Friendship Bread

by Darien Gee

  “Is she allowed to do that?” someone asks.

  “She owns the McDonald’s franchise for Avalon—I would certainly hope so. And I think, under the circumstances, what with the governor having declared a state of emergency and all, it will be okay. Hello, Debbie?” Jessica turns away to speak with her daughter.

  Connie is on the phone, talking with a Red Cross relief coordinator and jotting notes on a piece of paper.

  “Okay,” she says, hanging up. Her face is flushed. “I just spoke with the regional executive director who’s overseeing the mobile feeding and food distribution for shelter residents and flood victims. She says that they’ll take whatever we can bake. They have a lot of community volunteers helping, too, and she thinks they’ll appreciate whatever we can bake for them. They’ve asked us to come to the Civic Center where they’ll help us distribute all the loaves.”

  “I’ll check with Gracie’s school,” Julia says. “I think almost all of the teachers and students were baking the bread at home. Some of them might still be doing it.”

  “Debbie is going to print out signs right now,” Jessica Reynolds tells the group, triumphantly snapping her cell phone closed.

  “I know Bernice Privott will put something up by the circulation desks at the library,” Helen Welch says.

  Suddenly all the women who have cell phones are using them, calling anyone and everyone they know who might have some starter and be willing to bake. Julia looks around at the busy women and feels a surge of energy. Rather than wanting to slink away, she feels just the opposite—she wants to be a part of this wonderful, chaotic moment. She grins, then reaches into her purse for her cell phone to call Gracie’s school.

  “This is becoming quite a production.” Madeline cocks her eyebrow as the room bursts into a frenzy of activity accompanied by the occasional triumphant shout that another person is on board.

  Connie drapes an arm around Madeline’s shoulder and grins. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep track of everything. We should log who’s baking what, and then use the sitting room as a central drop-off point. We’ll open the kitchen to six people—everyone else can bake at home.” She glances around the room. “There are probably ten more regulars who aren’t here right now. I’ll have someone give them a call.”

  “Is this going to be too much for you?” Madeline asks. She doesn’t mind any of this, but she doesn’t want Connie doing more than she already does. “We’re going to be up all night by the looks of things.”

  “I don’t mind,” Connie assures her. “I pull all-nighters all the time. The only difference is that I’ll be here instead of at home.”

  “Stay in the Savanna room,” Madeline tells her, calling the rooms by the names given by the previous owners. “So you can catch some shut-eye every now and then.” The Savanna room is a small suite with a private bath and balcony.

  Connie beams. “I love the Savanna room,” she says. Connie has helped her straighten the rooms before, and Madeline knows it’s her favorite room.

  “Good, then it’s settled.” Madeline is more at ease knowing that Connie will be comfortable. “I’m going to go defrost my starters and get the ovens going.”

  She passes Julia in the hallway, who tells her, “Gracie’s teacher is going to send a letter home with the students. And she says she can bake tonight, too. I’ll go tell Connie.” She gives Madeline a pat on the arm and hurries back into the sitting room.

  The chatter of the women in the sitting room seems to have gone up several decibels, making Madeline smile. There are more happy people here than in any home she’s lived in. She thinks of the dinner parties, the casual get-togethers, the endless company functions. She remembers how forced it was at times, at how her eyes would discreetly slide to her watch so she could count down the minutes before people would go home and put them all out of their misery.

  But here, in this small, unassuming little town, resides an abundance of people—good people, simple people, people with large and generous hearts—that she has had the pleasure of knowing and calling her friends. It’s so unexpected and overwhelming. It hits her all at once, filling her with an unspeakable joy. And yet …

  Madeline moves to the privacy of her kitchen where she knows it will only be quiet for a few minutes more. Things have gone better than expected in so many ways and at the same time it’s not enough. Or maybe, she concedes, it has nothing to do with the tea salon, with its modest success, with these women she’s surrounded herself with. It has nothing to do with them but everything to do with her, with Madeline.

  She clears the counters to make space for the women who have volunteered to bake that afternoon, laying out fresh dish towels, measuring cups, flour. Despite the company of friendship we still have ourselves to reckon with at the end of the day. Wise words that Madeline has shared before but needs to remember for herself. She can’t force her hand with Ben, but he is her family and she wants him, regardless of what condition he’s in, to be a part of her life. That’s really it, she realizes. That’s family in a nutshell. You take them as they are, and you love them, no matter what.

  By nightfall Madeline’s Tea Salon has become the equivalent of Grand Central Station with people coming and going. Julia has only left twice, once to get Gracie from school and then again to pick up her own bags of starter and extra baking ingredients from the store.

  Julia hadn’t intended to stay for so long, but once word got out (Connie dubbed their effort “Operation Friendship Bread”), things started happening quickly. It was clear that Connie was going to need some help. Julia was soon coordinating, helping Connie track people, donations, friendship bread starters and loaves.

  Connie peeks her head into the tearoom where Julia is working on Connie’s laptop and portable printer. “Julia, the loaves are starting to come in.”

  “Here.” Julia hands Connie a sheet of round stickers and a clipboard. She’s created a numbered sign-in sheet, up to two hundred. “Have people sign their name and give us their phone number. Write down the number of loaves they’re donating. Then write their number on the stickers and put them on all their loaves.” Julia’s thought about this and she thinks it’s important to have some quality control, to be able to track who made the bread in case there are any problems. It will also let them thank everyone who’s contributed to the effort, maybe even do one of those nice ads in the paper where you list all the volunteers. Would the Gazette let them have the space for free? She could call Livvy to find out, since Livvy is in sales and might even be the one who Julia would need to talk to about this anyway.

  Or maybe she’ll just wait until later, when things are less crazy.

  Connie thumbs the hallway where there’s a steady flow of people coming in and out. “What about having more people come with us to help out tomorrow? Should I ask people as they come in?”

  Julia’s already considered this. She fishes around the papers on her table until she comes up with a volunteer sign-up sheet. “Here.” She noticed people lingering as they wait for their loaves to come out of the ovens, eager to help in any way they can.

  “Great.” Connie grins. There’s a nervous energy in the air, but like Julia, Connie seems to be thriving on it. “Oh, and our boxes for canned goods are already full. I’m going to move them into the garage and put some new boxes out after I sign in all these loaves.”

  “Don’t move them, Connie!” Julia warns her. “They’re too heavy.”

  “Oh come on, Julia,” Connie scoffs. “I’ve lifted heavier things before. It’s not a big deal.”

  “No.” Julia is firm about this. She doesn’t doubt that Connie can do it, but she isn’t taking any chances. Connie is more valuable than she realizes, and Julia doesn’t want her to get hurt. “I’ll call Mark and have him come help. He needs to get Gracie anyway.”

  Julia glances at the clock—it’s almost eight o’clock. Gracie had been abuzz with excitement like everybody else, trying to help but providing comic relief more than anything. Hannah took her home
to pick up the cello and for the past couple of hours there have been strains of music and laughter coming from the sitting room.

  Julia picks up the phone to call Mark, pointing down the hallway when someone walks in holding up four loaves of Amish Friendship Bread. “Hey,” she says when he answers. “It’s me.”

  “Hi, me.”

  Her face breaks into a smile even though she’s trying to stay serious. “Things are starting to pick up over here and Gracie should probably get home to bed. We also need your help with some heavy lifting.”

  “Hmm. I might have to charge you for that.”

  “Mark!” She stifles a giggle.

  “I’m almost home. Give me a few minutes to change and then I’ll head over. Did you and Gracie have a chance to eat?”

  Julia types into her laptop. “Mark, I’m at Madeline’s. There’s enough food here to last us the week.”

  “I’m glad to hear it because I’m starving. See you soon.”

  It’s not until she hangs up that Julia realizes she’s just been flirting with her own husband.

  “Hey, Julia.” Hannah steps into the room, a huge grin on her face. “I think your daughter is going to be a natural on the cello.”

  “Really?” Julia leans back in her chair, wanting to hear more.

  “She was watching me practice and then I let her hold my bow. She held it perfectly. We played a couple of notes together, and then we played a concert-worthy rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ Ten times. She was pretty disappointed when we stopped, but I think she’s hooked.”

  Julia beams. “So when can she start?”

  “Next week if I can get my hands on a quarter-size cello. I have a full size for you if you want to start next week, too.”

  Julia does want to start. She probably doesn’t have any propensity for music, but she wants to try, anyway. “That’s a yes for both of us. Where’s Gracie now?”

  “She was nodding off so I put her to bed in one of the rooms upstairs. The Thicket room. She’s completely worn out.”

  “It’s from all the excitement.” Gracie was chattering nonstop with everyone from the moment she arrived. “Thanks, Hannah.”

  “You’re welcome. She’s adorable. And I really think we’ll have fun.” Hannah casts a look around. “Connie looks mobbed in the sitting room. I’m going to see what I can do to help.” She lets out a yawn.

  “You need your sleep, Hannah,” Julia reminds her. “You spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen with Madeline and you’re performing tomorrow. Connie and I can get some of the other volunteers to help with everything else.”

  “Okay.” Hannah gives her a sleepy smile. “Then I’m going to head home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  Hannah waves as she walks out the door. Madeline emerges from the kitchen, a light dusting of flour on her face. “Was that Hannah?”

  “She’s tired so I told her to go home. She needs to be in top shape for tomorrow.” Julia pulls out a chair for Madeline, who looks spent. “I think maybe you should call it a day, too.”

  “No, sir, there’s still too much to be done.” Madeline pats her apron, sending up small puffs of flour.

  “There will always be something that needs to get done,” Julia says. “We just need to do the best we can. You’ve been up since early this morning. Go and get some sleep. Oh, and Gracie’s in one of the bedrooms upstairs. The Thicket room, I believe. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course it’s okay. I’m glad she and Connie will be making use of those rooms. I feel so wasteful having them, it feels good to have people using them.” Madeline closes her eyes with a happy sigh.

  “Well, I have a list of people who have volunteered to bake.” Julia’s eyes skim down the computer screen. “I can probably get a couple of them to come over tonight and give you a reprieve. Everyone else is baking in their own home and bringing the loaves over as they’re ready. We’ll plan on heading out at about nine A.M.…” Julia stops.

  Madeline is snoring—she’s fallen asleep. Her face is slack and her mouth is open as she takes short, shallow breaths. Julia watches her for a moment, overwhelmed with a tenderness that feels almost maternal. Madeline, who’s opened her home and her heart to Julia, suddenly looks frail and vulnerable, and Julia feels fiercely protective.

  She quietly pushes back her chair and stands up, then gently drapes Madeline’s arm over her shoulder and eases her up. “Nice and easy,” she says softly, wondering how she’s going to get up the stairs with Madeline.

  The look of relief and happiness on her face is palpable when Mark walks into the room, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

  Mark is still flying high from his meeting with the levelheaded developer of Bluestem Estates, a cluster of eighty homes to be built in three phases. They want to make it green and keep it simple, with innovative materials and design. Losing Lemelin was certainly a disappointment, and Vivian’s absence will be felt as well. Replacing her won’t be an easy task, but in the end both Mark and Victor agree that they can do without the drama. Let the high flyers build those castles in the sky. Focusing on good, solid projects is more than enough for both of them. Mark gets that now.

  He glances at his dashboard and sees that it’s later than he thought. Everything is upside down with the weather and flooding of the past week. It’s a strange thing to think how life is continuing on like normal for some people, while others have been displaced from their homes, their daily lives crashing to a halt.

  On the drive over, Mark goes over the details of the Bluestem project, his ideas already flowing. Ted Morrow has certain things in mind but is otherwise leaving it to Mark to come up with something creative that’ll work within their objectives and budget. Mark knows that buildings consume about 65 percent of electricity, and construction of new housing projects can generate hundreds of millions of tons of waste. Going green means that the houses will not only be more efficient for the end user, but for the environment. He knows it’s an overused buzz word, but Mark figures they’ll be able to cover a lot of ground just by incorporating environmentally friendly building materials and ensuring that the water and energy systems are efficient. They can design the homes in an innovative way that will minimize the building’s environmental impact while still keeping the homes comfortable and functional. It’s a different sort of challenge from the glitz and glamour of an upscale, luxury restaurant, but one that could have a much longer term impact on his business and the community that they live in. As far as Mark’s concerned, that’s not too shabby.

  He stops to refill his gas tank at the Avalon Mini Mart. When he goes inside to pay, he sees a bucket filled with wildflowers. He doesn’t even ask the price, just picks the bunch that reminds him most of his wife—wild, lush, and beautiful.

  When Mark arrives at Madeline’s a few minutes later, he’s astounded by the number of cars overflowing from the parking lot and lined up and down the street. It takes him awhile to find a parking space. Avalon is a sleepy town that shuts down at 6:00 P.M. Here it is, almost 8:00 P.M., and you’d think it was a frat party with all the people coming in and out.

  He holds the door open for a pair of women, then steps inside. He hasn’t been inside Madeline’s before, but he knows the building well. It’s not on the historic registry but it’s modeled after the classical revival style of the 1900s that dots the town of Avalon. He likes that the house has its own personality but carries a certain warmth and charm. He’s only spoken to Madeline once on the phone, the night that Julia fell asleep and stayed until midnight, a night they never really talked about. In the past he would have pushed for an explanation, but he’s okay to wait now, to let Julia share what’s on her mind whenever she’s ready. He thought then that he was at the end of his rope, but it turned out he still had a few more feet left.

  He’s curious to meet Madeline, whom he’s heard so much about. He’s seen her picture in the paper. She was kind but firm on the phone, telling him
that she didn’t want him to worry but that it might be a good idea to let Julia sleep. She had the kind of voice that made it difficult to argue, and he pictures her as a kind of tough woman wielding a rolling pin who doesn’t take kindly to being challenged. But when he steps into the tea salon, he sees Julia supporting an older woman who looks exhausted. Julia is relieved to see him, and he gets there just as she’s about to buckle.

  “She’s out,” Julia whispers as Mark gently scoops Madeline in his arms. “I just want to put her in bed.”

  “Where?”

  “Upstairs. Follow me. We’ll go up the back stairs to avoid the crowd.”

  Mark follows his wife, holding Madeline carefully. She’s so much lighter than he expected. “Where’s Gracie?”

  “Asleep. I say we just leave her be. I was going to keep her out of school tomorrow so she could go with us to Barrett anyway. I figure there will be more educational value helping out the Red Cross than making play dough and counting beads.” Julia’s voice is tired, but serious.

  “I agree, although someone’s got to count those beads.” Mark’s voice is equally serious.

  Julia stifles a laugh, not wanting to wake Madeline. Mark just grins as he carries Madeline up the stairs.

  “Hannah’s going to be playing her cello tomorrow and I don’t want Gracie to miss that, either,” Julia continues in a whisper. “Gracie can’t wait to start lessons. Hannah says she can start next week.”

  “Gracie’s taking cello lessons?” It’s the first he’s heard of it.

  Julia opens a bedroom door and motions Mark to come inside. She pulls back the covers and he gently lays Madeline on the bed. Julia slips off Madeline’s shoes then tucks her in. Madeline mumbles in her sleep, “Apple crisp … vanilla hard sauce … need two elbow pipe fittings …” then rolls over and lets out an indelicate snore.