open for business.”
Charlene frowned for a moment before reaching behind the door to flip the Closed sign over. “There. For you, we’re open, and don’t think for a moment that I’m being patronizing. There are a couple of boxes I need to bring up from the basement, and I can’t do it by myself. I should have known better than to have the delivery guys put them down there. Since you’re here, I could really use your help before you pick out your candy.”
Ellie chuckled, inhaling the gloriously decadent smell of chocolate as she stepped into the store.
Charlene shut the door and flipped the Closed sign back into place.
“You’re one of the few people who doesn’t lecture me about having a sweet tooth,” Ellie said. “How has it been for business to have a health-food store open next door?”
Charlene grinned. “The owner, Andy Johnson, is nice enough, I suppose, and I can’t argue with the idea that we have to take good care of our bodies. Heck, I stock low-calorie, dietetic treats here for anyone who needs them. I just prefer to celebrate my customers’ lives with old-fashioned sweet stuff. It’s as simple—and fun—as that.”
“Hence the name of your shop,” Ellie said. “Sweet Stuff.”
Charlene’s grin widened. “Exactly. I just try to make sure my customers don’t overindulge. ‘Seek moderation in all things.’ That’s what my pastor always says.”
She led Ellie past the glass-fronted display cases filled with the usual variety of chocolates and a dazzling array of chocolate Easter specialties. “From the moderate amount of candy you buy, I’d guess you were a kid who could make a box of candy last through an entire movie.”
“I usually saved some to take home, too,” Ellie admitted, fully aware that she’d had the candy-stashing habit from an early age.
Charlene shook her head. “And I usually ate all my candy before the movie started, which might be why I haven’t been able to find my waist since grammar school and you’re so trim.”
“Exercise helps me keep the weight off,” Ellie said. “I started walking along the avenue every morning right after my husband died six years ago. I’ve found it’s a great way to clear my mind and forget my troubles before the start of the day.”
Charlene sighed and tugged her blouse back down over her hips. “I probably should take up walking. But I’m having a bit of a problem just squeezing in the time I need to be at the store and at home.”
“I know you commute to Welleswood, but I don’t know where you do live.”
“Actually, I’ll be living here in town for a while,” Charlene confided, pausing to straighten a display of chocolate-covered Easter eggs. “Do you know my aunt, Dorothy Gibbs?”
Ellie nodded. “She’s a darling. She lives over on Lady’s Creek Drive, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. I’m staying with her temporarily,” Charlene replied. She explained about her aunt’s recent hospitalization as she led Ellie toward the workroom and down the basement steps.
Ellie listened to the sad tale, and shook her head in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard your aunt was in the hospital, but I’m glad she’s home now.” She was surprised that she and Charlene hadn’t bumped into each other at the hospital, but she assumed her mother’s private room explained that. As they crossed the basement, Ellie told Charlene about her similar situation. “Caring for my mother is going to be a lot more difficult and more time-consuming than I ever expected,” she finished, not mentioning anything about the added challenge of living day to day with constant criticism or the idea that if she had the support of a loving husband, as Charlene did, the challenge might be less difficult.
“I’m finding myself facing much the same with my aunt,” Charlene offered. Then she pointed to two large cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. “The boxes aren’t all that heavy. They’re filled with little stuffed Easter animals, but as you can see, they’re a bit unwieldy for me to handle by myself.” She looked back at the staircase and shook her head. “I’m not even sure how the two of us are going to manage getting up those narrow steps with them.”
Ellie eyed the boxes and studied the staircase for a moment. “Having four hands instead of two will help, I think. That’s what I could have used raising my children—or trying to control twenty-five students in a classroom when I first started teaching. There were days I wished I’d been born an octopus.”
Charlene chuckled. “I think I had a few days of my own like that. Still do, as a matter of fact.”
Ellie bent to pick up an end of one box. “If you take the other side, I’ll try backing up the steps, and you can direct me,” she suggested.
Working together, they managed to get the first box upstairs with only a few stumbles—and lots of giggles along the way.
Before Ellie followed Charlene back to the basement for the second box, she set her cell phone, which had almost fallen out of her pocket, on a shelf near the worktable for safekeeping. “If you’re going to be in Welleswood for a few weeks, will you be going back home on Sunday mornings for church?”
“I don’t really want to be that far away from Aunt Dorothy, although the price of gas alone would be reason enough not to travel back and forth. I’ve really been feeling the pinch commuting lately,” Charlene replied. With her back to the steps, she hoisted up the end of the second box. “I’ll go first this time. I’ve got a bigger cushion to land on when I fall back and thump down on a step or two.”
“You don’t have a security camera anywhere recording us, I hope,” Ellie teased as she grabbed the other side of the box.
“Me?” Charlene giggled and started walking backward toward the steps. “Trust me, you’re safe. Adding a dead bolt to the front and back doors was one big concession to store security.”
“Careful,” Ellie cried. “The bottom step—”
“Whoa!” Charlene tripped, plopped down on the third step and started giggling again as she struggled to shove the box away from her chest to get back to her feet. “That’s it. Here’s an idea. Unless you’re directing me, there’s no conversation until we get this box upstairs. Then I’ll make us both a big mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and some Belgian chocolate shavings that are so decadent you could almost swoon.”
Ellie’s mouth watered. “Okay, but first, let me invite you to come to church with me tomorrow. Services start at ten o’clock.”
“I accept. Ready?”
Ellie adjusted her hands to get a better grip on the box, and nodded. This time they managed to get the box upstairs without either of them stumbling again.
“A job well done,” Charlene murmured. “Thanks.”
Ellie smiled. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.
Ellie had lost touch with a few friends after she was widowed—she just wasn’t comfortable socializing any longer with couples, always being the fifth wheel. But she could certainly use a friend like Charlene, who would understand the hopes and fears she had about her mother and who would be in town without her husband, on weekdays, at least.
Maybe
