by Ami Diane
Rose settled into her seat and carefully unfolded her napkin. “Not much I’m afraid. I added blueberries and blackberries. I had planned on tossing in some ground beef but couldn’t make it to Stewart’s.” Her face fell. “I’m so sorry. I hope you all still like it.”
“Wait,” Ella said, “there’s nothing in that blue stuff except fruit?”
Rose nodded, a blonde curl breaking loose from her extravagant hairdo.
Ella leaned forward, desperate for the next answer. “Last question. What flavor is it? Wait, let me guess. Winter mint.”
“Don’t be silly. Blueberry, of course.”
Rose scooped out a healthy serving of casserole, grabbed a role, and proceeded to take a chunk out of the wobbling, blue beast, completely unaware of the looks going around the table.
The moment the serving spoon hit the dish, Flo and Ella fought for it. The tug-of-war grew tense, then the old woman decided to play dirty and kick Ella with one of her clunky, sensible shoes.
Ella lost her grip on the spoon, and Flo held the trophy aloft, a look of triumph on her face.
“Will!” Ella admonished. “Put your shirt back on.”
The inventor’s hand paused, a dinner roll frozen halfway to his mouth as he frowned. “Pardon?”
Ella’s trick worked. Ever the dirty, old lady, Flo had dropped the spoon and spun so fast the utensil sent flecks of blue shrapnel scattering.
Scooping out a healthy serving, Ella handed the spoon over to a defeated Flo. The woman grumbled the entire time she filled her plate with food and well into her second helping.
At some point, Ella pulled out her phone, keeping it well out of Will’s range, and turned on her playlist for background music. She was slowly introducing them to rock and roll. Or at least, the music she had on her phone that fit that era.
While the notes of Peggy Lee’s Golden Earrings filled the kitchen, conversation turned to the Secret Santa gift exchange Rose had set up for them.
Ella bit her lip and glanced at the innkeeper. She had pulled Rose’s name and had yet to get her a present. Christmas was in four days—more like three and change—and she couldn’t think of what to get her. It wasn’t like she could drive to the nearest Walmart or jewelry store.
Will turned in his chair, fixing her with his sea green and blue eyes. “So, El, how did it go with Leif?”
Conversation dissipated, and all eyes turned to her with somber expressions. After swallowing her bite of roll, she filled them in on the conversation at the cabin.
When she finished, Jimmy fidgeted with his fork but didn’t take a bite. “Do you think he might’ve done it?”
Ella considered the question before responding. “No. I don’t. But I’ve been wrong before. He just seemed too… broken.” She tilted her head. “He did have a lot of weapons. I mean, they were probably for hunting and chopping wood or whatever, except for the sword.”
Flo coughed on a bite of gelatin. “Did he have guns?” Her eyes glinted.
“Maybe.”
“How many we talking?”
Ella rolled her head around to Wink, pleading for help.
“Doesn’t matter, you nutter. You’re not going near them.”
“Says who? I’m thinking ‘bout Erik’s. Chances are if one has some, so does the other. I need another firing pin for my next inter-dimensional prototype weapon.” She turned her spidery lashes on Will and fluttered them repeatedly. “Unless you’d be willing to make me another one.”
“Another one?” Ella shot the inventor a look. “Another one?”
“Heh, I have no idea what she’s talking about. My, Rose, this food is delicious.” He smoothed out an invisible wrinkle in the tablecloth.
“Subtle,” Ella said. “Just so you’re aware, I’m holding you personally responsible when she burns down the entire village.”
Flo’s lower lip jutted out. “Hey, I haven’t set anything on fire since…” She began counting off on her fingers, much to Ella’s horror.
“If it’s recent enough that you can still use your fingers to count, then it’s still too recent.”
Dinner wound down, then abruptly ended when Fluffy jumped on the table and began eating the casserole.
After helping with a few dishes, Wink and Will left early to try to beat the next incoming storm that the local barber said would be coming in that night.
Ella saw them off to the entrance hall. As Wink wound her scarf around her neck, Ella asked where her pet squirrel Chester was.
“He’s not a fan of this weather, and I’m still sewing his ski outfit. It’s taking more time than I thought.”
“Sure, sure. Makes sense. Gotta thread that bobber—”
“Bobbin.”
“Tighten the needle. Rejig the doohickey.”
“You’ve never even used a sewing machine, have you?”
“Never touched one, no.”
After they left, Ella closed the door and ran her hands up her arms to melt off the goosebumps.
She settled in for the night, slipping into her pajamas and burrowing under the silk comforter on her four-poster bed with Fluffy on top, warming her feet. The heavy Maine Coon stretched then curled up, his tail flopped over his eyes like a sleep mask.
Before diving into her evening reading, Ella opened the memo app on her cell phone. The phone was useless for making calls since there were no satellites or phone towers. However, she still found she used it for everything else.
Plus, in the event that the town hopped back into a time that had such technology, she could check her signal then run like crazy across the boundary and maybe return home.
She began making a list of ideas for the innkeeper for her secret Santa gift. Tapping under Rose’s name, she sat and stared at it, hoping somehow inspiration would strike. It didn’t.
“Hey, Fluffy.” One hand left her phone and scratched under his chin, earning loud purrs. “Got any ideas on what I should get Rose?”
A time-traveling town didn’t have many shopping options. But since her crafting skills were that of a toddler—as were her baking skills—she wasn’t left with much of a choice.
Ella sighed and decided she’d watch the innkeeper like a hawk, waiting to catch an idea.
After plugging her phone in, she opened the drawer on her nightstand. Inside was an old leather binder full of newspaper clippings of the local weekly newspaper, Keystone Corner. The town librarian had let her borrow the binder after profuse promises that Ella would keep it in pristine condition.
The smell of old books and years rose above the stiff pages as she cracked open the spine and flipped through to her bookmark. For the last several nights, this had become her obsession. Not just because she was glimpsing back in time and she was learning about the town, but because she hoped there might be something, a breadcrumb for her to follow, as to what had caused the jumps to start.
It was a long shot but since she couldn’t do much hiking through the snow to map the boundary line at the moment, this was the only other investigating she could do on that front.
She’d started with the days following Keystone Village’s first jump and worked her way backward to before the big event. As fascinating as it was to see the vintage advertisements for Karo Syrup and to read an article about the new stop sign added to M Street, nothing stood out to her as relevant to the time jumps. What struck her the most was seeing the calm before the storm, of glimpsing the village’s slow pace of daily life moments before a never-before-seen disaster struck.
CHAPTER 6
ELLA WOKE UP early and changed, cringing with nearly every movement. Horseback riding did not agree with her body—especially her backside. She gingerly made her way to the kitchen where she relished a few minutes of solitude sipping coffee and eating bacon.
Sitting at the table, she stared out the large window at the new snow that had accumulated during the night. Beyond the forest, gray clouds hugged the mountain peaks.
It was a beautiful view, all the more enjoyable
from the comfort of her warm roost. She sipped at her coffee, letting the hot liquid slid down her throat and warm her insides.
The sound of thudding and scraping two stories up told her Jimmy was on the roof again. A veritable Santa—if the jolly man was rail thin, cleanly shaven, and a balding head.
Perhaps she should help him. After all, they were letting her stay there in exchange for work. She had tried to pay using her wages from the diner, but they’d insisted she use the money to help with groceries or buy more clothes.
Under normal circumstances, she would’ve been offended by the last suggestion. However, since the clothes she’d packed in her suitcase for a Thanksgiving weekend with her parents now made up her entire wardrobe, she was inclined to agree with them.
Turning from the window, Ella surveyed the kitchen, the room in the whole mansion Rose seemed to spend the most time in, searching for a gift idea.
Another pan? She glanced at the stove but didn’t add the idea to her list.
Needing to put something down, she pulled out her phone and started two other lists. These would be easier. They’d all agreed on drawing one name out each, but there were people in her wider circle of friends, not included in the Secret Santa, for whom she wanted to get a small present.
She’d already thought of something for Sheriff Chapman, and it would hopefully be finished today. Jesse, the resident outlaw from the American frontier who preferred the name Six Shooter, would be tougher. What could she get a cowboy whose favorite past time was stirring up trouble? A Get Out of Jail Free card?
She smiled at her own joke, an idea that would be entirely lost on Six. The man was a walking anachronism, wearing sweatshirts with logos underneath his vest, a cowboy hat, and spurs. Perhaps, she could get him another sweatshirt. The idea was uninspired and a bit boring, but she jotted it into her note simply so as not to have a blank screen.
A second later, the kitchen door swung in, and Rose swept in, her blonde hair half up in victory rolls and ruby lipstick firmly in place. Today, she wore a turtleneck and trousers, somehow elevating the ensemble to understated elegance. She suspected it had something to do with the pearls the innkeeper religiously wore.
Ella tucked her phone away and greeted Rose. “I’d offer you some bacon, but….” She pointed to the last, half-eaten piece on her plate before popping it in her mouth.
“Was that from yesterday?”
“Maybe.”
“And you ate all of it?”
“Maybe.”
Rose tutted and pushed her glasses up her nose. “You ready to head out?”
Ella blinked at her.
“You didn’t forget about the charity pie bake, did you?”
“Of course not. And definitely not after Wink reminded me yesterday.”
Rose’s penciled eyebrows drifted up her forehead. “It’s at nine.”
Nodding, Ella sipped at her cup.
“Which is in ten minutes.”
Ella sputtered into her coffee before leaping from her seat.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she threw over her shoulder as she barreled into the hallway.
In her room, one glance in the mirror proved her bed-head was in fine form this morning. She hurriedly pinned the short, dark curls, slathered on some lip gloss and mascara, changed into jeans, then bounded out of her room.
She made it to the top of the grand staircase, stopped, then retraced her steps.
Light poured from underneath the door across from hers. She knocked softly then pressed her ear to the wood. Movement and odd noises came from inside, so she knocked again, pouring more energy into it this time.
Flo let out an unladylike grunt. “Busy.”
“Busy knitting and doing other old lady activities? Or busy being a menace and danger to society?”
“Busy making something, and if you keep yapping, I might mess up and blow the roof off this joint.”
Ella’s body stiffened. “Are you making a bomb?”
“A spectral stun grenade.”
Silence.
“So, a bomb? Sounds like a bomb.” Without wanting to know more, Ella retreated a step, thinking plausible deniability would be prudent. “Does this mean you’re not going to the pie bake at the diner?”
“What do you think?”
Ella held up her hands. “Christmas trees, I was just asking. Keep your underwear on.”
“I’m not wearing—”
Singing loudly with her fingers in her ears, Ella ran down the stairs so she wouldn’t hear the end of that sentence.
When she rejoined Rose in the kitchen, she said, “Flo nearly bit my head off just now when I asked her if she was going to the pie bake.”
Rose shrugged. “Probably just that season of change for her.”
Ella frowned. “I think she’s way past menopause.”
“Good heavens.” Rose’s cheeks flushed. “I meant, this time of year can be hard on people. It reminds them of what got left behind.”
“Doesn’t she have several ex-husbands? Wait. Are they local? I assumed she’s married one or two since the town’s been jumping.”
“A couple live here, yes. Though, she manages to avoid them. Especially after that incident, what was it, a couple years back, if I recall correctly.”
“Incident?”
“I’m not entirely sure what happened. But something involving a gun and threats—”
“Flo threatening her husband and not the other way around, right?”
“My point is, people can either age like a fine wine or wither on the vine. Up to them. Flo seems to walk that line.”
Rose cradled her rolling pen like it was her first-born child while Ella hefted the burlap sack of flour up with a loud grunt a caveman would’ve been proud of.
They chose to exit via the front since the sidewalk had recently been shoveled, well, more recently than the terrace. Once they stepped out into the chill, however, they discovered Jimmy had only cleared a narrow path through the garden.
The snow now reached just below Ella’s hips, and with large flakes falling again, her need to shop for Christmas presents became more urgent since she wasn’t certain at what point they’d officially be snowed in.
As they trudged the few yards to Grandma’s Kitchen, Ella thought about Flo. Not only was she concerned about the possible explosive device being built under the same roof as her, but she wondered if discovering Erik’s body had disturbed the woman more than she let on.
Thinking of Erik brought back images of the Viking’s vacant eyes staring up at the sky. The curious blood spatter. What had he been defending?
Maybe Chapman hadn’t let her come with him to ask questions at the greenhouses, but she was about to enter the belly of gossip, the very crux of the rumor mill. Perhaps she could have her answers after all, and if she managed to sneak in a free pie in the process, then today was shaping up to be a great day.
CHAPTER 7
ELLA PULLED OPEN the door for the classic railcar-style diner, grateful that she wasn’t there to work. She didn’t want to think about having to wear her pink gingham print 1950s waitress uniform in this weather. Also, there was the whole tights versus no tights dilemma, and despite vehement arguments, Wink refused to let her wear her yoga pants underneath.
The aroma of grease, hot fries, and strong coffee greeted them even though the frier was currently off. She suspected the aromatic molecules had become one with the faux leather covering the stools and booths.
The checkered floor swathed a narrow strip between the lunch counter and the booths along the windows. Only some of the lights were on. Noise filtered in via the passthrough to the kitchen.
Ella hefted the sack of flour onto a hip like a child, nearly dropped it, then decided it was best to carry it over her shoulder as she made her way toward the kitchen.
Rose followed on her heels, her eyes roving about, and it occurred to Ella she’d never actually seen the innkeeper inside the metal walls of Grandma’s Kitchen.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” Rose said as if reading Ella’s thoughts.
Behind her cat eye glasses, the woman’s gaze snagged on the singed wall beside the soda fountain. The worst of the destruction was discreetly covered by an old-fashioned Coca-Cola sign.
Ella glanced at it as they passed and said one word. “Flo.”
She swung the kitchen door in using her foot. The addition nestled against the railcar and had been built on sometime after the fact. Ella wasn’t sure when, but judging by the vintage appliances, it seemed to be the same age as the railcar.
She gaped at the scene before her. The large kitchen buzzed with people packed so tightly, she could scarcely step inside.
Townspeople, young and old, male and female alike, flitted about. Having never seen more than herself, Wink, and Horatio in the room, it took her a moment to digest what she saw.
She was in the middle of searching for available counter space to unload her burden when Wink pounced on her.
“You remembered.” The lines around the owner’s mouth and eyes softened in relief.
“Yep.” Ella glanced sideways at Rose. “How could I forget? I didn’t know your class would be this popular.”
“It’s not really a class so much as a workshop.” Wink easily lifted the flour from Ella’s shoulder. “Most people mess up their pie crusts, so I thought it’d be a good opportunity for everyone to learn.”
Ella frowned, half listening, as she felt Wink’s biceps. “Okay, She-Hulk. Did you suddenly start working out?”
“It was so popular last year, we had to do two sessions,” Rose explained, both women completely ignoring Ella’s comic book character reference.
A woman nearby with Lucille Ball orangish-red hair overheard the comment and said in a loud voice, “It was the bee’s knees!”
A chorus of agreement sang around the room. Not for the first time since getting stranded, Ella felt like she’d stepped into an I Love Lucy episode.