21
The old bakery on Broadway Street spoke to Dalton from the moment he first saw it. He’d been canvassing the town’s business district, checking out possible locations for a law office when the two-story, rose-colored building beckoned to him, and he pulled to the curb for a closer look. Sturdy, if a bit neglected, the building sat squarely in the third block, like a queen mother quietly presiding over her kingdom. The building struck him as the embodiment of small-town charm, the brick-and-mortar reality of the new life he fantasized about and wanted so badly to create.
He’d imagined the building’s happier past unfolding like an old-time picture show; its oversized windows brightly lit, small noses pressed longingly against the glass, while inside, neighbors chatted together at the counter as they chose from the baker’s daily offerings. Dalton was not a romantic man by nature, but these silent whispers of gentler times spoke to his soul in a way that made the old building irresistible.
An online search for the listing revealed the store to be one of Redford’s Crossing’s first business establishments. Originally a butcher shop, it had served the community in various forms since the early 1800s and had remained a staple until the trendier cupcake and gourmet coffee shops finally pushed it out of business for good. With some creative marketing, though, he was certain it could make a comeback. The lower level would be perfect for Harper’s bistro and catering business and the spacious upstairs apartment, with its separate side entrance, was well suited to a law office. He’d made an appointment to look at it the next day, and at the last minute, had taken Clara with him.
The realtor was running late that day. Peering in the dusty windows, Clara confirmed that his first impression had been accurate. She regaled him with childhood memories of her and her mother coming to the bakery to select the perfect Christmas cake, and many years later, when the bakery evolved into an upscale pastry shop, she’d worked there herself as a pastry chef. When a half hour passed with no sign of the realtor, Clara led him around to the back of the building, to a small window beside the back entrance.
She smiled like a naughty child. “This is how we get in.”
Dalton stared at the window skeptically. “Interesting idea, but I don’t think either one of us will fit through that window.”
“We don’t have to fit through it, silly. Just an arm, and just far enough to unlock the door.”
He chuckled. “Breaking and entering, Miss Clara? I’m pretty sure there’s a fine for that.”
“We’re not breaking a thing, dear. I am an old pro at this. Back in the day I often came to work before daylight, and just as often came without my keys. So, you see, I was a forgetful old thing even then.” She chuckled. “I learned how to let myself in. This window has not latched properly for fifty years.” She slid the window open, angled her arm inside, turned the lock, and opened the door. “You see my dear?” she said in triumph. “It’s just as easy as pie.”
After signing his lease, he’d intended to replace the window latch as well as the lock on the back door, but he normally used the more convenient side door entrance, as he had this morning and it had slipped his mind. He was thankful now that he didn’t get around to it. He drove toward Broadway Street, praying his gut feeling was right.
Please, God. Please let her be there. Let her be safe…
He parked at the curb in front of the building and cut through the back alley. The window was open, the door, unlocked. He pulled in a breath, pushed open the door that led to the bakery’s kitchen, and stepped inside.
“Clara?” he called.
There was no answer, but he detected a faint sound like sobbing. Following the sound to the back of the abandoned kitchen, he pushed out a breath.
Thank you, Lord.
Clara sat weeping in a battered, red-upholstered chair.
He squatted beside her. “Hey. What are you doing here, Clara?” he asked gently.
She lifted her eyes to his; sad blue eyes, clouded with tears and confusion. “I don’t know.”
He took her hands in his. “You must have had a reason for coming down here so early in the morning.”
She was quiet for a long moment.
“I have a wedding cake to make today,” she finally said. “It’s a very special cake. I wrote it down, so I’d be sure not to forget.” She slid a hand into her pocket and produced a recipe torn from her cookbook, the day’s date scrawled at the top along with the words: Saturday August 12 th , extra-extra special wedding cake. “I wanted to do my very best work. I always made the loveliest cakes here, early in the morning, all by myself. But I can’t seem to find any of my ingredients, and someone has stolen all our equipment.” She lowered her head and once again her shoulders shook with sobs.
His heart swelling, Dalton gently stroked her hair. “Clara, sweetheart, you already made the wedding cake, and it’s beautiful. It’s at home, in the big cooler on the patio.”
She sniffled. “It is?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember making it.” Tears streamed down her face. “I don’t remember much of anything anymore. What’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You’ve just been under a lot of stress, with the wedding and all.”
“No, it isn’t stress.” She shook her head. “It’s not that. I don’t know myself anymore. I keep forgetting things, important things, more and more things every day. Everything I was once sure of…names, places, people I love, it all slips through my hands like water now. I’ve become a sad, foolish old woman. Good for nothing to anyone.”
“Now that’s not true. You are a remarkable woman. You’re kind and cheerful, and generous?”
She flapped her hands at him, and he caught them up and held them securely in his own.
“You worked a miracle, and I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that.”
She sniffled. “What miracle?”
“If not for you, I would never have found the love of my life. I’m marrying her today. God used you to make that happen, Clara.”
She gave him a wavering smile. “He did?”
“Yes, He did. You’ve spent a lifetime making people happy with your cakes and baked goods. With your kindness. Just this morning I heard a boy named Rory say that you made his first birthday cake ever. Shaped like the solar system. He’s never forgotten it.”
She thought for a moment, and then a small smile lit her face. “Rory is a good boy. All the St. George boys are good boys. Poor Darlene did the best she could for them, all alone, the poor lamb. I just gave her a little helping hand.”
“You’ve helped a lot of people. But none more than your own family. You took in two children who desperately needed a mother.” He tilted her chin until they were eye to eye. “Not to mention, you took a chance on this sorry old vagabond.”
She smiled. “A sorry, handsome vagabond.”
“If you say so.”
“A perfect prince for our princess, Harper. I knew it the moment I saw you. Knew it in my heart of hearts.”
“Thank you for having faith in me. I promise I won’t let you down.” He squeezed her hand. “We should get out of here. We have a big day ahead of us.”
~*~
Their arrival back at the house was met with hoots and wild cheering. After tearful hugs from Harper and Nicky, a windmill of arms enfolded Clara. The sea of smiling faces and exuberant greetings made the old woman giggle in bewildered pleasure.
“You see that, sweetheart’,” Dalton said softly in her ear. “You see how important you are around here? You’re a rock star.”
When the melee calmed down, Ann Romans turned to Harper. “I’m certainly glad your aunt is safe, at least for today. But I’m concerned about tomorrow, and all the days after that.”
“I know it looks bad for us, but we’ll be more careful from now on,” Harper told her. “We’ll be more vigilant.”
Merilee stepped in. “All it takes is one time to not be vigilant, and this is the result. I think Dallas and I should make some calls. We’ll investigate some nearby facilities.”
Harper whirled on her. “No, you will not! We will find a way to keep Aunt Clara home, where she belongs. Unlike you, we don’t just abandon people because they become inconvenient.”
Dallas looked stricken. “Sweetheart, I can’t tell you how sorry—"
“Don’t,” she said sharply, and then more softly, “Just don’t.”
She wrapped her arms around Dalton and sobbed against his chest.
“Shhh. It’ll all be OK, Harper,” he soothed. “I promise you; we’ll figure this out.”
He made the promise with no idea how he could keep it. But as he held his future wife close to his heart, a beautiful thing began to happen, a thing he supposed was what made a small city a “village.”
“Listen up!” Nicky took Clara’s hand. “Everybody’s always talking these days about being present in the moment. Well, Aunt Clara’s the only person I know who really does that. She lives in the present moment because that’s all she has. We’ll be like that from now on. We’ll take it one day, one minute at a time. And we’ll be OK, just like we always have been.”
A hush settled over the bystanders, and then Bertie Roberts spoke up. “I’m free on Monday and Thursday afternoons. I’d love to have Clara’s company on those days. She could help me plan the activities for our Ladies’ Fellowship group. She’d be a huge help in planning our annual bake sale and we could bake cookies and cinnamon rolls for refreshments for Sunday coffee hour.”
“Clara’s welcome to join my crochet club on Wednesdays,” said Martine Swann, owner of the local fabric store, Stitches . “She can sit on the porch with us while we make sweaters and reminisce like the old hens we are.”
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
“I’m sure I can take her some Fridays,” Babe said. “We could go shopping at the plaza, or out to lunch. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Clara?”
“It sounds lovely, dear.”
“Good, then we’ll set up a schedule.”
“And I’ll come by and install safety locks and alarms on the front and back doors,” Sandy Fairbrother offered. “That should help keep her safe.”
“So, will you give us a chance?” Nicky asked the social worker.
“Well, it seems that if everyone pulls together, you may have a solution, at least for the time being,” Ann Romans conceded. “Harper, I’ll email you some resources to look over. When the time comes, you may have to decide on a facility, like it or not. But until then, it seems as though you have the situation under control.”
Babe grinned. “Beautiful. Now that that’s all settled, everybody out! We’ll see you all later today, but for now, we have a wedding to get ready for!”