“If that’s the case, then I can consider myself lucky,” I say, reaching my hand back out and letting Sally start nibbling on my glove again.
The man looks at me suspiciously. “Tourists don’t come downtown that much. Normally they stick to the slopes and their resorts. Or in the boutiques.”
I don’t answer right away. My attention has shifted to a group of people walking into Kate’s Diner just a few feet away. It primarily consists of loud women, laughing, whose faces mean nothing to me. But I recognize the guys: Wyatt and Knox.
I quickly turn away and concentrate on the old man. “I’m not a tourist.”
He appears to consider that for a second. His wild dark brows contract and form one single dark line. But then a knowing look flits across his face and the McDonald’s brow separates again. “You must be Paisley. The new resident.”
I blink. “How do you know that?”
My question seems to anger him. He puffs up his chest, stretching his tight vest. “I am William Gifford! I know everything that takes place in Aspen!”
“Oh, umm… I didn’t know.”
“I run the town’s social media account,” he explains.
“Aspen’s got a social media account?” I ask, surprised.
“Of course! But it’s got a secret name, so the tourists don’t follow us. It’s meant for locals only, so that everyone stays up to date. News, breaking news, upcoming fairs and to-do lists…primarily, organizational things. Every two weeks we discuss the most important things in our townhall meeting. Well, just between you and me…the nameis @Apsen. I switched thepand thes, you see.” He grins as if incredibly proud of himself. “Shall we go inside? Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll get hypothermia.”
“Umm.” I look around. “Go inside?”
William nods and waves me to come along. “Into my shop. I run the Old-Timer. A store with a vintage movie theater in the back. Naturally, we show popular movies, too, but Wednesdays are retro nights. That’s when we only show old movies.” We reach the narrow door that I’d never noticed before. “We’ve got old-school records, too, if music from the old days is your thing.”
“Totally,” I say as my eyes wander over the window next to the door. Red velvet curtains hanging, and the windowsill is decorated with a few vintage objects. Next to the old tube TV there’s a record player on a frog-green velvet cushion of a wooden chair. The upper window frames are decorated with a series of dangling metal cups, some of which have been painted white and adorned with flowers. “You must have all kinds of things to do.”
William opens the door. “Find what makes you happy and lose yourself within it. That’s my motto. And for me, this town is what makes me happy.”
I walk behind him into the shop/movie theater and my eyes grow wide.
Like Ruth’s B&B before it, William’s store seems to consist of wood and wood only. At first glance, everything seems rustic and thrown together, yet cozy. Not far from the entrance, there’s a warm fire going in a tiled fireplace. Two floor lamps with old-fashioned shades flank two sofas. Behind a velvet curtain that’s pulled back, I can see the screen where there’s a film going that I am unfamiliar with. In front of it a bunch of chairs have been thrown together and there are three sofas; on one of them is sitting a couple.
The place grows even more appealing when I notice the many shelves, buckling under the weight of all the books and records.
Whatever remaining space there is on the wood-paneled walls istaken up by pictures. A lot of them are of various flowery meadows, a few of them with happy-looking women in blousy clothes. Every centimeter of the floor has been covered by oriental rugs of all colors and designs.
“Stop.” William stretches his hand out toward me as I move to take another step. He points to my boots, the bottoms of which are covered in clumps of gray snow. “You’ll take those off in here.”
Indeed, he is already slipping out of his own and places them next to a pair of UGG boots and warm fur-lined winter boots that have to belong to the couple on the couch. I don’t really want to pull off my own boots as there are two big holes in my socks—one of them right on my big toe. Nevertheless, I follow William’s instructions, slip out of my boots, and then continue my tour. There is an incredible amount of vintage things to discover, the whole place is stuffed to the ceiling. But somehow, it doesn’t feel cluttered. On the contrary. It’s as if every piece of furniture, every little piece of decoration, was in the right place.
“I love it here,” I gasp. My steps take me to a shelf that is filled with records. I look at one after the other, surprised that I recognize a few of the titles. I’ve always liked the music and movies of the older generations. As soon as I pull a record off the shelf, I hear a voice next to me.
“Simon and Garfunkel. Good choice.”
I don’t need to turn around to know that it’s Knox. Nevertheless, I tilt my head and give him a quick smile. My anger with his behavior on the slope has disappeared. After what happened this morning by the lake, it’s as if I know him better. Even though I have no idea who he really is.
“You’re a seventies fan?” As discreetly as possible with my left foot I pull the tip of my right sock over the end of my toe in order to hide the big hole.
“I’m a fan of good music. Whatever decade.” He leans against the shelf and crosses his arms. He’s opened his jacket, underneathit I recognize the iconic Abercrombie & Fitch moose on his winter sweater. “What are you doing here?”
I slide the record back onto the shelf. “Shouldn’t I be asking you?” I nod toward the door. “You were just in the diner with your friends.”
Knox laughs. “You’re stalking me!”
“Not a chance,” I reply. “Outside there was a horse that wanted to eat me.”
“Oh!” Knox’s expression becomes sympathetic. “Is Sally back on a low-carb diet?”
