A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

A little slow. I was yanked out of retirement last week, but plan on crawling back into it soon. Anyway, I will try to keep going at a chapter a week or better: Dawn

TUESDAY, June 14, 2016

Rachael got up and headed off to school. The Top Girl and Top Boy speeches were to be given at an assembly this morning, and she wanted to support Carly, especially with the surprise they had been working on over the weekend. They had decided not to do the normal routine of giving a speech. I mean, there were only two more weeks of school, so any promises of things a new Top Girl could do were pretty hollow. It wasn’t like being elected class president at the start of term or anything.

But each girl (and the boys) got five minutes for their speech, which usually left the class totally bored, particularly after 10 girls and four boys finished.

But Rachael had come up with an idea (of course). Carly would sing a song. One of the Grade Seven boys played acoustic guitar, and would play. Carly would sing, and Rachael and Larissa would keep time on tambourines.

The lyrics were a kludge of an old John Lennon song, ‘Give Peace a Chance’. Rachael looked over the lyrics she had written.

Two, one-two-three-four

Evrybody’s talking bout

Mystery Meat, bongo beat on the street, nothing good to eat

Creamed corn, gravy porn, simmered all morn, hairnets worn.

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

Yo yos are no nos, Frisbees and scraped knees, paper wads and doodads

All we can eat are corn and beets, take your seats, football cleats

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

It wasn’t much of a song, but when they had practiced it on Sunday afternoon the others liked it. The catchy chorus was easy to remember, and repeated enough that the students could join in.

Rachael put her song sheet into her backpack and headed down to make breakfast for Bobby.

---- -- ----- - -- - -

Mikki was at the construction site on Tuesday, carrying the new camera her father had bought her. He had been so happy that she was safe and well he didn’t even complain about the cost. In the shed Mikki found that her old camera was strewn across a workbench, with Chipper working on it. The lenses were toast, and a mirror inside was cracked. Two or three other parts were damaged, but the tinkerer/barber had already gotten the electronics back in business. He told Mikki that he had ordered parts from Nikon, and when they came in, he would reassemble the camera, hopefully so it was as good as new.

Skid and Gary were talking to a man in a suit outside when Mikki came up. “This is the girl who fell,” Gary said. “As you can see, she is fine. The harness caught her.”

“Mikki, this is Taylor Stone from the OHSA. He is investigating your short flight yesterday to ensure that all our safety practices are in order.”

“This could help,” Mikki said, holding out her iPad. “I made a little video from the footage the girls took yesterday. You might want to watch it.”

Mr. Stone did, and he watched the clips that Mikki had arranged into a story. It started off with Skid putting the harness on her as he gave his safety talk. The man in the suit was nodding his head as he watched. There was a short scene where Skid told Mikki about Tyvek on the roof. He paused the video.

“This is not a normal material used on roofs,” Mr. Stone said. “What will it do?”

“It is an idea of mine,” Skid said. “The extra barrier is fairly inexpensive, and I hope it will prolong the life of the roof, particularly on the sunny side.”

“We should send out an alert about it, cautioning about the slippery effect.” He then went back and continued the video, which quickly went into the slide and fall, and then Carly and Larissa’s shooting of the recovery operation from two different angles, intercut to show how the men on the roof helped lower the girl safely.

“That video is wonderful,” Mr. Stone said. “I wonder if I could get a copy? This would be a great addition to our training materials. You can talk about a person falling from a roof till you are blue in the face, and men will think it can’t happen to them. But to see someone, a young girl at that, go flying off the eaves … well, it really has an impact. I suspect that the training division will want to buy the rights to this. Heck, it might even make a good safety public service ad for TV.”

Mikki handed him a memory stick. “This has the edited version on it. If your guys want to get the raw footage, email me and I will send it. I’m not as interested in money: I just want to build a good portfolio for college and beyond.”

After a half hour more, where Mr. Stone went up onto the roof (in a harness) the OHSA man announced that the site was approved and work could get underway again. A half hour later and Mikki got the shots she wanted: the lumberyard sent over a truck with a huge crane attached to the back. The crane was positioned up to the peak of the roof, and then men on the truck started feeding bales of shingles onto a conveyor belt that ran up to the top, dropping the shingles in a pattern on the roof and saving the men from having to carry the heavy packages up the ladder manually.

Soon the nailguns were firing and the shingles slowly started working their way up that side of the roof. Meanwhile, more men were working on the other side of the church, where Skid’s fears came true: the sun had rotted those shingles, and an earlier layer beneath, and the men had a huge job in peeling the old ones away when they broke into small pieces instead of lifting the nails out like they had on the other side.

Mikki filmed all morning. She had wanted to go to Carly’s speech, but felt the video was more important. The men couldn’t reshoot parts she missed. But by noon she felt she had enough, and went off to school.

----- - -- -- -- --

At school, Carly drew the 14th slot for her speech. As Rachael had predicted, most of the speeches were either ‘I’m cool, so vote for me,’ or pointless campaign type speeches complaining about the things that were wrong with the school when there was no time to fix them.

Carly got to the stage and looked out over a totally bored student body. The grades five and six were present, even though they couldn’t vote. Grade sevens could vote, but all the candidates had to be grade eight.

“Oh what a cheerful sea of faces. Well, I have no speech for you,” Carly said as she stepped up to the mic. That perked people up a little bit. The Grade sevens noticed that one of their own was on stage, carrying a guitar.

“Instead of continuing to bore you I thought a little song would break things up a bit. Unfortunately, my slot comes at the end of the show, so I guess this will be more of a wrap-up than a break. Anyway, my friend Rachael wrote this song, based on one by John Lennon, and made it relevant to Winslow School. I hope you like it.”

They loved it. By the third time the chorus was sung, the whole auditorium was singing along, including some of the teachers, who recognized the original song and were singing the unchanged lyrics. Rachael wasn’t even sure that some of them had noticed the change.

It completely changed the tempo of the event, and the students filed out of the room, many singing or humming ‘Give Peas a chance.’

On stage Rachael high-fived her friend. “You are so in, girl,” she said. “I wish they voting was today instead of Friday. The other contestants looked glum, and several of them congratulated Carly then and there.

The one big question was ‘what was on the menu for lunch?’ If they served peas, it would limit the effectiveness of the song. Luckily, it was carrots, and almost every student sang, “All we are saying, is give peas a chance,” as the lunch ladies scooped the vegetables onto their plates.

------ - -- --

Helen woke up in her honeymoon suite overlooking the falls, eager to spend another day admiring God’s wonder. After breakfast she and Steve went down to the same spot as before, and sat as they had before, with Helen leaning against Steve’s legs as she stared at the wonder.

After about a half hour, Helen raised her hand, and then moved it. Amazingly, she erased part of the Rainbow Bridge between the US and Canada. She erased some more, and more of the modern cities on either side of the falls disappeared. She erased the paved roads and walkways, the guardrails along the edge of the gorge, and then the cities themselves. When she was done, she was looking at the wonder as it must have appeared 250 years ago, when the area was still a wilderness and known only to the natives of the area.

She leaned back against Steve’s legs again after leaning forward as she erased. Suddenly he saw what she was seeing, and suddenly realized what the confusing hand motions he had noticed had done.

“What did you do?” he whispered. The roar of the falls continued, but the sounds of the city had vanished.

“I guess I made it as it had been before people decided that the Falls were a way to make money. It seems so much more spiritual this way.”

This time both of them sat staring at the wonder for hours and hours. They completely missed lunch, and then dinner, as the Falls seemed to feed and nourish them physically as well as spiritually. It was only when the sun set did they move.

Helen stood first, stiff but happy, and the erased items all reappeared, including the lights that now lit the attraction, diminishing the effects of the beautiful sunset they had just watched. Everything reappeared for Steve at the same time, and then reality crept back in. Both of them needed a washroom quickly. Luckily, one had reappeared just behind them.

After returning, they headed back to their hotel and ordered room service, speaking as little as possible. As they ate, Steve looked at his new wife. From the moment he had met her he knew she was special. She had claimed to be plain, but she appeared as the most beautiful woman on earth to him. Now he knew she was special, and he vowed silently that his entire life would be devoted to helping her with her mission on earth. Luckily he felt that his role as a police officer fit into that scenario.

That night, the two of them were still wrapped up in awe of what they had seen, and made the most beautiful love ever.

------- -- - -- ---

Rachael went to the bakery after school. Bobby now went there to check in, and occasionally walked home with his sister, but more often than not he left alone or with his friends so they could go bike riding around the town. Ingersoll was a small town, only about 12,000 people, so it was still safe for boys to be boys and go off exploring. Today Bobby went off with Marc and Luke Weller, the other boy who Gary had supplied with a bike.

Rachael went in, and found that Mike had not taken a full day off. He was experimenting again, and found that the newly retuned moulder/sheeter was capable of making flakier croissants. He planned to add the new product to the mix on Wednesdays, starting tomorrow.

Larissa, Carly and Mikki were all with her, and Mike handed each of the girls one of the rolls, still warm from the oven. Mikki, Carly and Rachael got wide eyes at the buttery light taste of the buns, but it was Larissa who reacted the most.

“These are wonderful,” she said. “They are Paris croissants. The kind you get at the sidewalk cafés along the Seine. I am taken back home when I eat this. You have to make them every day.”

“Sorry,” Mike said. “They take a lot of work. On Monday and Tuesday, with only one baker, we can’t spend the time. And Friday and Saturday are too busy. We could do them on Thursday’s too, but I think we should just make them a Wednesday thing. It is a slow day for sales, so having something special might pull in some more customers.”

“It will, it will,” Larissa raved. “When Mama tastes these she will be making a standing order.”

Mike then handed each of the four girls a bag containing eight of croissants to take home. There was also a bag for each of the other staff members, and one that Geoff would take to Grandma when he picked her up for dinner.

“Do you have something planned?” Maria asked Rachael.

“I have a couple chickens from Keri Peters, the egg lady,” Rachael said. “They are in Donna Jackson’s special marinade.”

“Can you make one more place? Mike is joining us for dinner.”

“No problem,” Rachael said as she and her friends headed home. Grandpa was on the porch, and all four girls gave the old man a kiss on the cheek, to his delight. The girls soon left, and Rachael brought Grandpa in to his chair in the living room, chatting with him from the kitchen as she made dinner.

After dinner that night Bobby was happy. He had gotten three chicken legs. Rachael and Maria cleaned up together, joking about the days not so long ago when they used to have battles over whose turn it was to wash up. Now it was a bonding time that they cherished.

Then Geoff called a meeting of the bakery partners, and included Grandma and Rachael to join them. “Mike spent the morning at that food services place in London again,” Geoff said. “Could you tell us what you found?”

“Yes. There is a good mixer there that is three times the size of the one we have now. If we had it, we could make bread and roll batches triple the current size. The problem then is baking them. Our little oven couldn’t handle that volume. So I checked and found there is a nice double rack oven there that would handle everything. The smaller oven would be good for backup.”

“Where will we put new equipment?” Maria asked. “We could squeeze in one more machine, but two?”

“Well, I was thinking that the flour stack could be moved to make room for the oven. We would have to store the flour elsewhere. I was thinking of a shed in the backyard here at this house,” Mike said.

“Why here?” Rachael asked. “There are two parking spots in the back of the bakery, and we only park the van back there. Why not use the second spot for a shed for the flour. It will make it easier to get more when we need it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mike said. “I was thinking that your Dad would estimate how much flour we needed for a day, and load it into the van and bring it in with him. But of course there would be days when we need more, and driving down the street would waste time.”

“This is why we ask you to join in on these business discussions, honey,” Maria said, and Rachael blushed. It was just an idea that seemed clear to her.

“What would all this cost?” Geoff asked the big question.

“With $2000 for a nice shed, the mixer will cost $25,000, a third the cost of a new one. The oven is in bad shape, but that means we can get it for $5000, and have the Hobo Army work their magic on it. The big cost will be rolling racks for the oven. We need four, although six would be better. One pair in the oven baking, one pair for prep, and the optional pair for cooling down. If we don’t get three pairs, then we would have more labor moving things from the rack when it comes out of the oven. New racks are $4000 each, so that means $16,000 or $24,000. There are some in the used equipment lot, but I recommend against them. If you get a wonky wheel on a used unit the frustration it will cause will drive us nuts.”

Maria had been adding. “That comes to $48,000 or $56,000, plus what the Hobo Army charges us for fixing the oven.”

“That will be free,” Rachael predicted, “unless there are parts to buy. What if we just buy two new racks, and get the other four from the used equipment lot. I have a lot of faith in the Hobos, and if a wheel is wonky, they will fix it.”

“That would cut the cost down by … How much are used racks?” Maria asked.

“You can get them for $1000 a pair. Nobody wants them,” Mike said.

“So $42,000,” Maria said. “Can we do that, Geoff?”

“It would be tight,” the baker said. “But if we max out the line of credit and maybe get a $15,000 short term loan from the credit union we can make it.”

“Balderdash,” a voice away from the table said. “I can loan you the $42,000. I’ve got the money just sitting in the bank. They don’t even pay me interest on it.”

They all looked at Grandpa. “But it is so much money,” Geoff said weakly.

“So make me a partner. Silent partner, I think they call it. The money will be my buy in,” Grandpa said.

“We will pay you interest on the money,” Geoff insisted.

“You can pay me the same rate of interest as I paid when I bought this house 65 years ago: three percent,” the old man said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“That is too low,” Maria said.

“Three percent. If you argue I will change it to two percent.”

Rachael ran over to her grandpa and flung herself on him in a hug. “Thank you, thank you. Why are you so sweet to us?”

“And I want one of these hugs every day,” the old man said gruffly, although with soft undertones. “That is why I do this. I love you all. My life is worth living now. Before I was just waiting … for the end.”

That night after everyone left and/or went to bed Rachael kneeled at the side of her bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. It was so special to see Mikki fit and still eager to climb all over the church to get her pictures. And thank you for making Carly’s speech go so well. She … well, her mother really … has put so much into her becoming Top Girl. I hope she can. And thank you for giving us Mike. His croissants are wonderful, and seemed to transport Larissa back to France. And then he is working so hard to get the bakery successful. I’ll bet Geoff makes him a full partner sooner than they had scheduled. I hope Helen and Steve are having a wonderful honeymoon. I can’t believe they plan to be back for Sunday services.

Amen