Date published: Sat, 12/29/2001 in the Free-Lance Star of
Fredericksburg, VA
THE FIRST thing shoppers notice when entering Richardsville Country Store's creaky wooden door is the drastic slope of the floorboards--which tilt toward a huge beehive dangling from the center of the ceiling.
The old, dusty gray nest is much like the Culpeper County store itself: a tired old shelter that doesn't look like much from the outside, but houses much activity inside.
Store owner Mary Anne Wolfrey snagged the hive from her parents' yard a few years back. She was fascinated by the bees' handiwork. So her brother shot it out of a tree, doused it with bug spray and hung it in the store.
It's a perfect finishing touch to the little country store, complete with its historic sloped floor that's seen much foot traffic over the years.
That's the way it's been for as long as 38-year-old Wolfrey can remember. Those memories stretch way back before the owner bought it three years ago. Never mind the fact that her moist apple cakes--her signature item--come out of the oven lopsided.
"It's OK. It has character," Wolfrey said.
She also pointed out an inch-high gap between the door and the wooden floor.
"If you get a skinny person and grease them real good, you could slide them under the crack in the door," she chuckled.
It's just one more characteristic that paints the building's past.
Wolfrey has visited the store on Eleys Ford Road since she was 14, when Gladys Trusslow owned it. From the first time Wolfrey set foot inside, she dreamed of one day owning it.
She remembers the elaborate glass cases and the Pepsi cooler that had running water. Those items were still there when she revived the store.
Wolfrey left an 18-year career in fast-food management--a job that brought home enough money to buy the Volvo station wagon she still drives--to take on the store.
The longtime Richardsville resident originally studied to become a nurse. But she left school to manage a Wendy's restaurant.
Although the money was good, she said working well past midnight wasn't ideal for raising her son--now 14. The work also was taking a toll on her health, and she decided to leave.
When she realized her dream store was empty--it had been closed for more than three years before Wolfrey took it over--she headed to BB&T, hoping for some financial help from that bank. The loan came through, and she got her store.
She admits that comforts like paychecks and set schedules are a thing of the past.
But she said it's worth it to keep the store alive.
"Money isn't everything," she said between deep puffs of her cigarette one recent chilly morning. Wolfrey sat at a small wooden table nestled at the rear of the store, where she could keep an eye on her apple cakes baking in the nearby oven.
"I knew when I did this I'd never get rich," she said. "That's not what I wanted. I wanted a simpler way of life where my son could be with me and I'd be closer to home. That's what I got."
Like many country stores that still dot America's countryside, Richardsville Country Store is more than just a place to pop in and grab a Coke; it's a haven for locals to hang out and forge friendships.
And it provides Wolfrey a place to bake and sell her goodies.
Wolfrey's love for baking blossomed when she was very young. She remembers spending time with her grandfather, who was a dairy farmer, and her grandmother. She would drag a chair up to the old wood stove to watch her grandmother cook.
She's been creating her own homemade concoctions ever since.
Here, she makes soups and chili, using tomatoes she canned herself. She won't use box mixes when baking; she even uses real vanilla in all her baked goods.
The midmorning break provided time to get extra baking done, which this day includes 15 loaves of apple cake. Earlier hours were spent brewing coffee, frying eggs and bacon and ringing up the morning regulars.
Sam Leary ducked in to grab a quick bite of egg and sausage on toast. The Fairfax construction worker has been driving to Richardsville for 15 years and has stopped into the store just as long.
"They put out good food," he said.
The country cooking isn't the only difference between Richardsville Country Store and nearby convenience marts, Wolfrey said.
On many occasions, she's watched neighborhood kids while customers run errands. And several children wait for the morning school bus inside her store.
Although an earlier post office counter is long gone from the store's back wall, Wolfrey still sells stamps and mails packages for locals. She even collects mail for some customers who prefer to pick it up there daily.
She's delivered her homemade soup to sick elderly. She's let those who need groceries but don't have money pay later. And customers in need of milk have called her after hours at home to buy a gallon.
Area children often draw pictures for Wolfrey. She displays them on her white refrigerator door for a while before dating them and tucking them into a box with many others. When the artists are grown, she plans to pull the drawings out and remind them of their kindness.
It's touches like these that make the store seem more like home than work, she said.
"I get to be me," she said. "I get to spoil kids and send them home, plant flowers and bake Friday night dinners."
But she worries about it getting tougher to stay afloat.
As more Wawas, Food Lions and other chains that offer discount prices have made their way into neighborhoods throughout America, more and more stores like Wolfrey's have folded.
"This is a way of life that is slowly but surely going away," she said. "I think it won't be much longer until none of us are left."
JOBY NAHAS is a staff writer with The Free Lance-Star. DAVIS TURNER is a staff photographer with The Free
Lance-Star.
