The Christmas Clock and A Song For My Mother - Kat Martin Page 0,1
July fifth, they had celebrated twenty-two years of marriage.
Doris felt as if it were fifty.
She rarely saw her husband except at dinner, which he ate mostly in silence. Afterward, he returned to his woodshop in the garage at the back of the house, where he stayed until he trudged up to bed at exactly nine P.M.
Though the sale of Floyd's business three years ago had provided them with a comfortable living, Doris had kept her job at the bakery, where she had been employed for years. She loved her job, especially decorating the cakes and cookies the shop made for holidays and other special occasions. With little else to fill her time, she went to work early and usually stayed past closing. Afterward, she returned to her two-bedroom, white stucco house on Maple Street, cooked Floyd's dinner, cleared the dishes, and spent the rest of the evening painting ceramics.
It was a consuming hobby. Every table, every bookshelf, even the window sills, held miniature clowns, birds, horses, dogs, cats, vases, and pitchers all done in the bright colors Doris used in an effort to cheer up her lonely world. Instead, somehow the crowded rows of objects, often in need of dusting, only made the house more oppressive.
Doris was glad for the hours she spent at the bakery, where the fragrant aroma of chocolate chip cookies and freshly baked bread was enough to buoy her spirits. The shop on Main next to Tremont's Antiques was a narrow brick building with big picture windows painted with the name Brenner's Bakery in wide, sculpted gold letters. Frank Brenner had died sixteen years ago but the bakery, now owned by his son, remained a landmark in Dreyerville.
It was Saturday morning. Doris stood behind the counter wiping crumbs off the top when the bell chimed above the door, indicating the arrival of a customer. She tucked a strand of gray hair dyed blond under her pink and white cap and smiled at her next-door neighbor and her grandson, Lottie and Teddy Sparks, as they walked into the shop.
“Good morning,” Doris beamed. “How are you and Teddy today?”
Lottie set her shopping bag down on a little iron chair. “Darned arthritis has been acting up some, but aside from that, both of us are fine.” She looked down with affection at her grandson. “We're kind of hungry, though.” Lottie was wrinkled and slightly stoop-shouldered and her hair was as white as paper. Still, there was always a sparkle in her eyes and the hint of rose in her cheeks.
Doris smiled. “Well, we can certainly take care of that.” She turned toward the dark-haired, fair-skinned boy, who looked up at her with big brown, soulful eyes. “So what's it going to be, Teddy? A glazed or a maple bar?” It was a Saturday morning tradition. Doris always looked forward to seeing Lottie, who had once been her fifth-grade teacher.
The pair lived in the yellow and white wood-framed house on Maple Street next door to Doris but they didn't get to visit much, not with the hours Doris worked. But she had always admired Lottie Sparks and Teddy was purely a treasure.
The child stared into the case that was filled with donuts: jelly, chocolate frosted with walnuts, powdered, and crumb. There were also bear claws and all manner of coffee cake rings. He nibbled his lower lip, then pointed toward the top shelf of the case.
“A maple bar, please.”
“My, that does sound good.” Doris plucked a piece of waxed paper from the box on the counter, reached into the case and drew out a fat, maple-frosted bar. “Here you go, Teddy.”
The little boy grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Culver.”
Lottie ordered a cinnamon roll and Doris handed it over on another sheet of waxed paper. When Lottie turned to leave, Doris reminded her that she had forgotten to pay for her purchase.
“Silly of me.” Lottie reached into her handbag for the little plastic coin purse she always carried. She asked again how much she owed, then dug through the money to find the right change, fumbling with this coin and that until she finally put the money up on the counter and Doris picked out the sum she needed.
Doris watched the woman cross the room, feeling a hint of concern. Lottie was getting more and more forgetful. Doris couldn't help wondering what would happen to Teddy if the old woman's memory continued to get worse.
The pair sat down at one of the small, round tables in front of the window to savor