“Normally, no,” she agreed. “But what if the guy couldn’t swim? What if the water was low, and he hit his head on a rock?”
The munching sheriff looked at her, confused. “The covered bridge is one of the most scenic, peaceful places in town. Especially for the river views. Andthisis what you thought of when you went over there?”
“Yeah. I’m romantic that way,” she cracked. “Do me a favor and look through your incident reports, will ya? Somethin’ like this might’ve happened before you became sheriff, and I’m curious.”
“I thought you were here to write about our Christmas festivities.”
“Iam, and Iwill.J-just humor me, okay?”
He looked at her and took another bite of his cookie.
“You’re a very strange person,” he decided.
Seven
THE TOWN TREE
The following day, Friday, November 27th, Goldie awoke at 7:21 a.m. in her hotel room, thinking about time. Even before she was fully awake, it was on her mind. How long did her publisher want her to stay in Sparkledove for the article she was supposed to write? Until December 10th? 15th? The 20th? Was she supposed to write her article before she left town? What was she supposed to do today? She’d learned from her host, Charles Banyan, that there were some events she was expected to attend, but how many days apart were these, and what was she going to do in the meantime? Then there was the time frame itself that she found herself in after her accident on Mercer Street: November 1942. What was the significance of that? Was time passing at the same speed back in present-day New York City as it was in Sparkledove? Or was all this happening in the span of a few minutes while an ambulance was taking her to the hospital?
She stretched, yawned, climbed out of bed, then looked at the bullet-like brassiere and waist-high, slightly baggy panties she was wearing.
How did the human race continue to propagate?she wondered.
An hour later, Goldie had showered, put on her last clean dress, and eaten a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, sausage, and coffee in the restaurant. Coming back into the lobby, Maddie, wearing her usual glasses with the silver chain, beckoned her over to the registration counter.
“Good morning, Miss Maraschino,” she smiled.
“Call me Goldie.”
“Uh, Goldie. The McCaw brothers are here for you.”
“Who?”
Maddie gestured to the circular crimson sofa in the middle of the lobby. Goldie turned and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Facing her were two very rough-looking men who looked like they lived on the streets. They were unshaven, had long, greasy hair, earflap caps, and wore coats and boots that had clearly never been cleaned. They had dirt under their fingernails, no particular expression on their weatherworn faces, and bad teeth. It was hard to tell their ages, but they could’ve been in their early thirties. She hadn’t noticed them before because when she crossed the lobby, the tall back of the circular sofa had obscured her view. When she turned to them, they both rose.
“Hey,” the taller of the two said. “I’m Saul.”
“I’m Paul,” the other one nodded.
Goldie looked at them, unsure what to conclude.
“Saul and Paul McCaw?” she asked, resisting the temptation to snicker.
“We’re here to fetch you to the mountains,” Saul said.
“But you’re going to have to lose them clothes,” Paul warned.
Goldie turned back to Maddie behind the counter.
“Can you interpret this?”
“The McCaw brothers live up in the mountains,” Maddie smiled. “The boys have some beautiful pine trees up there and provide the town with its Christmas tree that goes in the little square next to the post office. No doubt Mayor Banyan thought you’d like to be there when they cut down the tree, but you’re going to have to wear more rugged clothing. This is quite an honor, Goldie. They made a special trip into town just to come get you.”
The visitor turned back to the expressionless mountain men. “Lucky me,” she said with reserve. She stepped over and shook hands with each, wanting to wipe her hands on her dress afterwards.
“You’ll want to go down to Miller’s General Store,” Maddie suggested. “Get some boots, pants, a hat, whatever you need. Remember, the mayor’s paying for it. Then, send your overcoat and dress back here with Chad, and I’ll take care of them.”
“Chad?”
