The Any Thing Tree

The population of the small town of Eden was just under 200 souls. One early autumn Sunday morning most of those had gathered together in the new town square. New because old Mr. Samuel had willed the small plot of land that sat smack dab in the middle of the town to the citizens of Eden. Mr. Samuel died two weeks prior, only about 2 of the 200 were at his funeral.

The town leaders believed enough time, “an appropriate amount of time”, had passed since Samuel’s death to move forward with plans for the newly acquired town square. The plans had already been laid with exception of the final step. A tree would be planted in the middle of the plot; the town gathering was to decide on what type of tree. Nearly everyone had an opinion and it took most of the cool morning to narrow down the choices. Fruit trees topped the list followed by a weeping willow, hazelnut and finally an aspen. No one wanted to tell old lady Cooper than an aspen probably wouldn’t do very well in the south, no reason to disappoint the only Yankee in Eden.

After a short break for lunch, the town leaders and few of the hopeful returned to the square. They decided they would send Thomas Gallo, the town’s gardener/maintenance man/sign painter into the big city to shop at one of the many garden and nursery stores. Thomas of course agreed to the task even though he really knew very little about picking out a tree, but the chance to drive the town’s big truck that far was appealing to the slightly slow-thinking Thomas Gallo.

On Monday morning Thomas retrieved the keys and a blank check from town secretary’s desk, with her permission of course, and pointed the big truck to the north. The city was more than two hours from Eden so Thomas decided to skip the coffee this morning, didn’t want to have to make too many pit stops along the way. An hour into the trip the skies began to darken with ominous looking rain clouds. Far off, lightning flashed across the horizon and strong wind gusts from the northeast shook the big truck. Thomas was getting nervous about driving in bad weather and knew a pit stop was going to necessary after all. He hoped it was someplace he could get the earlier skipped cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later large raindrops, the size of silver dollars began to pelt against the windshield. The wind gusts were replaced with a steady and powerful force.  Thomas had driven to the city only once before and couldn’t remember what was along the straight narrow highway. He said a little prayer under his breath and turned the wipers on.

Five very long minutes passed before Thomas could see the glow of a neon sign about a half mile away on the southbound side of the highway. The rain had increased in intensity preventing Thomas from reading the words on the sign. But the orange glow was enough to ease his anxiety.  Thomas down-shifted the big truck, slowing it down so as not to miss the turn. As the truck rolled to a stop Thomas flicked on the left blinker even though there were no other cars for miles. He could now see the sign in front of the small building, the neon tubes spelled out-“The Ever thing Shoppe”. Thomas wasn’t the brightest person in Eden, but he knew the “y” had stopped working and that the name of the store was “The Everything Shoppe.” Thomas hoped again that “everything” included a hot cup of coffee and a restroom.

He pulled into the empty parking lot and pushed the truck’s heavy door against the strong wind. Cold rain greeted Thomas as ran to the front entrance of the tiny shop. He heard a bell ring from the back of the store as he stepped over the threshold. The store seemed much larger in the brightly lit interior. In the middle of a store was a long counter where a dozen vacant bar stools stood at attention in front of it. Thomas could see a kitchen behind the counter and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. The thought of fresh hot coffee put a smile on his face as he looked around the shop. On the left and the right the walls were lined with floor to ceiling shelves. The shelves were packed with... well with everything. Thomas saw groceries, toys, tee-shirts and even cowboy boots. There was no organization, “rhyme or reason” his mother would have said, to how the many items sat on the shelves. Thomas thought if you walked to heavy in the small shop surely something would fall off the shelf, so he gently walked to the counter and grabbed a seat.

“You don’t have to worry about anything falling, never has, never will.” said a voice from the kitchen.

Thomas looked up and saw a short, rotund, grey haired man coming from the kitchen area. He wore a dirty apron with “Tip the Cook, there ain’t no waitress” embroidered in the brightest green Thomas had ever seen. The suggestion brought another smile to Thomas’ face.

“Can I get a cup of that coffee that smells so good?” Thomas asked.

“You might as well have a piece of pie with it. This storm is going to be here a while, I reckon that’s what pulled you off the highway and is probably going to keep you off for a bit, that is if your smart.”

The thought of pie sounded pretty good to Thomas. “I think I will, what kind of pie you got?”

“Well you saw the sign Thomas, Everything Shoppe, you name it, I got it.”

It took Thomas a moment to realize the little grey-haired cook had called him by his name. 

“How do you know my name?

The old man rubbed the stubble on his chin, “Well you look like a Thomas, so I took a guess. I tell you what Thomas, if you guess my name I will give the pie for free. You gotta pay for coffee, there ain’t none better around.”

Thomas looked him in the eye to see if he was pulling a joke on him. Thomas was accustomed to people pulling jokes on him, it didn’t bother him, and in fact he usually laughed with the jokester.

“I don’t think I could guess your name, I’m not really very good at things like that.”

“That’s alright; nobody ever gets it right anyway. Name’s Gabriel and the pie is still on the house. Business has been good today.” Thomas looked around the empty shop and thought that Gabriel may be joking again.

“You came in at a good time.” Gabriel said as if he had read Thomas’ thoughts. “Now what kind of pie would you like?”

To be continued...