“I wish I could make this better for you somehow. I really do. What would help?”
He sighed. “Just having you here. That helps. It helps a lot.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go into the living room, shall we? Maybe even get out of the house for a bit?”
The bedroom clock flashed eight thirty. Ellen could push her bedtime back a little.
“Yes, that’s a good idea. Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere, really.”
He got up slowly, as if unstable on the new legs he’d been handed. She walked to him and took his hand.
“I’m taking you out for . . .” She stopped herself. She was about to say “a beer,” then remembered her current state. “A late-night ice cream.”
“If you think so.” He sounded tentative, but willing.
“I know so. Just follow me. We’ll go drown our sorrows in hot fudge and everything will be all right.”
“Don’t you mean my sorrows?” he asked.
“Yes, sorry,” she hastened to add. “Your sorrows. Didn’t mean to steal them away from you. They’re all yours, Henry.”
He gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”
“Come on now. We want to get there before they close.” She steered him into the living room, grabbed his keys off the end table, and pushed him through the door. It seemed she was destined to be people’s caretaker. It was, quite literally, in her blood, she thought with some amusement.
She left the porch light on, something to point the way home for Henry later that night.
“Nothing is more divine than the sweet smell of kringle baking in the oven.”
—The Book of Kringle
On Saturday, Ellen couldn’t stand the suspense any longer: she had to tell. She called Lanie and asked if she’d be up for a trip to the baby store, ostensibly to get some clothes for Benjamin. Lanie was always a sucker for baby shopping, and Rob could watch Benjamin.
Ellen pulled into her sister’s driveway at eleven o’clock sharp. Lanie threw herself into the car, bundled in a blue coat, hat, and mittens. Ellen looked at her.
“What?”
“Is it really that cold?”
“For your information, it’s fifty degrees out!”
“Yes, but we’re going to the baby store, not the Arctic.”
“Just drive!” Lanie commanded.
Ellen pulled out of the driveway.
“Remember when we used to take road trips to nowhere, just to get out of the house or so I could practice my driving?”
Ellen groaned. “Don’t remind me. Those were some of the most dangerous drives of my life. We’re lucky we lived.”
“I’m sure mom was watching over us.”
“Thank goodness.” It was the first time in a long time either one of them had mentioned their mother. For years it was all they could talk about, as if they were afraid that the memory of her would slip away forever. How much their lives had changed since then. Harriet McClarety would be proud; Ellen was certain of it.
She was biting her lip, bursting to tell. If she could sit on her hands while driving, she would have. “So, I have some news to share,” she began.
“Oh my God.” Lanie shot her a glance. “You and Henry are getting married?”
She couldn’t tell if the look on her sister’s face was one of surprise, disapproval, or a combination of the two.
“No! Why does everyone keep assuming we’re getting married?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. So, what is it?”
The timing was perfect. They’d just stopped at a red light at an intersection.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes. You’re killing me. What’s the big news?”
“I’m having . . .” she paused. “A baby.”
“What?” Lanie’s head swiveled. She looked as if Ellen had just told her she was buying an elephant for a pet. “A baby?”
“Yes, a baby.”
“But how? I mean, are you adopting?”
“Nope. I’m pregnant. One hundred percent knocked up.” She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. The light turned.
Suddenly it seemed to sink in. “You’re pregnant?” Her sister’s voice was shrill, over the top. “Seriously? Oh my God!” She squealed, clapped her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t even know you’d been trying. That’s so, it’s just incredible.” She bounced in her seat, clapped her hands, then squeezed Ellen hard, so hard that the car swerved a little.
“Watch out!” she yelled to herself as much as to Lanie.
“Sorry.” Her sister slammed back into her seat, took a breath. “How far along are you?”
“About three and a half months, give or take.” She was back on the straight and narrow, or as much as a pregnant, single woman could be.
“It was meant to be. I have to call Rob—he’ll be over the moon.” She rolled down the window and shouted: “Woo-hoo!! My sister’s having a baby!” Then she leaned over and honked the horn.
“Stop that!” Ellen batted her sister’s hand away but she was laughing. She knew Lanie would be happy for her, but she couldn’t have guessed her reaction no matter how many times she played it in her head.
“Wait, wait! You have to pull over.” As if it had just dawned on her that they were still driving. “You can’t just tell me you’re having a baby and keep driving. Pull over—there!” Lanie pointed to an empty space near the curb. Ellen thought she might hyperventilate, so she did as she was commanded.
“But wait! Who’s the daddy? Is it Henry?” It was as if the question had just dawned on her: When Ellen shook her head, Lanie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I know,” she began. “You went to one of those sperm banks and got some hunk’s genes!”
“Actually, no.” Ellen paused. “It’s someone we know. He’s handsome, smart . . .”
She could see Lanie searching her mind. She gasped. “Larry?”
Ellen grunted. “No. I’m not that spry.” She paused and began biting her thumbnail. “Lanie, it’s Max’s baby.”
She thought she felt her sister pull back just a touch, but maybe it was her imagination. In any case, Lanie looked at her wide-eyed now.
“Does he know?”
“Not yet.” She turned off the engine. “Do you think I should tell him?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m confused here. I know Max sent you that e-mail, but when has he been around? I thought he was tucked away on that island of his.”
“He was, or, he is, I should say. He was back in town a few months ago, visiting his sister. And he surprised me at the shop, and then he showed up at my door later that night with dinner. What can I say? It had been a long time . . . one thing led to another.”
“But you never told me.” Ellen thought she detected hurt in her sister’s voice.
“I didn’t think you’d approve. Can you blame me?”
Lanie thought it over for a second. “You’re probably right.” She looked out the window, then back at Ellen. She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. A baby. I’m so, so happy for you.” She gave her another hug.
“How long have you known?”
“A few days. I’ve been dying to tell you but the moment never seemed right. The other night you and Rob were in such a rush to get to your dinner . . .”
“But, Ellen, a baby? We would have canceled for that!”
“Anyway, I couldn’t be more surprised myself. I didn’t think it was possible.” She watched the cars rolling by. “Remember how I joked on Nantucket that I was ‘coming down with menopause’?” Her sister giggled. “Turns out I was coming down with a baby.”
“Oh, Ellen. It’s just wonderful. You’ll be the perfect momma.” Lanie reached out to touch her stomach. “Hi, baby. Hi, my little niece or nephew. So nice to meet you.”
“All right, all right, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know him or her,” Ellen said. “Right now, we have some shopping to do.”
“For a new baby,” Lanie gushed.
And at the touch of her
sister’s hand, Ellen felt a slight flutter in her growing belly.
“Baked into the heart of every kringle is one guiding impulse: to bring people together to share in spirited conversation, fine food, and good will.”
—The Book of Kringle
Bright red and white balloons twirled in the wind outside the storefront, advertising the Fall Fair on the Square in Madison. It was the third Saturday in September, and today was the gala that Lanie’s friend Naomi, with the help of the Boys & Girls Clubs, had been planning since spring. More than one hundred vendors would be gathered around the capitol. Ellen was wrapping up the rest of the kringles she’d agreed to donate for the event and preparing to close up the shop. She’d been up baking half the night. Henry had volunteered to help out; business was sure to be slow at the nursery today anyway.
She piled kringle after kringle in his arms. “Tell me how many is too many, okay?” But each time he nodded silently, as if he could bear the weight of her entire store, her crazy life.
“I’m not looking to make you tip over, you know,” she said after she’d laid the sixth kringle onto his arms.
“You’ve already done that. Knocked me over with your beauty.” She rolled her eyes. Lately, his affection had been front and center, Charlotte’s letters apparently opening a crack in his reserve. Recently Ellen felt like she was the one with all the secrets—a wayward ex-husband, a baby.
A few nights after he’d called about Charlotte’s letters, Henry showed up on her front step, looking like a stray dog. Men appearing on her doorstep seemed to be a recurring theme in her life as of late. How could she not take pity on him? After a few beers, he’d turned into a mushball: He was sorry he’d been such a fool. What an idiot to have someone like Ellen fall into his life, like an errant seed about to bloom, and not realize his good fortune. It was a little corny, the whole errant seed metaphor, but it was fitting in more ways than one, she thought. Besides, she had been too busy turning cartwheels in her head. At last, Henry Moon had seen the light.
Now the question was: Did Ellen want him to see the light?
She hadn’t yet told him about the child on its way; it seemed premature, both for the baby’s sake and for the relationship’s sake. But she knew that she couldn’t avoid it forever. Henry would notice her expanding belly sooner or later.
Now she dusted off her apron, hung it in the back room, and grabbed the key for the store. Erin and Larry were already at the Square setting up the booth. They’d been eager to help out, and each had signed on to be big siblings, roping their own little brother and sister into helping hand out kringle today.
She locked up the store behind Henry and cranked the heater in the car to cut the fall chill. It was cool, but not down-parka cool.
“Thank goodness for small favors,” she said to him. “At least it’s warm enough that people can actually enjoy themselves outside today.”
“How much money do you think the festival will bring in?”
“Who knows? Hard to say, but every little bit counts, right? I’m just glad to see some of the old Madison spirit returning.”
“You say that like we’ve all lost our souls.”
“Thankfully, there’s still some hope for you, Henry,” she teased.
They drove along the country roads, winding over to Madison. Rolls of hay packaged in tidy white wrappers, like enormous sausages, dotted the fields. How quickly summer’s bounty had come and gone.
They pulled into town and searched for a parking space in vain. Ellen pleaded with a cop to let them through the barricade to State Street (she had kringles to deliver!) but he wouldn’t budge. Eventually they parked in a lot three streets down and lugged the kringles themselves.
When they arrived at the booth at last, Larry and Erin were putting on the finishing touches, including a big banner that announced in bold blue letters:
THE SINGULAR KRINGLE—THE BEST KRINGLES IN TOWN.
—MAYOR FALLON.
The mayor had dropped by the store a few days ago and raved about the pastries, and Larry had encouraged Ellen to put his words to work; she hoped the mayor wouldn’t mind. Since hers was the only kringle shop in town, she didn’t think she’d gone too far out on a limb.
“Would you like some apple-rhubarb kringle?” A little girl, about eight and bubbling with enthusiasm, looked up expectantly at Ellen. “It’s a new house favorite.”
“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
“Tania, that’s Miss McClarety. She owns the store. Remember I was telling you about her?”
“Oh, sorry,” she said brightly. Then, “Does it taste good?”
They laughed. “I hope so!” Ellen took a bite. “Dee-licious. Nice to meet you, Tania. Thanks for helping out today.”
“Erin said she’ll give me ten dollars at the end of the day.” Erin grinned at Ellen.
“Is that right?”
Tania nodded.
“Well, I’m glad to see your heart is all in it.” She patted the girl on the arm and went over to introduce herself to Larry’s little brother, Steve, who was arranging samples under cellophane wrapping. The wind was turning it into somewhat of a project.
“And you must be Steve.”
He nodded. “Say hi, Steve,” Larry called down from his step stool.
“Hi,” he said softly. Steve looked about six years old, with big brown eyes and a wild head of hair. Clearly he was going to need Tania’s exuberance to help with kringle duty today.
“Do you like kringle?” Ellen asked gently. He nodded again.
“Well, good. Whenever you’re feeling hungry, you help yourself, okay?”
Another nod.
“Good. Because I like all my workers to be happy and well-fed. Deal?”
“Deal.” She could barely hear him.
Larry came down beside him and draped his arm around him. “Steve’s a little shy at first, but then you warm up, right buddy?” He nodded again, looked at the ground.
“That’s how I am, too.” Henry stood beside them now. “I like to be quiet at first and then I can be myself.” Ellen felt something close to love for the man.
Steve looked up at Henry. “High five?” Henry asked. He reached out his hand and Steve slapped it hard, triumphantly.
“That’s my man.” Larry beamed. “I didn’t know if you wanted a grammar quote on the booth, too, boss.”
Ellen thought about it. “No, let’s let it slide for today. I think we could all benefit from breaking the rules for one day, don’t you?”
“Henry, my man, ever since you came around, Miss Ellen is getting more and more lax. You’re a good influence.”
That and a baby, Ellen thought to herself.
She settled into a folding chair behind their table and surveyed the street. Street vendors of all stripes lined the walkway: homemade jewelry, fresh produce, wooden children’s toys, face-painting, a helium-balloon stand, even a bubble-magic magician. Naomi and her team had outdone themselves.
A young man stopped by to sample the kringle. “This is amazing stuff. I don’t think I’ve had anything like it. It’s like baklava, but better, not as sweet. What’s in it?”
“Secret recipe.” Ellen winked. The truth was, she was nervous about this batch. After poring over the riddle hidden in the book’s pages, she’d finally deciphered the secret ingredient—a dash of vanilla in the batter. She’d reread the poem more times than she could count and one night it had dawned on her: “capitals first” referred not to state capitals, but rather to the first capital letter of every epigraph heading each chapter in the cookbook. “First and seven” meant the first capitals of the first seven epigraphs. She couldn’t believe she’d been so dense, a word freak duped by a cookbook. Had her mother ever figured it out? She certainly hadn’t indicated any clues in the book.
Carefully, Ellen had pieced them together, V-A-N-I-L-L-A, taking the “V” from “Very” in the Very process of mixing, rolling. Then the “A” from Apple? Apricot? Pecan? and the “N” from Notion for
the day, the “I” from It’s important to remember. That left two “L”s (Lars, an old man, and Lemon betwixt), and an “A” (the Art of kringle-making). Plain old vanilla it was, two teaspoonsful per serving!
The vanilla was subtle, but it seemed to make the delicate pastry flavor soar even more. Combined with the rhubarb and apple, it was, she thought, perhaps her most singular kringle to date. But she was sleep-deprived and maybe her palate was off.
“Can I buy three?”
“You can’t buy any today—everything’s free. But stop by our store in Amelia on Main Street, or enter yourself in the silent auction for ten kringles.” Ellen pointed to the fishbowl that overflowed with little slips of paper. “Bid whatever you think is a reasonable amount, and if yours is the highest, you win.”
“What happens to the money?”
“All the proceeds go to the Boys & Girls Clubs.” Ellen pointed to the sign saying as much.
“Oh right. Good. Well, what do I have to lose?” He took a small square of paper and wrote down his bid.
“Don’t forget to include your name and e-mail so we can reach you if you win.”
He added a few lines, then folded the paper, and dropped it in the bowl.
“Thanks. Can I have another piece for the road?”
Tania practically launched the tray into his hands. “Here you go!” Ellen was going to have to hire her for the store.
Henry returned with six hot chocolates for the group, the steam spiraling through the cracked Styrofoam lids. Ellen had to admit it was nice having a man around who anticipated her needs before they’d even occurred to her. She helped Steve with his lid, then took a sip of hers.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Lanie and Rob stood in front of their table now. Benjamin, bundled up like a little soldier, held his mom’s hand. “I can’t believe the turn out! We’re going to raise a ton of money. Naomi is beside herself. You should see her.”
“It’s impressive, isn’t it? I hadn’t realized the amount of work she was putting into this.”
“I know. Like a full-time job,” Lanie said. She took some kringle from Steve, who bashfully held out a tray to her. “Thank you, young man.”
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