“Lavender apple pie, huh?”
Hilary nodded and sipped her tea. “I’ve never tried it. Maybe I should experiment when I get home. You can send me some lavender.”
“So will baking pies fit into the apple orchard venture somehow?”
She looked at her mug, lifting it to her lips. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said before she sipped.
Her tone was noncommittal as it was each time he’d asked her something about her business plan. So far, she’d deferred to her sister-in-law, saying “Jorie ’s taking care of that” or given him a trite response before changing the subject. Hilary had yet to show any real passion for their project. He wondered if coming to this conference had been her idea or her sister-in-law’s.
“I’ve shared enough. It’s your turn,” she said.
“Good memories?” He tapped his spoon on the counter, thinking. “Well, here’s one: Hurricane Katrina.”
Her mug froze in midair. The corners of her mouth turned down. “Uh, that’s a rather odd good memory.”
“It didn’t quite come out the way I intended. It was atransformativememory for me. How’s that?”
“Better.”
“Anyway, our church took a mission trip down there after it happened. I was in my late teens at the time. There was a group of fifteen of us. We basically worked on houses, cleaning them out, doing repairs, making them habitable again.”
“I can’t even imagine what the conditions were like in those places.”
“Some houses had water up to the top of the doorframe. Mold. And critters like you couldn’t imagine.”
Hilary shuddered. “Don’t say any more. I’ll trust you on that.”
Dane chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“That must have been satisfying, though. Seeing the progress. Having a hand in it.”
“It was. But even more than that it showed those people they weren’t forgotten. I think having strangers work on your behalf when you’re at rock bottom is so powerful. It made a lasting impression on me, at least.”
“I get it. It’s why I loved being a school social worker.”
Dane cupped his mug, pausing to let that new bit of information seep in. “So, you’re not anymore?”
She shook her head, not looking up. “No. I lost my job when my school district consolidated with another.”
“What did you love about it?”
Hilary’s grin spread across her face. “Definitely the kids. Junior high kids get such a bad rap, but I adored them. I really felt I’d found my calling.”
“Maybe you’ll find something else someday?”
“Probably not.” Hilary hitched a shoulder. “Now Jorie has this idea… I mean, Jorie and I are going into business together, so it’s just as well.”
They sat there in the stillness, Hilary sipping her tea while he pretended to. He glanced at the clock on the wall. A half hour had passed.
“I’m getting sleepy. Finally.” Hilary rubbed the back of her neck.
“Happy to have sufficiently bored you.”
She giggled. “No, it was the tea.” She glanced at his nearly full mug. “How was yours?”
“Truth? I don’t like tea.”
Hilary wrinkled her nose. “I can tell.”
