“I’ll trade you this for those.” I took his rubber-banded mail out of my mail-carrier bag and handed the stack to him in exchange for the envelope of photos. “What do I owe you?”
“Seven forty-eight,” he said and thumbed through his mail.
I leaned my hip on the counter and took a moment to go through the photos, and my heart lit up. I couldn’t believe how cute they were. I’d taken them when I had babysat her at my house and coaxed Rowena into a few when Buster was outside. Rowena was always up for a good treat bribe.
“That’s a good one too.” Gill rested his forearms on the counter and looked over to see what photo I was looking at. “Sorry it took a couple of weeks, but you know I have to send out the film.”
“No hurry.” I was just so happy to get them and see that the camera actually worked. It’d been so long, and it was one Richard had used before his death. “I’m excited to get some of her this weekend on the farm at Sunday supper. Do you have any more 35mm film?”
“Your family still has Sunday supper?” Gill questioned and turned to look at the wall behind him. He plucked off a box of film.
The wall behind the counter was where Gill kept what he considered the expensive stuff. That included film.
“We do. I’m glad Grady and Julia wanted to continue to do it after they moved to the farm. It’s a big chore to have everyone over, especially now since we are growing.” I handed him my debit card to pay for the film and the photos.
“You sure are lucky, Bernie.” He put the film and the photos in a brown sack and handed me back my card.
“How is Drucilla doing in school?” I asked. She was a sweet young woman.
“She had to make a few adjustments to living away from home, but she’s, what we like to say, blossomed like a morning glory.” He cackled and put his hands in the pockets of his overalls.
“I’m sure it took some getting used to, but she’s a smart girl. You and Vivian did good.” I took the brown sack and put it in my mail-carrier bag. “I’ll have more film on Monday.”
“If you get it in here Sunday night, I can probably have it back quicker. That’s when they pick it up.” He gave me some good information that just might come in handy.
“Great. But Sunday supper tends to run up until well after you’re closed. You have a good week.” I escaped without being asked about Grady and his sudden rise to fame, at least by Sugar Creek Gap standards.
Like I mentioned earlier, everyone pretty much knew when to expect me on my mail route, and my parents were the worst customers I had.
“Bernie,” Mom gushed and practically ran over all the diners to reach me. “Have you heard?”
“I have.” I pulled my mail-carrier bag around me and set it on the ground next to my feet as I took a seat on the open stool that was next to my dad at the counter.
“I wasn’t sure, so I DVR’d it.” Dad had the small diner remote in his hand and pointed it directly at the TV, rewinding the interview with Stella Jane.
“He’s been playing it nonstop all morning,” one of Dad’s usual cronies barked from down the counter.
“It’s not every day your grandson is mentioned on national television, Merv,” Dad grumbled and hit the play button. “And in such a big book that might be a movie one day.”
I just couldn’t imagine what was between those steamy covers that would warrant a movie deal, but I was definitely going to go find out for myself at eleven before the new bookstore sold out.
“Can you believe it? A bookstore.” Mom put her hands up to her mouth with excitement written all over her face. “Me and my friends won’t have to pass around the one copy from the library of the book we are reading for book club. We can buy our own copies.”
That was the thing with my mom. She and her friends at the senior living had a book club they liked to call monthly, only they picked books the library had only one copy of. It took them a long time to read a book. In reality, it was more like three months by the time everyone had gotten the book passed around.
I’d tried several times to get mom to order the book online or even an e-book, but she refused. Me. . . the less I had to store in my little cottage home, the better. I was all electronic.
“I’m glad it is all working out. Say, did you know it was a bookstore going in over there?” I asked, even though they didn’t have a straight shot of the old mill building and right across the street from the old mill building was the stop sign for Short Street.
“I had no idea. I thought the preservation committee was trying to do something in there since they had all that brown paper up on the window, so I didn’t pay it any attention.” She reached through the pass-through window to the kitchen and picked up the to-go box. “Hand pies.”
“Yes. Thank you.” I knew I needed to pick those up for Ruby. “Speaking of Ruby, did you know Jenny Franklin is now doing hair in your complex?”
Dad ran back the DVR’d interview again.
“I did. I was thrilled.” She picked up a coffee cup and was about to pour me a coffee, but I stopped her.
“I need a to-go one. The bookstore opens up at eleven, and I want to go,” I told her and put the box of hand pies carefully in my mail-carrier bag.
She poured me a cup of coffee in one of the Styrofoam cups.
“Are you going to stop at home?” she asked since I usually stopped by the house to check on Rowena, my cat, and let out Buster, the inherited chocolate lab, and give them any special treats my mom sent them.
“I’m not. I’ve only got enough time to get the rest of the second loop delivered before eleven.” Which reminded me to skip Tabor Architect, which was four buildings away from the diner, and to skip Mac’s house, which was located at the top of my street and right next door to Harriette.
That would save me a little time.
“Then stop by for lunch. I’m cooking up some wilted lettuce.” The words trickled out of her mouth, sending the taste of the delicious food right to my taste buds.
“Did you plan that on purpose?” I asked, knowing it was one of the specials she had that didn’t last long once the news got around town. Plus, Mom was pretty smart when it came to marketing and money. If she put the wilted lettuce on the chalkboard menu outside, the people going to the opening of the bookstore would be there for lunch after the eleven o’clock opening.
“Maybe.” She shrugged and wiped the counter with a damp rag. “We’ll see.”
I gave my dad a quick peck on the cheek and told them I’d be back.
“I made Geraldine do the morning deliveries because you aren’t answering my texts or calls.” Iris Peabody, my best friend and the owner of Pie in the Face bakery, was waiting for me by the door. “I can’t believe you, Bernadette Butler, would keep such a big secret from me like this. I’m not just some Joe Shmoe off the street. I’m the closest thing to an aunt that Grady Butler has, and people come in here for their morning donuts, which are amazing if I do say so myself.” She handed me the pumpkin donut she had in a napkin in her hand.
She took her hand and ran it over her long curly brown hair to try to tame it, and I took a bite of the donut.
Delicious. Warm. Exactly what I needed for a little extra sugar boost to get the rest of the second loop quickly delivered.