A Black Limousine Arrived at My Trailer Two Weeks after My Husbands Funeral

The commercial refrigerator in the basement of First Methodist had a new, metallic rattle that made the folding tables vibrate. On the edge of the nearest table, my mother’s silver-plated cake stand was slowly sliding toward the linoleum floor.

I caught the stand by its fluted pedestal just before it tipped, then adjusted the paper doily on top.

Clara, my closest friend from the church choir, pointed at me with her reading glasses.

“You have powdered sugar on your chin, Eleanor,” she said.

I reached up to wipe it away, my fingers automatic as I smoothed the fabric of my apron down over my skirt.

“It is just from the lemon bars,” I said, lifting the heavy glass dome to set the yellow squares in neat, concentric circles.

The heavy wooden door at the top of the basement stairs groaned on its hinges.

Heavy, slow footsteps came down the wooden steps, too heavy to belong to the pastor or the youth minister.

A tall man stepped into the fluorescent light of the basement, his gray hair brushed back neat and his dark wool coat looking too thick for the damp April morning.

He stopped by the stack of folding chairs, a crooked smile forming on his face as he looked across the room.

“Eleanor,” he said.

My hand froze over the cake stand, a lemon bar still balanced between my fingers.

It was Garrett.

Fifty-three years had softened his jawline and put silver at his temples, but the slight tilt of his shoulders was exactly the same as the day he left Oakhaven.

Clara let her glasses drop to her chest, her eyes darting from him to me and back again.

“Garrett?” I whispered.

He took three slow steps forward, his leather shoes making no sound at all on the linoleum, unlike the squeaky sneakers of the church volunteers.

“I heard you still helped with the Saturday bake sales,” he said, his voice carrying that same smooth, nostalgic cadence that used to fill the back row of our English class.

“We are setting up for the afternoon bazaar,” I said, finally placing the last lemon bar on the tray and wiping my hands on my apron.