“No.” Cal made his voice low, gruff. “This is Bailey. Cal broke the rules and taught me how to talk.” He closed the lid on the half-eaten pint of ice cream and stowed it in the freezer. Thank heavens for Ben & Jerry!

Heidi sighed. “Cal, when are you coming home? The grandkids miss you.”

“Ahh,” Cal said. “How are my seven little munchkins?” He rattled off their nicknames.

“Their parents hate those names.”

“But the names are apt, and the kids love them.” He settled back into the chair.

“The kids love you,” Heidi said.” Come home this weekend. You promised to visit at least twice a month.”

Cal ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. This weekend is homecoming, and I’ve been asked to chaperone the dance. I meant to make it home over Labor Day, but I needed the weekend to get to know the town a little.”

“You haven’t met anyone special have you?” Heidi’s voice forewarned disapproval.

Bryony came to mind, but he answered, “None of my students seem interested in a guy who’s less than a decade away from Medicare.”

“Not funny, Cal. I’m serious. You cannot fall in love with someone who doesn’t live in Cleveland. Got it?”

Cal rubbed his forehead. His sister hadn’t wanted him to travel any distance, yet still complained when he decided to stay in Ohio and teach for another year. Nothing would suit her but him being close by, permanently, or at least until their father was gone. Cal understood. However, he couldn’t be in two places at one time, and he was committed for the year.

“Cal?” Heidi said. “Are you still there?”

“Still here and promising to visit asap. I know I’ll be there for Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving!” Heidi said. “You have to at least be here for Halloween! You’ve never missed a party.”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Promise?” Heidi asked, the tone of her question promising hell-to-pay if he failed to follow through.

“I promise.” They ended the call after Heidi extracted three more cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die promises to make it home no later than Halloween, sooner if possible.

As Cal cleaned up his dinner dishes, memories of Leslie bubbled up. She had not been the love of his life. He knew that from the beginning. But the truth was, he missed her. During their time together, she had become part of his routine, in spite of the ways she did not fit for him. They had enjoyed daily contact. She had been his sounding board, his buddy, his confidante. More than missing her, he realized, he missed that. He missed having someone who had his back.

He needed to stop missing what he had with Leslie because she had never been what he wanted. He wanted more than a companion. He wanted someone like… why did the principal’s sister keep popping into his mind? Granted, Bryony Green could make a mean apple pie, but if he dated anyone, they should be firmly established in the place to which he would return next June. And clearly, her brother was not in favor. Mitch Green’s message had been straightforward. Stay away.

Checking his contact list, Cal was pleased to see he had saved Susie’s number after she called the last time. He wondered if she was still in Fieldstone. And if so, would she be returning to Cleveland when she left? He’d give her a call sometime soon. But not tonight. Tonight he would clean out the dog’s bowls, maybe clean the bathrooms, or find something to glaze over in front of the television.

BRYONY FALLS

From the parking lot, Bryony saw a multitude of people milling around a mountain of combustible material. Tradition designated the last Thursday in September as kick-off day for Homecoming. Activities to reunite Fieldstone High alumni with each other and to connect them to current students commenced with a bonfire. The evening event had grown over the years, and now included a food truck rally, vendor booths, and three hours of stage performances by local entertainers. Bryony joined the throng slogging through wet grass from an earlier downpour and heading toward the conical pile awaiting a lit match.

Halfway there, she found herself side-by-side with Charity Henderson. Per usual, Charity looked like a million bucks, which was probably only half the estate value she had inherited from her parents.

“Hello, Bryony,” Charity said. “I heard you’re working with Lillian now.”

Was she goading her? Bryony chose to not take the bait. “I heard about Chuck’s heart issues. How’s he doing?” she asked, the hairs on her neck raised, her jaw clenching.

“Better!” Charity answered. “Thanks for asking.”

Nearing an appropriate place to veer right, Bryony started to say farewell when Charity spoke again.

“You’re missed at Metcalf, you know. If you ever want to come back, there’s a place for you there.” As a teenager, Charity Beaman had possessed the enviable ability to appear completely sincere while rocking an inner sneer. Apparently, time had not diminished that capacity.

“Thanks, I’m happy where I am.” As Bryony moved away, she called back, “Say hello to Chuck,” and then turned her attention forward, trying to let all that had passed stay in the past, where it belonged.

Lillian, Rick, and their brood greeted Bryony with a swarm of hugs. As usual, the sons soon left to join old friends for a game of touch football, while the in-law daughters dispersed together. Grandma and Grandpa would watch the grandkids.

“Rick, will you take the kids over for candy apples?” Lillian asked. “Bryony and I want to wander around and say hello to folks.”

This, too, followed their established tradition, but Rick never complained. He kissed his wife on the cheek and instructed his six grandchildren to pair up and hold hands before steering them away. “Meet up at the lighting of the fire?” he called over his shoulder.

“We’ll be there!” Lillian answered.

He moved on, clearly in charge of his half dozen with humor and smiles.

“You’re lucky,” Bryony said. “Rick is an angel.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Lillian said. “He’s a man. And because he’s a man, he often requires the same kind of effort required of children and grandchildren—basic training in courtesy, hygiene, and safety.”

“But he’s a good one.” Bryony watched as Rick stood in line at the candy apple stand, his arms reaching out to gather his progeny and protect them. “You know how lucky you are, right?”

“I do.” Lillian gazed after her husband. “He’s my rock.” She turned back to Bryony and asked, “Where should we go first?”

“Vendor booths,” Bryony answered. “Maybe next year we offer coffee and bagels?”

“You think you’ll still be with me next year?” Lillian linked her arm with Bryony’s and led the way. “I hope so, but only if that’s good for you.”

“You’re always good for me,” Bryony said. She didn’t bother telling Lillian about the brief encounter with Charity. Lillian had never quite understood.

Bryony and Lillian met in seventh grade, their friendship emerging when paired for a party-making project in Home Economics. From that moment on, they had been the best of friends, in spite of their inherent differences—Bryony being the quiet, shy one, and Lillian being the life of the party—and in complete agreement about all things, with the exception of their opinions on the popular girls.

Bryony could never quite convince Lillian of the damage done by Charity, Susie, and their little squad of backbiters. Lillian seemed impervious to the impact of their antics. In this area of life only, Bryony had suffered alone, but in all other ways, the two had been each other’s champions.

Now they stood together, forty-two years later, in front of a booth selling brownies and cookies.

“Remember those little pies we made for our Home Ec project?” Lillian asked.

“Of course I do.” Bryony had stayed up all night modifying the recipe until the tarts were as close to perfection as possible.

“What would it take to start making those for the coffee shop?”

“Me, cloned,” Bryony said.

Lillian laughed. “I could use a few more of you in my life.”