Free The Bracelet by Mary Jane Clark

 
    T HE B RACELET
    S unday morning business was unusually slow at the Icing on the Cupcake bakery. It was the day after Christmas and customers were tired, overfed and partied out. Many had no desire to get out of bed to buy still more to eat when their own kitchens were stocked with platters of aluminum foil-covered leftovers, not to mention mountains of Christmas cookies. Owner Terri Donovan anticipated the reduction in demand and limited her baked goods production to rolls, cheese and raspberry Danish rings and crumb cake.
    â€œThanks for helping me this week, honey,” Terri said as she slid a tray into the glass display case. “Cathy really wanted to have some time off with her family.”
    â€œNo problem, Mom,” Piper said with a yawn. “But I don’t know how you manage to get up so early every day. So not for me.”
    Terri smiled. “If you had to get up at four o’clock in the morning to be on a set, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œSure, but that’s one of the reasons theater is so appealing. Late nights, long mornings in bed,” Piper said as she smoothed her cupcake-decorated apron. She caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall behind the register. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Without makeup, she looked like she had in high school ten years ago, not like the adult she sometimes felt she was pretending to be.
    â€œWell, baking and this store are my theater,” said Terri. She adjusted the thin net over her tinted short curly hair. “I love what I do here and I don’t mind getting up early to do it.”
    â€œI know,” said Piper, “and I’m really grateful that you trusted me enough to make the wedding cake for Glenna. It was so nice to have another focus. I love acting and I’m happy when I have a chance to do it. But working on the cake reminded me that I can do more than one thing. Having something else to do, something creative in another way, is good for me.”
    â€œI’m glad, sweetheart,” Terri said as she put an arm around her daughter. “And it’s a relief that you now know about my macular degeneration. I’m just not going to be able to see well enough anymore to do the intricate decorations that most people want on their wedding cakes. It will be great to have you to help when you can.”

    Midmorning, a tinkling bell and a cold blast of air signaled that someone had entered the shop. An elderly man with a slight stoop approached the counter. He wore a navy wool coat, baggy khakis and black sneakers with Velcro closures. He pulled off his knitted skull cap, revealing a head of snowy white hair.
    â€œHello, Poppy,” Terri said with enthusiasm. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
    The old man cupped his hands and blew on them. “Very nice,” he said. “Quiet, but nice.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” said Terri. “I thought you were going to your son’s house and he was having a big crowd.”
    The man looked away, his eyes scanning the display case. “That didn’t work out,” he said softly. “At the last minute, they decided that they wanted to spend Christmas somewhere warm. They left for Florida on Christmas Eve.”
    Terri started to express her dismay but held back as she observed the old man’s quivering lower lip. Poor guy. He had been so looking forward to spending the holiday with his son’s family. If they hadn’t wanted to stay home, would it have killed them to take Poppy with them?
    The saddest part was that this was not the first time Poppy had been disappointed by his son’s false promises. It happened again and again. But Terri knew that if she vented her anger and frustration with their seeming selfishness and inconsideration, it would only make Poppy feel worse.
    â€œI wish I had known,” said Terri. “We would have loved to have you at our