“Keep looking!” Walter’s voice rang out from the conductor’s station. James looked up. Walter’s eyes twinkled, but more surprising Bob waved. He almost waved back, but on impulse saluted. Bob smiled. The man had teeth!
He scanned the crowd for Claire. She was engaged in conversation with Mike Mitchell and a teenage girl he didn’t recognize. He straightened his spine. The photographer had made his distrust clear, but given time, maybe they could call a truce.
“You’re looking in the wrong spot.” Beverly Westman’s dulcet voice drew his attention back to the central area. “Although, one’s beloved is always a welcome sight.”
“Indeed. Thinking of beloved, I managed to bring back a red-velvet cheesecake for you. It’s in my car so don’t leave without it.”
“You sweet thing. You remembered that from our meeting last week. Look closer to town.” She sashayed to her much shorter husband, who stood on tiptoes to kiss her hello. Hope swelled in his heart. He looked at Main Street but didn’t see a difference. A piece of white in the fall trees drew his attention. The neighborhood was done in fall colors, with most of the trees either awash in color or bare so the houses were visible. A narrow strand of white draped from one of the leafless trees. His house.
“Are you going to make use of that thing you’re holding or is it only for show?” Miss Jones shouted out. He whipped his head toward the voice. She sat in a folding chair behind him. “Hurry up. You’re blocking my view.”
He raised the magnifying glass. Half a dozen or so miniaturized white plastic forks jutted from the lawn. He turned back to Miss Jones.
“Your handy work?”
“Not mine, young man. But I gave my blessing to it and to you, so long as you keep your trash receptacles off the sidewalk.” She nodded her chin.
Dinah, the Mayor’s wife moved in beside Miss Jones. “Mine too. Not that it matters. Come on Celia. That chair can’t be comfortable.”
“Not yet. I have to see how this plays out. Now back to work with you.” She waved her hand a James.
Claire crossed toward him. “Well?”
“I’m immortalized as the butt of jokes.”
“You’re in the right area, City Boy but keep looking.”
With the magnifying class in hand, he crouched to find a different angle. Two pairs of legs dangled down his front porch steps. “It’s us.”
“It’s you. The female is a bit dicey – rush job.”
“That has to be you, then.” He pulled her against his chest. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
“Are they going to kiss, again? Ewwww. Gross.”
Claire chuckled. He had no idea who spoke, but it sure sounded like the kid from that first day on the porch.
“Last call!”
“What’s Walter talking about. Is there a bar?”
“Last loop of the train before it retires to the home station for the night.”
They watched the train, arms wrapped around each other’s back. His breath eased with the clickity-clacks. The headlight illuminated the track and surrounding scene for a gloriously brief moment and then it was gone, like a sunset.
“I like that term.”
“Which?” He turned his head and met her gaze as she spoke.
“Home station.”
Her pupils dilated, as if she understood the unspoken belief that she was his home station.
“I wonder what changes you’ll make to next year’s display.” Having heard more than one story involving trains and engagement rings, he had one in mind, but he’d need Walter’s help to pull any sort of surprise on Claire.
The train whistle blew.
Her lips brushed against his in a whisper of a kiss.
“For luck.”
“A home needs love, not luck.” He leaned toward her and parted her pepperminty lips. She melted into him.
“Get a room,” shouted Jo.
“Gross!”
“It’s about damn time.” Miss Jones muttered.
They turned to look at her.
She shrugged. “What? You two remind me of me and Everet. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
Claire’s laughter filled the air as she nudged him. “Ready to go?”
His life hadn’t been sidetracked. He was on a new journey. He slid his hand down her arm and interlaced his fingers with hers. “With you? Anywhere.”
Sandy’s Cream Cake
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 eggs at room temperature
3/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour a 9”x9” square pan.
Whisk dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, whisk wet ingredients until blended.
Fold wet ingredients into dry until no streaks of flour remain. Pour batter into pan.
Bake 25-30 minutes until deep gold and a toothpick comes out clean.
Seriously - that is it. Cream cake is a simple, basic cake. My family likes this cake frosted with a tart lemon butter cream that uses fresh lemon juice instead of milk and incorporates a half teaspoon of lemon zest. Sandy has a different way of preparing hers. She doubles this recipe, using 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and 1 tablespoon of rum extract and bakes it in a bundt pan. She tops it with this glaze:
Quick Rum Glaze
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup butter
2 Tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon rum extract
Boil sugar, butter, and water for one minute in a small sauce pot, stirring constantly. Remove from heat, add rum extract. Pour over still warm cake and allow to soak in.
Author’s note and Acknowledgements: Sidetracked
I have loved miniature worlds as long as I can remember. As a kid, I spent hours setting tiny dining room tables with forks no larger than a centimeter. My aunt Eula kindly tolerated my rearranging the micro-scale bathroom that hung in her bathroom. Hiding a new treasure in her display was a highlight of each visit. No visit to Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry was complete without a trip to Colleen Moore’s dollhouse.
These days, I work mostly in LEGO. My youngest and I challenge each other to tell a story by
