Page 5 of Book and Ladder
“Hi, Miss Daisy,” Emmajean says. “I brought you a picture.”
I lean down and look at the drawing Emmajean is holding out.
“Wow. That’s amazing. Can you tell me all about it?”
Emmajean launches into a story about a princess and a pig, based loosely on the story we read last week, but highly embellished by her four-year-old imagination.
Winona offers Sarah a cup of coffee as other moms and preschoolers filter into the shop, making their way to the back room where the children will plop onto carpet squares laid out on the floor and the moms will fill the fluffy chairs and couches around the perimeter of the room.
“Mornin’,” Effie, our sixty-seven-year-old employee says, walking in behind a mom and two girls. “It’s a beautiful day.”
She beelines to the counter where Winona and I are standing. Then, in a stage whisper that’s far too loud to keep a secret, she says, “Heard you’re gettin’ a housemate.”
“Not a housemate,” I say too loudly, heat creeping up my neck at the thought.
Several heads turn.
I smile at our customers and lower my voice. “He’s moving in next door. Not into my house. For the love, Effie!”
She just chuckles and pats my hand. “You know they say hate and passion are two sides of the same coin. And passion can lead to all sorts of fun.”
“Not this passion,” I declare. “Not that I have passion … I don’t … at all. It’s just infuriating that he would move in right next door.”
“Forced proximity,” she smiles widely. “Remember when you taught me all the tropes of romance?”
“Effie!” Winona scolds. But she’s smiling widely. “Don’t tease about Patrick. He’s not a protagonist in a love story. He’s the evil villain. The arch-enemy.”
“I don’t know. He’s awfully sweet to be a villain,” Effie defends.
“That’s part of his diabolical scheme,” I say plainly. “The looks, the smiles, the unflappable nature. It’s all a part of lulling people into blind affection and denial of his darker nature.”
“Oooh. Now you’ve got me intrigued,” Effie says. She pauses and adds. “No. I don’t think so. I’m a pretty decent judge of character. Patrick’s one of the good ones.”
She pats my hand again for good measure and says, “Then again, vinegar and baking soda both have their uses. But put them together and—boom! Things start blowin’ up. Maybe that’s all it is with you two. You’ve got chemistry.”
“We most certainly do not have chemistry,” I insist. Then I take a breath. “I’m sorry, Effie. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
She smiles, resting her hand on mine this time. “Patrick has. Plain and simple.”
As quickly as she brought the subject up, she turns. “I’d better put my purse up. I’ll meet you in the back room for story time.”
Winona smiles at me. “Want me to man the counter until Waylon shows up?”
“Would you?”
“Sure. I’ve heard this one before.” She hands me a copy ofThe Frog and Toad Treasuryand winks.
I take a steadying breath and stroll through the shop to join the group of moms and kids waiting in what we informally call “the book nook.” I take my seat in the old wood chair at the back of the room near the windows overlooking the grassy lawn and woods behind the shop.
“This week,” I say with a practiced flair to my voice, “We’re going to read a wonderful story calledFrog and Toad Are Friends.”
“I have a toad in my yard!” Mikey shouts in his outside voice. “It’s diss big!”
“Evweebody has dem!” Theo shouts back.
I gently place my finger to my lips and the whole room copies my gesture.
“Thank you, friends,” I say softly. “I love hearing about your toads. Let’s talk about them after we read this special story.”
