Mooning Around

By Laurie Herlich

I remember my first glimpse of her in early July. She peeked in the window of my bakery as I went about my opening routine. I may never forget the morning sun shining on her platinum hair, surrounding her with a luminous halo.

She next brightened the door of Bob’s House of the Rising Bun a few days later. The day dawned gray and dismal, but when she entered, it seemed the clouds obscuring the sun had parted to reveal a fingernail paring of a moon. The mystery woman lingered longer this time, perusing the display case of baked goods. She wore a white dress that simultaneously clung to yet obscured her figure.

While I waited on one of my best customers, working on her order for a tea party, Mrs. Starr hesitated on which petit fours to order and asked, “Why, Bob, where is that young lady? I meant to ask her opinion.”

I looked up from the order sheet. I had neither memory of her departure, nor the ring of the bell over the shop door. I shrugged and moved Mrs. Starr along to the topic of scones. A fella’s got to make a living, but I sure hope she comes back.

Two days later, head and shoulders into the display case, I saw two pale gray eyes looking back at me. Startled, I began to stand up but hit my head on the inside of the case. Ouch. The stars receded and a gentle giggle sounded in my ears.

“Sorry to laugh at your misfortune. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Her voice was as soft as the curls lightly resting on her shoulders. “It smells delicious in here. Warm butter, sugar… oh, the vanilla, coffee, and that chocolate, they smell better together than they do individually.”

“Yes, they do, indeed.” How can I keep her talking? “Um, can I get you something?”

“I was admiring the black-and-white cookies you just brought out. Are they decorated with moon phases?”

“Yes, they’ve been popular since the solar eclipse in April, and I hope they’ll keep selling through the lunar eclipse in September. Especially with International Moon Day coming up. Would you like to sample one? First cookie is free.”

She winked mischievously. “I love that they show the first quarter moon in the icing. I’d like to try one.”

“Let me know what you think.” I grabbed the cookie with my tongs and extended it to her.

She took it with long, delicate fingers, sniffed it, smiled at me, and bit delicately into it. My mystery woman savored the bite and smiled at me again. “Delicious combination of flavors; perfectly baked.”

An irrational hope sprang up in my heart. “It’s Saturday and I close at 4 p.m. What would you say to sharing an early dinner with me? Phil’s café around the corner is nice. My treat.”

My mystery woman’s cheeks turned nearly as red as my red velvet cupcakes. “You don’t even know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

I walked around to the other side of the counter and bowed from the waist. “Bob. Glad to make your acquaintance.”

Her giggle sounded like a brook rushing over stones. “I am Lunette, and so very pleased to meet you.” She curtsied in return.

“Where can I find you?”

“May I simply return to your shop at closing time?”

“That’ll work just fine.” My nerves kicked in and my palms grew damp. At that moment the bell over the shop door dinged brightly and two customers entered, chatting animatedly. “See you soon.”

She turned to leave and glanced back over her shoulder with a smile, gliding smoothly out the door.

It was a busy day, but I could hardly keep my mind on business and almost gave Mr. Grant’s order to Mrs. Brand.

Five minutes before four o’clock, she returned. We walked around the corner to Phil’s. I have no idea what I ate. All I remember are Lunette’s pale gray eyes, crinkling at the corners with laughter, and the pink glow on her cheeks.

We left the café and strolled along with her delicate hand in my calloused one. The tree boughs dipped over the park’s iron gates and the fragrance of the freshly mown grass hung in the sultry evening air.

“I’m afraid I must be off to work,” she said.

“Can I walk you there?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Lunette took both my hands and took a breath. I wondered what she was about to say when she dropped my hands and pointed at the sky. “Look, Bob, a murmuration of starlings.”

I shaded my eyes against the setting sun to see the flock’s twists and turns, expanding and contracting. “Wonderful.” I turned to see her expression, but once more, she was gone.

I paused, fists on my hips. “What on earth?”

I dashed up to the corner. Not a glimpse of her.

Our rendezvous continued a week more. Just before closing she would appear and select the black and white cookie of the day. When the moon was nearly full, she said, “It’ll be a shame when there’s no more chocolate icing.”

The next day Lunette grinned broadly, “The icing may be all vanilla, but you hid the chocolate in the cookie underneath. What a delicious surprise.”

“So tickled you like the new version. Thanks for being my inspiration.”

Lunette blushed at my praise. She chatted brightly and gestured broadly during our meal. As usual, she drew my attention to something after dinner and, when I looked back, she’d be gone.

The next several days Lunette seemed more subdued. Then, she arrived at the shop and whispered, “I’m not quite feeling myself. See you in a few days.”

I took her hands. “Are you sick? Can I help?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Look for me when you can see the next sliver of the moon in the sky.”

“I’ll have the black-and-white cookies waiting for you.” I can’t wait to see my Moon Maiden again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Laurie Herlich followed the Lord’s leading across the country to the ‘promised land’ of rural Northeast Tennessee, where Story is everything. She writes flash fiction, devotions, and cozy mysteries in a converted garden hut situated in her back yard. Laurie is also a writer/performer for Jonesborough, Tennessee’s StoryTown NPR Radio Show/Podcast, and a StoryTeller with the Jonesborough StoryTelling Guild.

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