Welcome to the intro video
and an excerpt from the tenth post of my weekly serial, “Sketches from the Café
Confictura.” If you’d like to share a comment, please use the comment option at the end of this excerpt. To follow the mystery of Applewood, and get recipes
from Mrs. Creaverton, writing advice from Roscoe Belesprit, and fashion tips
from the Fastionista, please visit www.ClarissaJeanne.com for new posts every
Tuesday at 2:30 p.m. EST.
Well, Violet had a happy
little dinner with our fine doctor Thursday night.
The two finally carved out
an evening to get together. Violet’s been keeping Mrs. C company during this
nerve-wracking week while the Merchants Association decides the café’s fate; but
Mrs. C finally realized that, as much as she and Violet love each other, they
needed a night off from each other when some Yahtzee dice nearly turned into deadly
weapons.
The date seemed to do
wonders for Violet’s mood. This morning, she was giggling and whispering on the
café phone, an old touch-tone desk model that Mrs. C keeps under the front
counter. I don’t know how, but Violet can hold down the register during Friday
morning rush while trading sweet nothings. When I went up for my latte, I leaned
toward the receiver and called out, “Hey, Doc, from the way she’s smiling I
take it you two kids had fun last night.”
Violet laughed. “Oui. And why was it so fun?”
She turned the receiver to
me so I could hear him answer, “Because I left my baseball cap at home.” He
sounded like he was rolling his eyes while he said it. But he also sounded like
he was in heaven, so I guessed the dinner was worth the sacrifice.
For a while, even Violet
finally hung up, it seemed nothing was going to bring her down from her cloud,
at least not until bell bottoms make their next comeback. She was even talking
about what a beautiful day it was, which was strange because if Violet could
hibernate anytime the temperature dipped below seventy degrees, we wouldn’t see
her again until Memorial Day. And, yes, it was a beautiful day for February, if
we’re talking sunshine. But no one wanted to remind Violet that the beauty was
deceptive. You know those winter days where the sun is so cheerful and beaming
that you can almost see the icicles dripping, and the plowed white mounds
shrinking, and you’re bursting to go outside after so many months of dead cold?
You’ve grown used to the skeletons of trees and the muted, icy air. Everywhere
you walk you crunch through the patina of frost over stale snow. And then one
day you look out your window, and there’s this gorgeous sun beckoning you to
the party that is winter’s end.
Then you walk outside and
it’s still, like, -49 degrees and the first hit of wind cuts through your soul
like death metal music, and the one fleeting thought you have before you run
back inside to put on no less than a Sherpa-approved coat is that you remember
just how deceiving looks can be.
Well, Violet thought it was
a beautiful day.
Then Mitzy Binkowski came
through the door.
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