The Yellow Pine

Chapter 16 - Decorations and Decor

Rows of brightly colored cookies sat cooling along the countertop, and the ovens chugged along on another few batches. Picking up the piping bag, Debra Jo began carefully outlining another turkey in black icing. Thanksgiving would be upon them soon, and she wanted to be sure there were enough cookies to fill all the orders as they started flooding in. She usually decorated her cookies with biblical themes - crosses, hands folded in prayer, Noah's Ark - or with words of encouragement and praise. This time of year, though, it was all about the Thanksgiving cookies. The turkey-printed sugar cookies were the most popular, year after year, but her pecan-pumpkin cookies were a close second. Unfortunately, those didn't freeze as well, so she couldn't do them in big batches ahead of time, like she did with the sugar cookies. Those, and the pies, would have to be done in huge batches in the days before Thanksgiving. She would spend two or three days at the bakery, sleeping in small naps here and there, until the last pie was cooled and delivered. The buzzer on the ovens went off, making her jump. "Oh, poo," she mumbled. The turkey was ruined, an errant streak of black slashed across the carefully drawn lines. She'd just have to scrape it clean and start over.

After cleaning up the kitchen from from the day of baking, she went to the front of the shop to wipe down the already clean tables and straighten out the checkered tablecloths. Out the front window, she watched as the town's newest resident headed into the alley next door. She'd left food out for the poor woman several times, but worried more now about the cold. The temperatures were dropping quickly, and it wouldn't be long before it was cold enough for the homeless lady to freeze to death out there. She thought about calling down to her pastor, and see if they could find a place for her to stay through the winter, until they could get her on her feet, but it was getting late and she was tired. She could call in the morning. "God, please protect her and bring her to your light. Amen," she prayed, immediately feeling better. It was all she could do right now. It wasn't like she could bring her to her house or something. That would be crazy. She closed up, secure in the knowledge that God would take care of all of his children.

Passing by the unfinished theatre, Debra Jo paused and considered going in to check the progress. The lights were on, and she could hear the constant buzz of electric tools at work inside. Just as she turned to walk away, having decided that it would be impolite to just barge in, the door swung open. "Hey! I thought that was you! Headed home for the night?" Jenaia looked uncharacteristically disheveled, her hair sticking out in every direction, and her makeup in desperate need of refreshing. "Oh, yes, dear. How goes the work in there?" Jenaia beamed out a slightly manic smile. "Would you like to see? It's really coming along."

She followed the younger woman into the dusty room, stepping carefully over two-by-fours. With the exception of some basic final touches, the interior of the theatre was nearly complete. Clear blue lights shone out from behind the concessions and bar station across the room, and recessed lighting glowed warmly through the foyer, leading the way to a pair of double doors to the left. Jenaia practically pranced through the room, pointing out this and that feature as she went. "Over there, we will have some greenery installed. Something classy, you know? Like ivy or ficus. Oh, and that area will open out to exterior ticket windows, with an on-call booth set up here, on the inside. You see the framework is almost done now." Passing between the restrooms and dressing room, went through the double doors into the auditorium. Debra Jo's breath caught in her throat. It was stunning. Row upon row of plush, velvet upholstered chairs sat waiting for an audience, and above them, gilded balconies curved delicately from the walls above a control booth where the sound and lights operator would sit.

A single spotlight shone down onto the center of the great, red, velvet curtain that ran along the back of the stage. Illuminated by the light was a massive white board, emblazoned with a bright, yellow mark. Three crooked, curving arms spiraled out from a central point, each one different from the last. It resembled a poorly done children's drawing of an electric fan. Maybe, if it were drawn by a child with one eye and three fingers. Something about it made Debra Jo's skin crawl.

Jenaia mounted the stage, climbing up and over the row of lights lined up along the edge with practiced ease. Standing, she walked purposefully to the center and struck a majestic pose in front of the sign. She raised her hands widely above her shoulders, tipping her head back and proclaimed, "The Yellow Sign! Ia! Ia! Hastur comes! He shall conquer and devour us all, and we shall rejoice to be one with his glory and ruin! Hastur cf'ayah 'vugtlagln Hastur!"

Debra Jo watched this performance in stunned silence. What started as confusion soon gave way to awe. A wide smile crept across her wrinkled face and made it look young again.