Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CHARLIE
Spotted:
A brother and sister causing the wrong kind of trouble in our hedgerow. Is someone trying to silence the Victorian?
Better luck next time.
Our plan goes awry on day one. And I’m not just talking about the newest scandal sheet, the fact that the Victorian knows exactly what the Sharp twins did to her last one. I send Alice to the general store for her first public writing session, and that goes sideways too.
Ponderosa General is the only place in town to buy groceries, and it’s right by the post office. There are a few cafe tables in the front window near the deli, and it’s the perfect spot for Alice to sit and write for a few hours. The ideal place for everyone in town to see her hard at work.
But when I get back from my morning dishwashing shift at the bakery, tucking my skateboard under my arm as I reach the gate, Alice is sitting on my front steps. And that girl hasn’t been anywhere near the general store.
“Alice…have you been hunting a ghost squirrel?”
She nods in a daze, a white film of baby powder dusting her copper-red hair. “Muriel gave me a whisk to use as a weapon, and she kept waving a smudge stick around to ‘smoke him out.’ I have no idea where she got the baby powder—I think she used dark magic.”
My mood lifts. All my worries about the Victorian fade as I try not to laugh. Glancing at the sky, I utter a silent prayer that some way, somehow, this woman will become less adorable.
It doesn’t work.
She gets cuter.
“Muriel says she’s never gotten so close to catching the ghost squirrel before.” Alice pauses to shake baby powder out of her hair, a plume of white dust rising like a mushroom cloud. “She says I’m good luck—but I don’t feel like good luck. I think I might be cursed.”
I give up. A chuckle rumbles in my chest, and it’s all over. Crouching down, I help Alice with her baby powder removal, running my fingers through her hair with no ulterior motives whatsoever. For the most part.
Once a rake, always a rake.
After she’s cleaned up, I make Alice some lunch while she does a little writing, and then it’s time to focus on the task at hand. We have groundwork to lay and a love story to create. But most of all, we have a to-do list to tackle.
And I know just where to start.
Alice doesn’t know where we’re headed until we round the final corner. Old Town spreads out in front of us with all its historic false-front buildings, everything straight out of the old west, and she gasps. “Seriously, Roscoe?”
I don’t answer. Roscoe? Carrots has called me that a few times, but it stings extra today; I miss being Blythe more than I want to admit. A knot of regret tightens in my chest, but I ignore it.
Today isn’t about me. Today is about Alice.
“This was on our list?” she asks.
I shrug as I glance at Old Ponderosa on the right side of the street, that row of buildings our historical society turned into a living history museum. I don’t tell Alice why we’re here. She scrunches her brow and figures it out herself, as if she’s got our list memorized.
A slow smile spreads across her face. A sunrise smile. “Number four,” Alice says. “Time travel.”
Bingo.
Now I’m smiling right along with her, and this was an even better idea than I thought. Cheering Alice up was exactly what I needed today. There’s just something nice about making her happy, and it’s the perfect way to forget about the Victorian.
Linking arms, I guide Alice across the street. The buildings that make up the living history museum look closed for the day, but a handful of tourists wander down the street. Everyone’s taking pictures and admiring the window displays, so that’s what we do too. From the lone jail cell in the sheriff’s office to the front parlor at the Ruby Lakes Hotel and everything in between, there’s so much to see, and Alice loves all of it.
Forget ghost squirrels and gossip columnists. None of that can bother us here. Alice’s mood only dims once, when she spots a woman from my book club across the street, but I remind her we’re just friends today. We’re laying the groundwork for our fake relationship, not jumping into the main event.
I don’t tell her what’s waiting around back. I let Alice finish admiring the hotel parlor at the end of the block before I nudge her around the corner, and she gasps again.
From the street out front, those Old Ponderosa Museum buildings look like they’re nestled right against the mountainside behind them. But that’s only an illusion. A small grassy field lies in between, and the rest of the living history museum is sprawled every which way like a dream come true—Alice’s dream come true.
There are so many historic treasures waiting for her: a blacksmith shop, a stable, an old homesteading cabin. Even that familiar row of buildings we’ve already seen are better back here, their rear doors propped open and museum volunteers waiting inside. All of them dressed in full period outfits as they get ready to tell us what life was like in old Ponderosa Falls.
We explore everything. After watching the welcome video at the hotel, we try hardtack at the general store and sample Dr. Abernathy’s World Famous Traditional Ginger Tonic at the apothecary. We even have time for the blacksmith demonstration, and Alice volunteers to crank the handle on the forge.
But I save the best historic gem for last. The weirdest gem.
There aren’t any old mines in this part of town, but they built a replica for the museum. A mine shaft entrance that sits against the side of the mountain. I lead Alice inside, and she clings to my arm as darkness folds around us.
It’s a small, cramped space. The walls and ceiling are lined with a thin layer of rock, and it makes it feel like you’re actually down in a mine somewhere. A few lanterns flicker on the walls, but once our eyes adjust, it still feels darker than it should. The room has an almost eerie glow, and it takes Alice a while to let go of my arm. When she does, she reaches for my hand instead.
That isn’t why I brought her here—to hold hands in the dark—but it might be my new favorite part of this exhibit. I guide her around that small, cramped room as she admires the artifacts and reads the signs. Meanwhile, I try to survive the feel of her palm against mine. How nice it is to hold on to her while she holds back.
Alice doesn’t seem to care about our hands. She’s too busy living her best historic life, until she spots the real oddity in the room: a wooden doll in a display case. The strangest artifact in our entire museum.
The doll has a long, pointed nose and giant elf-like ears. It looks like a leprechaun’s cave-dwelling cousin. Or a gnome’s evil best friend.
“Sweet mother of nightmares,” Alice whispers. “What is that?”
“It’s a tommyknocker.”
That explanation doesn’t help, and she glances at me, startled. “Like the Stephen King novel?”
She says that like she has a personal vendetta against Stephen King. As if he’s wronged her somehow or recently betrayed her.
“Not sure—I haven’t read that one. They’re actually an old mining thing, though. People thought tommyknockers were mythical creatures who lived in the mountains. If they blew out your candle, it meant the mine wasn’t safe anymore, and it was time to get out.”
I always loved that story when I was a kid, the idea of little creatures helping the miners stay safe. And I think Alice likes it too. A faint smile plays on her lips, an “isn’t history great?” smile. Though she still looks scared.
We wander around the fake mine a little more. When she’s done, Alice pulls me toward the exit, the sunlight outside stinging my eyes. But she stops before we reach it, as if Alice has spotted something far worse than that tommyknocker doll.
I can’t see anything, but a female voice echoes in the distance. One I wish I didn’t recognize.
“Jason, you know I don’t like museums,” Tiffany says. “Why are we here?”