“He works at Miller’s.”
“Okay.”
“Also, you got any laundry, honey?”
“A little, yes.”
“With your permission, I’ll get it from your room, and we’ll fix you right up while you’re gone.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Maddie. Thanks.” She stepped back over to the counter and whispered confidentially. “Uh, these guys are okay, right?”
“Oh, no,” Maddie replied quietly, slipping off her glasses. “They’re as odd as a five-legged dog. But you’ll be safe.”
Goldie turned back to the grubby-looking brothers and smiled faintly, hesitant but accepting. Then, she went up to her room to get her overcoat.
Miller’s General Store was on River Street, three blocks away, and the McCaws drove her down to the store in their 1936 Chevy flatbed pickup. Goldie sat wedged in between the two brothers in the small cab and had to practically hold her breath from the smell of their clothing and body odor. If Charles Banyan intended for this to be a homey excursion into the mountains to select the town’s ideal Christmas tree, it so far wasn’t having the desired effect. Miller’s, on the other hand, was fascinating. Inside, one could find clothing, tools, heavy woolen Native American blankets, paint—a little bit of everything. There was even a glass counter with a selection of candy bars and homemade beef jerky. The centerpiece of the store was a cast-iron potbelly stove with its door swung open and hickory logs burning brightly inside to fend off the morning chill. Sitting in three chairs around the stove was a man in his late seventies named Deke Miller, his son Chad Miller, who was in his fifties, and Clara, from Clara’s Gifts, whom Goldie had met on her first day. They were chatting amongst themselves and having coffee when Saul, Paul, and Goldie came in.
“Well, if it ain’t the McCaw boys,” Deke said. “You got the Christmas tree already?”
“No,” Saul replied. “Just came into town to fetch this writer so she could tell about it in her magazine.”
“How’s your daddy, boys?” Chad asked.
“Hall’s fine,” Paul replied.
“Your father’s name is Hall?” Goldie queried.
“Yup.”
“Hall, Saul, and Paul?” Goldie asked.
“Does have a kind of symmetry to it, don’t it?” Saul noted.
“How’re you feeling, dear?” Clara asked.
“Good,” Goldie replied. “Got off to a rough start in town. But I’m doin’ fine now.”
Clara eyed the gauze on the visitor’s left hand. Goldie noticed it immediately.
“This is nothin’,” she said, raising her hand a little. “Just a scratch.”
“Glad to hear it.” Clara smiled. She turned to the men sitting with her. “Gentlemen, this is Goldie, a writer withAdventure Escape Magazine.She’s here to cover our holiday festivities.”
“Sparkledove’s the perfect place for Christmas,” Deke nodded.
“Yeah. Heard you were coming,” Chad smiled, rising to shake her hand.
“Goldie, this is Deke Miller and his son Chad. Deke’s father started Miller’s way back in the 1860s.”
“We were the first business of modern-day Sparkledove,” the older man said proudly while Goldie shook one man’s hand, then the other. “We were just a little provision store back then for the hill folk and hunters. Forgive me for not risin’, young lady. My arthritis acts up sometimes.”
“It’s okay,” Goldie smiled.
“They got good jerky,” Saul observed, straight-faced.
“And better coffee than I make,” Clara added.
“If you’re goin’ up in the mountains with these two hooligans,” Chad said. “Bet you want some more appropriate clothes.”
