip. “Julie and I hadn’t spoken in ten years.”
Oh wow. Ava tried to remember what Julie had said about her mother and realized that she’d never mentioned her at all. “I see. Ten years is a long time.” Ava picked up two mugs from where they rested on a tray behind the bar. When the tearoom eventually opened, she’d serve the tea in china cups, but sturdy mugs were better suited for a work zone. “I believe I said something about tea the other day. Would you like some?”
A flicker of surprise warmed Ellen’s expression. “Yes, thank you.”
Ava went to the sink, filled a teakettle, and pulled out a few canisters, placing them on the bar in front of Ellen. “Chamomile? Willow bark and raspberry? Honey lemon?”
“Which do you suggest?”
“Willow bark and raspberry will help your hip. Willow bark is an excellent natural painkiller.”
Ellen’s smile disappeared. “I don’t need a painkiller.”
Ava let her gaze drop to where Ellen’s hand still rested on her hip.
Ellen flushed and dropped her hand back to her side. After a long, stilted moment, she asked, “Is it safe?”
Ava had to smile. “Originally aspirin was made from the white willow, so yes, it’s safe.” She pushed the other canisters to one side. “I think I’ll join you. I’ve had a slight headache all day, and the willow bark will help.” She filled the mugs with hot water, found two infusers, and returned to the bar. She added leaves to the infusers, clicked them closed, and then dropped them into the gently steaming mugs. She slid one across the bar to Ellen. “Let it steep for five minutes.” She set a small saucer between them so they could remove the infusers without dripping tea across the bar.
Ellen peered into her mug with polite curiosity. “I saw a canister of your tea in Julie’s cupboard.”
“I’ve been meaning to come by and pick that up. I made it just for Julie. My teas are made specifically for each client, so they don’t work for anyone else.”
A flicker of disbelief crossed Ellen’s face, although she didn’t say anything.
The people of Dove Pond had come to rely on Ava’s teas, but every once in a while, someone from the outside world would give her just such a look.
She mentally shrugged. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation, not about this, anyway. She saw Ellen eyeing her mug of tea with renewed suspicion and said with a touch of impatience, “That isn’t a specialty tea. It’s from my diffusion line, which is for everyone. You can get that same tea at just about every coffeehouse in Asheville.”
Ellen bent and cautiously sniffed the tea. “It smells delicious.”
Ava pulled her mug closer, her gaze falling back on the paintings, her thoughts returning to Julie. “When did she start painting? I always meant to ask her, but the subject never came up.”
“I bought her a set of paints when she was in third grade. Little did I know what I was starting. By the time she reached high school, she was painting for hours each day, much to the detriment of her grades.” Ellen gave a self-conscious laugh. “She was good, but I didn’t think she—or anyone else, really—could make a living from it. I guess she proved me wrong.”
“Julie said she had to eat a lot of ramen early on. It took her years to get to the caviar stage.”
“Yes, well, I believed artists ate ramen their entire lives.