“Many moms go through some version of postpartum depression, but not as serious as Vi’s experiencing. Now general practitioners and gynecologists try to catch it early. Willa, as a midwife, was particularly aware of it.”
Gavin raked his hand through his sandy brown hair, then rubbed his square jaw. “I hate to think Annie needed help and I didn’t notice.”
“You would have noticed. You’re that type of man.”
Gavin looked a little embarrassed and flushed. “I might have learned a thing or two since I was young. Back then, I’m not sure what kind of man I was. The truth is—I don’t think I was as mature as Foster is. What I’m concerned about with him is that he’ll take on too much responsibility. He needs an education and I want him to have it, but he can’t expect to work one or two jobs, go to class, and help Vi too. Not if he wants to eat and sleep and not get sick.”
“I agree. Two jobs?”
“From what I understand, he’s spending a lot more time on his Web site business.”
“If he builds that up, that could be more lucrative than working here,” Daisy admitted.
“Possibly. But I guess I simply wanted you to come on board to make sure we take care of Foster too. If he gets run-down, that’s not going to help Vi.”
“I absolutely agree. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Of course not,” Gavin protested with a shake of his head. “I suppose I just wanted backup. The truth is, I think he’d listen to you better than he listens to me. After all, you’re the one who kept a sane head when they wanted to get married.”
“You came around admirably.”
He sighed. “Not one of my finer moments at first.” He glanced toward his daughter. She was already talking with the two women and children at the table. “I better get over there before Emily plans a community gingerbread house.” He started toward the table, then turned around. “I mean it, Daisy. If you need anything to help Vi and Foster, please let me know.”
“I will, Gavin. I will.”
The laughter, fun, spilled candy and icing, sticky fingers, and the sampling of gingerbread all combined to make a wonderful day. The houses themselves on their cardboard platforms went from cabins to ranchers to double-storied Hansel and Gretel replicas. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Not only that, but the tea garden’s sales cases almost looked bare. They’d rung up more bags of tea today too than on a normal Saturday. Maybe people were getting ready for the holidays.
Some of the children and their parents had already left when Emily showed Daisy her finished house. Daisy could tell that Gavin, a master at construction, had had a hand in it. It was well built, evenly decorated with windows that were even complemented by window boxes. The gingerbread trim had been expertly applied. “You and your dad make a good team.”
Emily beamed at her. “We do. This was a whole lot of fun. Do you think it’s okay if me and Ben come over to see the baby tomorrow? We’ve been dying to see him, but Dad kept telling us Foster and Vi needed a chance to get into a routine.”
Obviously, Gavin hadn’t told Emily and Ben exactly what was going on. Maybe that was best, so they wouldn’t act differently around Vi and Foster. “Babies have very unpredictable hours. Sammy’s doing better now with his napping and sleeping schedule. The best thing to do is to call or text Vi and Foster and ask them the best time to come over.”
Gavin tweaked his daughter’s braids. “I think the secret will be to not stay too long. Shorter visits are probably better than longer ones. You can stop in more often that way.”
Emily looked to Daisy as if she didn’t quite trust what her dad had told her.
“Your dad’s right. With shorter visits, no one gets too tired.”
Emily leaned close to Daisy. “I have a present for Sammy. It’s the cutest little baseball outfit. Do you think Vi and Foster will like it?”
“I think they’ll like it, and Sammy will too. Just give them a call and make sure he’s not having one of his fussy spells. Then you’ll be good to go.”
Gavin’s shoulder touched Daisy’s when he said, “Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”
* * *
Later that day, Iris was at the sales counter and pointed to a table with two of their regular customers. Betty Sue and her sister Rhonda came in to sample different teas, lunch offerings, and baked goods. They were millennials and knew exactly what they wanted.
Daisy crossed to them and asked, “What will you have today?”
Betty Sue, who usually wore something purple—like the jeans and sweater she’d donned today—said, “How about that cocoa rooibos and a slice of apple gingerbread. Do you have clotted cream for that?”
“We have whipped cream. How about you, Rhonda?”
Rhonda, whose blue hair atop her head was usually arranged in a messy topknot, said, “I’ll try the peppermint tea. It seems fitting for the season. With that, I’d like two lemon tea cakes.”
“Both will be coming right up.”
Daisy went to the kitchen to ready a tray. When she returned to the main tearoom, she served both women, adding a ceramic pot of honey and a bowl of sparkling sugar in case they wanted to add that to their teas.
Betty Sue dipped her finger to sample the whipped cream. “I heard Margaret Vaughn insisted on clotted cream at her tea.”
There were so many aspects of a small town that Daisy liked. But there was one aspect she wasn’t sure did anyone any good—the gossip running rampant like wildfire. The Amish believed gossiping was a sin. Daisy only wished the rest of the town did too.
“Yes, Margaret ordered clotted cream.”
“I knew Margaret,” Rhonda revealed. “We met at the farmers’ market of all places, and we struck up a conversation. She found out I
