The Writers' Circle

Chapter 5. Homemade Cookies

One evening, John went into the shop after it was closed to check the lock box.  There was quite a bit of cash collected in the box because it has been a whole week since he checked the box.  He found a note: 

J.R., you served great coffee -   
the best I've ever had, but we need something to go with it.
How about some homemade cookies?  
I made them with my own family recipe.  
I'd like to sell them in your shop.  
We can split the profit.  

Call me if you're interested. 
Judy W.  93210123

"Hmmm -- homemade cookies.  No, I'm not interested."  He used to love cookies when he was a young kid.  His favorite was oatmeal cookies, the kind with oat flakes in it that you can chew.  He has not had that for a long, long time.  "I wonder if she makes chewy oatmeal cookies?"  He thought for a second. "No, I'm not interested."  And he threw the note into the wastebasket.

A week later, he was coming to the shop after a morning on the beach, and sensed some sort of commotion inside the place as soon as he walked in.  People were gathering around the counter where the coffee machine was, talking rather loud about something.

"This is the best chocolate chips cookie I've ever tasted!" a man said.
"It's soooo.y-u-m-m-y!!" a woman said with her mouth full.
"And this chewy oatmeal -- it's unbelievable!" another man said.
That got John's attention.  He made his way to the counter.  There he saw a lady in her early fifties, standing by the counter holding a basket filled with cookies.  She wore wire-frame glasses on her oval face that smiled a wonderful toothy smile.  She was wearing an off-white linen summer dress with narrow shoulder straps that descended into a pink, laced neckline, drawing attention to her bosom of ample proportions.  John has never met her at his shop before.  

"Would you care to try a free sample of my home-made cookies?" she offered her basket to John, looking at John with her moist glittering eyes.
"Oh, I'd love to."  His hand went straight to an oatmeal cookie, in a millisecond.
"Hmmm.here's a man who knows what he wants," she teased him.
He took a good-size bite from the cookie and was busy chewing it and savoring it, making a strange noise of appreciation at appropriate intervals.  "Wow, excellent oatmeal cookie!" he finally managed to say.  
"I'm glad you like it.  I'm trying to get the owner of this shop to let me sell my cookies here in the shop.  Do you know this 'J.R.' person?  I asked many of the customers and none of them knew who 'J.R' is!"

"Ah.what's your name?" he asked, taking another bite from the cookie.
"Oh, sorry -- I'm Judy.  I run a boutique shop on the Main Street a few blocks down."
"Ah.of course, Judy's Boutique, right?"  He has seen the boutique but has never ventured inside.  It has the distinct look of a mostly-for-women establishment.
"Yes, that's the one.  I've been there for almost three years now."
"I'm John.  I moved to Lamma Island about six months ago -- and no, I don't know who this 'J.R.' is.  I don't think anyone does," he said with an air of certainty.
"That's too bad because I really wanted to get in touch with him.  I think if I can get him try my cookies."

"You said 'him'," he interrupted. "How do you know 'J.R.' is a man?  Can't it be a woman?" 
"Oh, I'm pretty sure 'J.R' is a man.  No woman will ever do something like this, insisting on this secrecy and anonymity.  Only a man will pull something like this.  I'm sure."
"Hmm -- you talk like an expert on men!"
"Well, let's say I know enough about men and this 'J.R' has 'm-a-n' written all over it.  He's got Type A personality, he's controlling by nature and is used to giving orders and pulling strings."
"Oh really?  Now can you tell how old he is and what he did for a living?" he said in jest.
"Well, I can't tell you his age, his height or what he did, but I can tell you he's not a happy camper.  He's got problems he must sort out, and he needs help."

"And you think you can help him by selling your cookies in his shop," he said as tactfully as he could so it didn't sound sarcastic.
"Yes, I think so, John.  This might sound weird, but I really think this 'J.R' guy needs a woman's touch in the same way that this place needs home-made cookies.  Ahhh. -- you can call it the 'ying' and 'yang', the balancing forces of nature."
"Now, now, wouldn't it be interesting if this 'J.R' turns out to be a happily married man with not a care in the world?"
"Happily married?   I doubt that very much, John.  I think he's either single or divorced. In any case, he's not a happy man."

John couldn't help feeling a bit weird and uneasy having been analyzed by a total stranger who didn't even know his true identity.  Yet at the same time, he was overwhelmed by an eerie sense of dejavu.  He had dated two women named Judy, one when he was in graduate school, one when he was on his first job.  They played an important role during those periods of his life.  He often reflected upon those moments with love and tenderness and a purity that was missing in his later relationships.

"Judy, you sounded like a very happy woman," he said after a pause.
"Yes, I believe I am," her gaze on John intensified albeit imperceptibly.
"May I stop by your shop someday to have another chat?" 
"You're welcome anytime, John."
More customers were coming into The Coffee Pot.  Before Judy went to introduce her cookies to these customers, she extended her hand to John, "It's been nice talking to you, John."  John held and shook her hand ever so gently, "Thank you for the cookie and the wonderful chat.  We'll meet again -- soon."
"Soon," she smiled and then she turned to the new customers: "Would you care to try a free sample of my home-made cookies?"  

John kept his eyes on Judy.  Her shoulders and arms were shapely and smooth and had just the right shade of tan that contrasted really well against the color of her summer dress.  Her hair was pulled up and back and was held by a clip near the top of her head, leaving her neck and ears fully exposed.  John liked what he saw, and he swore he could smell a gentle scent of rose petals that seemed to have come from Judy as the buttery aroma of the oatmeal cookie was wearing off.  He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath and felt a wonderful feeling of bliss and sensuality permeating every cell and fiber of his being.  This he has not felt for a long, long time.