At the beginning

Part 4

My parents are not at home. Oh my! I forgot about Uncle Jeremy! His daughter had a birthday last week and my parents were invited to the party...today. I was supposed to pick them up. Ugh. I've no time for this, the ride to Uncle Jem is almost an hour... I hope dad's taken the car...
Nope,he hasn't. I just phoned to ask. However, one of Uncle Jem's friends is going to give them a lift. Meanwhile, I'll have to have lunch on my own. Originally, I was supposed to go to a tea garden with Jade and two more friends, but they turned out to be visiting aunts or taking their very important first steps into the last layers of adulthood (or namely travelling 700 miles to the north in order to take an impossible hiking challenge ) . Well, it happens. Way too often to me than you could imagine, I'm sure. A brief story to illustrate one of the most embarrassing moments in my life: my first boyfriend. Or so I thought. I had talked to a boy earlier that day and we had agreed to meet and go to the park later. Unfortunately,the evening presented us with a sudden fall of the temperatures and after several unanswered calls I gave up and went back home. Even more unfortunate was the fact that I'd obviously spent a bit too much time outside, for I spent the following week ill at home. When I finally got the chance to speak to the one guilty for it all, and I was still furious, it didn't go quite the way I had thought it would. He posessed no knowedge of the date that never was. He'd been at his grandmother's for the weekend and thought I had dumped him. As I already noted, it happens.
After some careful three-minute consideration I think I've got the perfect solution to all of my current problems, however insignificant they may be. I'm going to buy something from the local bakery and eat it in my parent's backyard. It'll be a nice way to spend some time, and not every day is my last one at home, is it? I leave a note on the kitchen table just in case my parents get to take the one-hour-long ride for 10 minutes and arrive while I'm away. Then I get my jacket and get out. I leave the front door open- I doubt anybody unfamiliar could get three feet towards our door without being immediately spotted and shouted at from the neighbours. Everybody would know in a brink of a second. 20-hour security , this is what the ladies next door provide us with. I smile and wave at the latter while passing by.
" Young ms Ensley , isn't it"-one of them says
"Yer parents are outta town"-informs me the other. She comes somewhere from the West . She's moved in about the same time I was born, proudly bringing her accent all along.
"Yes ma'am" I answer to both. I see them every time I visit my parents and we always have some similar exchange of empty words, but I'm absolutely sure they know me as well and even a bit better than myself.
This is a rich neighbourhood formed in the past and until very soon it's been a matter of honour to have a servant, or why not ten, to prepare your food. If not, then you did it yourself, but there's never been anything like a bakery before. Even the butcher's shop where they used to buy products was in town, some well ten miles away. Then, three years ago, the Baker family moved in. An interesting coincidence that could've provided some sort of a warning for what was coming ahead, if only the locals were able to realise it. They were not. The opening of "The Baker's" took place three months later, the time the Bakers needed to organise themselves, hire rooms and buy their first prproductscan you spot the coincidence here? Let me give you a hint-it's in the numbers). At first the whole neighbourhood felt very scandalised, especially because they somehow hadn't managed to forsee the event. Then, one by one, the inhabitants of the nearest houses began to understand the comfort this bakery next door provided and soon after, it became a feature for the neighbourhood to be proud wiith Personally, I find it a really nice place offering a rich variety of fair praised products. These are enough of a reason to make me a regular customer. As I enter, the man behind the counter greets me with a smile.
"Ms Roseberry was here a minute ago. I hear it's your big day,huh?"-it's Darren, the oldest of the three Baker's kids. He's the one who is going to keep his father's business. The younger ones are currently at school and university, but I believe they don't have the will to do this, or maybe it's a business feeling that they lack, and Darren is, however the typical baker's soon, broad-shouldered with a witty look and always smiling.
"I see. I guess everyone knows". And why wouldn't they? Some of the ladies have nothing else to do all day and Darren knows it as well.
"The usual, or shall it be something special? "
I order my favourite item- a pizza-like sandwich with cheese, pesto,tomatoes and additional mozzarella. After I payed, Darren gives me a small box.
"My treat"-he says-"Good luck out there".
Back at home I sit on a bench in the backyard(no invaders while I was away, and, not surprisingly, no parents back ).My father has put a lot of effort into turning it into a comfortable place, despite my mother's despise for gardening. There are several trees,for one of which I know for sure that it's a cherry one. Then there are some rose bushes, a seemingly obligatory feature in every noble man's garden. And of course, there are a couple of other bushes and some...was that carrots or potatoes this year? I should ask dad when they come. Which brings my thoughts back on track- I can't spend the day here! It is almost 11 o'clock already. Now, you may make the mistake to tell yourself that there is a long way to go to three in the afternoon. Don't make this mistake. If you were in my place you could miss your flight for such a thought. The mere possibility of this happening to me fills me with horror. The ticket was not cheap, and I have paid every pence of it myself. I shiver at the thought of being delayed because I'd forgotten small Charlotte's party. I hope she won't notice my absence. Both of my parents have hundredths of cousins, close and not so, and I have loads of them too .In result there are so many people on each birthdayparty you could get lost. I've noticed that each of us has a favourite few whom they look after on a party. I think Charlotte might ,after all, end up not thinking about me anyway, in which case it would've been a waste of time worrying about it. I should really see where my parents are. Now that I consider the danger of getting caught in somebody's spiderweb at the party I start wondering whether they'd managed to get out at the first place.