LITMIR.BIZ

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Anything at all. And she was designing, even if that meant decorating single windows instead of entire houses.

      Hannah still had one more promise to keep for her mom, and she had no doubt that she would. Eventually. God had been too good to her to let that other part of her mother’s last wish fall through the cracks. Besides, that had been one of her own dreams, too, that she would find the man God had made just for her and that they’d live a long, happy and hopefully healthy life together.

       Please, God, let it be a healthy life.

      She rocked back on her heels and eyed the town square coming to life before her in intricate dollhouse form. It was a bit difficult working on the houses at floor-level, but she’d placed the display low because she knew who her real audience was—the children of Claremont. There would be lots of kids at the First Friday celebration next week and they would undoubtedly be captivated by seeing the center of their town brought to life in the toy store’s window.

      Hannah still had a good deal to accomplish before the monthly festivities, but everything was coming together fairly well, and she truly believed that she’d make good on her promise to Mr. Feazell that his window would be one of the favorites at October’s First Friday event.

      Today she’d added Mr. Crowe’s Barber Shop to the group of buildings already complete. Hannah knew his portion of the square was extra special to the locals. For the past sixty years, practically every little boy in Claremont got his first haircut in Mr. Crowe’s chair.

      Many of the retired men in town were actually younger than Mr. Crowe and remembered when the eighty-two-year-old first opened the shop way back in 1951. Back then they were excited about the swirling barber pole and the friendly young man who ran the place. Now they all hung out there for more than the customary cut, shave and hot towel that the sweet old man provided. They gathered there for the camaraderie, for the memories of days gone by and for a glimpse of the future, as the next generation brought their little guys in to crawl up on the big black chair, sit on the cracked leather booster seat and create a memory.

      Hannah smiled, enjoying the fact that she could bring the town she loved to life in the display. Every store had a story, and she hoped that the exhibit encouraged some of the folks around town to share those stories.

      That had been her goal, the primary selling point that she’d used when she convinced Mr. Feazell to go with the rather elaborate, detailed display. She’d told him that this wasn’t merely an exhibit; it was a collaboration of Claremont memories. Hannah’s life had taught her how important family and friends were, how important your hometown was, and how extremely important memories could be. This display brought all of that together.

      She had recognized most of the people who’d stopped to view the scene today, which was to be expected, since Claremont was fairly small and most everyone knew everybody in town. In fact, merely a half hour ago, Mrs. Ivey, the librarian from the elementary school, stopped by with her husband. They’d come inside the toy store so they could get a better look at Hannah’s interpretation of Mr. Crowe’s shop. Mr. Ivey had marveled at the tiny black barber chair and laughed when he noticed the abundance of miniature newspapers and magazines scattered around the customer chairs. He’d been surprised to see that Hannah had even included a mini shaving brush with the barber tools on the counter and that it appeared to be covered in white foamy cream.

      “Look at the window,” Mrs. Ivey said, pointing.

      Hannah had taken a fine-tipped paint brush and written Crowe’s Barber Shop on the small rectangular window in bright white craft paint. She’d taken the time to walk down to the shop, copy the cursive style of the writing on the actual window and then mimic that font on her dollhouse replica. The little details were what made a scene special, and Hannah loved adding those unique tidbits to the display.

      “Isn’t it amazing that you can get that kind of detail in a dollhouse?” Mr. Ivey had said.

      Hannah and Mr. Feazell, who made sure to visit with each person that came in to see the display, both agreed.

      Mr. and Mrs. Ivey’s admiration cemented the fact that the scene had the impact Hannah desired on folks that viewed the tiny town. In fact, the two of them recalled the day Mr. Crowe opened his barbershop sixty years ago, when they were merely dating teenagers, accomplishing her personal goal of stirring up memories. She hadn’t missed the way Mr. Ivey wrapped an arm around his wife and squeezed her tenderly at that shared memory.

      Hannah sighed. One day she’d have someone look at her that way, hold her close like that. She’d make memories with a man that she loved, memories that they could share for a lifetime. In other words, she’d have exactly what her mother had wished for on the day she died.

      Have mercy, she couldn’t wait. God, if it be Your will, don’t make me wait too long.

      Hannah was still imagining that day, that man, when she had the strong sensation that she was being watched. That was the thing about working in windows. She was on display, too.

      Turning, she found a beautiful little girl, her long brown curls pulled up in two pigtails and her dark eyes sparkling as she gazed toward the window. Pulling on the hand of her father, she edged closer. Hannah smiled at her reaction and was instantly proud that her display had caused such palpable enthusiasm in this child.

      The little girl pointed at Hannah and said something to her father, who seemed genuinely mesmerized by his daughter. He was totally absorbed by her every word, as though there was nothing more important in the world than what she had to say.

      Hannah’s heart tugged at the scene. She crooked her finger and motioned for them to come inside and see the display, not only because she wanted the little girl to have a better view, but also because she wanted to get a firsthand look at the closeness these two shared.

      A pang shot to Hannah’s heart as they made their way around the side of the window and through the toy store’s front door. When Hannah was about that little girl’s age, she had spent afternoons at the square with her father. Daddy-daughter days, that’s what he’d called it back then. She’d also had her mommy-and-me days with her mom, and then the entire family would have family fun days, which included Hannah’s older sister Jana. Daddy-daughter, mommy-and-me and family fun days had consumed Hannah’s existence as a child.

      When she was thirteen all of that changed, and their family had never been the same.

      She blinked a couple of times, sniffed back the emotion that occasionally pressed its way to the surface with old memories, and found another smile for them as they passed through the curtain separating the display window from the rest of the store.

      “Hi,” Hannah said, primarily to the little girl, since she was still on her knees and the girl was eye level. “What’s your name?”

      She was even prettier than Hannah had realized, her dark eyes framed with a bounty of even darker lashes and her skin as smooth as the porcelain dolls in the toy store’s wooden curios.

      She gave Hannah a shy smile then stepped forward. “I’m Autumn.”

      Hannah heard her father’s deep inhalation and glanced up to see the man staring at the two of them. His face was filled with something close to awe, and Hannah wondered why he was so affected by her interaction with his little girl. Evidently he realized that Hannah noticed his reaction and that her attention was now on him.

      “I’m Matt Graham,” he said, and a light chuckle found its way into his words. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m just—” he visibly swallowed “—very happy right now.” He cleared his throat, shook his head then ran a hand through black wavy hair. “I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Autumn hasn’t smiled—” another clearing of his throat “—hasn’t been this happy in quite a while, and I can’t tell you what this means.”

      Matt Graham. She’d heard the name recently, but couldn’t place it. However, it wasn’t his name that held her interest. It was his statement. His little girl—Autumn—hadn’t been happy in quite a while. She seemed happy now, beaming at Hannah.

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