No more cookies . . . not in any Connecticut Costco. After trying David’s Butter Pecan Meltaways, I needed to buy more for Christmas. They come in a can for all reasons, all seasons, for trinkets, sparkly stones, and surprises. Top it with a bow and it’s a great gift.
Port Chester, NY had two pallets. “It’s not too far, maybe you could go there,” said the salesman. There really wasn’t enough time to make the trip. This was Wednesday, I wouldn’t be able to get there until Friday. They could all be gone by then, but maybe they could hold five cans for me.
At first Dave Somella, Assistant Front-End Manager at the Port Chester store, said, “We don’t usually do that. But call tomorrow—if they’re close to running out, then we’ll hold them for you.”
I was worried.
“Would you hold ten cans?” Dave agreed. I would pick them up in two days, Friday, late morning. Perfect.
During my Wednesday afternoon workshop, I got a message to call home. This didn’t sound good—Tom never calls when I’m in a workshop. He told me that our granddaughter Rebecca, had been rushed to the hospital, unconscious and unresponsive.
It seemed like forever until we got to New Jersey.
In the midst of all this, I remembered Dave. I had to tell him I wouldn’t make it. I called, but he hadn’t gotten to work yet. The voice on the other end said, this is Lou Mendes, Store Manager, “Can I help?” he asked.
“Yes. Dave has cookies on hold for me, but I can’t come. I’m at the hospital with my daughter, Linda. My 23-year-old granddaughter is on life support. Thinking about cookies now is odd, I know, but it will probably be two weeks before I can come. I need them for Christmas and I’m worried that you will run out. I don’t know what to do. What do you think?”
“Let me see what I can do, I’ll call you back.”
The doctors and staff did everything possible with tender, loving care. On that fateful Friday, two days after she arrived, she passed away.
I found a message on my phone from Lou. He said, “I arranged to have the cookies delivered, please call me.”
“Lou,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks, “My granddaughter has passed away.” But thank you for taking the time to help me get those cookies. How can I pay for them?”
“Please don’t bother about that now—take care of yourself and your family. When you can, call me. Here’s the phone number for the person who will deliver the cookies to you. Call her.”
Lecia Lindsay beat me to it. I called her back. “Lou at the Port Chester store left me a message to call you,” I said.
“I have your ten cans of cookies. Where should I bring them?” Seems her North Plainfield, NJ store was out of them, but her friend Cynthia Barton from the Bridgewater, NJ store brought her the cookies.
Lecia was at the house in a half hour. I had my cookies and I had new friends. It was amazing.
“Oh my goodness. How can I thank you?” She wouldn’t take any money for the delivery. She said, “Please don’t, I did this from my heart.”
I called Lou a week later to pay for my ten cans of cookies.
Lou said, “The cookies are on me.”
“Thank you to the folks at Costco, who are the gracious gardeners that made my heart blossom.”