Chloe in Willowmere

Word traveled fast in Willowmere. By evening, every neighbor who had ever grown a tomato or eaten a pastry on the garden bench had crowded into Marco's Bakery, and the noise was something spectacular. Everyone had an opinion, and everyone shared it simultaneously. Marco, undeterred, passed plates of croissants over the heads of the arguing crowd, maintaining his firm belief that no crisis was too large to survive without adequate baked goods. It fell to Father Bernard — standing on a wooden chair with the calm authority of a man who had stilled rowdier congregations — to call the room to something resembling order. In a corner, Chloe found Mr. Chen, and Mr. Chen found his memory: a ceremony, long ago, when the garden was young, and promises were made to last.