It was warm when I left home this morning. The sky was a clear blue, the birds were singing, and I felt that the day would turn out to be a good one. I always enjoyed walking down the main street looking at window displays and browsing through the stores. Today was the first day of my vacation and nothing could take away that pleasure.
I stopped by the bakery to eat one of their homemade pies for breakfast. Spinach and feta. Yum! I know, not a breakfast type of meal. But when on holiday why not eat what you enjoy? I love the flakiness of Anita’s pastry, and the creamy-filled pie always hit the spot. She wasn’t too busy yet, so my new-found friend sat down with me for a while to pass away the time chatting a bit about my plans for the next month.
I stepped out into the road and noticed that storm clouds had gathered while I was inside. I sent up a fervent wish that I would not get caught in the storm. I decided to head along to the market to pick up some fruit and vegetables before heading on home – getting drenched is not my idea of fun. No sooner had I made my decision, the heavens opened. A summer deluge, fast and wet. With no thought at all, I ran from the edge of the sidewalk to the nearest door – that of a store I had not yet visited since my arrival to this town.
As I opened the door, I heard the tinkle of bells. Water was dripping off my hair and running down my back. I hoped the store owner did not mind me seeking refuge here. I looked around and saw that I had entered what looked like an antiques store. Graceful tables were cluttered with objects d’art, shelves were filled with bound tomes, and every nook and cranny was filled with relics of the past. As I glanced around the dimly lit interior, an old man walked towards me. His appearance suited the environment: his face was well-worn with the passing of time, his slight stoop indicating the passing of years.
“Hope you don’t mind me coming in like this.”
“Not at all young lady. I could do with a bit of company. Wait a bit, let me fetch you a towel to dry yourself off.”
I smiled gratefully as he shuffled to the back. Such a gentleman. And he looked exactly that dressed in his bow tie and waistcoat.
“Here you are. Afterwards come to the back and I shall make you a warm cup of tea.”
This is what I loved about vacation. There was no need to rush off somewhere, so I could satisfy my curiosity a little about this man whom I had not yet seen around town. Moving towards the back of the store, my steps were halted by a beautiful silver candelabra that had been hidden by an armoire.
“How beautiful it is!” I breathed.
The old man smiled. “You have an eye for beauty and history, that is for sure. I have always found the story behind this candelabra intriguing.”
Lifting the silver candlestick holder, he placed it carefully in my hands.
“This story is intertwined with both love and sadness. It began 200 years ago when this candelabra was given to a young couple getting married.”
I followed him to the table on which there were the makings of tea. I settled into the chair he offered, placing the silverware I held in my hands carefully in front of me. I love listening to stories from the past, and this one looked like it was going to be a treat!
What do you think is the story of the candelabra?
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2014
(Inspired by the WordPress daily prompt: Sudden Downpour)