“I only plan to stay a few weeks—a couple of months at most. Just until I can regroup and find a new job.”
“It’s a shame about Pemberton,” Mom said. “You always sounded so happy when you talked about your work there.”
“It was the perfect job,” Christa said. “I got along great with everyone, and I loved the creative challenge of designing new marketing programs. We did everything from single print ads to lengthy television campaigns. My clients were a nice mix of private companies and nonprofits. My bosses were great, and the location was ideal.” She got a little choked up, just thinking about how lucky she’d been to land such a great position right out of college. She’d planned to stay there until she retired.
“I’m sure you’ll find something else you’ll love just as much,” Mom said. “Where have you applied so far?”
“Um, I’m still considering my options.” She enjoyed the last of the toast and egg. “I don’t want to rush into anything I’ll regret.”
“You can stay here as long as you like,” Mom said. “I’m sure it will be nice for you to touch base with your friends in town. What did you plan to do today?”
She pushed aside her empty plate. “I hadn’t planned on doing much of anything. I thought it would be nice for the two of us to visit.”
Mom and Dad tried to be subtle, but Christa would have had to be blind to miss the look they exchanged—as if they were two guilty crooks agreeing on a cover story. “I want you to run some errands in town for me,” Mom said. “I need a few things.”
“Why don’t we go together?” Christa said. “We could have lunch at the Blue Bell.” The Blue Bell Café was an institution in Cedar Grove. Christa and her mom had shared many confidences—from discussions of first bras and first boyfriends to the pros and cons of various colleges and career paths—over coffee and pie at the Blue Bell. Going there today would be like old times.
But Mom shook her head. “I’ll be much too busy here at the ranch. I’d rather you went for me.”
“All right. I can do that.” Christa wanted to ask what her mother would be so busy with, but another evasive answer would hurt too much, so she pushed her curiosity aside.
After breakfast, Christa washed the dishes, then took the list her mother gave her and headed to Cedar Grove. The town seemed somewhat more lively this morning, with cars parked in front of most of the businesses. Her first stop was the library, where Mrs. Franklin manned the front desk, as she had for most of Christa’s life. “I’ve got the books your mother requested right here,” Mrs. Franklin said. She slid the stack of volumes toward Christa and studied her over the tops of her half glasses. “Are you home to stay, or is this another quick visit?”
“I’ll be here for a few weeks. Maybe as long as a couple of months. I was laid off from my job in Houston.” She might as well admit it up front; it wouldn’t take long for the news to spread in a town the size of Cedar Grove.
“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. I can’t say you’ll find a lot of job opportunities in this neck of the woods, but if I learn of anyone hiring, I’ll let you know.”
Christa seriously doubted she’d find a position in town that would utilize her marketing degree, but she appreciated Mrs. Franklin’s concern. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m really here because I thought it would be nice to spend more time with my folks while I’m between jobs.”
“That’s good. I’m sure both your parents appreciate the help.” Mrs. Franklin tapped a few keys on her computer and studied the screen. “Your old library card is still good, so feel free to use it while you’re here. And we have a women’s book club that meets the second Thursday evening of every month. You should come.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks again.”
Next on the list was the Blue Bell Café, for a jar of Etta Mae Cook’s strawberry jam. “I thought Adele made all her own jam,” Etta Mae said, after she’d given Christa a hug and slipped the jar of jam into a brown paper sack.
“Maybe she didn’t have time this summer,” Christa said. “She said she’s been busy—too busy to even come to town with me today.”
“Well, you tell her I’m flattered to know she likes my jam so much. She should stop by for coffee and a chat next time she’s around.”
“I’ll tell her. Thank you.”
“And you should come back Friday morning. The Chamber of Commerce eats breakfast here and everyone is invited. They’re always looking for volunteers.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m going to be pretty busy updating my résumé and applying for jobs.”
“I hope you find one, honey. I wish Cedar Grove had more to offer young folks like you. Maybe this new highway will bring some new businesses and jobs with it.”
“But I thought the highway was going to bypass the town,” Christa said.
“Well, it is, dear. But there’s talk of development out by the highway, so I guess businesses will gradually move out that way. I’m hoping for the best.”
Christa wished she shared Etta Mae’s optimism. The highway project might just as well be the death knell for the little town she loved. “I guess I’d better see to these other errands.” She held up the list her mother had given her. “But I’ll be back soon for a piece of your wonderful pie and a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll save one for you.” Etta Mae winked, then turned to wait on the next customer.
By the time Christa walked into the Cedar Grove Bank an hour later, she was beginning to suspect that her mother had written her list with the goal of reacquainting Christa with as many familiar faces in town as possible, and luring her into all the clubs and activities. The teller, whose nameplate identified her as Traci, was a stranger to Christa, which was almost a relief. At least here, no one would feel obligated to invite her to join the gardening club or to volunteer with the 4H, as had happened at the Post Office and the Seed and Feed. “May I help you?” Traci asked.
“My mom sent me for paper coin sleeves,” Christa said. “I guess she has a bunch of change to roll.”
“Oh, sure.” The teller opened a drawer and took out a fistful of coin wrappers for pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters, and slid them across the counter to Christa. “Here you go. Anything else?”
She glanced at the sign that offered free checking. “I’m going to be here a little while,” she said. “Maybe a couple of months. Could I open an account for just that time? It would make banking easier.”
“Sure you can.” She looked past Christa to the young man who sat at the desk across from her. “Paul, can you help this customer with a new account?”
Christa recognized a boy who had been a couple grades ahead of her in school. So much for thinking she could come to the bank without seeing someone she knew. “Paul Raybourn, it’s good to see you,” she said.
“Christa. Great to see you.” She sat in the chair across from his desk and they spent a few minutes catching up. She learned Paul had married a classmate of hers, Didi Moffat, and they had a baby boy, Alex. She told him about her job loss and her plans to
