Free Scones and Sensibility by Lindsay Eland

need help home, then?”
    This young gentleman was like something from out of a leather-bound book! “I think I can manage.”
    And with that, I hobbled down the sidewalk, my lips spreading into a wide smile. I could hardly wait to let my dearest Clementine know.
    Once at home, I leaned my bicycle against the house and plucked one small posey from among the garden flowers before entering the house. Though roses smelled the most delightful, the word
posey
was one that seemed to melt on my tongue like a very fine dark chocolate.
    “Hey Polly, where’ve you been?” Papa was behind the register, wiping off the counters with a white rag. The bakery had closed just minutes ago, and I fearedbeing enlisted in the unwelcome task of cleaning if I did not make a quick exit.
    “Hello, Papa,” I said, moving briskly past. “I have been delivering, of course.”
    “Here, catch!”
    I turned around just in time to find a white towel hurtling toward me. It landed, damp with bits of crumbs and stains, on my shoulder. I promptly removed it and held it by my thumb and index finger.
    “Wipe down those tables. And don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
    I sighed and succumbed to my fate for the next few minutes. “Where’s Mama?”
    “Oh, I think she’s reading. We’re going on a date tonight, so you and Clementine are on your own for dinner, okay?” Papa continued cleaning in a manner that was quite vigorous. And I feared that if I imitated him, my own delicate hands would surely blister.
    I looked up. “Speaking of my beloved sister, is she here?”
    He smiled. “I think she went out with Clint a little bit ago. She’ll be back for dinner, though.”
    I sighed. “That is what I feared.”
    “What? You don’t like Clint?”
    “Papa, you jest, I presume? Clint is not suitable formy sister. He leaves much to be desired, not the least of which is a tenderness toward my sister. She was crying once more last night. And I believe that is the second time this month.”
    “Oh, Clint’s a good guy. And … well, all couples have lovers’ spats.”
    “But not you and Mama. You two are a fairy tale come true.”
    He looked up and a smile graced his face. A faraway, dreamy look overcame him, and I knew at once he was thinking of Mama … his dearest Judith, his one true love.
    “Oh, we had plenty of fights, believe me, especially while we were dating. There was this guy that almost broke us—”
    I held up my hand, for I did not wish to hear of my own parents’ turmoil in their younger years. “I apologize, dearest Papa, but I do not believe it. You and Mama are indeed a fairy tale.”
    He smiled. “Well, you are right about that, Polly girl. But why don’t you give Clint a chance. Who knows, he might surprise you.”
    If only he would, was my first thought, but I did not speak it aloud. Instead, I handed Papa the soiled whitecloth. “I think I will take a small constitutional, Papa. Is that acceptable?”
    “You mean a walk?” He laughed. “Go ahead. Remember, your mom and I will be back later on tonight.”
    I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. The wildness of the ocean—the salty breeze, the crashing waves, the rising tide—beckoned me, and I followed its call.
    Once I reached the beach, I slipped out of my sandals and let my toes drink in the warm grains of sand. The wild fury of the wilderness excited my heart, and I giggled at the matches I would make for those I loved. I walked to the lapping waves and let my dress drag in the salty ocean water, for nothing is as romantic as a walk on the beach with the surf drenching your ankles and the bottom of your clothing. I lifted my face to the sun, catching the afternoon’s rays, and imagined I was on Prince Edward Island, the breeze blowing my natural curls around my face.
    “Ah, me,” I whispered into the breeze.
    “Polly?”
    “Huh?!” I whirled around to find Fran before me. Her hair was in a tangled heap around her, and shewore a brand-new