The kitchen clock ticked loudly as the second hand swept past the twelve.

Out in the hall, my cell phone lit up on the side table and buzzed twice against the wood.

By eleven thirty Saturday morning, the school cafeteria rang with the sound of metal hitting plastic.

Two yellow school buses were parked out front, and people from three towns away were carrying heavy glass jars and dented coffee cans in through the glass double doors.

Irene stood by the steam table, passing out paper cups of fresh apple cider from a big wooden tray.