A Personal Touch

Think happy thoughts today and more tomorrow and more the next day so that happiness will always be with you.

The young woman pinned the card to her corkboard and smiled. She hadn’t smiled so openly in a long time. A stranger’s words, a simple card, brought her comfort when no one else could. It warmed her heart and filled her with new hope.

Written by: Dennise Cardona

Projects by: Kathy Wegner


ora was heading to the mountains in southern New Hampshire to meet her sisters for their annual antiquing trip—a trip she always enjoyed. Last year they shopped in Vermont, the year before in Massachusetts, this year Cora suggested New Hampshire. She had rushed through many pictures and descriptions of lodgings on the internet and reserved three rooms at, what looked to be, the coziest choice. In these quiet woods she would relax from the hectic lifestyle of the financial world and delve into the peace and tranquility of Anna’s Bed and Breakfast, a red brick house hidden in the shadows of maple and oak trees.
Usually Cora looked forward to the eating and socializing that happened on the trip more so than the actual shopping itself, but this year was different. This year, after much waiting, she and her husband Tom were considering purchasing a home of their own. Now, the shopping had purpose.
The trip promised two days away from cleaning bathrooms, folding clothes, paying bills, and answering endless e-mails. It wasn’t often she had quality time with her sisters either. Their time was spent juggling careers, husbands, pets, and friends. Over the many coffees they would sip and the many pastries they would inevitably eat in the upcoming two days, they would also laugh and tease each other, further ensuring that their sisterly bond remained resilient.
As Cora continued her drive down the winding road, she thought about the pile of work that she’d left behind on her desk. As a financial assistant at one of Boston’s most prestigious finance companies, her workload would daunt even the most thick-skinned of professionals. Her boss was egocentric. Her co-workers were catty. And worst of all, her commute was a brutal nightmare. Intent on enjoying her weekend though, she began to sing John Denver’s, Annie’s Song, and concentrated on the foliage around her. And as she rounded the bend to the stone driveway of the hidden sanctuary that she would call home for two days, thoughts of work completely disappeared. Her oasis awaited her.
She ran up the cement stairs and through the stone pillared fence to the oak French doors. Inside, her sisters Margo and Lucy stood in front of the brick mantled fireplace that roared with the same glorious warm fire in the website picture. She glided over to meet Lucy’s welcoming hug and Margo’s oddly impersonal, yet completely natural, pat on the back.
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Their shopping journey started with the first antique store at the top of the lantern-lined street. The shops they visited looked identical with all their blue and white pottery, collectible dolls, silver toasters, and cast-iron pans. On their porches, more antique furnishings were haphazardly thrown together in a calamity of chaos, similar to what her life would look like if it were showcased. A musty smell hung heavy in each shop as though the rooms and all their belongings emerged from an old basement with leaky cement walls. Cora spent the day rubbing the tip of her itchy nose.
The great deals she had hoped to find were lost among the clutter. Her feet swelled and all she wanted to do was indulge in a cheesecake, toss back a cocktail and climb into the bear-clawed bathtub that she would fill will lavender bubbles. But her sisters insisted they peruse through the last shop on the street before calling it a day.
Even Cora had to admit as she entered the furniture shop, that it had charm. The shop was arranged like someone’s home. There was a bedroom, kitchen, living room, even a pantry. It smelled like sweet bread; the way she wanted her cozy home to smell someday. Candles burned in every vantage point, creating a warm glow that made her want to curl up on the comfy looking bed that was in front of her and read the Huckleberry Finn novel that laid on the inviting bedroom’s nightstand. She wanted a bedroom like this one. She wanted the red and blue checkered quilt and lacy pillow shams too, as well as the country blue eyelet curtains that draped the fake window. She imagined a pasture outside the window, one with daisies and dandelions dancing in the wind. The quilt would keep her and her husband Tom comfortable even in the cool, country air breezing in on a fall night.
From across the room, Lucy called out to her, “Cora, check this out!”
Cora tore herself away from her reverie and looked over at her sister. Lucy examined the dresser that stood tall next to the fake bed. Hand-carved swirls adorned the oak drawers as did delicate white porcelain knobs with tiny roses. Cora wandered to it and opened the top drawer to reveal the faint fragrance of lilac perfume and pretty flowery paper. Romance seeped from even its tiniest cracks.
“I set this bedroom up yesterday,” a man said.
Cora turned to see a small-framed older gentleman, with reading glasses resting from the base of his nose, peering up at her.
“I love this dresser,” Cora said, eyeing her sister Margo’s sauntering approach.
“It belonged to a Mrs. Cavanaugh. From what I hear, she was a beautiful woman married to a business man. He bought her this dresser as an engagement present before he went off to the war,” he said.
“What else do you know about it?” Cora asked, already deciding that if he accepted $500 for it, she would take it.
“I can tell you she took care of it like a treasure. It’s good as new.”
“How much do you want for it?” Margo asked.
Cora snapped a look at her sister.
Margo snapped the competitive look right back at her.
“Well, it’s in perfect condition and it’s solid oak.” The man knocked on it as if the action would prove its sturdy condition.
Margo exhaled an appreciative breath.
Cora knew Margo’s next move. “I’ll take it,” Cora said, halting Margo’s chance at claiming it.
“$1000,” the man said matter-of-factly.
Out came the credit card and her delivery instructions. It would arrive a week from Tuesday.
And as Cora walked out of the antique shop with Lucy and Margo, a smile of satisfaction crossed her face. She not only bought the most beautiful piece of furniture the girls had seen all day, she claimed it.

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Her dresser arrived at 9am the following week as scheduled. She had the delivery men place it in the spot she carefully arranged, right alongside the far wall, clear of the clutter that strangled the rest of her apartment bedroom.
After polishing the smooth oak, she opened the top drawer and inhaled the sweet lilac perfume rising from the flowery liner. And as the scent lingered, she imagined the tranquil setting of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s home. Cora envisioned a colonial with great white pillars and a grand foyer with a curved staircase leading to the bedroom that the dresser once occupied. She closed her eyes and imagined herself walking through the elegant rooms, decorated with the finest embroidered furniture and delicate draperies.
A loud knock on her door transported Cora back to the reality of her crammed apartment.
When Cora got to the door, she looked through the peep hole and saw Margo flipping her hair from her shoulders. She held two coffees. As Cora opened the door, Margo handed her one of the Styrofoam cups and pushed the door forward, entering.
“Did it come yet?” Margo asked.
“This is a surprise,” Cora said.
Margo walked ahead of her to the bedroom and when she entered, stood studying the dresser with crossed arms and one eyebrow arched. “I don’t think that’s a good spot for it.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s as good as it gets for now.” Then she walked over to it and took the top drawer out and placed it on her unmade bed. “I need to start putting my clothes away.”
Margo waved her hand, ushering Cora to begin her task. As Cora piled her rolled-up socks on top of the flowery liner, Margo inspected the dresser at closer range. She bent forward looking into the hole where the missing drawer had been. Then she wrestled her arm into the opening, twisting and lodging it deeper, until her shoulder disappeared.
Cora eyed her. “What are you doing?”
“There’s something in here,” Margo said.
Finally, she freed herself and in her hand she held a lacy, rose-colored envelope.
“What is it?” Cora asked.
“It’s a card, I guess.”
Margo stuck her finger in the flap to open it.
“Be careful. Don’t rip it.”
Margo looked at Cora. “You really don’t have any faith in me, do you?”
Cora shrugged her shoulders.
Margo slid her finger under the flap and peeled the edges apart. Finally, she took the card out of the envelope and handed it to Cora. Two red hearts were joined as one and opalescent glitter sprinkled the space around them. On the inside, scrolled calligraphy danced on the rosy card like fancy embroidery on a linen table runner. Inside, white lace draped the border around the writing.
The hand-made card formed out of papyrus paper and embellished with an artful eye for romance breathed life, love, personality.

My Dear Rose,

I can’t believe I am going to see you in less than three months. What shall I do first, hug or kiss you or both? I suspect my heart will swell at the sight of your pretty face. I can’t wait to stare into your eyes because in them I see a happiness meant for only me. Your soul speaks to me through their shimmering reflections. Oh, how I miss you. I can’t wait until you are Mrs. Cavanaugh. Three more months my love and we shall retreat to a life full of love and mystique!

With all my love,
Robert


“How romantic,” Cora said, feeling guilty with the intrusion of reading such an intimate and personal keepsake. “Imagine getting a card like this from someone you love?”
“I knew I should have overbid you,” Margo said. “You’re going to turn all sappy on me now.”
Cora ran her fingers over the calligraphy. The time, the detail, the heartfelt expression that went into Rose’s card spoke Robert’s feelings with clarity, leaving no doubt how he truly felt about this woman.
“I bet Mrs. Cavanaugh never dreaded her daily trip to the mailbox the way we do today. It was probably the highlight of her whole day,” Cora said.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Tossing the lipstick stained Styrofoam cup in the trashcan, Margo slipped past her towards the bedroom door as if on a mission to get out fast. “I have to go. I have to open the bookstore. I’ll give you a call later to see what you want to do for dinner.”
She, Margo and Lucy had dinner the first Tuesday of every month when Tom was out of town. They argued about where they went every time. Margo preferred Chinese and Cora preferred Italian. They usually went with Lucy’s choice as she was most decisive among the three.
“Margo,” Cora said, stopping her before she walked out the door, “Do you ever wish life were as simple as it seemed for the Cavanaugh’s? I felt Robert and Rose’s love in that one simple card. I really felt it, even after all these years of being hidden in dust.”
“You’re such an idealist.” Margo turned and walked out of the room.

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