I kept that bench because getting rid of it would have been like losing a part of her.
As I arrived at the shop, I saw someone standing in front of it, a dog in their arms.
People lining up already?
That sent a warm feeling all through me.
“Morning.” It was a man. He smiled and spoke when I reached the front of the store. “You’re not by any chance looking for a lost puppy, are you?” He held it up to give me a look at it.
It was an Ori-Pei. I knew because my down-the-street neighbor had one. The little guy was all wrinkles, with a big head like a Shar-Pei but the floppy ears and thick curly tail of a pug. He was black and white with lots of spots and had big brown eyes that looked right through me.
“No,” I said, and reached out and scratched the top of the puppy’s head. “Where’d you find him?”
“Right in the stoop of the flower shop next door.” He tilted his head that way. “Probably trying to keep warm.”
“No ID tag?” I asked.
“Nope.” He ran his hand down the pup’s head and around his neck, checking in his folds. “Unless his collar fell off. But he looks too healthy to be a stray.”
“Awww. Sorry, I can’t help you.” I leaned in and looked into the little puppy’s eyes. “Can’t help the both of you.” The dog gave out a bark in response.
“It’s okay,” the man said, and pulled off a red scarf that had been around his neck and wrapped it around the dog. “I’ll walk him over to the police station and see if someone isn’t looking for him.” He looked up the street one way and back down the other. “You’re the only person I saw out this early. Figured he might be yours.”
I chuckled. “I’m on my way to work.” I pointed to my ice cream shop. “Have to get everything made and let it freeze before we open.”
“Crewse Creamery?” he said, and looked up at the sign as if he was just noticing where he stood. “I can’t believe this place is still here.” He leaned forward and peered through the window. “I used to come here, oh man, must have been twenty-five, thirty years ago. Loved their ice cream. That was when it was owned by the Crewse family.”
“It still is,” I said. “I’m Bronwyn Crewse.”
“Get out of here,” he said, smiling. “Aloysius and Kaylene’s granddaughter?”
A smile beamed across my face. “Yes.” I tilted my head and looked at him. “You know them?”
“Yes.” Dimples appeared when he smiled, and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle at the memory. “Of course I know them. How are they?”
“Oh, my grandmother passed away a few years back. But my grandfather is doing great. I just left him.”
“He still lives on Carriage Hill Lane? I’ve been living out of town for a while. Just passing through and couldn’t miss saying hello to my friends in Chagrin Falls.”
“Yep, that’s the family house.”
“It’s funny how things can be so different when you’ve been away, but some things, the important things”—he looked into my eyes—“seem to stay the same.” He stroked the puppy. “I visited at the house a few times with your grandparents. That was when everyone was around—Graham, Denny, Jack. You kids. I remember you guys were big on family. Especially your grandmother.”
“Wow, you do know everyone,” I said. “And, yes, she was. Family meant a lot to her. It means a lot to all of us.”
“Well, I owned the store next door here,” he said. “So we were like family—in a neighborly sort of way.”
I frowned and looked at the wooden sign hanging over the door that read The Flower Pot, the village’s only florist. It had been open only a year or so, and I realized he was talking about the shop that had been there a quarter century ago. “Clawson’s Bike Shop?” I asked.
“You remember?”
“I do,” I said. “But you’re not Mr. Clawson.” I remembered him, too.
“No,” he said. “Good memory.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I’m not Dan. He ran the shop. I, along with his wife, was in charge of the back office. We were more like his silent partners. I’m Steve.” He switched the dog to the other arm and stuck out his hand for me to shake.
“Nice to meet you, Steve,” I said, and took his hand.
“We aren’t just meeting for the first time,” he said. “You don’t remember me?”
“Sorry,” I said, my forehead creasing.
“You were young,” he said. “But I probably spent more time in your grandparents’ store than I did in my own.” He winked. “Helped them through a few rough bumps. That was a long time ago, though.”
I didn’t know what bumps he meant, but trying to run a business, I’d discovered, didn’t come without them.
“You probably don’t remember, but those were good times. Good memories.”
I have lots of good childhood memories, I thought.
Steve wore a camel-colored overcoat that looked expensive. He didn’t have it buttoned up, and with the wind that was blowing through, I figured he must be cold. His cheeks were flushed, his shoulders hunched. Still, he was better prepared than I’d been. He wore brown gloves that weren’t leather and, to me, they—along with the red scarf that he now shared with the dog—didn’t match the rest of him. His rubber overshoes were mottled with dried slush and salt, and he wore a gray chunky-knit mock turtleneck sweater that was almost the same color as his hair.
“I should get going. We’re re-opening today,” I said proudly.
“Then I’ll be sure to drop in and get a scoop,” he said with a firm nod. “I remember how I loved your grandmother’s mud pie ice cream.” He licked his tongue across his upper lip. “That rich fudge swirl, then crunchy little cookie pieces. Yum.” His dimples seemed to deepen.
I laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can’t whip some up for you when you stop back by.”
He smiled at me, then looked up the street. “I might even drop in and say hello to your grandfather while I’m here. He’d probably fall over if he saw me.”
“I’m sure he’d love to see you. Especially since you remember my grandmother. She is his favorite topic of conversation.”
“Yep. I just might do that.” He looked down at the dog. “Right now, though, I gotta drop this little guy off at the police station.” He turned the dog to face him. Leaning in close, he said, “We gotta find who you belong to, don’t we?”