1937 emerges as pivotal year in ‘The Havenford Mysteries’ series

Welcome back to “The Havenford Mysteries” series by local author R.A. Coscia. Main character Cora has moved on from the holidays and found a new mystery to deal with in "The Cookie Tin Letters." Enjoy installment two, "Amelia Earhart."

Cora wakes in a sleepy haze. Sunlight streams through the windows, and she is shocked to see she has slept in. As the fog clears, her mind wanders, trying to place where she is; last night had been Friday, and it was still January.

Years ago Aunt Mae had learned winter Saturdays were extremely slow at the coffee shop and had made the decision to keep the shop closed until lunchtime. “Our version of hibernation,” she had told Cora their first Friday night after Christmas. Cora relaxes now, relieved she has not truly overslept.

She rolls over and looks at the cookie tin on her nightstand, confirmation the night before had not been a dream. Inside it were love letters from years past and, with them, a growing urge to find the family from one, or hopefully both, of the writers.

“Want to have some coffee?” Cora asks jokingly, directing the question toward the tin and the people behind the letters.

Downstairs in the farmhouse kitchen, Cora sits with the tin, a cup of black coffee and the letters spread out neatly before her. Aunt Mae bustles down the stairs and into the kitchen, her smile filling her entire face.

“Good morning, my love. I sure do love seeing you here at my table again.” She walks over and squeezes Cora’s shoulders. “What sort of project do you have here?” she asks, leaning closer to the letters.

“The short of it?” Cora says. “I found some long-lost love letters and want to find their owners.”

“Well, isn’t that something,” Aunt Mae says warmly. “You’ll have to tell me more at the shop later. But don’t get lost in the love stories of someone else; it’s always better to make your own.” She shoots Cora a wink and bustles out the door.

“Fitting for someone who has never been married!” Cora teasingly shouts after her, smiling.

Cora turns her attention back to the tin, carefully removing the letters she had already read and starting where she had left off. The pattern continues: a recipe, a letter from the female O and a letter from the male X.

X almost always comments on the baked goods O brings to their meet-up, each note corresponding neatly to the recipe that begins the set. The letters are tender and kind, but they offer no clear clue as to whom the authors might be. For the first time, Cora wonders why something so carefully kept had been tucked away and forgotten. Love letters like these weren’t meant to be hidden, at least not forever.

Then something catches Cora’s attention.

X,

The summer heat has become unbearable. I pray you do not melt before I can see you again! Have you seen the newspapers recently? The Earhart woman has gone missing on her flight around the world. Please read up on it, as I am desperate to discuss with someone. Mother tells me I should not fill my brain with city gossip but focus instead on my duties at home. I know you feel differently. I look forward to your next letter.

Shall we meet in Antarctica?

O

Cora takes the last sip of her coffee and begins placing the letters back into the tin. She hadn’t paid close enough attention in history class to remember exactly when Amelia Earhart had gone missing, but she knew someone who had.

Hannah McMahn, the local museum curator, is dusting the small glass welcome desk when Cora walks in.

“Well hey there, Cora!” Hannah exclaims, her smile broad and bright.

“Good morning, Hannah. How is today starting for you?”

“So slow I sent everyone home already,” Hannah says. “What is that you’re holding?” She leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever is tucked under Cora’s arm, never one to miss the chance to inspect an antique.

Cora smiles. “I don’t think you’re going to be bored for long. Let’s sit, and I’ll catch you up to speed.”

It takes nearly 20 minutes for Cora to explain how she found the tin and worked her way through the letters, ending with the mention of Amelia Earhart. They sit together in The Havenford Room, a space in the front of the museum fully dedicated to the town’s history. The front section resembles an old log cabin, the middle is arranged like the parlor of a Victorian-era farmhouse and the back honors the original coal miners of the region. Cora sits firmly in the farmhouse, Hannah in the log cabin, the tin resting between them on the table.

“I’m trying to pinpoint anything about the authors,” Cora says. “Even knowing the moment in time they lived would help. Do you know when Amelia Earhart went missing?”

“July 2, 1937,” Hannah blurts out without hesitation.

Cora looks at her in stunned silence.

“I did a report on her in sixth grade,” Hannah adds sheepishly.

Cora laughs. “I knew you’d be the perfect person to ask.”

Their attention is broken by the sound of the front door opening and children’s laughter echoing through the empty museum.

“Visitors,” Hannah says, standing. “I can check through some records later — see if there’s anyone from that time whose name starts with an X. There can’t be that many, and it may lead us somewhere.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” Cora says, packing the letters back into the tin.

Hannah reaches out and gently stops her.

“I’ll do the best I can, Cora, but 1937 was a complicated year for the town and area. A lot of people left. Some didn’t have much choice.”

Without another word, Hannah turns and hurries to greet the family waiting at the desk.