Norah's Ark. Judy Baer
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the rabbits, of course. I always start with just two, but, well, they are rabbits after all. Anyway, if it was good enough for God and Noah, it’s good enough for me.
I’ve been a Christian since I was ten years old. As a child, I was drawn to all the verses of the Bible that refer to God’s four-legged creatures. Even the most lowly, a donkey, for instance, held significance for Christ. When He rode into the city of Jerusalem, he didn’t do so on a chariot. Instead, he came humbly, a serene, peace-desiring king on a donkey’s unbroken colt. “Go into the village ahead of you…you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden: untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it….’” The commonplace becomes exceptional when God is involved.
Everyone, it seemed, was having a difficult time staying indoors on a beautiful day like this. Next out of her store was Lilly Culpepper, our local fashion maven. Lilly and I moved onto Pond Street and opened our little shops within a few weeks of each other and have ridden the up-and-down rollercoaster ride of small business ownership together ever since.
She runs a funky clothing store called The Fashion Diva next to Norah’s Ark and is a walking advertisement for the things she sells in her shop. Today she wore a long, red Santa Fe–style crinkle-pleated skirt, a short boxy sweatshirt the color of old mushrooms, high-heeled black boots and a gray felt fedora. And it looked good. I wonder how many hopeful shoppers leave her store with similar outfits hoping that they’ll look like Lilly when they get home and put their new clothes on. And I wonder how many of those shoppers realized that at home, those same clothes look like the pile of wrinkled, mismatched laundry they already have lying on their closet floors.
What Lilly doesn’t—and can’t—sell is her style. She looks good even in a gunny sack and a pair of galoshes. I know this for sure because one year we went to a costume party as a sack of potatoes and potato fork. She looked great and I looked like I’d been wrapped in brown crepe paper and had a set of pronged antlers strapped to my head. Next time I get to be the vegetable.
“Joe asking you out again?” she greeted me with no preamble. Though she came nearer, she didn’t walk toward me. Lilly doesn’t walk, Lilly sweeps.
Anyway, as she swept toward me, I said, “Good morning to you, too.”
“If you’d say the word, he’d get down on bended knee and ask for your hand in marriage.”
“My hand isn’t much good to him without the rest of me.”
“You could do worse,” she advised me. She fingered the chunk of jewelry at her neck. It was a hodgepodge of beads, colored cubes, macramé lumps and various ribbons. That, too, looked fabulous on her. On me—or 99.9 percent of the world’s population—it would have looked like a terrible blunder from the craft factory. No doubt she’d sell at least two or three today to people who admired it on her.
“Don’t wait too long,” she warned. “That little waitress at Tea on Tap has been eyeing him lately.”
“What’s the tea lady doing in the coffee shop? Scoping out the competitor?”
Lilly gave me one of those pitying looks she saves for when she thinks I’m being particularly obtuse. Usually I get them when we’re talking fashion.
“What else is happening on Pond Street? I seem to be out of touch.”
“It’s all those animals you surround yourself with. It doesn’t give you enough time for people.” She studied me with a surgical glare. “You need a date that doesn’t have four legs and a tail.”
“Shh. Don’t say that too loud. Bentley might hear. You know how sensitive he is.”
I was only half kidding. I rescued Bentley from a shelter. He’d been abused in his former home and, in my professional opinion—such as it is—Bentley has serious self-esteem and confidence issues. These may also stem from the fact that, due to his indiscriminate parents’ genetics, he’s not the most intimidating presence on the block. Or in the pet store. Or anywhere. He may be stocky but his heart is pure powder puff. I’m sure I saved Bentley from extinction. Nobody else would have been crazy enough to adopt a dog like him. He knows that and has committed the rest of his life to loving me—what a great swap.
Happily, Lilly ignored me and began to fill me in on the latest from the rumor mill on Pond Street.
“Belles & Beaus is adding another masseuse.”
Belles & Beaus is a day spa located in a huge restored Victorian up the street. It started out as a hair salon with two stations and a lot of out-of-date magazines, but has rapidly become a very chic and stylish spot. Then again, everything along Pond Street is becoming that way. The Bookworm now has author signings and poetry readings, the Drugstore’s old soda fountain is the place for kids to hang out and you can—much to Joe’s dismay—buy a latte at Barney’s Gas Station right along with your unleaded premium.
Someday I’m hoping that Barney will realize that his sign, Barney’s Gas, isn’t quite specific enough. I’ve had more than one person come into my shop laughing and ask what kind of gas Barney has anyway. I usually leave that question alone. It’s an explosive issue.
“The store beyond Belles & Beaus has been sold to someone who’s planning to open a toy shop.”
“Cool.” A toy store—my kind of people.
“And guess who said hello to me when I was at the Corner Market today!”
“Sorry, I left my mind-reading kit at home today.”
“Connor Trevain, Commander Connor Trevain.” She said it in the tone of an awestruck groupie.
“Back for a visit, huh?” Commander Connor owns the fleet of cruise boats that sail Lake Zachary, although he’s never spent much time in Shoreside. He actually was a commander in the Navy, a graduate of the Naval Academy and served as a ship’s captain. It was well-known that he “came from money” as Auntie Lou would say. The fleet has some fabulous boats, the largest, the Zachary Zephyr is regularly rented for weddings, anniversaries and class reunions. The food and service are amazing and the surroundings romantic. It’s a très chic place to be married. The smaller boats take tourists sightseeing around Lake Zachary, sometimes stopping at Ziga’s, a supper club the Trevain family owns on the far side of the lake.
“No. That’s the best part!”
“I thought you said you saw him.”
“Not that. The best part is that he’s not here for a visit. He’s here to stay!”
That made about as much sense as wearing Bermuda shorts to shovel snow. Last I’d heard he was suffering away his time with some boating venture in Hawaii. “Why?”
“He’s decided to be ‘hands on’ with the business. Isn’t that exciting? He plans to captain the Zachary Zephyr.”
“Well, shiver me timbers, think of that.” I put my hands on my hips and stared at my friend. “So what?”
“So, he is rich and handsome and single, that’s what!”
The sun came out and the fog in my brain cleared. “And you have your eye on him?”
“Both eyes. He’s going to make the scenery around the lake more spectacular than ever.”
“Are you interested in dating him?” I asked, never quite sure what direction Lilly is going in with her rambling conversations. She’s a smart girl but fixated on clothes and, occasionally, men.
“Are you kidding? Of course, but he won’t look at the likes of me.” She grabbed my hands. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he asked me out?”
Her eyes got wide as two saucers. “I have to check to see what’s on order for the store. I’ll need new clothes. Who knows when I might run into him!” She eyed me up and down like a disapproving school marm. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get something new, either.” With a swirl of red, she