by Mark J Rose
They came up on Second Street and were in the middle of a bustling merchant area. Scout perked up at the smell of cooked meat coming from one of the shops.
“Mission be damned,” Franklin said, smelling the air. “I’m hungry.”
“I could go for some food,” Matt admitted. “You buying?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Franklin replied. “The ladies from the future will still be there an hour hence.”
“I’m curious to see how they’re making a living.”
“I’m curious if the mother is educated and beautiful.”
“Scoundrel.”
“You should be thanking me for coming. You’ll give yourself away the first time you open your mouth.”
“You’ll be doing all the talking, then?”
“Yes, until we can vouch for their character.”
“How bad could they be?”
“All ladies have good intentions in your own time?” Franklin asked, looking at Matt out of the corner of his eye.
“Of course not.”
“Then I’ll do the talking.”
Matt hadn’t heard Franklin’s reply. He was looking at a freshly painted sign posted in the window of a bakery across the street. “Do you know what a cupcake is?” he asked Franklin.
Franklin stared back, confused.
“I didn’t think so,” Matt said. He pointed across the street to a wooden building under a large sign that read “Morris Bakery.” Matt thought for a moment and put his hand up as Franklin began to cross the street. “They’re likely to recognize you,” he said. “You’re not the local blacksmith. I’d be ready for that.”
“The currency was hardly an accurate likeness.”
“Still,” Matt replied.
Franklin, Matt, and Scout crossed the street and stepped onto the grey-painted porch of the bakery. The smell of freshly baked pastries made them stop to breathe in the sweet air. Matt attached the leash he had been carrying in his pocket to Scout’s collar, tugged him to the far side of the porch, and tied him to a pole. It was far enough from the bakery doorway. “Stay,” Matt commanded.
The dog looked up at him with disappointed eyes.
“I’ll get you a biscuit or something,” Matt promised. He pointed the dog to the ground. Scout tugged at his leash one last time and then lay down with a defeated groan.
Both men turned in unison, and Franklin pushed open the door causing a bell to ring. They entered what looked mostly like a conventional colonial bakery. Café tables were set up in front of a large wooden display counter. The singular feature that set it apart was that the counter and display case were wooden replicas of those from a modern donut store, with baked goods behind protective glass. They watched curiously as a tall, attractive middle-aged woman walked from a door behind the counter. Her brown hair was peppered in the front with wisps of grey.
She gave them a bright white smile. “What may I get for you fine gentlemen?”
Franklin scanned the rows of pastries and said, “My friend and I desire one or two of these cakes in cups. White ones, I think.” He looked at Matt to say something, entirely disregarding their previous plan for Matt to remain silent.
Matt spoke slowly trying to sound as colonial as possible. “I’ll have one of these cakes in cups and a piece of pumpkin nut bread.”
“The same for me, then, and something to drink,” Franklin said.
“We’ve coffee, tea, milk, or ale.”
“Two ales, then,” Franklin replied.
“Ale with cupcakes?” Matt said, smirking. Franklin ignored him and motioned to Anne to continue with their order.
“Have a seat, then,” she said as she motioned to the tables.
“Is it only you that makes these fine pastries?” Franklin asked.
“My daughter and I,” she replied.
Franklin nodded to her and pointed Matt over to a table near the window.
“Sarah,” the woman called to the back. “Two ales, please.” She was placing cupcakes and pieces of pumpkin bread on pewter plates. She walked around the counter and brought them to their table.
Franklin looked down at the decorated cupcake. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I did rather expect to eat this from a cup.”
“They’re made in cups,” the woman explained. “We take them out before they’re decorated.”
Matt looked around at the empty tables. “You do a good business selling these?” he asked. Franklin gave him a cautious look.
“We sell out each day,” she said. “It’ll be crowded soon with people buying fresh cakes for supper.” Sarah, a teenage girl, interrupted them as she came from the back. She set the ales down on the table.
“Thank you so much, young lady,” Franklin said.
“You’re welcome,” Sarah replied. She inspected Franklin suspiciously. “You been here before?”
“I can’t remember exactly,” Franklin said. “How long have you had this shop?”
Her mother interrupted. “Quite a while.”
Franklin took a sip of his ale. Matt did the same as he looked at Franklin, wondering what he had in mind. Scout barked outside.
“Is there a dog on the porch?” the teen asked. She stood high on her toes to peer out the window.
“That’s Scout,” Matt explained. “He hates being away from the action.”
“Does he bite?” she asked Matt. Sarah was staring intently again at Franklin.
“Who?” Matt joked.
Sarah pulled her gaze from Franklin to face Matt again. “Your dog,” she said impatiently.
“He’s friendly enough,” Matt replied. “I promised him a biscuit or something.” He looked first to Sarah and then to her mother for some suggestion.
“We have bones from last night’s meal,” Sarah replied.
“I’ll buy some,” Matt said slowly, trying to sound colonial.
“I couldn’t charge you for scraps,” the mother replied. She looked at her daughter. “You can go see the dog with Mister—”
“Miller,” Matt said.
“Don’t leave the porch,” her mother warned. The girl nodded, disappeared into the back room and returned with rib bones and some other meat scraps on a pewter plate.
“Those should make him happy,” Matt said. Sarah gave him a tentative smile. Matt stood up, trying to gauge what had suddenly made the mother so uncomfortable. She warned him again with a stern glance.
Franklin had noticed her manner change as well and spoke up. “I vouch for the integrity of Mr. Miller,” he said. The woman nodded.
Matt accompanied Sarah outside and the dog looked up excitedly. “This is Scout,” he said. “Sometimes it takes him a while to warm up to people.”
The girl walked tentatively to the dog, holding the scraps at arm’s length, set them down cautiously, and slid them along the floor. Scout reached up with his paw.
“You shake?” Sarah said as she moved close enough to accept his paw in one of her hands. She handled it slowly and then stroked it with her other hand. Tears were crawling down her face. She used one hand to wipe them from her eyes, but they were replaced by others as she cupped the dog’s paw again. Letting go, she moved her face cautiously to Scout and kissed him on his head, then reached down, pushed the scraps forward slightly and stood. “I stopped going near dogs,” she said softly. Her eyes were wet. Sarah stepped to the porch railing to stare into the street and wave to a number of people as they walked by. She was obviously focusing hard on regaining her composure.
“You’re popular,” Matt said after she waved to a family passing by in a wagon.
“People in 1763 like cupcakes,” she said. “Go figure.”
“So you make a good living?” Matt asked.
“We do all right. How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been in Philadelphia since September.”
“Do you have the dreams?”
“What dreams?”
“That is Ben Franklin in there, right? Does he know that you�
��re from the future?”
Matt stared back silently, still not willing to give himself up, but he was curious to learn how she had been able to identify them so quickly. Sarah turned her attention back to the dog. “Dogs don’t like me or Mom,” she said. “I can’t explain it. They hated Patrick.”
“Who’s Patrick?”
“Another traveler.”
“Traveler?”
Sarah laughed. “Don’t smile at me with a mouth full of white teeth and expect me to believe that you’re from the eighteenth century. I’ve seen you in my dreams.” She moved back to Scout and ran her hands through his fur. “I miss dogs.”
“What happened to Patrick?” Matt asked.
“We woke up one day and he was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Probably back to England. That’s where he was from in his own time. He made enemies gambling and couldn’t control the dreams. He talked about going back to someplace familiar. You were the person on the Quantum yesterday?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Matt said.
She ignored him. “Did you wait in those long lines?”
“My rich girlfriend had connections,” Matt answered. His sudden candidness surprised him.
“Patrick found us using his phone, too,” she said. “I told her not to turn it on again, but she was curious if there was anyone else.”
“You don’t want to be found?”
“We learned our lesson. We could wake up and more things would be stolen.”
“You think I showed up here with Ben Franklin to steal? You must have missed the section on the Founding Fathers in history class.”
“I didn’t miss anything.”
Seeing her stern face, Matt reconsidered his perspective. “I’ll admit, I might be a little wary of men in this century.”
“Mom trusts people as soon as she meets them. It drives me crazy.” Sarah turned her complete attention to Scout, scratching him behind his ears with both hands. “Dogs wouldn’t come near us, and when they did, they would growl. People were always apologizing. Kind of spooky, really.”
“Scout growled at me for almost a week,” Matt said. “Now I can’t get rid of him.”
“Why would you want to?” she exclaimed. “He’s wonderful.”
“My fiancée’s family in Virginia owns him.”
“You took their dog?”
“He followed me from Richmond. Showed up at my door.”
Sarah stood up and looked straight into Matt’s eyes. “Why did you come to our store?”
“Franklin wanted to make sure you weren’t up to some mischief. I don’t want anything from you.” He smiled at her. “It never occurred to me to make cupcakes, though. I might be your next competitor.”
“You’re not the cupcake type,” she said simply. “How do you make your living?”
“You ever seen Miller Head and Stomach Tablets?”
“Mom says they’re Alka-Seltzer.”
“We sell them in pubs all over the city.”
“Do you hang out with George Washington, too?”
“Even Franklin doesn’t know Washington that well.”
“Do you think we’re here for good?”
“They never contacted you?” Matt asked.
“Who?”
“Scientists were trying to get me back through a wormhole,” Matt explained. “They texted me through the phone.”
“No one texted us,” Sarah said. “What happened?”
“They couldn’t guarantee it was safe. I told them I’d take my chances here.”
“Do you think they’ll try for me and Mom?”
“They said something about having one opportunity. They tried and failed. I’m not going back.”
“We like it here,” Sarah said.
“How’s your mom handling all this?”
“She left a lot of friends behind, but my dad treated her like shit.”
“Dr. Franklin’s a charmer,” Matt said. “He can probably make up for that.”
“Fine by me,” Sarah replied. “Isn’t he like the eighteenth-century George Clooney?”
“A balding George Clooney with glasses,” Matt said, laughing. “I think he spends his whole day visiting.”
“He can visit my mother if he wants,” she offered.
“I imagine he’ll be back,” Matt replied. “He’ll want to talk about the future. This may be the last time for me, though.”
“We need friends we can trust, especially men. When do you get married?”
“Hopefully in another year.”
“Why so long?”
“Her father won’t let me marry her until I have money.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s a different time.”
“You really have bought into this.”
Matt nodded. “Where’d your family live in our time?”
“Tennessee,” she said. “My father was a big financial guy. Mom, her name’s Anne, attended every charity event in the city. I went to private school.”
“How did you support yourself when you got here?”
“Mom had her purse, jewelry, and a fur coat,” she said. “I had my backpack from school and my diamond earrings. We woke up in a field outside of Philadelphia, sold some stuff, and bought this store.”
“Were you in the cupcake business in Tennessee?”
She shook her head. “Mom was always home watching those baking shows on television and making stuff for her friends. My dad was gone all the time.”
“Away on business?”
“If you call sleeping with every slut in town business, then yes.”
She said this loud enough for Matt to worry that a passerby had overheard. He looked out into the street. “You can’t talk like that,” he scolded.
“My dad was spending his time with promiscuous young ladies who were impressed by his money.”
“Better.”
“Will I be invited to your wedding?”
“Maybe,” Matt said, “if you promise to keep our secret.”
“No one would believe it anyway.”
“You can even sell your cupcakes in my store if you can arrange delivery.”
“What store?”
“Grace Apothecary.”
“We buy our soap there.”
“The soap wasn’t my idea. I only wanted to sell medicine.”
“Hair care! That’s what I miss. My mom’s going grey.”
“I’ll tell my store manager. I’ll see if he can find shampoo. Not sure about hair color. We’d have to mix it and sell our own brand.”
“I’ll see what Mom says about the cupcakes. We’re selling out most days. We’ve saved a lot of money since Patrick left.”
“Tell me more about Patrick.”
“Patrick Ferguson, Englishman,” she said. “Tall. Handsome. He had the accent. It makes them all attractive. He’d get the dreams during the day and have to sit down. You have them, right?”
“Flashes where I lose my vision,” Matt said. “I usually can’t tell what they mean until later.”
“Patrick could do it in real time. At first, it was simple things, like he’d say, ‘knock, knock,’ and a minute later someone would walk through the door, or ‘oops,’ and Mom would drop something in the kitchen. He’d glaze over right in front of you.”
“You said he found you with the phone?”
“Like you did.”
“Franklin pressed the button accidentally.”
“You showed your phone to Franklin? Aren’t you worried about changing the future?”
“Nah,” Matt replied. “I even showed him his picture on a hundred-dollar bill.”
“Doesn’t even look like him.”
“It does.” He went to pull his wallet from his pocket. Grace’s engagement ring dropped onto the porch floor. Sarah picked it up.
“You carry this in your pocket?” she asked. She opened the door and went inside with the ring.
39
AP American History
“Mr. Miller asked me to marry him!” Sarah said as she entered the bakery. She held her hand up, showing her mother the ring on her finger.
“I dropped it,” Matt explained as he followed her through the door. He was unexpectedly flustered.
“Not true,” the girl said. She put a disappointed look on her face.
“Mr. Miller’s too old for you, honey,” her mother proclaimed.
“He made me promise to keep his secret.”
Franklin threw Matt a critical look.
“Is this ring intended for some lady, Mr. Miller?” Anne asked.
“My future wife,” Matt explained. “She lives in Richmond.”
“I wish you good luck.” As she said it, customers entered the store and she stood up. “I must ask you gentlemen to excuse me. The afternoon rush is about to begin.”
“We should be going anyway,” Franklin said. He looked at Anne. “Same time next Thursday?”
“If it pleases you, Dr. Franklin.”
Sarah put her hand up to examine the ring on her finger. “I may keep it.”
Matt held his hand out silently until she gave it up. “I’m ready to go,” he said to Franklin after he had safely tucked the ring back into his wallet. He opened the door and motioned for the older man to walk through.
Unexpectedly, Sarah followed them outside, and they had to turn back to talk with her on the porch. “Mr. Miller, something else you should know,” she said. “Patrick said that a man with knowledge of the future could be a king.”
Matt brushed her off. “It’s exactly what I used to think,” he scoffed. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Sarah glared back at him impatiently. “Don’t be so sure,” she insisted. “He couldn’t stop talking about how he could change things.”
“One person can’t do much,” Matt said knowingly. “Knowledge of the future only gets you so far.”
Sarah’s impatience turned to irritation. “What did you come here with? Besides your phone.”
“I was hiking. I had my pack.”
“I had my school backpack with all my books.”