Even the dishes seemed to take longer than usual, despite Miss Harriet being as cheery and talkative as ever. Katherine enjoyed giving her an account of her first day at the Harborside and Captain Braddock’s tale of the Anne’s first voyage, but all the while, she had a bubbling sort of impatience inside. She wished the evening would fly just a little faster, for tomorrow was Thursday, and she would be spending the entire day at the Harborside again. There was no telling what she might learn or discover!

Katherine did manage to sleep that night, although somewhat fitfully. When she awoke, the sun was smiling in, sending bright beams through the round window overhead. Katherine jumped out of bed, eager to begin the day.

As she hurried down the sidewalk to the Harborside that morning, the sun had already begun to warm the sticky air. Katherine looked up at the cloudless sky, thinking how glad she would be to work in the dark, cool storeroom most of the day. A slight breeze drifted in off the harbor, bringing a hint of freshness to the humid morning. Katherine smiled and breathed deeply, her heart full to bursting with gratefulness for the new day—a day which just might turn out to be an adventure.

She knocked on the door and the captain hurried to open it. After a quick greeting, he carefully informed her of the tasks he wanted her to finish that day. Having received her marching orders, Katherine eagerly took the clipboard off the wall and opened the door into the storeroom.

She savored the cool, musty air, which she now noticed smelled the same as the rooms above, but slightly staler, and with a bit of the earthy smell that always seemed to permeate old brick structures.

She flipped on the light and approached the first stack of boxes, looking carefully at the labels and trying to match them with the countries and addresses on the inventory sheet. It reminded her of a matching game she liked to play as a child. She took her time, determined to figure out every label on her own. Once the last shipment on the list had been checked off, she took out the boxcutter Captain Braddock had handed her when she arrived and set to work unpacking the boxes.

Thursday flew past with all the quickness Wednesday had lacked. Before she knew it, the mid-afternoon sun was streaming in through the tiny porthole window high up on the back wall of the Captain’s office. She had finished unpacking, had filled up the few empty jars on the shelves of the little shop, and stowed the rest of the teas in the larger jars kept behind the counter.

“Tea needs to be kept fresh; you see.” The captain had explained as he showed her how he wanted the lids carefully tightened down with the rubber gaskets just so.

Katherine placed the last jar behind the counter and straightened up. She noticed a woman outside one of the big shop windows. She had met a friend on the street, apparently, and seemed lost in conversation with her, while a small boy stood near them and looked around with boredom plainly evident on his face.

He was a cute little thing, about five years old or so, Katherine thought. She felt sorry for him, and when he turned his gaze inside the shop, she smiled and waved through the window. He waved back, and turned around again, tugging on his mother’s hand.

Captain Braddock came into the storefront carrying a jar he had been fitting with a new gasket and spotted the little boy outside. He told Katherine he would finish with the jars and instructed her to go fetch the broom beside the storeroom door and do some sweeping up.

Katherine quickly found the broom, but as she neared the doorway into the shop, she stopped short, shocked to see that the little boy had actually ventured inside! She shot a glance towards the window and saw his mother still deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious that her boy had wandered away.

Curious how the captain would handle this tiny customer, Katherine stood by the doorway, just out of sight, to see what he would do.

“Well, hello there, my little lad. And how are you today?”

Katherine had never heard the captain use such a gentle tone before, and watched with what could only be called shock as the little boy walked right up to the counter and began chattering away. He didn’t seem to be at all afraid of the old sea captain.

The boy rattled off something about the hot weather, and being bored outside. Then, catching sight of the captain’s hat on the old-fashioned coat rack, he exclaimed with wide-eyed admiration, “Are you a real captain?”

The captain looked grave and reached out his hand as he said, “Yes, I am. My name’s Captain Braddock. What’s yours?”

“Tommy. I never met a real captain before!” He gave the captain’s hand a hearty shake.

Captain Braddock opened one of the many small drawers in the back of the counter and fished something out, saying, “Well, now, Tommy, I suppose it must be awfully hard to stand and listen to the grownups gab out there in the heat, so here’s something to keep you occupied while you wait,” and with that, he reached down over the tall countertop and handed the boy a peppermint candy, adding, “Now, you make sure you ask yer mother before you eat that, and whatever you do,” he leaned further towards the little boy and dropped his voice to a solemn whisper, eyes twinkling, “don’t ye go telling yer little friends I gave that to yer.”

He ended with a quick wink, and the boy nodded in equal solemnity, turning to leave, then stopping at the door with a bright, “Thank you, Cap’n!” and a boyish salute as he left.

Katherine waited a moment, then walked in and began sweeping as if she hadn’t seen or heard a thing, but she did look over at the captain now and then with a secret smile.

We all keep a favorite picture of the ones we love squirreled away in our hearts, to be taken out and remembered again and again over the years. Katherine thought that this would be her favorite picture of the captain: leaning over the counter, dropping his persona of the grumpy old man, just for a moment, to make a small child feel important.

Katherine kept the Captain’s well-guarded spirit of benevolence a secret from all except Miss Harriet. She knew she could trust her friend to keep it to herself. They had come to a place of mutual confidence, and felt the freedom to discourse about any topic, without fear of their words being “bandied about the town”, as Miss Harriet once put it.

Miss Harriet found the intelligence concerning the captain’s interview with little Tommy surprising indeed, and replied by setting her teacup down on the table and gently exclaiming, “Well! So he’s got a heart after all underneath all that bluster. I always suspected as much, but I’ve never been able to discover just what the chink in his armor might be.”

“I guess now we know.” chuckled Katherine. “Although, I wonder when he first started keeping candy in that drawer? I suppose he must have gone out and bought it on purpose, for I’ve never seen him eat any.”

“It’s a tradition left over from when Serena was there.” Miss Harriet said with a sudden tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Really? Did she keep candy in a drawer for kids that came in?”

“Not exactly. She had it in a lovely cut glass candy dish atop the counter. She told me one day that she kept the candies in a dish with a lid so that the children had to ask her for one. Otherwise, she said, they would just reach right in, and then their parents would be embarrassed. She said having to ask discouraged her young customers from being quite so greedy.”

“I suppose when the captain took over the shop, he must have just swept it all into a drawer to get it off the counter. I’ve noticed that he’s very particular about what gets put out on that counter.”

The two agreed that must have been what happened, and Katherine resolved to keep her eye out for that candy dish.

They walked into the kitchen and began the nightly ritual of washing up. Katherine got out a dish towel and leaned on the counter by the sink while she waited to dry the first dish.

“It’s odd that Tommy walked right in without his mother. I suppose it’s all right because she was nearby, but she never even noticed when he came into the shop. When I was little, my parents wouldn’t have dreamed of losing track of me long enough to slip into a shop by myself and have a chat with a shopkeeper they’d never met.”

“How did you like growing up here?” asked Miss Harriet.

“Oh, I loved it.” Katherine answered with a happy smile “We would spend summer days on the beach, walking up and down, gathering all sorts of little shells and pretty rocks. Sometimes we would even find sea glass, although that was pretty rare. I loved the freedom, the light, and in the fall and winter, I loved the storms. I used to stand by my window and watch the waves crash over each other out in the harbor. We could see it from our house, you know, and we would gauge the changing of the seasons by the color of the water.”

“It sounds like you had a lovely childhood” Miss Harriet said, handing Katherine another dish to dry.

“I did. But, then again, it was the only childhood I knew. I never thought to compare it with other peoples’ childhoods. But then, we left, and nothing was ever the same.”

“And why did you leave?” Miss Harriet asked gently.

“Christmas night, we were all in the living room when the phone rang. My father went to answer it, and Mom and I knew right away something was wrong. Dad’s face turned a funny grey color, and he rushed up to my attic room, where we could see over the trees and houses towards the harbor. We ran upstairs and found him staring out the window. The mill had caught fire, and we could see the flames in the distance.” Katherine took a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a terrible tragedy for the whole community, and many people lost their jobs, not just my dad. But when we had to move, it felt like my whole world had disappeared. We went from our lovely house with the view of the harbor to an apartment in the city with a view of a grimy brick wall. Then Mom had to take a job, and there just never seemed to be anyone at home. I was old enough to understand why we needed to move, why my parents both had to spend so much time at work, but it didn’t change the fact that I felt so…abandoned.”

Both ladies worked silently for a while, then Miss Harriet said softly,

“You know I grew up in England, but did I ever tell you about my childhood?” Katherine shook her head eagerly, inwardly preparing for a good story. All Miss Harriet’s stories were captivating, and Katherine always loved to listen to her tell them in her lilting accent.

“I grew up in a little village in Surrey, England. I spent my childhood there, much as you spent yours here, only instead of the shore, we wandered the hills, and brought back treasures from the fields and streams.

I thought we were the happiest of families, my parents, my brother and I. We lived in a beautiful little cottage, with just the smallest little patch of a front garden. Despite its size, Mother had managed to plant a variety of flowers, so that it seemed to be perpetually bright and fragrant. Just as you marked your seasons by the harbor, I marked mine by those flowers.” Here she paused, as if savoring the memory of that long-lost flower garden.

“Is that why you fill your shop with flowers?” Katherine asked with a smile.

“Perhaps…Yes, I suppose it must be. I had never thought about it that way.” After another pause, Miss Harriet continued somberly. “When I was still but a little bit of a girl, my father left quite suddenly. I remember seeing him at dinner one night, and the next night it was just us three, my brother and I not really understanding that Papa had gone for good, and Mother trying so bravely to keep us from the sickening shock of it.”

“Oh, how awful!”

“Yes. It was. But Mother was so wonderful. She never complained, never spoke ill of Papa before us. But she didn’t excuse him, either. She took a job to support us and came home each evening tired, but determined to be the mother we needed her to be. I can only imagine how exhausting it must have been for her. But she had such strength.”

“And she really never said anything bad about your father?” Katherine asked, astonished.

“No, never. But I know that she did pour out her sorrow and hurt to the only One who could heal them. When we went to bed each night, she would go to her room and kneel by her bed. Then she would pray, lifting up her heart, and sometimes her voice, although she did try to be careful not to disturb us. I only know about it because I would often hear her muffled sobs and creep to the door to check on her. My brother never dared, but I just had to.

“’I would stand softly outside in the hallway while she cried, voicing her hushed words of grief and pain to God alone. But then, her pain and grief would give way to words of forgiveness and pleas on behalf of the man who had so wronged her, abandoning her and leaving her to care for two small children who just couldn’t understand why Papa would have gone away.