"I heard you were back," Oliver said, his voice very carefully neutral.
"Yes, I'm here," Gwen said, not even sure why exactly she was stressing here over back. Perhaps Oliver talking about her being "back" reminded her too much of his possessive attitude last winter, his assumption that this was where she belonged.
"How are you?" she continued brightly. "Enjoying your summer?"
Oliver shrugged. "It feels a little strange with Jack being gone."
"May I help you?" Ava interrupted them.
Oliver looked startled. "Oh—er, no, no thank you."
Ava's dark eyebrows flew to the top of her forehead. "You came in without wanting anything?"
Even in the dim light, Gwen could see Oliver's colour darken. "I, uh, I came in to see Gwen. Mary Crawford said you were in the village today, and then when you weren't in the pharmacy or Flagg and Douglas', I remembered how much you liked coffee and thought you might be in here …" his voice trailed off.
"You should be a detective," Ava said dryly. "A regular Sherlock Holmes."
Oliver seated himself on the stool next to Gwen.
"Sorry," Ava said. "Seating is for customers only."
He looked annoyed. "Fine. I'll take a coffee."
"You don't drink coffee," Gwen pointed out.
"We have tea, if you prefer," Ava said. Gwen wondered if she was just imagining the spark of mischief in the other girl's eyes.
"Tea, then," he said impatiently.
"India or China?"
"Whichever is easiest," he growled.
Ava shook her head. "They are equally easy—or equally difficult, depending on your point of view."
"India, then," Oliver said, obviously just picking one out of the air.
Ava smiled. "Coming right up." Her voice was smooth and sweet, and Gwen decided she definitely had not imagined the mischief. Even after a few moments' conversation, Ava did not strike her as sweet.
She couldn't help but be grateful for the distraction to Oliver, though.
"So," he said, dismissing Ava from his mind and turning back to Gwen. "How has school been?" There was a distinct bite of challenge to his words, and Gwen felt a small stab of annoyance. Just because Kingsport High was bigger school than the Glen High, with teachers who couldn't pay as much individual attention to the students, didn't mean her education was suffering for being there.
"School has been excellent," she said. She motioned to her spectacles. "I found that everything started going much better once I got these."
"I thought something looked different," he said.
"One Indian tea," Ava said, placing a steaming cup before Oliver.
"Thank you," he said. He took one sip, grimaced, and set the cup back down. "Are you finished?" he asked Gwen.
"Why?"
"I thought maybe we could take a walk, get caught up." He smiled uncertainly, and Gwen's annoyance melted away. Oliver really had been a good friend, until he let romance interfere. "Go down to the harbour, our old spot?"
The annoyance returned. The harbour run had been Gwen's, and even though Oliver had shared it with her in the past, it was her special place, not "theirs."
"Sorry," she said. "I'm afraid I'm not free."
"Why not?" He looked hurt, and guilt mixed in with all of Gwen's other feelings. It wasn't—entirely—Oliver's fault that he kept rubbing her the wrong way. She bit her lip, wondering what excuse she could use.
"Gwen has offered to show my brother and me around the Glen," Ava said unexpectedly. "We haven't been here that long, you know, and we haven't really gotten to know anyone or know anything about the village." She smiled at Gwen. "We'll be ready for our break in about ten minutes, if that's all right by you?"
"That will be fine," Gwen said, feeling both relieved and conspiratorial. She wondered what had prompted the other girl to come to her rescue, but decided not to push the matter.
"Fine," Oliver said shortly, the black brows he had inherited from his mother drawn together in a fierce scowl. "I guess I'll just see you around, then."
Gwen told him that that sounded good, and he left after paying for the tea he didn't drink.
"Hope you didn't mind me jumping in like that," Ava said. "It just didn't seem like you were all that glad to see him, and I thought maybe you could use some help."
"No, I'm very grateful," Gwen said. She could see why Hayden said Ava was the forceful one—and why it was hard to say no to her. That decisive manner, with her undeniable—if unusual—charm, was a powerful combination.
"You don't really have to show us around, if you've other things you'd rather do," Ava said.
"Is it true, that you haven't had a chance to get to know the Glen at all?"
"Well, yes." Ava rubbed the counter with a cloth and lowered her voice. "The fact is, Hay and I seem to be rather unpopular around here. You're the first young person to say more than hello to us since we got here." Surprisingly, her dark eyes showed a hint of hurt. "I daresay I wouldn't blame them for disliking us after they've gotten to know us, but to not even give us a chance … well, I suppose that was another reason I gave that boy a hard time."
"How horrible!" Gwen was immediately indignant. Why should the Glen young folk have a prejudice against the Wentworths? She wished Jack were still there; he was friendly to everyone, and all the other Glen youth followed his lead in everything.
Well she wasn't her cousin, but she'd show them that she wasn't afraid to be friends with the two newcomers.
"As it happens, I have this entire day free," she said with her friendliest smile, "And I would love to show you all around the Glen."
"Really?" Ava beamed. "We really are free in—well, about five minutes by now. Uncle Edward always gives us our breaks together. Let me go just let Hay know."
"Hay knows," came that young man's drawl from the back room. "I've been back here listening to every word the two of you and Gwen's young man friend have said."
Ava rolled her eyes, and Gwen laughed.
"I'll tell Uncle Edward we're going," Hayden's disembodied voice continued.
"Uncle Edward's shy, which is one reason we're here to help him get started—we do most of the waiting on customers, while he takes care of everything behind the scenes. I'm supposed to help him hire new help before we go home this autumn," Ava explained to Gwen.
Hayden popped back into view. "He said we can go."
Ava untied her apron and came out from behind the counter. Gwen caught one glimpse of a short, thin man drifting in from the back before she saw, for the first time, Ava's outfit.
She was wearing trousers, and not the practical fishing trousers like Mary Crawford had been wearing, but long, wide-legged linen trousers like what Katharine Hepburn always wore in her films.
It was one thing for children to wear trousers or overalls for working around the farm or playing with their chums, but Gwen knew very few girls her age or older who wore them in public, or anywhere but the shore and for bed. Even her own mother never wore trousers outside the house, though that perhaps had more to do with her role as minister's wife than any desire to be proper for her own part. Aunt Persis and Mary, again, wore them when they were doing vet work out on the farms, but even then people tended to sniff at the impropriety of it. Gwen doubted even fearless Aunt Persis would wear trousers out and about in society.
It explained, perhaps, why the more prim maidens of Glen St. Mary looked askance at Ava, just as Hayden's insouciant slouch and knowing grin might be off-putting to the lads. Gwen, however, found both refreshing. She only wished she could be daring enough to emulate Ava! The trousers looked both comfortable and stylish, and Ava's air of unconsciousness regarding them only added to their appeal. Gwen knew that if she ever tried wearing trousers in public, she would be so aware of them that she would be twice as clumsy, and three times as awkward, as usual.
Hayden held out his arms. "Shall we, ladies?"
Ava hooked her arm through one of his, and after a moment's hesitation, Gwen did the same on his other side, and the trio sauntered out into the bright sunshine.
"West House
"Glen St. Mary, PEI
"June 12, 1936
"Dear Lee,
"I've been here less than two weeks, and already I've made two new friends! Their names are Hayden and Ava Wentworth, and they are from England. They are spending the summer in the Glen helping their uncle start a café. Ava is my age, while Hayden, I think, is a year or two older.
"They are both very nice—well, perhaps nice isn't the best word to describe them. They are interesting and intelligent and very strong, but nice just doesn't seem to fit them well. Not that they aren't nice! It's just … too weak.
"Apparently, most of the Glen young folk have been snubbing them ever since they arrived. The only reason I can see for that is that Ava wears trousers, and they both have an air of not really caring about what other people think of them—do you remember that Agatha Christie book of mine, The Secret of Chimneys? The one you liked because you thought Bundle Brent was a little bit like Nancy Drew? Anyway, at one point in that, when Superintendent Battle is talking about Virginia Revel—hang on, I'll look it up.
"I'm back. Here it is: 'You see, the majority of people are always wondering what the neighbours will think. But tramps and aristocrats don't—they just do the first thing that comes into their heads, and they don't bother to think what anyone thinks of them. I'm not meaning the idle rich, the people who give big parties, and so on, I mean those that have had it born and bred into them for generations that nobody else's opinion counts but their own. I've always found the upper classes the same—fearless, truthful, and sometimes extraordinarily foolish.' That's how Ava and Hayden are; it just doesn't occur to them that other people might think to condemn them.
"And that, of course, rankles everybody else, who don't like feeling as though they don't matter! Both Hayden and Ava have noticed the coldness of everyone around here, and it does hurt them somewhat—they are ready and willing to be friends with anyone, and can't understand why everyone here is so standoffish.
"So, I decided that for once I wasn't going to care about public opinion either, and I spent all day yesterday showing them around. They are very good company—I haven't laughed so much in ages—and they are clever, too, making me wish I had better brains and could keep up with them. Phil could, or Jeremy, but I'm let afraid that if I open my mouth I'll just let my ignorance show!
"If I'm perfectly honest (which I couldn't be with anyone but you, dearest), I had a mean, sneaking, selfish reason for spending yesterday with them, too. You see, Oliver came into the café while I was just getting to know Ava and Hayden, and oh, he did irritate me so. Everything he said just rubbed me the wrong way, even the harmless parts. I don't know why I was so upset, except that perhaps I'm too sensitive around him, after everything that happened last time we were here.
"Anyway, he obviously didn't like me talking to Ava, and especially not Hayden, and so in a fit of pure spite I decided to show him I didn't care whether he approved or not, that I was going to show him I could be friends with whomever I wished! He doesn't have the right to dislike my acquaintances.
"I think I maybe have been a little too friendly to Hayden after that—I didn't mean to flirt, but really, he is so charming, and I think I might have gotten carried away. I know he could never be truly interested in me, though. Not only is he remarkably handsome (and charming, as I already mentioned), but they are, after all, English aristocracy. Which means that he will be expected to marry well, not a poor minister's daughter from Canada with barely an illustrious ancestor to her name.
"So I'm not letting myself feel too guilty about flirting with Hayden. Besides, you remember all those stories Grandmother (Blake, not Blythe) has always told us, about her younger days? I always wondered what it would be like to be such a belle, to have the power to make boys crazy about you just by looking at them. Chloe, I'm sure, will be able to do that wen she is older, or maybe can already. But me, I'm just boring old, clumsy, plain Gwen, and boys don't think of me as anything but a pal. Except for Oliver, and as soon as he decided he liked me it was as if he wanted to own me—definitely not fun.
"I'll never be a belle like Grandmother, but it was enjoyable hearing nonsense from Hayden about my beautiful eyes and golden hair, and pretending to myself that I actually had made a dent in his heart, instead of, as I suspect is the case, being the recipient of flattery he pours out without thinking on every girl he meets. Ava says he can't help flirting with women, whether they be eighteen or eighty, and she feels sorry for his wife when he does get married.
"I've written enough foolishness for now, and I think my bread is ready for the second rising, so I'll end this here. I'm glad you are having a good summer so far. Give my love to Mother and Dad, and Jo, and everyone else. And as always, extra love to you, dearest sister.
"Always yours,
"Gwen."
Gwen capped her fountain pen and folded her letter with a little smile playing about her lips. She really did feel a bit guilty about her flirtatious behaviour with Hayden … but she couldn't help also feeling exhilarated by it. She hoped Lee would understand. Her sister tended to be depressingly good at times, but Gwen didn't know anyone else to whom she could write, and she couldn't keep this new friendship to herself. Lynde would have been her first choice to talk to, but with Lynde practically in mourning for Jack, Gwen felt it might be a little indelicate to chat about a flirtation with the new boy.
Writing to Phil would have been completely futile—she was too embarrassed to think about writing to Mother—and if she'd written to Jeremy he would have been down by the next ferry and train to threaten Hayden with dismemberment and death.
Out of all her friends and family, Lee was the safest.
Gwen slid the letter into an envelope, addressed and stamped it, and took it downstairs with her for Uncle Bruce to post in the morning.
Time to put belle Gwen away, and put on housewife Gwen. In Aunt Ruth's spacious kitchen, she tied her apron around her waist and went to work shaping the bread dough into loaves and putting it in the prepared pans to rise. She may have failed with her attempt at cake, but thus far her bread-making abilities were proving secure!