"Tell me Miss. McQuaid. Where were you in 1916?"
One woman who is deemed the sweetheart of the town gets thrown for a twist when a lynching causes a series of events. Cora McQuaid is a flower of a woman with a past that has been hidden well for sev...
The warm breeze of another morning drifted in through the cracked open bedroom window. The hum of a small metal fan could be heard as it attempted to cool the room. Before the sun was even awake an alarm rang waking up the resting blonde. With a groan and grunt Cora rolled over and hit the alarm from its position on the nightstand. Rolling out of the older bed, she heads to her closet pulling out a white blouse and a light pink skirt. Sitting in front of the vanity she switched on the bedroom light applying a small amount of blush and lip stain. The baby haired brush fixes the wavy golden locks on top of her head. Her locket is adjusted to rest straight on her chest before she pulls on a pair of tan nylons and worn tan heels.
Her mother always told her that a woman's looks would help her gain more customers and better suitors. Even though she was raised on the farm on the outskirts of town Cora's mother had tried to prune her for men from Granville. When her chores were completed her mother would sit her down teach her how to sit, eat and speak like a lady. Cora's mum had read books upon books from the library downtown. She feared of her daughter living a life as a farmer's wife. Still several years out from her mothers wings she still follows her teachings.
A simple bow held the work apron to her body. One last look in the fogged mirror in the bathroom, she hops out the door, locking it and heads down the stairs. Making her way to the back Cora pulls out some dough made the previous night. The oven that weight thousands of pounds lined a wall and came to a roaring start. The heat from the oven would worsen when the sun came up.
The kneading of dough was a calming task in the morning. Soft hands meeting soft dough. The early mornings were always so quiet, those were the moments she would enjoy the shop the most. Every crack in the wall, uneven floorboards always reminded her of the struggles it took to get here. Hanging near the back door was her late brother who would've been 30 this year. The photo was very standard military, one that had been sent from his platoon. There was a small platoon of young men, most of which would never come back. Third row back and fifth from the left stood her tall brother who had been there through some of her toughest moments. A small smile towards him, she continues to bake until a knock on the back door leading to the alley.
Quickly wiping off flour covered hands she picks up a freshly baked bagel from a basket and opens the door. Standing outside was a ten year old boy a large stack of newspaper at his feet,his face lit up in joy at the sight of Cora. "Miss. McQuaid!"
Cora's smile widens when she sees the young lad "Mr. Kane!" She lets out a laugh and places the brown bagel into the waiting lads hands. "How are you and your father this morning?"
Elisha Kane worked with his father in the early morning to help earn some extra money in the morning. The Kane family was a quickly growing family with the fifth child due in August. With bread stuffed cheeks Elisha replied, "yas miuss. Corea whee have so mauny pawpers."
A laugh escaped her painted lips as he ran off to the truck to finish up delivers with his father. Picking up the heavy stack Cora carries the papers from the back all the way to their rightful place at the front of the store. Cutting the bounding twine she starts to place the newspapers into the stands, the front page stops her.
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In a shocked state from the article the balance she had on the balls of her feet is lost, causing her body to rock forward and into the stand. The neatly placed papers are scattered and some having creases.
The idea of hanging a young man in cold blood like that was so wrong in Cora's eyes. On the second page she would later discover that the poor lads last words would be "send my love to my mother". The lad was so young that he didn't even have a lover to send love to on his last breath.
'Well you're 26 and still unwed' Cora grimaced at her thought and finish trying to get the papers to look alright.
Once satisfied with the paper stand dusts her front and head to the back saving some muffins from being burnt.
Couple hours later of baking, cleaning and accepting deliveries, the sun had started to peek out from behind the factories. Men were slowly starting to trickle from their homes and down the street. Some men were riding together in beat up cars and rustic wagons. With flour covered hands Cora flips the sign from closed to open.
Halfway back to the kitchen she hears the brass bells chime out as a customer comes in. Turn in the hall she faces the customer with a painted smile. For a fraction of a second it falters as she sees it's the mysterious man who stood at the park the day before.
"Hello sir." Dusting her hands on her apron in a nervous manner she walks behind the counter. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine miss. I'm here looking for a Miss Cora McQuaid." The man had removed his hat allowing for his prosthetic glasses to be notice once in the light.
"I am her." Cora's slender fingers play with the corner of her apron.
"I have a letter for you." With that the man pulls out some cash as well, "and may I order some of your delectable pastries?" His right eye crinkles as the other stays still.
"Why yes sir I can do that."
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