This one is not on Drury Lane, but on Broadway.
My neighbor, Margaret, strolled into my shop yesterday with her kids. As any kid who walks into a gourmet shop, they were drawn to the clear jars of baked cookies and my oven fresh muffins. Their mom, who is an incredible baker herself, insured them that when they got home they would be making some fresh banana bread. And her banana bread is awesome! It didn’t matter; they still wanted a cranberry orange muffin.
It was a slow day. We had just been punished with more snow. As most parents do, when there is a snow day, Margaret encouraged the kids to enjoy outside and to take walk into downtown with her. I had made much too many muffins for the day and was glad that they wouldn’t be wasted, or forcibly made into another bread pudding. So I insisted that she take some home. She put them into her recyclable tote bag and headed home to bake some bread.
When she got home she realized that her bag was gone. The muffins were not the only thing that was in the bag. The bag also had her wallet in it that held her life. Without it, she was lost, or at least it was going to take a while to start canceling cards, stopping checks, reissuing licenses, etc. It was really missed. Margaret had called my wife and asked if I had found the bag at work. But, with much disappointment, I had not found it.
The following day, once again getting punished by snow, and ice this time, I received a call from my friend at the village hall. She asked me if I knew a person named Margaret.
I immediately assumed it was about her bag. I said I did, and was correct in the assumption. Someone found her bag and returned it to the village hall. But I was baffled.
I asked her at the village hall, “how did you know to ask ‘me’ if I knew someone who lost their wallet?” She said, “Cris, I would know your muffins anywhere!!!!”
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