Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(42)

“Do you think I might have twins?” Justine asked. She and Seth had been wondering about it; she supposed the coming ultrasound would give them a definite answer.

“They do run in the family.” Her mother smiled again, clearly pleased by the thought.

“Grandmother had twin brothers, right?”

Olivia nodded. Her two grand-uncles were both gone now, but Charlotte had an album full of pictures.

“Justine, do you feel as if you’re carrying twins?”

“Oh, heavens, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Mom, I wanted to tell you what’s happening at the Tea Room.”

Her mother sat up straighter. “Okay, fill me in.”

“Well, I’ve decided to paint the outside a lovely shade of pink.”

“Pink,” Olivia repeated. “Pink,” she said again, frowning as though she hadn’t heard correctly.

Justine grinned at her mother’s expression. “Your reaction is the same as Seth’s when I told him.” He hadn’t tried to dissuade her but she could tell he found her choice odd. Justine was very sure about the color, though. She’d gone over every detail at least a dozen times.

She was at the site every day, discussing the project with her builder. So many decisions had to be made daily that it was prudent and sensible to check in with the construction crew. After every visit she felt more excited about the new restaurant and what it would mean to the Cedar Cove community, especially the women. They’d adore going out to lunch. It would be a special place to meet that catered to them specifically.

“The Tea Room’s going to be a destination restaurant,” she said proudly.

“It’ll be pink as a flamingo,” her mother teased, “which should make it easy to find.”

“No, pink as in dusty rose.” Feeling almost giddy, Justine laughed and her mother joined in. It took Justine a moment to realize that her mother’s laughter sounded forced.

She wanted to ask if anything was wrong, but didn’t. If her mother and Jack had quarreled, Justine had no intention of prying. Anything Olivia meant to share, she’d tell Justine without prodding.

“I’m so tired,” Olivia said weakly, sipping her tea.

“Do you want to go back to bed?”

“Maybe I should. In a few minutes.” She finished her tea and reached for the white pot. It shook precariously in her hand.

“Here, Mom.” Justine quickly took the teapot away from her. “Let me do that.” Her mother’s frail condition after the surgery worried her. She looked dreadful, something Justine hadn’t wanted to admit earlier. Her skin was flushed and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Is your grandmother done with the recipes?” Olivia asked, diverting Justine’s interest.

“Almost. Oh, Mom, you won’t believe what a fabulous job Grandma’s doing.”

Olivia nodded, smiling. “I knew she would.”

“Grandma’s been collecting recipes for weeks.” All Justine had asked for was a few of Charlotte’s special recipes, but her grandmother had gone far beyond her expectations.

“Grandma’s determined to finish organizing everything before she and Ben leave on their Christmas cruise in two weeks.”

“She has quite a few, then?” Her mother’s hand trembled as she lifted her cup.

“I’d say a couple of hundred. Mom, you’ve just got to see it. Ben typed everything into the computer for her. Then Grandma read over each of the recipes and added special touches and little anecdotes. She made me my very own family cookbook. She even included recipes from friends like Grace and Corrie McAfee and Peggy Beldon. All her holiday dishes are there, too. But the best part is the little notes.”

“Give me an example,” Olivia said.

“Well, for instance, on her recipe for cinnamon rolls, she says that if she’s baking them for Jack to leave out the raisins.”

Her mother nodded.

“Grandma thought it was funny that Jack would hate raisins since he likes grapes.”

Her mother’s eyes softened. “He likes plums, too, but not prunes, you know.”

Justine thought they should avoid any further comment on Jack’s dislike of dried fruit. “Anyway,” she went on, “Grandma has all kinds of hints, plus she explains where she got some of the recipes. Remember all those wakes she attended over the years?” Justine and Olivia shared a complicit grin. “Mom, the cookbook’s a real treasure.”

“That’s your grandmother,” Olivia murmured. “When she sets her mind on something, there’s no holding her back.”

“It’s the most wonderful gift she could’ve given me.”

“Your brother’s favorite cookies were gingerbread.” Her mother seemed lost in thought.

“James?”

“Jordan. Only he didn’t want me to bake them in the shape of little men. He was far too cool for that. So I made them round like every other cookie.”

Justine didn’t remember that.

“He asked me to bake them for him.”

They seldom talked about Jordan’s youth. Even now, after more than twenty years, it was simply too painful. The fact that her mother was talking about his favorite cookies was decidedly odd.