Two-Part Harmony. Syndi Powell
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followed the curve into the downtown district. The neon sign for Rick’s Diner didn’t glow, nor did the department store display windows of Roxy’s. The other businesses were shut, and probably had been since nine o’clock that evening. Kelly glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Not even midnight and the small northern Michigan town had rolled up its sidewalks already. Not like Nashville.
She shook her head and turned right at the next street then parked in the lot behind the Sweetheart bakery. Her sister’s car was there, so Megs had to be inside. She got out of her car, walked to the back door of the bakery and tried the door handle. Unlocked, of course.
Okay, so this was a small town, but safety was safety even here.
The aromas of yeast and sugar greeted Kelly as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Megan?” she called.
No answer but the soft sounds of singing from the kitchen beyond.
Kelly took a deep breath to steady her nerves and locked the back door. Her sister might be naïve about the people in this town, but experience had taught Kelly that she couldn’t trust anyone.
She found her sister standing at the marble work table, kneading dough with her eyes closed and singing along with whatever song was on her iPod. She looked...peaceful. Content. Like she knew she was right where she was supposed to be. Kelly ignored the sour feeling again in her belly and put her hand on Megs’s shoulder. “Hey.”
Her sister’s eyes flew open, and she jumped back. “Oh. Hi.” She rushed forward and hugged Kelly. “You made it okay.”
“Yep.” When Megs released her, Kelly wiped at the flour that now dusted the front of her jean jacket. “I drove straight here after you called.” Her eyes got hot and wet as she focused on her sister. “Oh, Megs. Grammy’s gone.”
Megs nodded, her lip quivering. “It was quick. She complained last night that she had a headache before she went to bed. I gave her a couple of aspirin, hoping it would help. She never woke up.” Her sister wiped her eyes with the corner of her pink apron. “She looked so peaceful. Like she was ready, you know?”
“At least she’s with Grandpa and Dad now.” Kelly glanced around the kitchen and noticed the pans of cookies, pastries and several loaves of bread. She frowned at the bounty of sweet treats. “You’re not planning on opening the Sweetheart tomorrow, are you?”
Megs looked surprised to see all the baked goods there. “Huh. Guess I got carried away. This is all for the funeral home. I figured people might want a little something sweet.”
Kelly guessed with all the food her sister had baked, people could stuff themselves on dough and sugar for the next week and there would still be leftovers. She pointed toward the lump of kneaded dough on the table top. “More bread?”
Her sister patted the doughy mound. “This? It’s a new recipe I’m trying.” She nudged an old ledger book towards Kelly. “Grammy gave this to me about a week ago. She said they’re family recipes that were handed down to Pop Pop from his mother and generations before him. Grammy called them special. That I’d know when I was ready for them.” Her sister’s eyes were watery as she opened the ledger and located a recipe near the front. “See? Her handwriting says this bread is good to comfort those in their grief.” She shrugged. “I thought, why not? There’s going to be a lot of people who’ll need comforting the next few days.”
Grammy had been a cornerstone of the community for so long that Kelly couldn’t imagine the hole she was going to leave in everyone’s lives. She’d already left one in her own chest, so why not the entire town’s? Kelly paused. “Did you call everybody? Do you need me to do anything?”
“Everybody in town knew as soon as the ambulance arrived at the house. The small town grapevine still works.” Megs gave a deep sigh. “And I called Aunt Lillian’s daughters to let them know, too. Grammy didn’t have much family left. We’re what’s left of her blood.”
Kelly shuddered. Grammy’s sister Lillian had two daughters who had terrorized their dad when he’d been young, if you could believe the stories he’d shared. Being the only child of two bakers, Dad had struggled with a weight issue most of his life. And Lillian’s daughters had never let him forget it. Granted, they were forty years older now. And they had families of their own.
Megs rubbed the back of her neck. “Do you mind if we take a little break? I need to let the dough rise. I can go over with you what we still have to do for the funeral.”
The sisters settled at one of the tables in the front room with a legal-sized notepad and one of the pink pens that advertised the bakery and its phone number. Kelly drew a couple of scribbles then looked up at her sister. “What about Mom? Did you call her yet?”
“Thought I’d leave that up to you. I can’t deal with her right now. Besides, I don’t know where she is at the moment.”
Kelly checked the time. “Last I talked to her, Florida. So it’s probably too late to phone tonight. I’ll call her tomorrow. Think she’ll come up for the funeral?” Megs gave her a nasty look. “You’re probably right. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”
“Except about Daddy. They both thought he hung the moon.” Megs stared at her dough. “I keep picturing him and Pop Pop waiting for Grammy when she arrived at the pearly gates. Welcoming her home.”
Kelly cleared her throat as tears threatened to clog it, making it difficult to take breathe. “Yeah. Me, too.” She wrote funeral plans at the top of the notepad and underlined the words. “Did Grammy ever talk about what she wanted at her funeral?”
“You know she didn’t like talking about things like that.”
Grammy hadn’t liked talking about anything uncomfortable or unpleasant. Death and what to do for her funeral topped that list. “I thought that maybe in her later years that—”
“Don’t.” Megs claimed the notepad from Kelly. “You don’t get to pretend that you know what she’d been thinking or feeling these days. You weren’t here.”
Ouch, that hurt a little. But she swallowed the bitterness and nodded. “I know. But I’m here now.” She held out the pen to her sister.
“A bit too late, don’t you think?” Her sister snatched the pen and wrote down a few lines, but crossed them out. And then burst into tears.
Kelly rose from her chair and gently put one arm around her sister’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Megs. Shhh, it’s going to be all right.” With her free hand, she stroked her blond hair, so much like her own, if shorter. They were alike even if they didn’t always admit it. “We can do this together.”
Megs buried her face, crying into Kelly’s jacket sleeve. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I miss her so much already.”
Kelly knelt and pulled her sister into her arms. Maybe Megs wasn’t as strong as she’d thought. She put her cheek on her sister’s head and cooed softly to her. “I know. I miss her, too.”
They clung to each other until the sobs subsided. Megs got up and retrieved a box of tissues. She held out the box, and Kelly took one and wiped at her eyes, then Megs returned to her seat and clutched several tissues in case she should need one again.
“Since you knew her best, I’ll go along with whatever you want,” Kelly told her.
Megs smiled. “She’d want you to sing, you know? Her favorite song.”
“Of course.”
Her sister wrote that down on the notepad. “I know people we can ask to be her pallbearers. Rick, Sam, some of our other regulars.” She wrote their names then looked up at Kelly. “Are you hungry? I didn’t think to ask when you got here.”
“I guess.”
Megs left her alone for a minute and then came back with a mini chocolate cake as well as two forks. “Grammy always said food was medicine to cure a hurting heart. This