“Oh, from your mouth to God’s ears” was the last thing Stella Jane said before it cut to commercial.
“Bernie, you have to go and find out about this book signing and if it is at the old mill building.” Harriette barked orders at me.
“And don’t forget to get me a few of your mama’s apple fried hand pies. I saw in the Dollar Saver they are on the menu now.” Ruby loved all my mama’s cooking.
For that matter, all of Sugar Creek Gap loved to frequent the Wallflower Diner, which was owned by my parents.
“I’ll see y’all on my second loop.” I waved goodbye to the ladies. I’d dilly-dallied too long and needed to get going.
“Don’t forget you have a haircut on Monday!” Jenny said. “It’s here now, not the basement.”
I waved my hand to acknowledge her.
“Oops.” The salon door flew open. Ester Pitts’s head peeked around the door as she held it wide open for her mom, Kate Pitts, who was a resident of Sugar Creek Gap Nursing Home and using a walker.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying a bit of attention.” I apologized and stepped back into the salon to let Kate in.
“How could you?” Kate’s eyes grew with a twinkle. “We just saw the big interview on the television, and Grady is a superstar.”
“Yeah. I bet that’s exciting.” Mary Ester shut the door once her mother was fully inside the salon and helped her mother over to sit in the only chair not occupied.
“I’ll be with you in a jiffy.” Dora Lee was cleaning out the hair bowl.
“I’ve got nowhere to go, sugar.” Kate picked up the magazine on the table between the two chairs. “You take your time.”
“No, but I’ve got to get going.” By the tone of Mary Ester’s voice, she didn’t seem to like that her mom was making some provision for her.
“Oh. I bet you’re all excited the new bookstore was preserved per the committee rules.” Jenny wagged a comb at Mary Ester.
“It took a lot of convincing for the members to agree to a bookstore, especially since the old mill is the only thing that ties Sugar Creek Gap to the real reason it was established. But it did turn out nicely.” Mary Ester was on the board of the preservation committee.
“I didn’t even think to ask you what was going in there.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes, for it never crossed my mind. “I’ve been walking past it for the last few months thinking it was just being nipped and tucked here and there like most buildings are downtown.” My mail-carrier bag began to slip off my shoulder. I pulled the strap back up toward my neck. “Speaking of walking, I’ve got to get going.”
“Mom, you think you’re going to be fine here for a few?” Mary Ester asked Kate. “I’ve got to get down to the bookstore for a final inspection. This book signing gig was cutting it close, but since Stella Jane is a local, we promised we’d get it done.”
“I can walk her back to her apartment,” Dora Lee said and smiled.
She was a sweet young girl, and I wondered what she thought about Stella Jane’s success. Really thought about it since she was working in a nursing home hair salon with her mom. Not that it was a bad job, but let’s be real, what twenty-something-year-old wants to work with their mom, much less in a nursing home?
With my goodbyes out of the way, I headed to the mailbox room of the senior living facility, where I put mail in the sixty-or-so mailboxes. That didn’t include the condominiums located on the property where my parents lived.
It was truly the senior living area of the nursing home. It was a nice downsize from the farmhouse that my parents had given me and my now-deceased husband, Richard, when I was pregnant with Grady.
Before I was pregnant, we lived above the diner in the one-bedroom apartment, which was perfect for a married couple with no children. I was a mail carrier, and Richard was a traveling salesman.
My parents insisted on buying the condominium, making it way more convenient for them to live by the diner and perfect for our little family. Plus, I’d grown up on the farm, so it was totally home for me. I’d still continued the family Sunday-night supper, and when Grady and Julia told me they were pregnant, it was just the perfect time for me to downsize and give them the farmhouse.
Timing was everything, and it fell into place like it was supposed to happen. One of my customers had passed away and left me his house. . . and his dog, which put me on Little Creek Road.
And next to the Front Porch Ladies, which was the second loop of my mail carrier route.
The first loop was always the nursing home. Since it was easy to simply fill the boxes, it made for a nice start of the day.
Once they were filled, I walked back to the post office, which was located on Main Street with the other locally owned businesses in Sugar Creek Gap, making it so easy for me since the second loop was all those businesses and my little street of six homes.
My home, the four Front Porch Ladies, and Mac Tabor.
My boyfriend.
“You look like you’re in la-la land.” Vivian was still standing at the front desk. “I told you Clara got her smarts from her daddy.” Vivian smirked and nodded to the television in the communal room that’d just played the interview with Stella Jane.
Instead of telling her I was thinking about Mac, which did send my mind straight to joy, I smiled and waved goodbye.
Chapter 3
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.” Leotta Goldey, the owner of Social Knitwork, was at the counter when I walked in. Her hands were entwined in yarn. “Our Grady is a big-time star.”
“You saw the national news this morning, I take it.” I took her mail out of the mail-carrier bag and replaced it with the outgoing mail she’d left for me in the small basket next to the register she used for the shop’s mailbox.
“Yes.” She took the yarn off her hands, rolled it into two tight and neat balls, then set them next to the other ones she’d already completed. Leotta turned around and turned down WSCG, the local radio station. “I just about died when Stella Jane had said there was a bookstore opening at the Old Mill building.”
Both of us turned to look out the yarn shop window since she did have a catty-corner view of the working old mill, but not necessarily the building behind it.
The mill was very large, and it still pushed water along Main Street. It was original to the town, and the preservation committee had already put their stamp on it, allowing no one, and I mean no one, to touch it unless there was need of repair.
Sugar Creek Gap wasn’t a tourist town. Our little community had been built on generations of families. We were a small community, but through the years, the owners of big farms had sold off various acres, and developers had built several subdivisions surrounded by mountains.
Though we didn’t have any mill operations today, it was still a neat piece of history, and it was unique to have it right smack-dab in the middle of downtown.
On most fall mornings like this one, you’d find residents who had walked downtown to get a nice cup of hot coffee and sit next to the wheel as they enjoyed the scenery and caught up with friends.
Today, it looked as if everyone had gotten their coffee from the Roasted Bean and headed across the street to where rumors located the Old Mill Books .