To Paisley

New relationships are great. They are scary and uncomfortable at times but are great for making one feel young again. My heart was fluttering like a butterfly and I felt just like a schoolgirl as Mark and I drove toward Paisley and my favourite shop - The Elora Soap Company. They have the best soap. I stopped in one day out of curiosity when I was pregnant with my son and was greeted by an interesting man named John who had long silver and black hair, wore jeans with a plaid shirt, and had an amazing head for philosophy. He would write on the sidewalk out front for his customers to read on their way in. I chose some soap to take home and try. My skin was always dry and like an alligator. He assured me that the Aloe Vera would be good for me and while wrapping up my purchase he stuck in a free, imperfect bar of lavender to try.

So there I was again; six years later, a firm believer in good quality soap and ready to share the experience with my knight in shining armour.

You will love this place, I told him. Paisley is really neat. I love all of the old buildings. It feels like going back in time.

Mark agreed and said that he always liked driving through Paisley.

John's sparkling blue eyes met us as we walked into the soap store. Are you new in town?

We are just visiting today, I said with a smile. John asked if we had been there before and then started listing all of the interesting places to see. He relayed some of Paisley's history which he was obviously proud of. The soap company with its original plank flooring, historic high ceiling and sporting the original doors and trim, was an impressive heritage building.

Purchases in hand, we found ourselves walking toward the first recommended shop two doors down. I thought to myself, I've heard of the MacNamara Gallery but had never been in. Stained glass windows glittered above the massive storefront. This was obviously another building kept up to maintain Paisley's heritage. Upon entering we discovered plank flooring, high ceilings, and some apparent restoration construction as most of the paper ceiling tiles had been removed.

Neither of us had any idea that there would be so many interesting features. We were amazed at the selection of art which ranged from clay fish to portraits, to turned wooden bowls. We were even more impressed with the rock collection. Jim happily shared his rockhounding stories with Mark who also shared a passion for minerals. I also loved rocks but my collecting was based more on fossils or how sparkly and pretty a stone was. Jim proudly showed off his wife's latest idea which was stone jewellery, pebbles that had been cut in various places to accommodate a gold or sterling wire.

Our visit ended with a trip to the back garden. It was an oasis of sorts with small ponds and pathways. There were various vines and statuary made with natural materials and an abundance of copper piping perfectly placed in several nooks and crannies. In the centre of the garden was a mountain of interesting rocks and plants. The pile was nearly five feet tall with water gently spilling from the top. The sunlight was caught by an amethyst geode that was the same size as a giant puffball which rested by the back door. The geode cast sparkles and magic throughout the garden. We departed feeling enchanted and inspired.

As we stood out on the sidewalk still pondering over the sites of the gallery, we noticed a small sign at the north end of the street. The sign read Italinos, and I paused with my eyebrows raised. Mark was also a pasta lover and followed my gaze.

Maybe we should try that place for dinner?

It was early yet but we stored it in the back of our minds for later. We then decided to get back in the car and find an old Mill that Mark had discovered on a previous trip to Paisley.

The village was beautiful. It was cradled by trees of various shades of green and the sound of flowing water in every direction. We drove slowly to take in the sights. Mark pointed out the Town Hall to the left which perched on the bank of a small inlet. It had been restored in 1978. The Master of Ceremonies was the Honourable Pauline McGibbon, the Lieutenant Governor of Ontario. This was also the year that the village of Paisley dubbed itself The Heritage Village.

Passing over the bridge and looking back I noticed that the Saugeen River merged with another waterway. I remembered seeing the dam and small islands beyond from previous years of going down the river during the May 24th weekend. It was a tradition celebrated annually by hundreds of adventure seekers. Going down the river was sparked from pioneering times when settlers would float their household belongings on rafts in search of crown land that would meet their needs.

I turned to Mark and asked him if he knew the name of the other river that merged with the Saugeen. He recalled it was the Teeswater River. We were nearly stopped at this point as I craned my neck around and spotted two mills side by each. Neither of those are the mill you are looking for?

Mark was watching his rearview mirror now and had to speed up a bit as a car was coming up close behind. No, the mill I want to show you is very old looking and was empty the last time I saw it. It's up here around the corner. The Teeswater goes right by it. I know you will love it.

He was nodding, smiling, and biting his bottom lip. We'd only been together for three weeks and already he seemed to know me as if we'd been together forever. The driver behind us was growing impatient. I focused my attention to the right and noticed a Real Estate sign ahead. The building for sale was set back in from the sidewalk and nestled between an old, yellow brick house with a porch that spanned its width and Joannie's Fashions. Mark was scowling in the rear-view mirror and quickly pulled over to the right and parked.

My heart pounded in my chest at the sight of the house. I sat silently peering through the side window of Mark's old Fifth Avenue. I felt a vacuum seal around me - a protective bubble that nothing could penetrate. The bubble surrounded the ever so tiny world of Tamara's tearoom. The fear that Mark would think I was looking at houses while with him on an outing made me uncomfortable. Silence was my only saviour.

The old Victorian stood tall above the surrounding buildings, graced with even taller trees and a small veranda that had obviously been replaced in the sixties. It looked like it could be restored back to its original splendour. The front yard was large enough to accommodate gardens, a patio and…

Wow Tamara, that place would be perfect for your tearoom!

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Do you want to get out and have a look around?

So much for my vacuum of solitude. Not wanting to sound like the kind of girl that goes bobbling ahead in a relationship expecting the world to be delivered to her in a forward and expectant manner of… Stop it, I said to myself, just go with it girl, whatever will be will be.

Sure, I guess. was all I could manage as my lungs finally exhaled the breath I was holding. I opened the car door and Mark came around to meet me on the sidewalk with hands shoved in his pockets. The drumming pulse in my ears began to subside, allowing me to hear traffic again and the rapid approach of footsteps coming up behind us. We turned to be greeted by a thin, energetic man with short black hair. He crossed the street wearing a white shirt that was smudged with black ink. An apron covered much of him. He was waving at us with a small handful of papers in his left hand.

Hello! Are you new to the area? We were greeted with a broad, Londoner's accent. Are you interested in buying a house in the village?

The man was standing beside us now, smiling as he handed us the still damp papers he was holding.

Hot off the press. He announced with a congenial nod and had us look at the paper. We were honoured with the first copy of that month's Paisley Avocado. There was a story on the front page about one of the local pets - a scruffy looking dog who; if he were standing next to you, would undoubtedly be panting, waging his tail, and wanting to lick your face. There was a soapbox section where different views of the village were talked about and a few advertisements. One ad was for Flotsam and Jetsam Books.

That's me, just there across the street. We own both of those buildings, actually. The book store is in that one, He wagged a hand of long, black-tipped, fingers at yet another old Victorian to the left and then waved again to the building beside it. They were twin houses built to mirror each other. My family lives in that one there on the right.

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and stood rocking from toe to heel. Dazzled and overwhelmed, I turned my attention back toward the dream. Mark started making small talk with the book salesman/printer extraordinaire. Mark explained that we were just driving through town and having a look around. The man chimed in with nearly the same sales pitch that we had just heard down at the soap company. He then said his goodbyes and headed back to his domain in order to finish the rest of his printing.

This place looks amazing, Mark said as he peered around the side yard. The backyard is all fenced in and looks to be pretty big. I wonder if anyone is inside and we could have a look around?

My head was racing at the speed of light! I really didn't know Mark all that well and yet here I was willing to take the risk of looking at a house after only three weeks of dating? Was I crazy? What would my parents think? My mother already had us married. My Dad was still in shock from my separation! I decided that I couldn't possibly look at this place with Mark. I would have to do it on my own one day - alone.

Or not…

At that moment the owner of the house came out to greet us and invited us inside! He was a ship captain and was only home for six months of the year. He was recently divorced and felt he really didn't need such a big house. He and his wife had purchased it in 1998 and had been gradually fixing it up. His father put in a new pine kitchen and had also done quite a bit of drywall in the living areas and the master bedroom. It was a lovely house with a spacious downstairs. There was a parlour and a living room with two huge, solid oak, panel doors separating the rooms. I'm sure my mouth dropped open during the demonstration of how the doors slid effortlessly into hidden wall pockets.

I revealed my dream of opening a tearoom when asked why we were looking. He was interested in the idea and agreed it would make a far better tearoom than a daycare, which was another interested buyers' idea. We decided that we didn't want to see the whole house yet. We would call the real estate agent if we needed to see it again.

We did go see it again, but not before a conversation that I feared would jeopardize our new relationship. Mark said that he really wanted to help me and that he wasn't expecting to move in together. It was too soon and I agreed. He told me that the tearoom was an achievable dream and that he believed I could do it and would be good at it. With his hands on my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes he offered, My goal is to help you. I don't want to get in the way or change your plans. It would be a shame to miss out on this house. It's perfect for your tearoom.

I swear he was reading my mind.

Months passed and we visited Paisley often. We loved to eat at Italinos, buy soap and drive by the house to make sure it was still there. It was fun dreaming of buying the old mill one day and turning it into a castle. That was a dream that would have to wait even longer than owning a tearoom.

One Sunday, while going through the village, we noticed that the For Sale sign had been taken down. I called the real estate agent to ask what had happened. She said that he simply took it off the market. I remember hanging up the phone and looking at Mark feeling sad.

No, this is a good thing. He said optimistically, It means that nobody else can buy it either.

I made a wish and tucked it away in my heart for safekeeping.

Nearly a year passed before my divorce was settled. Mark and I were still together and making plans for our future. We went for yet another drive to Paisley and found that 338 Queen Street South was still standing and waiting quietly. It looked just the way we saw it last without the For Sale sign. Anxious to get on with our lives as one big happy family of seven, I called my real estate agent. She agreed to contact the owner and ask him if he was still interested in selling the house. As luck would have it, he was. Soon after, we made an offer and the papers were signed, legalities looked after and we were able to move in March 25, 2001.

The kids were ecstatic! The house was finally ours and we couldn't wait to get it ready for our new life together. The bedrooms were all in rough shape not to mention the stairwell. Old paper needed to be peeled off the walls (which was a huge job). The kids; armed with spray bottles and scrapers, worked happily, dreaming of how their mansion-sized rooms would look.

For the first while the kids slept on the floor in the living room and Mark and I slept on the dining room floor. Gradually all the bedrooms were scraped clean and the walls were mended and painted. The floors were stripped and sealed and the attic was renovated to accommodate the two older girls who each needed their own space. The attic also had enough space for a television room and a two-piece bathroom. The tearoom portion of the house was newly papered and set up with antique shelving, gifts, crafts, and displays of teacups and tea.

July 2001 marked the opening of our small gift shop. That day four local ladies came wandering in wanting tea. I explained to them that the tearoom part wasn't ready yet and that it was simply a gift shop for the time being. They wouldn't hear of it! They had come for tea and that is what they were going to get.

I cleared off the wrought iron display table and plugged in the kettle. I found the ladies some china teacups. With spoons, milk and sugar in hand, I announced that the only fare I had at the moment were mint chocolate chip cookies (these were really for the kids). They agreed that cookies would be fine. I returned with a plate full and was grinning from ear to ear. It was good to see a circle of friends doing exactly what I had hoped the tearoom would be used for. There they were, a gathering of friends, sharing their hopes and dreams in the enchantment of a tearoom.