Each Shining Hour

by Jeff High

  CHAPTER 48

  Celebration

  W e arrived at the bakery ten minutes before the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Downtown Watervalley seemed to be dressed for some great occasion and Connie’s fears that no one would come to the grand opening couldn’t have been more misplaced. It seemed that everyone in the valley had shown up.

  The bakery side of Courthouse Square had been cordoned off and the sidewalk, street, and courthouse lawn were packed with throngs of people, some of them tapping their feet to a lively bluegrass band. I parked and before wading into the boisterous crowd, I joked to Will, “They don’t teach you this in Anatomy and Physiology, but one thing’s for sure. Everybody has a sweet tooth.”

  Will headed off toward some classmates and I found Christine talking with John. Smiles were everywhere and I quickly became caught up in the general delight and anticipation.

  The ribbon cutting and sign unveiling were only moments away when Louise Fox approached the three of us with a panicked look on her face.

  “Connie wanted me to ask if you three can help. The crowd is five times what we anticipated and we could use a few extra hands.”

  John, Christine, and I responded simultaneously, “Sure.”

  Louise led us through the crowd to where customers were lined up, waiting for the ceremony to start and for the front doors to open. We slipped inside, past display cases loaded with light-as-air pastries and breads, and into the hot kitchen, where we found Connie and Estelle in a fluster of activity. But they weren’t alone. Dressed in a white apron was Lida Wilkins. Apparently she had come by two hours earlier to wish them luck and realized that they desperately needed help.

  She wiped her forehead as we entered and winked at me. “Hot dog, the cavalry has arrived!”

  “Lida Wilkins, just look at you,” I exclaimed. “Aren’t you a saint?”

  “Saint, my foot,” she replied. “If it gets any hotter in here, the two sisters and I are going to change our names to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.” She grinned, scrunching her nose in that delightful way of hers.

  Connie explained the situation. “By the looks of the crowd, we are way low on the number of free cupcakes we’ve made.”

  “Gâteaux!” blurted out Estelle as she darted by carrying a huge bowl of frosting.

  “Whatever! Anyway, we’re making a bunch more but need help getting them decorated and arranged out front.”

  Lida joined in. “Connie, you and Estelle scat and go do the ribbon cutting. I’ll direct traffic back here. We’ve got this. You two go have your Kodak moment.”

  The two sisters thanked Lida profusely and then shed their aprons and headed out front. Lida took control.

  “Okay, team, we’ve got about fifteen or twenty minutes before the floodgates open.”

  She gave assignments to the three of us. At first, we were out of sync, but soon we fell into a working rhythm. Flour and frosting was everywhere, but it was great fun. During the thick of it, Louise came over and spoke in a low voice. “Why don’t you tell them the big news?”

  Christine and Lida overheard her, and sent me looks full of curiosity.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Louise nodded excitedly. “I’d like you to do it.”

  By now, even John had caught on that something was astir. Everyone paused in what they were doing and looked at me.

  “Well, everyone, this morning while I was tilling up a garden, I found a metal box containing a cache of diamonds in my backyard.”

  We lost several minutes of production time while everyone listened with astonishment to the story of the discovery. Lida and Christine both hugged Louise, who tearfully thanked them. She no longer was the pale wisp of a woman I had known, but seemed to find great delight in her new role at the bakery. Eventually, we returned to the tasks at hand.

  John and I had frosting duty and he took the opportunity to chide me on a different subject. “So, sport. I heard you were milking cows yesterday. Don’t tell me you’re going native on us.”

  “Ha! Seems like I’m not the first guy in this duo to milk cows because of a pretty brunette.”

  John laughed. “Touché.”

  “And for your information, I had just been kicked in the leg by the horse when you arrived yesterday. It hurt, big-time. That’s what the tears were about.”

  John feigned looking around to make sure Christine was out of earshot. “Yeah, I’m betting another little filly has kicked you elsewhere.” He tapped on my chest with his index finger.

  I laughed. “Well, John, politically incorrect female references aside, I wouldn’t deny that insight for one minute.” He smiled and returned his attention to the scores of cooling cupcakes.

  In time the doors opened and Connie asked me if I would attend the cash register while she and Estelle waited on customers, wrapping up one delicious treat after another. Running the register turned out to be a wonderful job. I got to talk to everybody.

  One of the first in line was Margie Reynolds.

  “How’s the pregnancy coming these days, Margie?” I asked.

  “Oh, just peachy, Doc. Among all my other gifts I now realize I have the gift of consumption. I’ve consumed my body weight in cupcakes. If I eat one more thing, I’ll be visible from space.”

  “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

  “Are you kidding? Right now I could snort powdered sugar through a garden hose.” She winked at me as I returned her change. “And, by the way, the pregnancy is going great. I’ll see you next week.”

  The next few hours were filled with an endless stream of familiar faces. Maylen Cook, Reverend Joe Dawson, Nancy Orman, Chick McKissick, Madeline, the sheriff, and the mayor along with seemingly hundreds of others made their way through. Even Sunflower Miller showed up and bought some artisan bread.

  She was back to full health and full of herself, as opinionated as ever. “I can’t say I completely endorse this diabetes factory,” she commented.

  I smiled, seeing right through her facade of indignation. “Sunflower, you have the most beautiful skin. How do you keep it looking so fresh and youthful?”

  I had caught her off guard. She looked at me for a brief moment of delight and vulnerability. Then, just that quickly, she regained herself.

  “Forget it, Doctor. It’s genetic and unattainable.”

  But it was too late, and my knowing smirk told as much. As she gathered up her package, she smiled at me cunningly with all the weight of her stunning Norwegian good looks and whispered, “You’re going to pay for that.”

  By one thirty the steady line had ended, but dozens of folks still lingered, crowding the store and the sidewalk, talking, laughing, and just generally gossiping. Apparently, the story of the diamonds hadn’t spread yet. But it was only a matter of time. John and Christine had been relieved of kitchen duty and Ann had arrived as well. Louise came to take over at the register, but before I stepped away, she pressed an envelope in my hand.

  “You can open this later. It’s just a quick thank-you.”

  “Well, Louise, that’s certainly not necessary.”

  I wanted to say more, but a line of customers had formed again at the cash register. I stuffed the envelope in my back pocket and joined John, Ann, and Christine at one of the small tables. Just as I sat down, however, a sudden hush came over the crowd. I noticed everyone staring toward the front door.

  Standing two steps in from the entry was Randall Simmons wearing a face of quiet contrition. Though it had never been on the front page, no doubt everyone in this crowded room was aware of the strife that had come between Connie and him. She was standing behind the counter, and at first, she froze. John began to rise from the table, but I reached over and gestured him to wait a moment.

  Randall was looking at the floor, petrified as well, seemingly regretting he had come and at a loss regarding what to
do next. Connie pursed her lips and grabbed a cupcake, then stepped out from behind the counter. Amid the silence she walked straight up to Randall and stopped in front of him as he looked up to meet her gaze.

  Connie raised her chin and regarded him through the lower half of her glasses. She spoke with diplomatic reserve. “Hello, Randall. This is one of our specialty cupcakes. Here, try it.”

  He nodded, took it from her hand, and bit off a healthy bite.

  “It’s a special recipe,” Connie explained. “You can barely taste the arsenic.”

  Randall halted in midchew.

  Connie looked at him innocently. “Go ahead, eat up now.”

  He still didn’t move and, instead, remained anxiously fixated on her.

  Releasing a sly giggle, Connie reached over and took the cupcake from him, peeled back part of the paper, and took a large bite. “Umm,” she exclaimed. “Pretty darn good, isn’t it?”

  Randall began to nod slowly, swallowing the bite he had in his mouth. “Very good, actually.” He politely took the cupcake from Connie, took another bite, and handed it back to her. She finished it and the two of them shared guarded but accommodating smiles.

  “Come on, Randall. I’ll show you what else we’ve got that you might like.”

  Discussions picked up again as she led him to a display counter and within moments the cacophony of a dozen conversations had resumed.

  John continued to scrutinize Randall and spoke with shrewd calculation. “Well, I’d say that about right now, over at Rose Hill Cemetery, Raymond Simmons is beginning to slowly rotate.”

  We talked and laughed for another hour, enjoying all the delight and celebration. The opening had been a grand success. John and Ann rose to leave, saying that they were going to open a bottle of wine down at the bandstand.

  “Have fun, kids,” I said. “Don’t go skinny-dipping.”

  John turned back and spoke flatly. “At our age, sport, we don’t skinny-dip. It’s more like chunky dunk.” Ann swatted him in the stomach.

  “Leave, now. Both of you.”

  Christine and I watched them depart.

  “My uncle John brought me here. So you’re my ride,” she said.

  “I’m good with that. Give me a moment, though. I want to go speak to Connie before we go.”

  “Sure.”

  I found Connie outside the back door, sitting by herself and taking a break in one of two folding chairs. She sat with her arms crossed and her legs extended like a boxer resting in a corner. She was staring blankly at the wall across the alley.

  “Hey, you okay?” I asked softly.

  Her gaze never wavered. “Sure. I haven’t had this much fun since the last time I played Twister.”

  I sat beside her in the other chair. “You look tired.”

  “Sweetie, I’m exhausted. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been dreading this day. Now I wonder what in the world I was thinking. It’s gone fabulously.”

  “Estelle seems happy.”

  “Are you kidding? Right now she thinks she’s the queen of culinary. The only thing she forgot today was to bring her tiara.”

  “I guess you can’t tease her anymore about the bakery being a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, the first step off that high horse is going to be a doozy.”

  I laughed. “You might free-fall a little, but I’m sure you’ll stick your landing.”

  She chuckled lightly and a long silence ensued.

  “So, are you at peace with Randall now that the two of you have broken cupcake together?”

  Connie’s cheerful face dissolved into a sour frown of resignation. “Yeah. I guess so. I still just wanted to punch him in the nose.”

  “Understood.”

  “But I couldn’t. It was one of Momma’s rules. She always said you have to act your way into feeling right because you’ll never feel your way into acting right.”

  “Meaning . . . do the right thing and in time you’ll feel better about it.”

  “Yeah.”

  I nodded silently. Another long minute passed.

  “You know, Luke, I think I’ve always jinxed myself.”

  “How so?”

  “When I was a little girl, I thought that if I ever did even one teeny tiny little thing wrong, God would punish me, big-time. And because of that one mistake, I would end up as a strange old woman with gin on my breath, bad teeth, and weird, spiky hair. I’d wander around downtown, mumbling to myself and wearing layers of smelly clothes and an old pair of men’s basketball shoes. And I’d carry this big plastic trash bag of aluminum cans and spend all my time feeding pigeons and rummaging through Dumpsters.”

  She paused. Then, with an enlightened look on her face, she added, “And you know, sometimes I think I’d like to give it a try.”

  We both laughed for a solid minute. I finally rose to my feet, bent over, and kissed her on the forehead.

  “I think your mother still lives in the stones of this place.”

  She took my hand, enclosed it in both of hers, and looked up at me, smiling warmly. “Thank you, sweetheart. I think you’re right.”

  After a pause, she spoke again. “Going out with Christine tonight?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “Well, have fun.”

  “Thanks, see you.”

  “Luke.” She paused. With her chin lowered, she regarded me sharply over the top of her glasses. “Not too much fun. You understand?”

  I let out a low laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  I found Christine at the table talking to Will. As I approached, he spoke with a sly grin. “She says you’re a lousy kisser.”

  Christine regarded both of us with a curious and startled face, clearly having said no such thing.

  “Nice try, buddy. Go fish.” He and I exchanged crafty smiles and I went on the offensive. “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘People who live in glass houses’?”

  Will heard me but was distracted by the arrival of Hoot Wilson coming through the entry. His daughter, Wendy, was with him.

  “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later. I gotta go.”

  “What was that all about?” Christine inquired casually.

  “Eh, guy talk. Nothing important. You ready?”

  Together, we walked out onto the sidewalk.

  “So, brown eyes. What do you want to do on this fine warm evening?”

  Christine’s voice was lighthearted, animated. “Why don’t we get a pizza and a blanket and go out to Moon Lake and watch the sunset? I love it out there.”

  “Sure. I’m game for an evening of takeout and make-out.”

  Christine rolled her eyes and smiled warily. “Bradford, you are soooo predictable. That’s not exactly what I meant.”

  Undaunted, I quickly responded, “Predictable, huh? Maybe it’s because you are soooo beautiful. And I do mean that!”

  “Just listen to you! You’re doing so much better at finding the right thing to say. I am so proud of you.”

  “Okay, first of all, I am going to ignore the fact that you said that in your schoolteacher voice and are clearly trying to use your behavior modification tactics on me. Second, I’ll have you know, Miss Chambers, that I know plenty of words, and candidly, well, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Christine lowered her chin. Playfully, she placed her fingers over my lips. Then she lifted one of her eyebrows, smiled that wonderful, taunting, seductive smile, and whispered three simple words ever so slowly and deliciously into my ear.

  “Neither have you!”

  She turned and walked toward the Austin-Healey, but I stood motionless, giving myself a moment to regain the power of speech. I was in way over my head with her, and I knew it. Something told me that she knew it too.

  I began to follow her but stopped at the street to turn back an
d admire the marvelous details of the newly finished bakery. It was only then that I realized that I had yet to see the now unveiled sign.

  “Well, how about that?” I said.

  Something about the name was magically perfect, capturing what living in Watervalley was all about. I smiled deeply, turned, and stepped away. Glowing behind me in the soft light of that wonderful May afternoon was the neon sign of the town’s new bakery: THE SWEETLIFE.

  POSTLUDE

  Toward midnight, Luke stood in the dark of his backyard, admiring the splendor of the vast and luminous universe above him. He hadn’t wanted the day to end. He breathed in deeply of the moist, fragrant air and his thoughts drifted to that moment in his office months ago.

  The autopsy report had been nothing more than a yellowed piece of paper from an ancient folder, long forgotten and hidden for years in a dusty filing cabinet. At the time it had seemed insignificant. But now, looking back, he realized how that one piece of paper had connected so many lives; had linked them over time and distance with an invisible thread, stepping indifferently across the boundaries of race, education, fortune, and faith.

  Standing in the silent moonlight, Luke thought of Oscar Fox, of how decades ago he had come to Watervalley, started a new life, and come so close to realizing his dream. Luke thought of Oscar’s noble kindness, of the incredible love he must have felt for Elise, and how one moment had changed all of that. He wondered if Oscar’s last thoughts were of her, wondered if in those last desperate minutes Oscar saw a lifetime of promised happiness slipping away.

  Luke thought of his own dreams. And there, under the grand canopy of stars, an indefinable serenity washed over him, a contented awareness of the richness of his life being played out within the shouldering hills of this small valley.

  He looked up, starring briefly into the infinite, voiceless heavens, and slid his hands into his back pockets. He pulled out an envelope and realized it was the one Louise Fox had given him earlier in the day. He held it up toward the distant porch light and used his thumb to break the seal. Inside he found a letter. When he unfolded it, he also discovered a small, tightly sealed plastic bag. Written in elegant script on the letter were the words, “THANK YOU,” and inside the bag was one large, shimmering diamond, radiant even in the faint moonlight.