Local author concludes 'The Cookie Tin Letters'

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 five, "Cinnamon Buns.”

The next morning Cora makes her way to the museum at nearly a jog. She had barely slept the night before, her thoughts tangled with questions of what Hannah might have found. The only thing keeping her from breaking into a full run is the cardboard drink carrier from the shop, two large espresso lattes tucked neatly inside. She pays little attention to her surroundings, head down, singularly focused on reaching the museum.

Cora bursts into the basement stairwell and closes the door behind her, breathless. Hannah’s voice calls out from the main room.

“I’m in here, Cora! Leave the coffee on my desk and come inside.”

Cora hastily sets the carrier on the only clear spot on Hannah’s desk, careful not to place it near anything that looks remotely historical. She pauses, taking a steadying breath. Suddenly, she worries she has let herself hope too much.

As she steps into the main basement room, she sees Hannah standing at the table in the back. Yesterday, Hannah identified the table as containing the items for the Valentine’s Day exhibit. Cora feels her stomach leap.

Black-and-white wedding photographs are spread across the tabletop, couples from every era. Young men and women stand proudly before the camera, parents hovering nearby with quiet pride, love radiating even through faded film. Hannah’s hand covers something at the center of the display.

Cora looks from Hannah’s hands to her face and notices the smile Hannah is clearly struggling to contain.

“What did you find?” Cora asks, her voice cautious.

“After you left last night, I came back here to plan the exhibit,” Hannah begins. “I started with the photographs, then moved on to a box of wedding favors from years past. It’s fascinating: Jordan almonds wrapped in tulle from the 1950s, tiny porcelain bells from the ‘60s, matchbooks and engraved napkins from the ‘70s, even seed packets from the 1990s. Each decade leaves behind its own idea of what love looks like.”

Her smile widens. “And then, halfway through the box, I found this.”

Hannah turns over the small piece of paper in her hand and slides it to Cora.

Cora recognizes the stationery instantly. It is a recipe card, identical to the ones she has been reading from the cookie tin.

She looks up at Hannah, her face already breaking into a grin. “Does the handwriting match?” Hannah asks.

Cora looks back down at the card. She does not need to think; she’s memorized the beautiful script of X. “Yes.”

“Read it,” Hannah gently encourages.

Cora takes a breath and begins.

In Celebration of Our Marriage

Cinnamon Buns

1 cup warm milk

1/4 cup sugar

1 yeast cake, softened in warm water

¼ cup butter, melted

1 egg

½ teaspoon salt

3 ½ to 4 cups flour

Filling:

2 tablespoons butter, softened

½ cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Dissolve yeast in a little warm water. Add milk, sugar, butter, egg and salt. Stir in flour to make a soft dough. Turn onto floured board and knead until smooth. Place in greased bowl, cover and let rise until doubled.

Roll dough into a rectangle. Spread with butter and sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. Roll up and cut into buns. Place close together in greased pan. Let rise again until light.

Bake in a moderate oven until browned. Serve warm.

Best shared with strong coffee and the person you choose every day.

—XO

Cora can barely make out the final line through her tear-blurred vision.

“They got married,” she whispers.

“They did,” Hannah says softly. “I still don’t know who they were, but I know they ended up together.”

Cora lets out a shaky breath, something loosening in her chest that she hasn’t realized has been tight. “Thank you, Hannah. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to know it wasn’t all a loss.”

Hannah smiles. “History doesn’t always give us answers. But sometimes, it gives us hope.”

Cora excuses herself so Hannah can return to work. Latte in hand, she steps back into the cold, walking toward the shop as though she is floating. The February sun is bright, beginning its slow work on the snowbanks. Birds that have stayed through the winter hop along bare branches, calling out as if they know spring is inevitable.

Cora stops beneath a tree and watches one small bird fluff its feathers against the chill. For the first time in days, her smile comes easily. Some stories survive. Some love endures.

As she continues, her gaze drifts upward to the building behind the tree. She has passed it countless times; the green awning reading Ridenour Jewelry in gold letters is familiar. What catches her eye now is the stone above the second-story windows.

Carved into it are the words:

X & O Jewelry

Cora gasps.

The carving has always been part of the background, something seen but never noticed. Now it feels like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

Without hesitation Cora pushes through the glass door.

The shop is bright, gold-framed cases gleaming under soft lights. A man in a suit stands near the center display.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you?”

“Can you tell me about X and O?” Cora blurts, the words tumbling over one another.

The man blinks. “Yes ... of course.”

“I am sorry,” Cora says quickly. “My name is Cora. I’m asking about the carving on your building.”

He studies her for a moment, then smiles. “I’m Ron Ridenour. X and O were what my grandparents called each other. They opened the shop shortly after their wedding in 1940.”

Cora claps her hands, laughter bubbling up. “Oh my, do I have something for you!”

She turns and runs out.

Back at the coffee shop, she startles Beans into a sprint and grabs the cookie tin from the counter.

“Whoa, my love,” Aunt Mae says. “Where’s the fire?”

“I’ll explain when I get back,” Cora calls, already out the door.

Cora knew she looked like a fool running through downtown back to the jewelry shop, but she was too excited to stop.

When she returns to the jewelry store, Ron stands with a woman in a black skirt suit at his side.

“This is my sister Rhonda,” he says. “I called her up from the back. I wasn’t sure what you may have to share.”

Cora approaches, steady now, and sets the tin gently on the counter. “I bought this at the antique mall. It belongs to your family. Please, open it after I leave and know how happy I am it found its way home.”

She smiles and walks out before either can speak. She doesn’t feel right watching Ron and Rhonda read the letters she had already spent so much time with. And besides, she needed to get back to the shop and help Aunt Mae.

The following weekend, Cora, Hannah and Aunt Mae sit by the fire with their favorite hot drinks. Cora reads aloud from a letter left at the shop that morning.

“Cora, thank you for returning the love letters of our grandparents. We’re ashamed the tin was overlooked while settling their estate. We will cherish these memories. Enclosed are copies of the recipes. Please enjoy them. Best wishes and Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Rhonda and Ron.

Cora folds the letter smiling. “I guess some love stories really do insist on being shared.”

Readers,

I hope you have enjoyed this most recent mystery. I have been thrilled to write for you all the past 11 weeks. I own a sheep farm in Coshocton and am preparing for the upcoming lambing season. With all the duties required, I won’t be able to find the time to sit with my computer and my thoughts. I will miss the dedicated creative time, but I will be back when farming slows down. I would love to hear from you. Email me at r.a.coscia.fiction@gmail.com.

Happy Valentine’s Day.