Neighbor Amy looked at a condo that had just come on the market. It seemed to have everything and more that she wanted. After she made an offer, the sellers had cold feet. There was nothing to do but wait a full day to see if they would make their final decision about moving. The secrecy was amusing. The couple did not want their neighbors to know they were considering a move. Amy’s realtor backed his car into their drive so that his tag with ReMax on it wouldn’t be visible from the street. (NC requires only a tag on the rear of a vehicle.)
I called to Amy from my porch, and she motioned for me to come over. She said, “I have to cook and bake.”
After having done the 6 hour round trip to Charlotte, she was gearing up for her daughter and granddaughter to come the next day. By the time I put on shoes and walked over, she had the mixer going. She darted around the kitchen, soon pulling the cake out of the oven and putting chicken in the pressure cooker. I wasn’t the one living on the edge, so time seemed to fly for me.
Although we kept going back to the condo she fell in love with, we tried to talk of other things. High school reunions popped up, and she told a funny story on her late husband. The two of them went to each other’s reunions. Amy’s class was huge compared to Ron’s. Her graduating class had more than 400 people! They sat with her close friends and mingled with others.
Let’s let Amy tell it. She said, “Ron was very outgoing and always the life of the party. People loved having him around. Of course, we always wore name tags. A woman looked at his name, repeated it aloud, and wondered if they had known each other. Ron had never met her before, but he said, ‘We had English together in our sophomore year. Do you remember the time….?’ He made up some story with pertinent details, and before long the woman said she believed she did remember him.”
With deft hands, Amy flipped the bundt cake onto a footed stand. It looked elegant. She offered me a piece, but I said we shouldn’t cut it. What I meant was, I wouldn’t have cut it before my company arrived. The knife was already halfway through the first cut. I caved. Wouldn’t you have done the same? Because I always saved a dessert for company, I never, ever tasted my own cake right out of the oven. Oh, my! Words would not do it justice. I’ve come to an important conclusion. Life is too short to refuse warm cake whenever it is offered.