Cal chuckled. “Susie Q—that’s funny.” He picked up his cup. “Gotta run. You two have a good day.” He held his coffee aloft with a “thanks for this” to Bryony and headed to the door.

Bryony looked at Charity and smiled.

Charity placed her fingertips on the counter. “Bryony, I also want to apologize for something else.”

The shop door closed behind Cal. Bryony brought her full attention back to Charity. “What for?”

“For being such a jerk to you all through school.” Charity steadied herself on the counter, her symmetrical, perfect face sober. “You were always nice to me, and I acted terribly after Susie convinced me that you had a thing for Chuck. I have a grandchild who was recently cyber-bullied.” She lowered her head and shook it slowly back and forth. “Some of those text messages she received were pretty reminiscent of how we treated you. I now realize how awful that can be for the person on the receiving end.” She raised her head, and Bryony could see the contrition on that beautiful perfect face. “I am asking for your forgiveness.”

“In Susie’s defense,” Bryony said. “I did kind of have a thing for Chuck in high school.”

Charity’s countenance softened, and she chuckled. “Of course you did! Every girl had a thing for Chuck back then.”

When Bryony smiled this time, a flood of warmth filled her chest. “True.”

Placing her hand over Bryony’s, Charity asked, “Will you come to our holiday gathering this Sunday? We’d love to include you in celebrating our good fortune.”

Without hesitation, Bryony said, “I’d love to come.”

“Thank you.” Charity removed her hand and picked up her gloves. She started to leave, but turned back. “I almost forgot the reason I came in. I heard you’re opening a pie business. Do you have time to bake some for the party? We’ll need about a dozen.”

“I’d love to,” Bryony answered, amazed she had spoken that phrase twice within two minutes to Charity Henderson and actually meant it.

“Great! You pick what kind to make. Bring them with you. The party starts at four.”

“Okay,” Bryony said. “I’ll be there.”

Charity left, and the next customer came through the door behind her.

The natural light in the shop suddenly brightened, as if a cloud had passed and the sun could shine unfiltered again. Forgiveness was a wonderful thing. If only one could bake it into a pie and feed it to the world.

CAL CHOOSES, AGAIN

Cal sat down at the kitchen table for his morning call with Rachel. He put her on speaker and laid the phone beside his cereal bowl.

Their mix of professional and personal had seemed like a good idea in late November. Now he wasn’t sure. The phone time felt like a chore, one more task to complete in a day filled with a never-ending list of tasks.

“Your father’s doing great!” Rachel said. “The girls love him. He walked around the block with Ellie last night.”

“Whose idea was that?” Cal asked. His father had given up evening walks when he retired.

“He insisted,” Rachel answered. “Said he’s ready to resume his daily constitutional to inspect the neighborhood.”

“Great to hear, Rachel.” Cal would be forever grateful to the nurse who had organized an entire posse of young women to look after his father. They cooked, cleaned, ran errands, took him to appointments, and learned his favorite games. In short, they were a new kind of family for Cal Sr., a family based on providing every need possible until his life ended, as it should be for everyone.

“What time do you arrive tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not coming this weekend,” Cal answered.

“Why not?”

Cal sighed. He liked Rachel. He appreciated her help, her wit, her zip, but the disappointment in her voice concerned him. She seemed wounded by his decision to do something other than what she expected. “Papers to grade. And a friend’s having a holiday party on Sunday.”

“Do you have a date for the party?” she asked, coyly.

“No,” Cal answered, not too bothered by the need to play along with her teasing way to ask for reassurance. “I told you. I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”

“I could be your date for the party,” Rachel said.

“What?” The implication jarred him. Rachel in Fieldstone?

“I don’t have any shifts at the hospital,” she said. “I could drive down.”

“Umm, wow.” He rubbed his head. “Let me think for a minute, okay? Talk about it tonight?”

“Sure!” Her upbeat tone sounded forced. “Call me tonight.”

“Will do!”

He ended the call, finished his breakfast, and rinsed his bowl. Why not ask Rachel to come with him to the party on Sunday? She would like Chuck and Charity. They would like her. Win-win all around. But then there would be the issue of her spending the night. He stepped around Bailey as he walked away from the sink.

“What do you think, buddy? Are we ready for a sleepover? It’s been a long time.” Bailey yawned.

All the way to school, Cal thought about whether or not he should invite Rachel to the party on Saturday. By the time he parked his car, he was still undecided. He walked into the school continuing to deliberate.

Before he could make it past the door to the administration suite, Mitch stepped out into the hall and called to him. “I have news. Come on in.”

Cal switched direction with his legs while his heart continued down the hall. Listening to Mitch was not how he wanted to start the day, but he followed him into the suite and through the door to his office.

“Close the door behind you and have a seat!” Mitch’s smile gleamed bright, and he exceeded his usual level of polished appearance.

“Fresh haircut?” Cal sat on the edge of chair facing Mitch’s desk.

Mitch smoothed his hair back, though it lay sculpted against his scalp. “Important meeting tonight. Gotta last through the day.” He sat back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. “Listen, Cal. I have the final word from the board. They refused to consider an extension of the work study program. They are pouring every resource into STEM. They’re removing funds from the music and art programs, too.”

Cal stood, disgusted when he found himself mimicking Mitch’s behavior, his hand stroking back his own hair, but not for the sake of grooming. Cal was trying to keep his head from exploding. Cutting the work study program was bad enough. Killing music and art bordered on educational collapse. He could not keep the vitriol out of his voice.

“STEM has given way to STEAM, inclusive of arts programs,” he said. “And now there’s even STREAM, which incorporates reading into a truly collaborative curriculum. The arts keep our spirits alive, and reading is essential for everything.”

“We have limited funds,” Mitch said.

“You have limited imaginations.” Cal knew he was over the line.

“You have no idea how our budget works.”

“If you’d read my resume, you would know that I finished a principal licensure program ten years ago, and I have an associates degree in accounting.” He cut loose the anger he’d been sitting on since meeting the man. “You appear to have no idea how people work.”