Page 2 of Second Chance Valentine

“Vintage?” The lines on Granny Pearl’s forehead deepen. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what if we tried to recreate the dances that you had back when you were a teenager?”

“Oh.” Granny Pearl purses her lips for a moment. Slowly a smile formed on her lips. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” She looks around at her friends, who are all nodding.

“Oh, we need some shoo bop music!” Tilly Wilson says, clasping her hands together.

“Nothing too wild,” Margaret Gentry grumps.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Margaret. We’re all in our eighties, or close to it. Anything too wild would end in a broken hip and a trip to the hospital,” Tilly says.

“Or the morgue,” Granny Pearl replies, eyes wide and head tilted forward for effect. Margaret Gentry’s mouth folds into a frown and I put a hand over my mouth to hide my laughter.

“Granny! Y’all are something else.” I shake my head. “Well, I think we’ve got some good ideas to get started on.”

“We sure do appreciate you setting this up for us Ginger. It’s real sweet of you to do something for the old folks,” Tilly says.

“My Ginger is pure sugar,” Granny Pearl says. “That’s why her goodies always come out so sweet.”

“I get it from you Granny,” I grin, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a peck on the cheek.” It’s true in more ways than one. Not only did Granny raise me, but most of the recipes I use in my bakery are straight out of her kitchen. “I’ll be back on Tuesday to take you to your hair appointment.”

“Bye, sugar.”

A chorus of goodbyes rings out from the collection of blue and gray-haired ladies.

???

My shop, Home Sweet Bakery, sits right on Main Street in the little town of Evergreen Mountain, Tennessee, in the heart of the Smokies. The scent of sugar cookies wraps around me when I step into my favorite place in the world. I scrimped and saved for years until I had enough to buy this place and I haven’t regretted it for a single minute.

“Hey, Hallie. I’m back,” I call out in greeting to my one and only employee.

“Hey. How did it go?” Hallie bops into the room with a sweet smile, her ponytail swinging.

“It was good. You know I love hanging out with the old folks. Granny started reminiscing, talking about the good old days and we came up with the idea to do a 50s-themed dance.” I find myself walking around the room looking at the black and white photos and newspaper clippings I framed and hung when the shop first opened five years ago. The walls tell the story of Evergreen Mountain. I smile at the memory of Granny and me going through all her scrapbooks and photo albums, choosing just the right photos to hang in the shop.

“Here’s some good inspiration,” Hallie says, holding out a photo in a frame. Just as Granny described, you can practicallyhear the swishing of chiffon skirts and shoo-bop music, as couples dance in a room filled with balloons and bunting.

“You’re exactly right.” With a clear idea of exactly what we want to replicate, I feel empowered to make the teenage dreams of some senior citizens a reality. I’m still smiling when the door chimes, but when I catch sight of the man who just entered the shop, I can’t believe my eyes. The picture frame slides right out of my hands and shatters into a million pieces. Like my heart did ten years ago. The last time this man set foot in Evergreen Mountain.

TWO

Branson

I’ve made some big mistakes in my life. But the biggest one was not having Ginger by my side til death do us part. It took me ten years and a near-death experience to realize it and I know I may be too late. But I will do whatever it takes to get her back.

When I left Evergreen Mountain, I thought I needed big adventures. I thought I needed to see the world. I’ve woken up to views that most people only dream of and I’ve seen things straight out of a nightmare. But now I know that the only thing I want to wake up to for the rest of my life is Ginger Monroe’s face. And I’ll spend my last breath trying to get her back.

It took about a year after I broke it off to start doubting myself. By the second year, I knew I had made a mistake and by the third, I knew it was too late. I spent the last seven trying to forgive myself for hurting her. It was shame more than anything that kept me away and it took me almost dying to see that I had to put all of that aside and try desperately to get her back. Because if I didn’t even try, what would be the point of living?

As I stroll down Main Street, I’m amazed at how little has changed. Quaint shops line the curving mountain road as I breathe in the clean, crisp air. February is often the coolest month of the year in the Smokies, but the sunshine warms my face. It’s hard to imagine that it’s been ten long years since I left this place where my roots are. Where my heart is.

I spot Ginger’s bakery with its pastel color scheme and window awnings and pick up the pace. Ginger’s mark is on every detail and it’s clear that she designed it all herself. It’s as if an invisible rope is pulling me towards her and I can’t wait another minute to see her face. A bell jingles when I open the door and then I hear the crash of glass breaking. My sweet Ginger’s face looks absolutely stricken. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are wide. Then anger flashes in her eyes and she clenches her jaw and fists.

I should’ve thought this through. What was I thinking, coming in here like this with no plan of what I’d say or do? Well, the only thing I can do is be honest. Tell her the truth of why I’m here. Hopefully that will be enough.

“I guess I should’ve called first.”

“There’s a lot of things you should’ve done.”

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