Chapter Fourteen #2
Jack raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Those men treat their stories as if they’re gold,” she continued. “They’ve spent years trading tales, and each one is worth something to them. But after a while . . .”
“People stop listening,” Jack said, nodding.
“Exactly. Just paying attention to them gets you more than memories. It gets you the good stuff. The stories that aren’t written down.”
Their conversation was cut short by a loud voice. “Cora! Jack! There you are!”
They turned to see Aggie barreling toward them, her oversized purse swinging like a wrecking ball.
She took out a potted plant outside the post office and was about to knock over a preschooler until the child’s mom swooped in at the last moment.
Aggie was dressed in a vibrant floral dress, an enormous sun hat, and comically large sunglasses that covered half her face.
“Aggie?” Cora said, trying to keep a straight face as she took in her outfit. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you’re about to rob a retirement home?”
Aggie waved off her question, digging through her purse. “Never mind that. I heard you two were down here collecting stories about Lolly, so I thought I’d lend a hand.” She pulled out a sleek digital recorder.
“Whoa,” Jack said, eyebrows shooting up. “Where did you get that?”
Aggie’s expression turned sly. “Oh, I picked it up a while back. I’ve got a colonoscopy coming up, and I’m pretty sure my doctor has a crush on me. Thought I might record him to be sure.”
Jack made a choking sound.
Cora elbowed him, trying not to laugh. “Aggie, you can’t secretly record your doctor. That’s probably illegal.”
“Details.” Aggie waved a hand dismissively, as if legality was a mere suggestion. “Now, are we going to get some juicy stories or what?”
And just like that, Aggie was off, recorder in hand, corralling townspeople into sharing their favorite Lolly anecdotes. Cora and Jack followed, equal parts amused and mortified as they watched her work with the precision of a seasoned detective.
As the morning wore on, they gathered story after story about Lolly. The tales ranged from heartwarming to downright hilarious, and by the time they took a break on a nearby bench, Cora was seeing her grandmother through new eyes.
“For all these stories, we’re no closer to figuring out what happened between Lolly and my grandfather,” Jack said, stretching out his legs.
Cora nodded. “Yeah. It’s like there’s a big gap in everyone’s memory. No one remembers them being together.”
“Well,” a new voice chimed in, “have you thought about checking the old newspapers?”
They both looked up to see Winston standing there, a knowing smile on his face. Beside him, Bea wore a lavender velour tracksuit and bright white sneakers, as if Winston had interrupted her morning walk.
“The newspapers?” Cora repeated.
“Yes, newspapers,” Winston said with a grin. “The big, crinkly things you actually had to hold. None of these clicky headlines everyone chases now. If you wanted real news, you waited for the morning edition.”
Bea nodded. “The Sunrise Gazette has documented every sneeze and hiccup in this town since 1902. If there was something going on between Lolly and Lincoln Harlow, it’ll be in there.”
Cora and Jack exchanged glances. “That’s . . . a really good idea,” she said.
“Of course it is,” Bea said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go rescue Mr. Fitzgerald from Aggie before she tries to get his dental records.”
As Winston swung open the door to the Sunrise Gazette’s archives, a wave of musty air washed over them.
The room was crammed with rows of old filing cabinets and shelves sagging under the weight of countless yellowed papers.
Sunlight filtered in through one window in the corner, sneaking through the gaps of a bent metal blind, while the rest of the room remained cloaked in shadow.
“To protect the papers,” Winston explained with an air of authority.
Cora raised an eyebrow. Protect them from what? A hundred years of local news didn’t seem to need safeguarding. She glanced at the stacks of old newspapers, some of them piled so high they looked ready to topple at the slightest touch.
Unbothered by her skepticism, Winston stepped into the room with a sense of purpose.
His hand landed on an ancient, clunky machine, its bulky frame dominating the desk.
“The town council got this for me a few years back,” he said proudly, giving it an affectionate pat.
“Took some wheeling and dealing, but they finally came through. It’s got all the archives stored on it. Well, most of them, anyway.”
Cora nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm. “That’s impressive, Winston. It must’ve taken a lot of effort to get that done.”
She snuck a look at Jack, and they shared a quick, secretive grin. The machine belonged in a museum, but Winston’s genuine excitement made it hard not to appreciate his passion, even if it was a little outdated.
“It’s definitely where the magic happens,” Winston declared.
Cora bit back a laugh. The only magic she could see was how this room managed to hold so many filing cabinets without collapsing.
“It’s . . . something,” Jack said diplomatically, ducking to avoid a cobweb.
Winston beamed like they’d complimented his firstborn. “Isn’t it? Every issue of the Gazette since 1902 is here. On microfilm, of course. Can’t trust those newfangled digital formats. What if the internet explodes?”
Cora pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to laugh. Jack, meanwhile, became very interested in studying a nearby filing cabinet.
“Now,” Winston continued, “the microfilm reader is a bit temperamental, but aren’t we all?” He chuckled at his joke. “You’ll find the 1960s over in that cabinet.” He pointed to a filing cabinet that had clearly seen better days, possibly during the actual 1960s.
“Thanks, Winston,” Cora said, genuinely grateful for his help. “We really appreciate this.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s not often I get to share this treasure trove with anyone. Most folks these days are too glued to their cell phones to get in here where the real action is.”
Jack laughed, quickly turning it into an unconvincing cough.
Winston’s hand was on the door handle when he turned back. “If you need anything, give me a shout.” With a jaunty wave, he was gone, leaving them alone in the paper-filled room.
Jack turned to Cora. “Ready to dive into Sunrise’s thrilling past?”
She groaned but couldn’t help smiling. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
They settled into a rhythm, Jack operating the microfilm reader while Cora sifted through physical copies. The whir of the machine and the rustle of paper were occasionally interrupted by a sneeze when the dust got to be too much.
After several hours of fruitless searching, Cora leaned back, stretching arms that had gone stiff from flipping pages. “Well, either Lolly and Lincoln were experts at staying out of the news, or we’re looking in the wrong place.”
Jack rubbed his eyes, looking as drained as she felt. “Maybe we should take a break. My eyeballs are ready to go on strike.”
“Move over,” she said, nudging him aside. “Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help.”
Cora settled into the chair he’d vacated, catching a whiff of his cologne.
It was warm and spicy, like a cozy night by a fire.
Not exactly the thing to notice in the back of a dusty newspaper archive.
And she definitely wasn’t supposed to notice how the tattoo on his forearm moved when he changed the microfilm either. She forced her brain to stay focused.
“Okay,” she said, facing the screen. “Show me your secrets, 1965.”
Jack leaned over her shoulder to adjust the focus, his breath warm against her neck. She suppressed a shiver.
“There,” he said, turning a dial on the side of the machine. “That should be clearer.”
Cora swallowed hard. “Thanks,” she managed to say.
As she scrolled through the images, the years flashing by in a blur of headlines and grainy photos, a familiar face suddenly caught her eye.
“Wait, is that . . .?”
Jack leaned in, his chest almost brushing against her back. “Yes, that’s Lolly.”
There she was, grinning from ear to ear, standing next to a pumpkin that looked big enough to turn into Cinderella’s carriage. The headline read: Local Teen Grows Record-Breaking Gourd—Claims Secret is Tough Love and Jazz Music.
Cora burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “She told me about this once. She played jazz for that pumpkin every night and gave it a stern talking-to when she didn’t think it was growing fast enough. The neighbors thought she was nuts.”
Jack’s laughter joined hers, rich and warm. “Your grandmother was really something.”
“She really was,” Cora said, an ache spreading through her chest. She could almost hear Lolly’s voice telling her that story when she got a C on a high school history project.
Your teacher just didn’t have the vision, sweetheart.
Sometimes you’ve got to be okay with doing things that seem crazy to other people.
For a moment, they were both silent, lost in the memory of Lolly’s smile.
Then Jack cleared his throat. “She won, so I’m assuming the jazz thing actually worked. Asking for a friend who’s thinking of starting a garden.”
Cora snorted, grateful for a distraction from the melancholy. “Nice try, Harlow. I’m not giving away Lolly’s gardening techniques. A girl’s got to have some secrets.”
He grinned, leaning closer, eyes crinkling in that way that made her heart skip.
“You’re definitely a woman of mystery.”
Her breath caught in her chest.
And then the microfilm machine made a noise like a cat caught in a blender, shattering the moment.
They jumped apart, and Cora let out a nervous laugh. “Well, that was . . .”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed, running a hand through his hair.
He looked as flustered as she felt, which was oddly satisfying.
“Maybe we should keep looking. We’ve got to find something eventually, right?”
She nodded, turning back to the machine with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary. “Right. Let’s do this.”
They fell back into their routine, the tension between them fading as they refocused on the search. But Cora kept sneaking glances at Jack, wondering what might’ve happened if that blasted machine hadn’t interrupted.
Just as she was about to suggest calling it a day, her eyes landed on something that made her heart stop. “Jack,” she whispered. “I think I found something.”
He leaned over, his arm brushing hers. “What is it?”
She pointed to the screen with a trembling finger. There, in black and white, was an announcement that turned everything she thought she knew on its head.
Mr. and Mrs. James Arnold Lockwood of Sunrise, North Carolina are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Lolita Ann Lockwood, to Tobias Worthington.
Jack and Cora stared at each other, the weight of this discovery hanging heavy in the musty air between them.