Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
The shop was small but had an old-time charm to it.
A fire blazed in a stone fireplace in the corner, casting a beautiful glow over the polished cedarwood floors. Vintage prints of hunting, fishing and other outdoor activities appeared to be Jessie’s choice of decoration because they were hanging everywhere.
Wooden shelves lined the walls displaying folded scarves, thick gloves, and bulky, textured sweaters in all colors from crimson to earthy tones of brown. So many racks of sport, dress and rugged coats lined the floor he became overwhelmed.
Royal fidgeted, rubbing his numb fingers over one another before he spotted the footwear section, and boots that appeared as though they could withstand a month-long blizzard. He navigated his way past randomly placed displays and racks of clothes figuring he’d start there since his feet were freezing.
He needed clothes that were practical, some things that weren’t luxury items purchased in shops on Fifth Avenue.
It’d only been forty-eight hours since he’d left the destructive mayhem of Manhattan’s biggest finance firm, and now there he was, trapped in one of those films about people searching for their lost souls in a small town where people lived simple lives, oblivious to the dog-eat-dog, frantic grind of the big cities.
In Windeville, the air was so pure and fresh it felt like an element that people should have to pay to inhale. The sun shone brighter and the stars spread across a night sky that stretched wider than anywhere else. The town seemed to mock the poisonous environment he’d came from.
A tall, robust man who looked to be in his late fifties, wearing a plaid shirt under his baggy overalls approached him with a broad grin concealed by the thick scruff of moustache.
“Well now, you must be Royal,” the man said in a raspy voice that sounded as if he had a decent cigar habit. “I’m Jessie. Welcome.”
Royal nodded, a bit taken aback. “Yeah…I am.”
“This is your first time in Windeville, I assume.” Jessie asked, stepping closer.
“It is, but my parents used to come here every winter.”
“Oh, what’s their names?”
“Larry and Mary—funny enough—Peterson.”
Jessie’s eyes enlarged, and his mustache stretched so wide Royal could actually make out a small sliver of his top lip.
“You’re Larry’s boy? Well I’ll be damned. Good people, your folks.” Jessie clapped him on his shoulder. “And they used to talk about their son the big-time executive, everywhere in town they went, or more like bragged.”
Royal’s heart squeezed.
“We miss them. But unfortunately your mom told us that ole’ Larry’s arthritis in his hip couldn’t withstand the drive or cold anymore. But I’m sure you already knew that. You make sure to tell them next time you speak to them that Windeville sends its love.” Jessie laughed loud enough to hurt Royal’s ear drums. “And tell your pops that I ain’t forgot he still owes me ten bucks from that Jets game.”
My father has arthritis. He knew they’d stopped traveling a little while ago, but he’d never bothered to ask why.
Royal felt like shit.
“I tell ya…” Jessie shook his head. “That Mrs. Pearl’s intuition has never faltered. She said she had a special one wander in last night, and I’ll be damn, she was right.”
Royal didn’t know what to say to that. Receiving compliments was not his strong suit. But he could handle and counter criticism all day.
Jessie studied him up and down.
“You look like you’re in need of some duds with thicker layers, buddy. We get winters far worse than Manhattan in these mountains.”
Royal found himself wondering how many other people Mrs. Pearl told that he was a lost, and pitiful soul.
After he left this store, soon they’d all know who his parents were. People they’d loved and missed. Now there he was, misrepresenting himself as if he had an ounce of his parents’ decency.
Royal was having trouble holding eye contact, luckily the bell over the door jingled.
A couple stepped inside, bundled up in thick scarves and heavy coats. The woman was holding a toddler in her arms wearing a puffy coat with a fur-lined hood that covered sixty percent of her little face.
They all stared at him with that unmistakable curiosity, was if he were the last thing they expected to see in Jessie’s store.
“Well, well, well.” The woman chuckled, her voice high and twinged with a down east accent. “You must be Royal.”
“Um, yeah, that’s me,” he answered, that time a bit slower.
He supposed he wasn’t going to have the trouble of introducing himself everywhere he went. Royal had only arrived last night, but already he seemed to be the topic of the town.
It made him feel awkward.
“I’m Rose, and this hulk standing behind me is my hubby, JB. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” he replied, because that was the response he was supposed to give.
“Well, I hope to see you again.” She got ready to walk away but quickly spun on the heels of her maroon cowboy boots, “Are you a reader? Come by the bookstore, okay. I’m the manager there.”