“I shouldn’t wonder if you didn’t wonder much too much!”
~P. L. Travers
The door swung open, bringing in the hot, humid summer air, alerting Jonas that someone had entered the shop’s showroom. He dropped his wrench beside the teal blue and purple bicycle he was tending to and straightened his aching back. Flora had run upstairs to make their lunch, so Jonas handled both the workshop and counter area. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow as he walked over to Flora’s vacated station.
“Well, hello there, Mr. Godfrey,” the young man called out and smiled at him. He strode towards the counter with the ease of an adolescent. “I hope I’m not too early. I just couldn’t wait to pick up the bike.”
“Just finishing it up, my boy. It’s a beaut! That girl of yours is gonna love it,” Jonas preened proudly.
“That girl needs to learn how to walk first,” Flora teased, returning to the counter with a basket of food. “Hello, Jack. How’s the baby doing today?”
“Oh, almost sleeping through the night,” he responded and pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket to pay the balance of his bill.
As Flora took care of the transaction, Jonas returned to the workshop and picked up a soft cloth. Running it along the teal frame and purple fenders, he polished it until it gleamed.
Patting the teal and white leather seat, he whispered, “Be good to our girl, you hear? She’s something special for sure.”
Flora sat at the kitchen table, her reading glasses resting on her nose and a pencil tucked behind her ear. The store’s paperwork — the tax information, business license, etc. — lay scattered in front of her on the tabletop.
“Now, don’t look at me like that,” she directed towards the rabbit sitting on the table’s far end. “I warned you not to eat the bankbook.”
A knock at the door pulled her gaze from the forms and the hungry bunny. Flora looked at Dolce and wagged her finger.
“You behave yourself,” she said and turned on her heel to answer the door.
“Come in, Jack. Wonderful to see you,” Flora ushered in her guest.
“Miss Flora, the shop’s all locked up, and the rental tickets are ready for tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, but come into the kitchen. I have something to go over with you,” she said over her shoulder as she walked down the short hallway to the kitchen.
Jack obediently followed her.
“Hello there, Dolce,” Jack said as he sat next to the rabbit and patted her long ears. “What’s all of this?”
Flora sat down in her chair and adjusted her glasses. “These, my boy, are the papers for the shop.”
“So, do you need help going over something?” Jack asked.
“Well, no, I don’t, actually. I know exactly what I’m doing,” she announced. Picking up a stack of papers, she straightened them into a neat pile and placed them in front of Jack.
Dolce wiggled her nose and watched the temptingly yummy pages move past her. Flora did not notice; she focused her attention on Jack.
“What are these?” he squinted at the faded wording on the forms.
“These are from Jonas. He had them drawn up long ago, and I’ve held onto them for him.”
Jack looked questioningly from the papers to Flora.
“The store is yours. We planned it long ago, and, well, it just feels like it’s time for me to retire from my counter duties.”
“I’m not quite sure—”
“Well, I am. You are the closest thing I have to family, don’t you see? Now it will stay in the family. For the longest time, I’ve felt my story was over when my dear Jonas died. I wallowed in my own grief to the point of almost disappearing completely. It wasn’t until I realized what I ached for the most — a tribe of my own, a family who accepted me as I was — had been with me all along. Ever since an ecstatic young father with a beautiful baby girl bounded into our shop and asked Jonas for the best and safest bicycle we had. Granted, she was only a few months old, but that did not stop you.” Flora smiled. “Jonas and I just knew that you needed to be in our shop, and thankfully you accepted his offer when he presented it to you. We knew you completely understood the true meaning of family, and you would continue treating everyone like they were all part of yours.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jack gushed.
“Well, nothing right now. We’ll discuss it more this week. In the meantime, go home and celebrate with Lilia,” Flora answered. “Oh! And one more thing, give our girl a big hug for me. She’s something special for sure.”
“She what?” Lilia blurted out, nearly choking on the biscuit she was eating.
Jack arrived home just as his family sat down to eat a late lunch. He sat in his usual chair and patiently waited for everyone to share their day’s stories. Now a regular guest at the dinner table, Patrick had worked on compiling old letters and correspondence from the Trestle Cove Flood of 1907. Hadley spent the morning observing Dr. McGuinness in therapy sessions. Lilia had officially taken over the reins of the bookstore for the summer, and Cordelia spent the day seasoning her Dutch Oven and helping Nigel search for acorns in the backyard garden. When it was his turn to share, Jack described his visit with Flora and her plan to give him the bicycle business.
“Please don’t choke on that biscuit, dear,” Cordelia said and offered Lilia her glass of water. “I just made those today.”
Lilia looked at her mother over the lip of her glass as she drank. After sufficiently clearing her airway, she said, “They’re fine, Momma. Jack just surprised us, didn’t you?”
“Well, it certainly shocked me,” Jack agreed.
“Doesn’t surprise me any,” Cordelia commented, buttering another biscuit.
Her dining companions simply stared at her.
“What? Maybe she’s ready for a new adventure is all I’m sayin’,” Cordelia responded to their collective glances and continued to butter her biscuit.
“Woman, what are you up to now?” Lilia cautiously asked her mother.
“Me? Nothing!”
“Mm-hmm,” Lilia responded.
“Just maybe Flora needs her focus elsewhere now,” Cordelia said and broke the biscuit in two pieces, tossed one half under the table where Nigel waited, and chomped down on the other before she had to answer any more questions.
“Well, Dad, we are thrilled for you!” Hadley exclaimed, steering the conversation back to Jack’s good news.
They discussed the future of The Squeaky Wheel while Nigel enjoyed his treat.
The day had uneventfully dragged along at the Hawthorne’s home, mainly because Cecelia made it clear that no one needed to investigate Reveena’s guest.
“If, and when, she wants us to know who her visitor is, she knows where we are,” she reiterated for the one hundredth and first time while she set the kitchen table for dinner.
Ernie and Zelda stationed themselves at the breakfast bar across the room, both unusually quiet. They stared out the expansive windows behind Cecelia with sullen looks.
“I know you’re sitting there waiting to see who it is,” Cecelia announced, her back to the children so that she was facing the windows as well.
“Oh, we’ve already seen her,” Zelda casually mentioned while staring out the windows.
“Really?” Cecelia asked.
“Yep. This morning. Saw her in the backyard with Miss Reveena,” Ernie added.
“That’s nice,” Cecelia responded, but both Ernie and Zelda noticed the slight stiffening of their mother’s shoulders as she finished laying the plates on the table.
Cecelia turned away from the table and walked back to the stove.
“You’re not gonna ask any questions?” Zelda prodded.
“Nope,” Cecelia replied, lifting the lid from the pot of bubbling chili to peek at its progress. “Please take the bowls over to the table,” she directed to her daughter, hoping to deflect any more conversation about their dear neighbor.
As the front doorbell chimed, Zelda jumped off the stool with bowls in hand.
“Now what?” Cecelia sighed into the oven’s depths, checking on the pan of cornbread.
Ernie noticed the very un-Momma-ish comment, so he abandoned his post, searching for the poor soul who dared ring the bell. On the way through the living room, he noticed Bentley sitting backward on the couch, eagerly watching out the window. The dog’s wagging tail hinted that he knew who was on their front porch. As Ernie approached the entryway, he saw a familiar figure.
“Hello, kid, where’s your mother?” Lilia asked, her arms full of shopping bags once Ernie opened the door.
The boy held the door open for his aunt and said, “Kitchen.”
“Thanks.” Lilia proceeded towards the kitchen with her bags.
“Was I expecting you?” Cecelia asked, welcoming her cousin upon seeing her walk through the doorway.
“Nice to see you too,” Lilia answered and shot Zelda a confused look as Cecelia turned her back to them to stir the chili.
“Sorry, I’m just in a crabby mood today,” Cecelia apologized to the chili pot, but Lilia accepted it.
“No worries. I just came over to hang out while Momma is next door for her playdate.”
“Playdate?” Cecelia side-eyed Lilia.
“She would not let up about picking up Flora and dropping them off at Reveena’s.”
“Interesting,” Cecelia mused.
“Very,” Lilia agreed.
“What’s in the bags?” Cecelia asked, turning towards the breakfast bar where Lilia had plunked down her totes.
“Oh, more wedding stuff.”
Ernie walked through the doorway as Lilia said wedding and turned on his heel, fleeing to safer pastures upstairs.
“Z, you can find something to amuse yourself. Dinner’ll be a while yet,” Cecelia hinted to the girl who sat glued to her chair at the table.
“That’s okay. I’m here to help with dinner,” she reassured her.
Her mother’s patented teacher’s scowl met Zelda’s gaze. She looked at her aunt, hoping for some support, but saw a similar look.
“Fine. I’ll be in my room if you need me,” she resignedly decided, “For anything at all, remember,” she added while she slowly trudged down one step at a time.
Lilia watched Cecelia stir the chili from her viewpoint at the counter for a few seconds.
“So, what has your apron in a bunch, cousin?” she asked Cecelia, who continued to stir the chili into a frenzy.
“Why do you ask?” Cecelia replied, but placed the lid back onto the pot, turned to face the breakfast bar, and met a remarkably similar look that Zelda had just recently received from Lilia.
“Fine. Come sit down at the table,” she conceded.
Once the cousins sat at the table, dinner plates pushed to the side and coffee cups in hand, Cecelia filled Lilia in on the previous evening’s ladies’ night conversations. Cecelia finished her report and sat back for Lilia’s feedback. Lilia placed her mug on the table but still cradled it in her hands as she thought.
“Momma said nothing about anything when she got home last night,” she observed. She sat back in her chair, mug still in her hand, and looked her cousin in the eye. “You know, I’ve just realized the tables have turned here.”
Cecelia looked at Lilia with a confused glance, and then slowly, Lilia’s message sunk in, and it made sense. Only a few months earlier, Lilia was where Cecelia sat now. Lilia was the last person to accept and finally embrace who Cordelia had always been.
“Funny how I’m now the voice of reason. Isn’t that your role in the family?” Lilia chuckled.
“Hardy har har. I am not Reveena or Aunt Cordelia. I am not eccentric or whimsical. I don’t brew my own tea leaves, nor do I bake in a cauldron,” Cordelia pointed out as Kevin walked into the kitchen.
“Who has a cauldron?” he asked.
“It’s a dutch oven,” Lilia reflexively responded. “My point is that you are just as eccentric and whimsical as they are. Look at the shop you created. You don’t make your own tea, but you create some amazing magic in that oven when you make your never-ending treats.”
Kevin had wisely turned tail and retreated to the safety of the second floor after mentioning the dutch oven. Bentley now snored under the table, laying across Cecelia’s feet. The two women sat and listened to the measured breathing of the dog, both women finding it quite calming.
“But I’m not old,” Cecelia firmly stated.
“Do you think they always were?” Lilia quickly responded, “Once upon a time, they were little girls, too.”
Knowing she would not win that round, Cecelia slumped down in her chair, brought her mug up to her mouth, and pondered, “What do you think they’re up to over there?”
Both women sipped their coffee and looked across the yard.
“So, is she here?” Cordelia excitedly asked as she made her way to the kitchen table, where warm orange and cranberry scones awaited.
“Yes, she’s in her room getting some rest,” Reveena replied, bringing the teapot over to the table. “She got here much faster than I expected.”
“The winds must have been at her back over the water,” Cordelia surmised and placed a scone wedge on a plate.
Flora sat and observed the ease of the others’ banter and warm camaraderie. She felt pretty content to be part of their energizing spirit, yet she still was a bit stymied by why she received the last-minute invitation from Cordelia. But, glad to be out of her apartment above the store, Flora helped herself to a scone, a smear of blackberry jam, and the steaming cup of turmeric tea.
“Helps the aching joints at the end of the day,” Reveena assured Flora, who questioningly looked at the odd golden color of the tea. “Earth’s natural anti-inflammatory,” Reveena said and sat down at the table with her friends.
“It’s lovely that your sister will visit for a while this summer. What will you two be doing while she’s here?” Flora asked Reveena.
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” the woman answered, and Cordelia just smiled an amused smirk.
“Well, try not to get into any trouble,” Flora chuckled and raised her cup from the table to take a drink.
“Hopefully not too much, dearie,” her hostess grinned.
After everyone claimed their chili and cornbread and took off to other sections of the house, Lilia pulled a roll of ribbon from one of her bags and handed it to Cecelia.
“Here, you can cut this into nine-inch pieces,” she directed, placing a pair of small scissors in front of her cousin.
Still distracted by the neighboring window’s light, Cecelia mindlessly picked up the ribbon and unrolled it.
“Here’s the tape measure.” Lilia set it next to the scissors.
“How many?”
“Oh, one hundred-ish.”
“Okay... small intimate wedding, huh?”
“Yes, compared to the last round of the guest list.”
They sat in comfortable contentment and worked on the wedding favors for a while, but Cecelia soon felt drawn to glance out the window again. Lilia noticed and placed her scissors down in front of her.
“Why don’t you just go over there and find out what they’re up to?
“No!” Cecelia snapped.
“Fine then,” Lilia replied, picked up her scissors, and returned to snipping nine-inch pieces of ribbon again.
“Listen, I gave you a run for your money just a few months ago. I refused to listen to anyone, especially my own mother,” Lilia reminded Cecelia. “But I finally sat down, looked at her, and listened.”
“And how does that help me?” Cecelia asked, concentrating on measuring before cutting the ribbon.
“Funny you should ask.” Lilia dropped her scissors and peeked into the large market bag on the seat next to her. “Ah, here it is,” and she pulled out a very familiar book. “Here,” she offered and slid the tome across the table.
Cecelia quickly recognized the book as the one she lent to Patrick when he came searching for help understanding his future grandmother-in-law.
“I recall the lesson was to appreciate the things that bring us joy and contentment.” Lilia reminded her.
“Yes, I remember that conversation. Why are you trying to use my words against me, my dear cousin?”
“Because you may have forgotten the last part of that lesson. We all thrive when we have a sense of belonging and feel secure in who we are.”
Cecelia glanced up from the book to see her cousin looking at her with concerned eyes.
“Ceccy, I love you. And you give the absolute best advice to everyone around you. You are the one everyone comes to for counsel. But,” Lilia turned her gaze to the kitchen window that glowed from across the yard, “you, my friend, need to sit back, take a breath, and listen to the advice you’d give to someone else,” she finished, and returned her attention to the ribbon.
Cecelia sat quietly, gazing out the window. Lilia couldn’t tell if her cousin was mad, sad, or glad from her stoic stance, but she soon saw a slight smile as Cecelia moved her gaze back to her workstation.
“Besides, a little birdie hinted that you’ve been quite Un-Momma-ish lately, and that is just not going to make for a fun summer,” Lilia mentioned while measuring another piece of ribbon.
Feeling Cecelia’s eyes on her, she fought to hide her smirk and added, “Just saying.”
As the sun tucked itself behind the trees, the neighboring kitchen window’s glow grew warmer and brighter, while across the way, the sound of scissors snipping and the coffeepot gurgling competed with Bentley’s contented snores.