by A. G. Mayes
Day 7 - Tuesday, November 8th
Dear Elodie,
You’ll never believe what my niece did today. She went into my room and stole my favorite teddy bear. I know I’m 42 and she’s only 7, and I should be an adult about this, but I just hate when other people touch my stuff.
I took my teddy bear back from her and explained the importance of boundaries. Now my brother is angry. He thinks I should just let my niece have the bear, but I think it’s important for her to learn young that she can’t always have everything she wants.
Who’s right? Should I give my niece the teddy bear and risk her growing up to be a selfish monster? Or do I keep it and risk my brother cutting me out of their lives?
Sincerely,
My Bear or Share Bear?
Dear My Bear or Share Bear?
I understand where you’re coming from. Kids shouldn’t just be given everything they ever wanted. However, is a teddy bear really worth destroying your family over? Maybe you could give her the teddy bear (either that one or a different one if that particular one holds sentimental value) and then ask her to give you something in return. Make it a fun game that will teach her the joys of sharing.
Ask and I’ll Answer,
Elodie
I turned the page of the newspaper and groaned when I saw an ad for Alice’s cookie shop in big bold letters. ‘Sick of having the same old boring pie for dessert day in and day out? Come to the Cookie Castle where we have fresh exciting new flavors every day! There’s something for everyone, even your dog or cat! Stop by today!’
I had to admit that the picture of cookies at the bottom of the ad was tempting, but that didn’t stop me from ripping the page out of the newspaper and tearing it into tiny bits. Wasn’t that psychiatrist on television always saying that you needed to find healthy expressions of your emotions instead of keeping them inside. This was healthy, wasn’t it? I pounded the confetti pile of paper into the table with my fist. Healthy expressions, I told myself.
I drummed my fingers against the display case. No one had come into the shop today except for the Morning Pie Crew. That left me with plenty of time to consider my options to boost business. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the desk in the back. I doodled several pictures of hammers and screwdrivers and a few daisies before jotting down a few ideas, including making a specials board for the sidewalk. I headed towards the hardware store.
I took the long way there, attempting a casual stroll as I rounded the corner to the town square so I could see if the cookie shop was as busy as yesterday. The line was out the door again. I don’t know why I tortured myself like this.
With a new wave of determination, I turned and quickly walked back towards the hardware store. Thanksgiving was only a couple of weeks away, and I knew my customers would come back. Pie was tradition. People liked tradition. I just had to keep the pie shop going until then.
‘This is becoming a habit,’ Lena greeted me when I walked through the door.
I walked past a couple who was heading out the door carrying a paper bag. They both had graying brown hair. The man gave me a small nod and smile, but the woman gave me an icy stare. Her sharp green eyes sent a shiver through me.
As soon as they were out the door, Lena went into full on gossip mode. ‘Those were Stan’s parents. They come in a few times each year to visit from the big city,’ she began with a meaningful nod as though that should be enough to elicit some kind of reaction from me.
‘Oh, sure,’ I said uncertainly.
‘His mother always goes on and on about how “charming” it is here. I hate when people call our town “charming.” Even the word “quaint” was bandied about.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘They might as well call all of us residents “cute” too.’ She contorted her face into such a look of disgust that I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘His dad just wanted to know where he could get the best pizza in town, as though we have more than one option for pizza. Then they bought a wrench and some mason jars.’
Lena helped me find everything I needed, then I paid for the supplies. When I got back to the shop, Alice was lurking in the alley.
‘Hi Alice,’ I greeted her flatly.
‘Susanna, I’m so glad I caught you.’ Her smile was warm, but I didn’t trust her.
‘What can I do for you?’ I tried to keep the edge out of my tone as I set down my supplies.
‘I just wanted to stop by and bring you some cookies.’ She held up a white paper bag that had the words ‘Cookie Castle’ stamped on the side in gold letters. ‘I know we got off on the wrong foot, and that’s probably my fault.’ I almost snorted. Probably? ‘I just wanted to drop these off and say that I hope we can be good neighbors, and I can’t wait to meet your aunt if she ever returns.’ The ‘if’ didn’t slip past me unnoticed.
‘Thanks,’ I said, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm out of my tone as I took the bag from her.
Just then, Alice’s cell phone beeped. She glanced at the screen. ‘I really have to get back to the shop. I don’t have the luxury of coming and going all day from my shop like you do. It must be so relaxing,’ she said. ‘Enjoy the cookies.’
I fumed as I watched her go. I opened the bag. There were cookies shaped like turkeys in there. She was trying to take the Thanksgiving market. I was angry with her and furious with myself for thinking they looked delicious. Maybe just one bite?
Then I remembered the box of flyers Alice had left in front of the pie shop, and I took one of the cookies out of the bag and set it on the floor. I found my hammer and carefully hammered it into a million tiny crumbs. Healthy expressions of rage, I told myself, sweeping up the crumbs.
I left the rest of the cookies in the bag on the desk and went to work building a chalkboard sign that could be set out on the sidewalk. I would call this phase one of my plan. In my imagination, one of the phases involved taking a bulldozer to the Cookie Castle.
The sign looked good when I was done. I used all the colors of chalk to write out today’s pie flavors. I’d even drawn a picture of a pie that wasn’t half bad. I set it out on the sidewalk and stood there for a minute half hoping that a horde of people would come running over for pie. When that didn’t happen, I went inside.
A little while later I saw Sheriff Buddy in front of the shop looking at the sign. The sign was working! He was probably trying to decide what to order. Maybe he’d even get a whole pie. I stood behind the display case waiting for him to come in. Then he pulled out a tape measure and measured from the building to the edge of the sign. What was he doing?
He saw me watching him and stepped inside.
‘Hi Sheriff, what can I do for you today?’ I pointed to the pies in the case. ‘Anything look good?’
‘Sure, they all look good, but I still have a few more pounds to go before I meet my goal for the weight loss challenge,’ he said, patting his stomach. I groaned inwardly. ‘I’m here on business anyway.’
‘What’s wrong?’ My heart began to race. Was he going to tell me something bad had happened to Aunt Erma? I felt tears prickling at my eyes.
‘You need to move your sign.’
I blinked. ‘What?’
‘According to the city code, there has to be a four-foot walkway between the building and the edge of the sidewalk. The way you have your sign placed right now, there’s only a three-foot, ten-inch walkway,’ he explained. ‘We’ve had some complaints, so I had to come check it out.’
I had a couple ideas about who might be complaining.
‘So, you want me to move my sign over two inches?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said, perfectly serious. ‘Otherwise it’s a safety hazard.’ Some incoherent staticky mumblings came through his walkie talkie and he responded, ‘I’ll be right there.’ Then he turned back to me. ‘I have to go. A fight broke out at the cookie shop over the last snickerdoodle. I’ll check back later.’
After he left, I grudgingly went out and nudged the sign over a couple inches. Stan’s mother was at the end of the
street watching me. I waved, but she just kept staring. I shivered a little and went back inside.
Dear Elodie,
My good friend recently discovered that she has a snake infestation in her house. She assures me that the snakes are harmless, but I am terrified of them. She’s even started to name them. The other day I was at her house for tea, and I went to the bathroom. While I was in there, a snake slithered out from under the bath mat. It would have scared the you-know-what out of me if I hadn’t already gone to the bathroom. When I screamed, she said, ‘Oh that’s just Goomba being Goomba.’
I told her I won’t come over anymore until she deals with this horrific situation. She has more of a live and let live philosophy and said the snakes will move out when they’re good and ready.
What should I do? I hate to lose my friend over this, but I hate snakes even more.
Sincerely,
Scared of Slithering
Dear Scared of Slithering,
Everyone is afraid of different things. Maybe your friend sees them as family, or maybe she wants them to keep her insect population in check. Either way, if she isn’t willing to deal with them for your comfort, suggest that you meet at a restaurant or invite her over to your house. This doesn’t have to be a deal breaker in your friendship.
If she insists on bringing her snakes with her to the restaurant or to your house, that might be a deal breaker.
Ask and I’ll Answer,
Elodie
Later that day I heard the bell out front tinkle and jumped up from my spot where I was catching up on past Ask Elodie columns.
A woman in a dark green knitted hat stood out front. Her light brown curly hair poked out the sides. She was weighed down by two canvas bags.
I greeted her with a wide smile, so excited to have another customer. ‘What can I get for you?’ I asked.
‘Oh honey, I don’t need any more desserts. My bags are already full of cookies from that delightful shop. Have you tried it? I sampled every flavor they had and then proceeded to buy a dozen of each kind. I’m going to give them to all my friends back home. I’ll be the star of the knitting club!’ she babbled on excitedly. ‘I was just wondering if you could give me directions to the grocery store. I want to buy some milk to go with all these cookies.’
I didn’t even bother hiding my annoyance as I gave the woman directions, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just kept smiling and peeking inside her bags to check on her cookies.
With a cheerful, ‘Toodles,’ she was off, and that was the last time the bell over the front door rang for the day.
I pushed open the door to Sal’s Bar. It was an eclectic place with creaky wooden floors and bright, sparkly pictures hung on the walls. There was a pool table in the corner, and the bar was long and made from dark stained wood.
I looked around and didn’t see Holly. Not really surprising since in my eagerness, I had arrived ten minutes early.
A man in a green flannel shirt with slicked back sandy brown hair stood leaning against the corner of the bar like he owned the place. I guessed he was Sal.
‘It’s made from parts of the Titanic’s hull,’ Sal said rubbing his hand along the side of the bar when he saw me eyeing it.
‘I thought the Titanic was made from steel,’ I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
He paused, sizing me up. ‘You got me there. It’s made out of pieces of the Barnaby’s old barn. You’re pretty smart. Most people believe me.’
‘Most people just think you’re crazy and don’t want to upset you.’ A woman with thick curly blonde hair came out from the back. ‘Is he trying to tell you that Titanic crap?’
I nodded.
‘Oh, Sal.’ She shook her head at him. ‘You really need to work on some new material. He has a thing for Leonardo DiCaprio,’ she told me.
‘What can I say? That movie spoke to my soul,’ he said. ‘I have to stop watching before the end though. I can’t stand it when the boat sinks. Tragic.’ He looked down, letting out a deep sigh.
‘Buck up. I can suggest some good movies with happy endings,’ I said, patting him on the shoulder.
Holly walked through the door. We ordered margaritas and talked as though we were old friends. I told her about being fired from my job back home.
‘It was kind of soul sucking, but at least I was good at it,’ I said. She gave me the, ‘you’re better off without them, and they’ll regret losing you,’ spiel. Then she told me about her kooky mother and her secret life as a novelist.
‘Romance novels, huh?’ I said.
‘Yeah, my biggest fans are my mother’s friends.’
‘I want to read your books!’ I said.
‘You might notice a few copies at your local grocery store.’
‘Can I buy them tonight?’ I stood up.
‘It’s closed now, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’ She pulled me back to my seat, laughing.
‘I will buy them all first thing tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Maybe you should start with just one and see how that goes.’ She took a large gulp of her margarita. ‘I heard Gina’s giving you a hard time,’ Holly commented.
‘What is with that woman?’ I asked recalling my encounter with the muscular gym lady.
‘She takes the word intense to a whole new level. We dated for a few months, but she broke up with me when I refused to sign up for a triathlon with her. Can you believe that? Who breaks up with someone for that?’ she asked. My mouth dropped open, not because Holly had revealed she was gay, but because I couldn’t believe anyone would date Gina. ‘Anyway,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘I heard the cookie shop opened.’
I nodded and carefully licked a little salt off the rim.
‘Personally, I was hoping for a dance studio. I’ve been wanting to take tap for ages.’
‘I wish it was a dance studio,’ I wailed. ‘The Morning Pie Crew is going to have to start ordering ten pies apiece if I’m going to keep the place in business until Aunt Erma gets back.’
‘Cookies are just a fad, pies are forever,’ Holly declared, holding her nearly empty glass in the air to accentuate her proclamation.
The server came to our table. ‘Another round?’ she asked
‘Yes, please,’ we chorused.
‘Did I hear you say something about cookies?’ she asked Holly.
Holly nodded, her mouth full of the last sip of her margarita.
‘I was at that new shop today, and it was amazing! The best dessert I’ve ever had. Did you try the rocky road cookies? They were just to die for!’ she gushed while collecting our empty glasses.
I saw a look of interest pass across Holly’s face at the mention of rocky road cookies, but she quickly switched to indignance. ‘No way, I prefer pie,’ she said.
‘Do you know anything about this new woman, Alice?’ I asked after the server left.
‘Look at you. Saying “new woman”, as though that wasn’t you just a few days ago,’ Holly said.
I glared at her.
‘She’s kind of a mystery, actually. I’ve heard a lot of different theories around town about where she came from and why she’s here,’ Holly said. ‘I think she’s a spy.’
‘Who’s she spying for?’ I asked.
Holly shrugged.
‘I think she’s running from the law,’ I said.
‘She could be a con artist. She has this quality about her that seems to attract people to her.’
‘Yeah.’ I glumly took a sip of my margarita.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Holly patted my arm. ‘Erma’s Pie Shop is a staple in this town. The cookie excitement will wear off after a few days.’ She looked like she believed her words about as much as I did.
By the time I had finished my second margarita, I was feeling pretty good about my new life. So what if my pies were more of an acquired taste? This town had some really nice people in it, and as soon as Aunt Erma got back, she could teach me how to bake as well as she did.
I left Holly at the t
able and wandered back to the bathroom. To get there I had to go down a narrow hallway that was lined with paintings. I could have sworn that the man holding a dog in one of the paintings winked at me. I stopped and studied it for a second, but he didn’t move again. It must have been the alcohol playing tricks on my mind.
It was quiet in the two-stall bathroom compared to the loud buzz of the bar. I could faintly hear the beat of the country music coming through the door. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that I’d made a new friend, but my confidence was through the roof. I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror.
‘Watch out world!’ I said, ‘You are looking good!’ I did a little dance for my reflection. Then I heard a toilet flush.
Alice appeared in the doorway of the other stall. ‘Don’t let me interrupt,’ she said, making her way to the other sink.
‘Hi Alice,’ I said through slightly gritted teeth. I was determined to be pleasant and not let her ruin my happiness.
‘Did you eat the cookies I brought you?’ she asked.
I thought about the crumbs in the garbage. ‘No, I didn’t. Sorry,’ I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
A look of disappointment flickered across her face before she smiled angelically as she scrubbed her hands. ‘You look great. Really well rested. Me, I’m exhausted. Nonstop customers today. I think it’s great that you’re able to be so upbeat, dancing and smiling, with everything that’s happening. Did you pick that up in one of Mr Barnes’s yoga classes?’
My jaw dropped, but no words came out. This was always how it was for me. I rarely came up with a good comeback on the spot, but give me three or four hours, and I would have a zinger ready to throw back at her. I turned to leave.
‘I’m sorry if that came out the wrong way. I’m sure you’ll give me a run for my money in the baking contest. After all, Erma must have taught you some of her baking secrets, didn’t mustn’t she?’ Alice asked.
I gave her a noncommittal shrug. I wasn’t willing to give her the satisfaction that I was pretty much flying blind here.
‘Have you found the secret ingredients yet?’ She pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and carefully dried every finger.