Essie felt more of the pent-up anxiety leave her, and her whole body relaxed as she talked to this adorable little intruder. “And this secret club…I suppose you have lots of members.”

He giggled. “No, how could I? It’s a secret. Besides, Mr. Pete said I could only have my friend, Joey, if we would be good and not tell anybody else.”

With her curiosity piqued, she questioned who this Mr. Pete was to take authority over her nana’s house. “That sounds like a good idea. You didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Jamie.” He bounced the ball, then threw it against the wall and jumped to the side to catch it.

“Jamie. I like that name. And where do you live, Jamie?” She stepped closer to him.

“I live with my grandma. You know, Miss Ida Belle.”

“Miss Ida Belle?”

Jamie giggled. “Everybody knows Miss Ida Belle.” He tipped his head to the side.

“But I’m new here. Tell me why everyone knows her.” She smiled at his childlike innocence.

“Cause she’s lived hundreds of years, and she knows everybody who’s ever been born here.”

Essie chuckled. “And your friend, Joey, tell me about him. I bet you do lots of things together.”

“Yeah! Sometimes Mr. Pete and Mr. Winters take us fishing.”

“That sounds like fun. Who’s Mr. Winters?”

“That’s Joey’s daddy. He’s my teacher.” Jamie opened the shed door and threw the ball inside.

“Well, Jamie, as long as you and Joey don’t tell any other kids about your secret club, you can keep coming here. You’ll have to keep the same rules as Mr. Pete made, though. Do not bother anything, but no more peeking in the windows, okay?”

“Okay. I have to go tell Mr. Pete somebody’s living in his house.” Jamie took off running through the tall grass, his red hair flying in the breeze.

Essie grinned to herself at the sight of the small boy speeding off as fast as he could, his jacket literally standing out behind him.

She stepped down from the porch to the small shed. In one corner, an old stuffed chair with a broken arm was shoved back against the wall. In front of it sat a wooden crate. Over against the other wall was a large cardboard box turned upside down and covered with what looked like an old curtain, squatted with age and about ready to fall. Above it, on the wall, hung a small chalkboard. Printed on it in large letters read, The J Club.

“Of course,” she said to herself, “Jamie and Joey.” She breathed in a big breath of the fresh, crisp air and marveled at her peaceful surroundings. Always fond of children, her mother had encouraged her to be a teacher, but her memory of her fifth-grade teacher, Miss Heartman—called her Miss Heartless—had discouraged her to do so. In her junior and senior years, she did volunteer work at an after-school children’s center in Tulsa just to be around children.

She couldn’t think of a better way to start her day. Visions of her nana and their tea parties made her feel all warm inside. Nana would pour milk into Essie’s cup, put a little coffee in it to make it colored, and sit with her for hours pretending to be her fairy godmother. What she needed now was the real stuff.

She went inside, found her nana’s coffee pot, measured four spoons of coffee, and filled it with water. When it was ready, she walked around the various rooms of the house, sipping her coffee and mulling over memories. Each bedroom, with its fluffy bedspreads and frilly curtains, reminded her of the times Nana cuddled with her and read Essie’s favorite Cinderella story.

She went to the bookcase in the hallway, her eyes searching for the familiar cover. She found it there, along with several other of her favorites, stuffed into the shelf, dusty and smelly, their pages yellowed and crisp with age. She picked it up and opened the cover. Fingering through it, a wave of nostalgia swept over her as she saw the childlike scribbles made so many years ago.

Sitting close by, stood the picture of her nana holding her as a baby. She squeezed her eyes tightly together, trying to stop the tears, but she was unsuccessful at putting the memories out of her mind. She put the book gently back in its place and went into her bedroom.

As she finished dressing, she jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Swallowing the last sip of her coffee, she went downstairs to answer. Jamie stood there, a proud grin on his face as if to say he’d brought his most prized possession. Beside him, in jeans and a tan, wrinkled shirt, stood a man with thinning brown hair and blue eyes, probably in his early to mid-forties, but he had an air about him she couldn’t decipher. His skin was tanned, his brow furrowed, and he had that weathered look. This led her to believe his life had not been easy, yet the twinkle in his eye and the ease with which he stood there drew her to him immediately.

He stuck his hand out to greet her. “Hi, Peter Thornton.”

“Mr. Pete.” She grinned as she reached out to greet him.

Pete tousled Jamie’s hair. “One and the same,” he said.

“I’m Essie Euller. Please come in.” She gestured to the sofa.

“Miss Tessie’s granddaughter?” he asked, sitting on the sofa and motioning for Jamie to sit beside him.

Essie’s head snapped to attention. “You were a friend of my grandmother?”