As Sarah approached her house, she could see her mother in a big red rocking chair reading a book. Her feet stirred the gravel in the drive way. Her mother looked up. "Sarah, are you alright?"

"I'm just fine, mother."

"Weren't you and Emily going to spend the night? Are you feeling ill?" She put down the book and began to rise from the chair.

"Relax, mother, sit down. Emily's mom wanted to talk awhile, that's all."

Sarah dragged a small stool over to the left side of the chair. She put her right arm on her mother's left shoulder. She was so proud, grateful to be in her presence.

"What are you reading?"

"A Guide to Raising Wise Women by Alethea Adams. Jean gave this to me on Monday. She wanted to try something new with Emily. I suppose it met with some success."

"It did. For once she seemed happy to talk with Emily."

"That's for the best." They each nodded.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Emily's father gave you some cinnamon rolls."

Sarah handed her mother the bag.

"Mmm, the rolls are still warm. Will knows how much I love them. Here, put them on the kitchen counter for later and then come back on to the porch."

"Yes ma'am."

As Sarah walked into her house, her mother thumbed through the book. Sarah came back and sat down.

"Here we go, Chapter fifteen, How to Talk to Your Daughter."

Paula collected her thoughts. "I planned on a nice, quiet evening, alone. With your father on a hunting trip and you at Emily's, I was solo. But being here with you is much more fun. So, tell me, how was your day?"

"It was fairly ordinary. Emily and I tried tightlacing a corset she'd bought yesterday in Plentywood."

Paula shook her head. "Why? Tightlacing is awful."

"That's what we discovered. I followed the instructions that came in the box. I tried to make her look thin, but to no avail. She was reeling in pain."

"Was she grabbing on to the door?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"I tried tight lacing a corset when I was about your age. Judy wanted one; I was the test subject, or victim, in this case. I grabbed the door. She leaned back and laced it up. It made her feel like..."

"...a sausage?"

Paula laughed.

"Exactly."

Sarah shook her head. "Emily and I were going to wear it to our combined Sweet Sixteen next week. She'd wear it for the first hour; I'd wear it for the second. I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Paula put her hand on Sarah's hand. "Darling, being attractive is a worthy goal but pretending to be something you’re not or, worse, harming yourself is foolish. If you want tips on how to look good ask me, I'm real. Those pictures in the magazines are not."

"That's more or less what Emily's mother was saying."

"I thought so, sometimes it's good to hear something from another source. When people get a nutty idea in their heads it often takes a lot of effort to clear it."

"We should talk, mom."

"We do."

"No we don't. Not really. Most of the time, you talk at me."

Paula tilted her head, "That's true. For example, this morning I said, 'Clean your room before you leave.' And you said, 'I'll get right on it.'"

Sarah was defensive. "And I will do it tomorrow, I promise." Sarah continued. "Mother, we don't talk like friends. In one sense, that should be the case, since I am your child, however, I am not always going to be a child."

Sarah's mother took off her glasses and placed them on her lap. "Well, you're right." She rubbed her mouth and beamed a smile to Sarah. "Stand up. Let me look at you."

Sarah stood, proud. Her dress swished the air as she twirled a couple of times. "How on earth did you get so tall?" Sarah smiled, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.

"You were just a small baby. Just yesterday, I was in this chair feeding you. I'd hum hymns until you fell asleep. Soon you'll be all grown up with a baby of your own to suckle."

Sarah was speechless and a little taken aback about the prospect of becoming a mother.

Paula paused. "It says in Song of Solomon, 'Our vines have tender grapes.' Always bare that in mind, life is fragile and fleeting." Sarah's mother let her mind drift back to earlier days.

"When you were four, you loved to swing off the porch railing. You tried to turn a flip in mid-air once. You were partially successful. I heard a loud 'thump' and then a pause. 'Oh my, here comes a scream,' I thought. You gave out a piercing wail that must have been heard in the next county."

Sarah nodded. "I remember."

"Looking out at the lawn, I can almost see you now chasing butterflies."

Sarah smiled. "Father helped me pin them to a piece of cardboard. I think its still in the attic." Sarah straightened her dress and turned around to look at the lawn. She sat back down on the bench. Sarah pointed and said, "Over there, by the bramble bush, that's where we buried Ranger. I really do miss that dog."

Paula focused on the bush as she spoke. "He was so brave by going after a copperhead. He probably knew he couldn't win that fight but he wasn’t going to let anything hurt his Sarah. You scurried up the Honeysuckle tree, while he was growling at the fearsome serpent heading toward you."

Sarah said with tears in her eyes, "Oh mother, I was so sad."

They briefly hugged. "So was I dearest, so was I."

Almost on cue, a big tabby cat, heavy with kittens, jumped on Sarah's lap and began to purr.

"Ok, I get the message: 'Stop crying.' Sarafina you're a wonderful mother."

Sarah scratched the feline's ears. The cat curled in her lap for a brief nap.

They said nothing for a few minutes. They just enjoyed the silent repose and the cool breeze of the approaching eventide.

Paula considered her next piece of advice. "Sarah, please, cherish these times. If there is one thing I could tell you about life it’s this, ‘just cherish it.’ I know that sounds tripe but its true. The moments race by lightning. Live each day to the full. Laugh boisterously. Hug fervently. Kiss passionately. And never, ever cry alone."

"I'll do it mother; especially that 'kiss passionately' part."

"Oh my, you are growing up!"

The azure sky was surrendering to the night from blue into black. The sunset illuminated wispy clouds and bathed the mountains in umber, gold, saffron, puce and magenta. But even so, the splendid colors gave up their majesty for the charcoal afghan of the night sky. A single silver star burned brightly, piercing the dimness. It was almost as though God himself was saying, “night-night.” Whatever words exist that might be uttered by man; they would all be most pitiful in describing the sunset. They were lost in praise at the wondrous beauty of the moment.

They shared a smile.

Paula stretched. "Let's go into the kitchen and enjoy these cinnamon rolls."

They walked into the kitchen. Sarah put the cinnamon rolls in a pan, lit a match for the oven, and put them in. Her mother searched in the cabinets for plates and mason jars. She walked over to the ice box.

"Do you want milk or Lemonade?"

"Milk, mother, please."

Paula opened her mouth to say something, Sarah stopped her.

"I won't let the rolls burn."

"How'd you know?"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I suppose it was just a guess."

Sarah began looking for the funny trout oven mittens Emily had made her for Christmas last year.

Paula chimed in, "Those oven mittens are on top of the ice box."

Sarah guffawed, "How'd you know?"

"Just a guess."

Sarah put on the over mittens.

"Oh, those rolls smell divine! Hurry, Sarah, before they burn."

When she opened the door they were sizzling.

"Ok, I'm on it."

The aroma was wafting through out the house.

"Oh, just look at them. Mother, hand me a spatula." She gave her one. Sarah scooted the rolls from the pan and placed one on each plate. She sliced a wad of butter on the rolls and they delightfully watched it melt into the folds of sweet bread.

Sarah's mother looked to the ceiling and jubilantly said, "Thank you, dear kind, merciful Lord for these cinnamon rolls."

"Amen!" replied Sarah in song. They laughed and dug into the rolls.

Paula muttered to herself, "Where was I?" She took a bite. "Oh yeah, cherish each moment. Don't get so busy that you neglect the most important things of life."

"Mary and Martha?"

Sarah's mother nodded and replied, "Mary and Martha. Don't be so concerned with fixing lunch that you don't spend time at the Master's feet."

Paula twirled her fork.

"Make time for what matters most. The rest of it, well, it usually works out on its own accord."

Sarah nodded her head. They ate the rest of their cinnamon rolls.

As Sarah was scrapping frosting off her plate she asked, "How'd you and father meet?"

"Oh," she laughed in surprise, "I never told you that story did I?"

Sarah shook her no.

Paula's eyes went to the corner of the ceiling and then down, "I was a little past your age and living in Billings. One day, a handsome young man confidently strolled into the Bluebird Restaurant. My heart was aflutter. He wore a dapper brown suit with a purple tie. I walked right up to him and said, 'Welcome to the Bluebird Restaurant, my name is Paula. May I bring some coffee for you and your wife?'"

Sarah covered her mouth. "'Your wife'?"

Paula rolled her eyes. "Miss boney face, said, 'Oh, we're not married, not even officially engaged.' She pointed to her left ring finger in a demanding fashion, which embarrassed Michael. He attempted to recover the situation.

'Black coffee, please,' he said.

She cackled, 'Make mine with crème and sugar, and be quick about it.'"

Sarah giggled, "Oh, she sounds nice."

Paula smirked. "Uh huh. I brought the coffees.

'Well, that took long enough. It's probably already cold.'

I wanted to reply, 'Here, let me pour some on your head and find out.'

But I remained composed. That was the beginning of an excruciatingly long dinner."

Paula spoke in a snooty, irritating tone.

"'The roast is well done, not rare. The mash potatoes aren't mashed enough. The coffee is too hot. The tea is too cold.'

I wanted to scream to the handsome young man, "Why are you with this, this thing?'"

Sarah was in hysterics.

"Michael kept staring at me as if to say, 'I am so sorry.' She went on and on until he interrupted her, 'Amanda' he said, in a polite but firm tone, 'have you ever worked a day in your life?'

She was aghast.

'Absolutely not, that is why daddy employs housekeepers and porters and gardeners.'

He then turned to me and examined my rough hands. My finger nails were dyed blue from the dish soap.

'Paula,' he said in a tender, baritone retort, 'how often do you work?'

I was a little bewildered and helplessly smitten, '7 days a week, 4 pm until midnight.'

He was impressed. He reached in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a quarter and placed it on the table.

'This is for you.'"

Sarah was puzzled.

"'What?' boney face barked. 'She was a horrible servant and you are tipping her twenty-five cents?'

He smiled, 'It's not for Paula,' he replied. 'It's for your trolley fair. Have a safe ride home.' I was about to dance on the ceiling with rapture.

Boney face was furious. She put her hands on her hips. 'My father...'

'Your father has been most generous to me. He has employed me as his broker. And I am most grateful. If it wasn't for him, Amanda, I would not have met you.'

Boney face regained her composure.

He turned to her and said, 'In you I clearly see everything I do not want in a wife or, even an acquaintance for that matter. Now go board the trolley and scat. Our date is over. We are over. Goodnight."

Paula smiled and shook her head, "I was so in love with him at that moment."

Sarah was envious.

"He gently held my hand. 'Paula, can I walk you home tonight?' I nodded and whispered, 'Please do. Be back at 12:05.'

'12:05,' he echoed.

He walked me home, we took the long route."

Sarah laughed.

Her mother's eyes were twinkling. "We talked and talked and talked. He kind of fumbled with my hand as we sat on a stone in the park. He was still shy around me.

One night, after a couple of weeks of him walking me home we were standing in the doorway of my apartment building. The cool wind was making me shiver like a leaf on a tree. 'Come closer,' he said, as he pulled me in tight. My arms felt like they were made to embrace him. My head was nuzzling his shoulder. 'Michael, I...' and we just froze, lost in each others eyes, our mouths were an inch apart. My lips moistened, aching for a kiss."

Sarah was hanging on every word, this was the mostly hopelessly romantic moment she ever heard and she was hearing from her own mother!

"I smoothly brushed his left cheek with my hand. I traced his jaw line, hoping he'd get the hint. 'Goodnight,' he whispered. 'Goodnight,' I replied, half disappointed. I began to back away; he threw his arms around my waist and pulled me to his lips. It was the greatest kiss in history. Doves flew, stars fell from the sky, the earth quaked and I didn't care, I was so in love."

"Oh, my," Sarah could hardly breath. "What about his job?"

"Oh, yes, that. He went to the bank Monday morning. His boss called him to his office. He sat behind his desk, chomping on a cigar. He rubbed his chin and said, 'Amanda told me what happened Friday night.' He stood up and stuck out his hand to your father and said, 'You have no idea how long I have been wanting to say the same thing. Thank you so much.'"

Sarah couldn't believe her ears. "He didn’t get fired?"

"He got a raise! A couple of months later he was my husband. Years later, he got a promotion and an assignment in a two horse town called, Eagle Creek."

Sarah said as she put the dishes in the sink, "I love happy endings."

"I can't imagine one better," replied her mother as she ran water over the dishes. "And with that, I must adjourn to the master bedroom."

Sarah smiled as she kissed her on the cheek, "Sweet dreams mother."

"That bed is so lonely at times. But with no one snoring to keep me awake, I should be getting a good night's sleep." Pleasant dreams, little one. Pleasant dreams."

Sarah began climbing the steps. "Goodnight, mother."

Paula began walking down the hall, Sarah tapped her on the shoulder.

"Oh, you got father. Whatever happened to boney faced Amanda?"

"I don't know. She's probably still circling Billings on her broomstick."

Sarah laughed and finished washing the dishes. After cleaning her room she flopped down on her bed. In the paneled ceiling she could almost see faces, maybe the man of her dreams. But there was time enough for all that, right now, she had to just be a fifteen-year-old girl for one more week. Soon she would be dating. Soon there would be a dapper man to woo her. But all that could wait. She changed into a nightgown and, for the first time in her life, she drifted off anticipating the bliss of just another ordinary day.