On this first Saturday afternoon in May, Jubilee Station is soaking up the brilliant springtime sun. You are walking into Cafe Frances, the coffee shop on the ground floor of the union hall. The barista signals to you that they are already working on your usual order. You find an open seat by the windows, settling into the radiant warmth of the love seat that has been absorbing the rays of the sun, and as you listen to the cafe bustling around you, you relax your eyes and take a settling breath.
Jessica from the Puzzle Exchange walks over, carrying your drink from the espresso bar, as well as hers. “Hello, You,” she says. “Thanks for meeting me here. I believe this belongs to you?”
You say, “Yes, it does,” taking the mug from her. “Thank you so much.” You take a sip of your cappuccino, fragrant and slightly sweet, with a touch of cardamom and cinnamon. Jessica takes a sip of her latte, and sighs.
“Right,” Jessica says. “To business. This is your access badge for the care center.” She hands over a well-worn plastic card. “When you bring puzzles back to ¡Jugamos!, just put them on the shelf that says Welcome Back on it. You can take whatever you want from the shelves that say Ready To Go. You will get lots of requests, but you should also feel free to make some of your own choices when you feel inspired. It’s a little like choosing songs on a road trip with friends.”
You and Jessica discuss a few other details, and then she says, “I need to be on my way in a minute, but before I go, I’d like to give you a tour. I’m one of the reps for the teachers’ union here in town. Would that be all right?”
You say, “Yes, definitely! I’ve been curious.”
The two of you clear your finished mugs, and start to make your way across the cafe toward the wide and open doorway that leads into the heart of the union hall. But Jessica stops suddenly and turns to you, saying, “Oh, I almost forgot. Can you… come to the bathroom with me?” You give her a puzzled look, and she says, “Trust me.”
You walk through the bathroom doors, into a space with a long shared sink and mirror in the middle of the room, and a row of stalls to your left. To your right are built-in shelves, stocked full of soap, shampoo, diapers, onesies, baby formula, feminine products, and first aid supplies. Jessica leads you through a doorway in the center of the built-in shelves, down a hallway lined with small suites. Each suite has a changing table, two easy chairs, and a full bathroom with a shower.
Jessica says, “This just might be my favorite place in town. Sit down for a second.” You take your place in one of the easy chairs as she dims the lights and pushes some buttons on a panel next to the light switch. The room fills with the sound of ocean waves breaking on a beach. Jessica sits down in the other chair, and the two of you share a moment of stillness, each taking a slow and deep breath.
The rest of the tour takes you through the auditorium, the banquet hall, and the help center, all of which are humming with activity. Jessica brings you to the elevator bank and says, “This is where I leave you. I believe you’re helping the Festival Committee with Mothers’ Day?”
You say, “Yes, I am. But shouldn’t we finish the tour first?”
Jessica’s eyes twinkle as she smiles at you. “The Moms aren’t supposed to know about the Mothers’ Day celebration. It’s meant to be a surprise for us. The worst-kept secret in town.” She offers you a handshake. “Thank you for helping with the Puzzle Exchange. I’ll see you again soon.”
When you exit the elevator on the top floor of the building, Joshua is seated at a table in front of you. He is wearing a comically tall white chef’s hat. “Hello again, You,” he says. “I’m so glad you’re here. Ready to get to work?”
You say, “Yes, chef.”
The rooftop cafeteria has glass walls looking out on the town, and a kitchen open to the dining area. The cafeteria, which is open to the public during weekdays, also serves as a culinary school. Today, there are Dads and kids seated at the tables, preparing Mothers’ Day cards for every Mom and Grandma in town. Meanwhile, a group of kids are practicing their cooking and baking in the kitchens. Joshua asks you to help serve their practice meals to the card makers.
One of the cooks is standing on a stepstool, diligently stirring an enormous pot. They appear to be maybe 8 years old. The steam rising from within the pot smells rich and earthy. You ask them, “What are you making?”
They say, “Vegetable risotto, with Swiss chard from the greenhouses across the river, and mushrooms from Kennett Square.”
The kids plate over 100 meals, which you help them deliver to the tables. You circulate around the cafeteria, refilling water glasses and fetching extra butter for the crisp baguettes that are fresh out of the oven. After serving a mixed berry compote with scratch made vanilla ice cream for dessert, you head back into the kitchen to get your backpack. You find two large grocery bags of leftovers with your name on them, sitting on the counter, waiting for you to take home. You set down your backpack for a moment, your fatigue starting to catch up with you, and as you stretch your arms and back, you transform a yawn into a deep breath.
You walk back to your house in the fading sun with your leftovers, a couple of baguettes poking out of the top of one bag. Dads and kids stream past you on their bikes, riding home, calling out thanks and good night.