The Harmony House Cafe just opened over the past weekend. There was no fanfare. None was needed. A few locals just spotted lights on inside the gingham curtains, and word flew around the hamlet.

In three days a new tradition was established: breakfast or lunch at Harmony House. That's because we've all been waiting for the opening, watching as the new owners spent over a year adding a much-needed parking lot and carefully restoring the outside of the building. And now we're all flocking inside.

The cafe has everything going for it. The two adjoined buildings that anchor Fly Creek's Four Corners have rich ties to the hamlet's past. Their interior space is high-ceilinged, spacious. The cafe's good, simple menu includes everything you'd expect. And the coffee is truly exceptional.

There's more: The chef-manager, who worked for decades in food services, is making his own fresh bagels, muffins, and scones. And the restaurant clientele, established in record time, is composed of your favorite friends and neighbors. All of them are ready to loiter over that knockout coffee and to volley quips from table to table.

The background story of Harmony House's founding is an added plus. Marylou and Richard Votypka had been searching this part of the state for a village in which settle and open a business. Before finding Fly Creek, they'd checked out Cherry Valley, Springfield Center, and other attractive locales. But, as Richard tells it, one afternoon they came driving up Route 26 from the south. Their car topped the hill by our firehouse, and Marylou saw our old business block rise before them like a vision.

"There it is!" she said, pointing. There's our place!" And that's just what they made it. Marylou opened her antiques store in the corner space, and Richard set to turning the rest of the first floor into Harmony House Cafe.

The structure they chose has been central to Fly Creek life since the early 1800's; besides housing a varied series of shops and stores downstairs (including, for a while, a glove factory), the second floor was once a girls' finishing school. In mid-19th century, a rich teetotaler bought the place and created a liquor-free inn, saving travelers from the boozy seductions of the Fly Creek Hotel.

At other times, the large meeting hall over the shops was home to various civic groups; for years it was the local Odd Fellows Hall. And early in the 20th century, the small corner shop housed Fly Creek's dipsomaniacal barber, whose shaky hands put the fear of God in customers as he scraped around ears with a straight razor. According to Arrie Hecox, "Men who never prayed anywhere else prayed in that barber chair."

For over twenty-five years, the two main downstairs stores were combined into "Up the Creek Antiques," a wonderful business run by the building's then-owners, Bob and Pat Norris. (Anne and I have a cherished Victorian sideboard from there.) But, as Pat said to me toward the end of their long run, "We've turned into antiques ourselves! It's time to sell."

When the Norrises closed their business, we all held our breath. What would happen now to the Fly Creek landmark, with its four apartments, its upstairs meeting hall, and its now-vacant stores? But then came the Votypkas and a new life for the old landmark.

In days past, the two main stores were served by separate double doors, each bracketed by tall display windows. In effect, this makes the new restaurant's whole front wall glass. Daylight spills onto the worn floors, and from anywhere inside there's a panoramic view of the Four Corners.

Entry is through the double doors of the left-hand store, into a room 18 feet wide and running over 40 feet to the building's back wall.

The Norrises had opened that room's right wall to enlarge the antique shop, and so one can either be seated in the large room or step through the linteled opening into the other store, now a smaller dining room.

Of the ten tables, I prefer one in the smaller room, since it gives a view of Rich's sunny kitchen. It's fun to watch him prepare your meal, working with an economy of movement that has come from decades in the business. Rich cracks an egg into the pan with one hand (something I've never mastered). And when it comes time to flip an order of eggs "easy over," he does so, not with a spatula, but with a gentle flip of his wrist. Try to do that without breaking the yokes!

All that floor space means that the ten tables are space comfortably apart; there's even room for an inviting couch along one wall. Marylou's antiques have spilled over from her next-door shop and grace shelves and sideboard tops around the rooms. The place feels like somebody's home, and that's what will have customers flocking in, from Cooperstown and points beyond.

I saw only one detail to worry me. In the hallway outside the restrooms, under another sunny window, is a handsome wooden commode, complete with white china thunder mug. The apt placement made me smile, but it also recalled a friend's story from years ago.

He'd taken his toddler, a lad just toilet-trained, with him on a Saturday junket to the local Sears store. They walked through crowded aisles, past plumbing fixtures and house wares, to the electrical department.

As he was paying for an extension cord, my friend realized that little Keith had left his side, was nowhere in sight. Panicked, he pushed through the crowded aisles, searching. Then he heard roars of laughter coming from back in the plumbing department. There he found his son.

Keith sat happily enthroned on a porcelain floor sample, his Big Boy briefs around his ankles. For a delighted crowd, he was proudly showing what he'd so recently learned to do.

So, with my warm congratulations, Marylou and Rich, here's my only suggestion: Keep an eye on any small kid who head toward that back hallway alone...

Jim Atwell lives in and views life from Fly Creek. He can be found on the web at JimAtwell.com.