A little rain made room for every shade.
A Proper Photograph
Ada had arranged the teacups twice before the others arrived.
The first arrangement left no room for the card. The second left no room for the cake. Nell arrived as Ada considered a third.
“Please tell me I’m early,” Nell said.
“You’re exactly on time.”
“Then I must have read the clock wrong.”
Mara and Celeste arrived together. The four friends gathered around the table to admire the card.
Inside was an invitation to their friend Beatrice, who had moved away in spring. They wanted her to come back for the town’s summer fête.
“We should send a photograph with it,” Ada said. “Something she can put on her mantel.”
“Something dignified,” suggested Nell, balancing a spoon on her finger.
“Something with all four of us looking at the camera,” Ada replied.
One Drop on the Card
They had just asked the waiter to take their picture when a drop landed on the table. Another touched Ada’s yellow sleeve.
Celeste and Mara opened their umbrellas. Nell reached for the cake. Ada reached for the card.
The rain arrived first.
A blue line from the painted border spread across the corner of the envelope. Ada held it up by its dry edge.
“Oh, dear.”
Nell peered at the mark. “It looks like a very small river.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a river.”
The waiter brought a cloth. Mara blotted the envelope carefully, but the blue had already travelled into the paper. Ada turned it over. Beatrice’s address was still clear, though the corner had curled.
“I could make another,” she said. “I have the same paper at home.”
“And the post leaves in twenty minutes,” Celeste reminded her.
Ada glanced towards the street. Rain tapped on the umbrellas, and the cloth was growing damp beneath the teapot.
Every Shade
Nell opened the card to check the invitation. The writing inside was safe. On the last page, beneath their names, a small space remained.
“What if we draw Beatrice a map of what happened?” she asked.
“A map?” said Ada.
“The rain came down here. The blue river went across here. And this”—Nell pointed to the corner—“is where the cake narrowly escaped.”
Mara laughed and searched her bag. She found a packet of coloured pencils.
Celeste drew the umbrellas first, one tilted to each side. Mara added the table and four cups. Nell gave the cake a pair of legs, just in case it needed to escape again.
Ada hesitated, pencil in hand. Then she drew a long blue line from the top of the page to the little river on the envelope.
“There,” she said. “Now it belongs somewhere.”
They signed underneath. Nell’s name took up so much room that Celeste had to curve hers around it.
Almost Ready
The rain softened. The waiter returned with the instant camera, and the friends gathered close to the table. Celeste held one umbrella over Ada; Mara kept the other above Nell.
“Is everyone ready?” he asked.
“Almost,” Ada said, lifting the card so its blue corner would show.
The camera clicked.
Nell was laughing. Mara’s hat had slipped over one eye. Celeste was looking up at the umbrella, and Ada was still arranging the card.
The waiter offered to take another photograph, but Nell shook her head.
“Beatrice will know exactly who we are.”
They slipped the picture into the envelope beside the invitation. Ada smoothed the curled corner, and Celeste carried it to the postbox beneath her umbrella.
When she returned, the cake was waiting. Nell had given it the largest plate, in case it decided to run.
Livora Gracely ♥
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