Page 67 of Please Send Snow
“No, thank you,” I tell him. “I’d like to go to the Foster’s Figurine Factory, please.”
“The old soup factory,” he says, nodding. “That’s up by where my cousin used to live. Funny story about him…”
It turns out to be more of a long story than a funny one, and I’m relieved to melt into the back of the cab and not have to say a word for the whole trip.
When we pull up at the familiar old building in the trees, he taps the meter again like he did when he took me up the mountain the first time. But this time I’m not scared about the number on it.
“Want me to stick around?” he offers after I pay, tipping better this time. “Weatherman says a storm’s coming.”
“I’ll call you when I’m done,” I tell him. “You don’t have to wait.”
“Okey-dokey,” he says.
I give him a quick wave and approach the familiar brick structure. The old soup logo that was painted on the exterior faded away long ago, but those bricks are still covered with peeling white paint.
Dad used to say that this factory was his baby and it always made my mom laugh and point out thatIwas his baby.
But I knew what he meant. We loved Angel Mountain and the ladies who worked at this factory always made it feel so homey.
I worry that there may be some kind of security in place these days. But the front door swings open easily, just like I remember. My feet carry me automatically across the checkerboard floor of the lobby, and I push open another door.
The next thing I know I’m standing in an open space with enormous windows, where huge vats of soup used to be prepared.
Big tables replaced the vats long ago, but the slogans are still on the walls.
Love Them with Soup
Soup Warms the Heart
It’s Always Soup-o’clock Somewhere
There are ladies working at each and every table, wearing colorful smocks and applying tiny paintbrushes to the little figures.
Most of the heads bent over their work are silver and white now. But the feeling of this place is timeless.
“Maddie?” someone says softly.
19
MADDIE
Alittle while later, I’m touched to be surrounded by this group of women who clearly see me as family.
We’re all sitting around the big round table in the break room, munching on the homemade frosted sugar cookies that Teresa brought in today.
Everyone made short work of offering their condolences as they started setting food in front of me. For the last half hour they’ve been sharing memories of my parents and me as they offer one homemade goody after another. And honestly, it’s been more healing than the actual memorial service was. I don’t even feel bad crying a little because half of them are crying too.
“We’ve been wondering when you’d come,” Eleanor says, patting my hand. She’s the shift supervisor—a tall elegant lady with short white hair and pretty blue dangly earrings.
“She had to finish school,” Aggie reminds her.
“But these last six months,” Eleanor continues. “We thought you’d call or something, dear.”
I do feel a little guilty about that, but I was really just trying to deal with all the fallout that losing my dad brought. I even had to take extra time at school. But at least I managed to finish, even if I was a little behind schedule at the end.
“She’s here now,” Rosa declares with a big smile. “That’s all that matters.”
“True enough,” Eleanor says, patting my hand again. “Now I know we all just want to hear everything about Maddie’s life, but we’ve got to get back to work.”
