Delia Parr - Carry The Light

She passed the town’s newest restaurant, La Casita, and the ice cream parlor, Scoops, where a good number of her tenth-grade students would probably congregate tonight after the basketball game. With her heart and her feet hitting a steady rhythm, she passed other storefronts: The Deep End, an eclectic gift boutique; the unisex beauty salon; The Purrple Palace, a pet shop catering to felines. All the stores were new to the avenue.

When she spied Pretty Ladies, a hair salon that had survived in the small town’s shopping district through the mall-building era and now thrived in the boom of the revival, she made a mental note to call later today. She needed to make a home appointment for her mother to have her hair done.

Growing traffic on the avenue in the heart of the business district forced Ellie onto the sidewalk in front of The Diner, where the air was heavy with the smell of sizzling bacon. Inside, seniors who shared her habit of rising early were taking advantage of the breakfast special and the owners’ policy of encouraging the patrons to linger long after they finished eating.

Beyond The Diner, she stopped to pick up a penny, crossed the street and passed Sanderson Realty, the only real estate office in town. The closer she got to McAllister’s Bakery—voted best of South Jersey for the past seven years—the harder she found it to concentrate on anything but sugared pastries.

She didn’t slow her pace, but she did take several good whiffs of air, savoring the luscious aromas of butter, cinnamon and apples that drew the line of people waiting to enter. She deliberately didn’t carry money with her on her walks so she wouldn’t be tempted to stop and take home more calories than she would burn. She had another plan for where her calories would come from today.

To avoid the line outside the bakery, she returned to the street and hugged close to the parked cars until she reached the bank, which was the one-mile mark from her home. She used a pedestrian walkway to cross the street and start the return mile toward home. She had one destination in mind—Sweet Stuff.

Before the day ended, she needed to replenish her candy stash, at home and at work. Although it was way too early for the candy store to be open, she wanted to check the store’s hours on Saturdays and see if they had been extended for the Easter holiday.

When she had to stop at the corner for a turning car, Ellie spied two quarters in the street and gleefully added them to her mini purse. Approaching the candy store, which shared an entryway with a recently opened health-food store, she was convinced this was the oddest pairing of businesses ever to grace the avenue.

At the door of Sweet Stuff, she read the sign listing the store’s hours. Saturday, noon to five. She sighed. Charlene Butler had not extended the hours yet.

Disappointed, since her free time was so limited, Ellie turned away to resume her walk home. She had taken only a few steps before the sound of insistent tapping made her turn around. The rapping was coming from inside the candy store. Ellie looked closer and saw Charlene standing at the window, waving her back to Sweet Stuff.

Ellie met Charlene at the door.

“You’re up early as usual, I see. Come on in.” Charlene’s smile came straight from the good spirit everyone in Welleswood had come to know and love. Charlene was Ellie’s favorite store owner on the avenue.

Ellie hesitated. “I only stopped to see if you’d extended your hours yet for the holiday. I had no idea you’d be here this early.”

Charlene chuckled. “Neither did I. The high-school crew team ordered a whole slew of chocolate, oar-shaped taffies for their fund-raiser. I promised Ginger King I’d meet her here at nine to help finish them before she opened up for me. And since I haven’t been in all week, I thought I’d come in extra early to catch up.”

“Then I shouldn’t interrupt you,” Ellie said, remaining outside. “I’ll come back when you’re officially 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.”