1620 Sycamore

“The bed and breakfast should be right around this bend,” Adam said to his new bride, Bertha as he turned the wheel of the car.

“I can’t believe it! I will be waking up with you tomorrow. It’s like a dream.” Bertha was glowing, and he couldn’t believe that just a few short hours ago they’d tied the knot. His friends always bet he would never take that final leap, and yet he was the first of the group to do so.

He knew he would be the second he’d met Bertha. He fell for her on the spot.

Adam smiled at the beautiful brunette as he pulled up to a 1900s farmhouse-turned-bed and breakfast. The siding was painted a pale blue and the woodwork around the porch was a light pink, just as his co-worker described it.

As Adam pulled to a stop his car skidded a bit on the gravel, sending up a small cloud of dust and alerting the owner to their arrival. “Here we are, 1620 Sycamore!” he said. The owner came out onto the wraparound porch and waved to them. As he did so his wire-framed glasses began to fall down his nose a bit and he had to catch them with his hand and push them back into place.

“You must be the Burnses, eh?” he asked them from the porch as they got out of the car.

Bertha giggled. “You’re the first one to call us that!” Adam came around and opened the trunk.

“And you must be Mister Oliver, the owner?”

“Yessir, that’s me!” He fixed his suspenders and let them slap against his oversized stomach as Adam reached into the back seat and pulled out his hat. He placed it onto his head and approached Mister Oliver, hand outstretched.

“Mighty fine place you have here, sir! Lovely. Just perfect for our honeymoon.” The older man smiled and winked at him.

“Haven’t had newlyweds here in a while! Mother and I will enjoy seeing young love again. Here to see the falls?”

“Yes, and possibly a bit of Canada, too.”

“Good for you, son.” Bertha was still waiting by the car and the old man nodded to her. Adam turned, went to the back door of the car and pulled out her small dark blue cardigan.

“It’s a bit chilly, hun, maybe you should put this on.” He started wrapping the sweater around Bertha, who saw the camera in the back seat.

“Oh! Adam, let’s get a photograph. Can we? It will be our first honeymoon shot.”

Adam pulled the camera out and looked hopefully to Mister Oliver, who smiled.

“Let me take that for you, son!” he said as he waddled down the four steps off the porch. As Adam showed him how the camera worked, Bertha carefully placed her purse and sweater onto the porch. Then she fixed her pleated skirt to make sure there were no wrinkles, rechecked the buttons of her blouse, and fixed her sleeves. Adam ran to her and leaned in.

“Hold on!” Bertha said. “You can’t wear a hat in this!” she said, removing it from her husband’s head, placing it onto her belongings on the porch, and then fussing over his hair. Once she got every strand into place, she smiled.

“Ready for this, Mister Burns?”

He smiled at his new wife. “Of course, Mrs. Burns.” And, of course, she giggled a little.