Chapter 7

Does that make me a Square?

“So, you don’t want me to read ahead anymore?” Bobbie asked skeptically.

“No, I mean, I do, but just don’t tell me about it, unless, you know, my life is going to be in jeopardy.”

“And you guys are going to ‘date?’” More skepticism.

“We’re going to get to know each other by working on a project together. The project being to solve the time capsule mystery.”

It was Saturday afternoon and Bobbie was helping me with the steady trickle of customers in the shop, as well as updating our shelf inventory. I filled her in on my last visit to 1950-something, at least the unscripted parts. She was interested to learn we could leave the scene for an undetermined length of time and pick it back up whenever we wanted. She added the information to her thickening legacy-rules notebook.

She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just find out where he is and meet up in real life?”

“He seems really hesitant to take our relationship to the next level, or any level, actually. So, I didn’t ask. This is okay. Actually, it’s a time-saver, since we can meet up and not lose any real time.”

“Well, that’s a glowing endorsement. Hey, honey, I love dating you because I don’t have to sacrifice any actual time from my real life.”

“That isn’t how we’re looking at it,” I replied hotly.

She shrugged. “Whatever. Sounds like a cop-out to me.”

“Tripp didn’t ask for any of this. He’s dealing with it rather calmly. I don’t mind taking our relationship as slow as he wants, especially since I didn’t ask for it either.”

She stepped over a pile of books on the floor and gave me a hug. “Chill. I’m sorry. You do this however you want, and I’ll try to keep my opinions to myself. You know that everyone in a blissfully happy relationship thinks everyone else’s lives would be better if they were in a happy relationship too?”

I knew this, and at times was insanely jealous of what Bobbie and Peter had. Other times, I was really glad not to be accountable to anyone, and glad to have the freedom to eat Ben & Jerry’s with popcorn on my sofa in old sweats while watching Netflix for eight hours straight. I tried to picture Tripp on the other end of the sofa. He filled out a pair of gray sweatpants nicely. Oops, we’re relaxing, so no need for a shirt. Chocolate ice cream dripping down an amazing chest I’d partially glimpsed on the basketball court…

I hugged her back. “Do I have tell you you’re the best friend in the whole world?”

She eyed me over the rims of her glasses. “I harp because I care.”

“I know. I’m trying to embrace my fate but guard my heart at the same time. There’s no harm in proceeding this way, no matter how many books it takes.”

Bobbie made a face. “Just please, no more that are this boring.”

“I promise. Maybe we can upgrade to something a little racier next time.”

****

I’m not saying reading-in without the benefit of foreknowledge made me nervous, but I wasn’t terribly disappointed that I didn’t get a chance all week to sit and read. I kept busy at the shop during the days and my evenings were more hectic than usual. My parents passed through town and stayed a night, and the Upper Orrington business district association held their quarterly meeting, where I got to visit with Gregorio. He hoped to show the shop and apartment to his mom’s friend sometime on Friday.

On the evenings I stayed home, I could hear Gregorio next door working late hours. I didn’t want to accidently drag him into my story again. Not that the construction next door kept me awake all week, but by Friday, I was glad to be in bed by eight, knowing that showing a rental to a possible tenant would be a quiet activity.

I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

****

Pom Squad Mystery #17???

Beth pulled her FHA sweater more tightly around her body as the wind blew stray leaves across the sidewalk. I’m certainly not dressed for rain, she thought, as she appraised the clouds overhead. The park wasn’t much farther. If Steve was on time to meet her, they’d be able to make it to the library before any nasty weather broke out.

Their goal for today was to find out information about the time capsule itself. Other than a rival school prank, she could only think of one other motive for the theft. There was something inside that capsule that someone didn’t want revealed. But to figure it out, she needed to know what it contained.

That didn’t mean she’d ignore the rival theory, but a good sleuth knew to follow up on all potential leads. Since Sandy was busy today, Steve had agreed to help her with the research.

Another thing that puzzled Beth was the fact that she was here at all. She had no recollection of picking up Pom Squad Mystery #17 before going to bed, in fact, she had been doing her utmost to avoid it altogether, to be honest.

Beth shrugged. So now the legacy was invading her dreams. Oh well, at least this way when she made a fool of herself, Tripp wouldn’t actually be there to witness it. It would be interesting to see how it played out. Would Tripp be Steve, or himself? Maybe this was the legacy’s way of giving her a heads-up of what was to come.

Penny heard the steady beat of a basketball on concrete as she turned the last corner. Steve wasn’t dressed to play, but he was always prepared to shoot a few hoops when he had extra time on his hands. When he saw her, he stopped; holding the ball, he waited for her to approach.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

I couldn’t decipher the odd expression on his face. I hoped dream-Penny would have an easier time talking to dream-Tripp, or dream-Steve, or whoever we were.

“Well, sure. We’re going to the library, right?”

He gave me another weird look. “Penny?”

“Tripp! Oh good, I didn’t know who we’d be in my dream. I thought I was Beth for a few minutes. This is totally crazy, right? I’ve never dreamed about you or book-world before. Of course you aren’t my Tripp anyway, you’re dream-Tripp, thank goodness, otherwise all this babbling would be really embarrassing.”

Tripp ran his hand through his hair, squeezing the back of his neck in an agitated manner, which I’d come to recognize as a stressed-Tripp move. “Penny. This isn’t a dream.”

“Of course it is. I didn’t read us in, I fell right to sleep. You’re dream-Tripp, so you can’t really know.” I grabbed the basketball from where his other arm was bracing it against his hip. “Watch, I’m pretty sure dream-me can sink this shot.” I heaved the very un-dream-like basketball toward the opposite end of the court. It sailed through the air, falling several feet, okay, several yards, short of the hoop. “Huh,” I said. “Oh well, that probably wasn’t a fair test of my R.E.M. anyway.”

Tripp put his hand on my arm. “Penny, stop for a minute. I did this.”

“What?” I turned to face him.

“I did this. I read us in.”

“What?” I said again dumbly.

“I ordered the books from eBay. I couldn’t remember which one exactly, so I started reading number thirteen, I read about the first couple chapters of books thirteen through sixteen till I got to this one. Lucky number seventeen.”

“Why?”

“To try to wrap my brain around the whole situation a little and to prepare a little for our dates.” He blushed lightly.

“You did this? You read us in?” My mind spun through the ramifications. Bobbie would flip out over this addition to her notebook. “Wait. Were you trying to cheat?” I frowned. “Bad form!”

He held up his hands in defense. “What? No!”

“Yes, you totally were. You were going to read ahead and solve the mystery and come off looking like the hero in my book.” Okay, so maybe in my excitement I departed from reality just a smidge.

Tripp placed both hands on my shoulders and forced me to meet his gaze. “No. I was only trying to understand what is happening to us better. You know it’s not really real, and the ridiculous mystery will get solved with or without us doing anything. Take a breath.”

I did. “I’m sorry, this is very disconcerting.” It was my turn to give him an apologetic look. “I guess this is how it must be for you every time I drag you in. It’s weird not having any time to prepare.”

He laughed. “Believe me, I wasn’t exactly prepared this time either. Did you know I could, you know…?” Tripp gestured around us.

“No, I don’t think it’s ever come up before. What are the chances of the guy just happening to pick up the same book one of my grandmothers was reading?” I smiled at him. “About the same as you randomly picking up this book.”

“For one, they were pretty hard to find. I paid more for the set than anyone in their right mind would, not to mention expedited shipping.”

I giggled. Sue me.

“Yes, hilarious. The worst part was reading through the first chapters of five of them without vomiting. I get down on my knees…well, let’s just say I’m eternally grateful not to be a pre-teen girl who would actually be riveted by this drivel.”

“Harsh. I enjoyed these when I was younger. I’m sure one day my daughter will too. They’re not trashy.” I blushed as I remembered my one-day daughter might also be his.

He smiled at me and pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Just don’t make me read it for a bedtime story. I want that in our prenup.”

His joke about our shared fate sent my stomach butterflies aloft. Neither of us was ready to embrace it, but we weren’t rejecting it out of hand.

“So where do we go from here?” I asked into his warm chest.

He released me but held onto my hand, gently leading me up the sidewalk. “The library.”

****

“So where are you right now?” I asked as we left the park and headed toward town. I admired the perfectly manicured town. Trash didn’t litter the streets and every building sported a cheery welcome sign.

“What do you mean? I’m here, with you.”

“No, I mean your real-life body.”

A lightbulb came on. “I’m at work, in my office.”

“Are there any other people around?”

“No, I closed alone tonight. Why?”

“I have to be careful when I read-in. Anybody close-by ends up going with me. Bobbie and Peter come with me on purpose, but one other time there was…an incident.”

“I’m not always alone when you drag me in. Sometimes I’m in the middle of a conversation with a customer. That’s awkward, at least for me. I’d like to think I cover well. What kind of incident?”

“You can imagine, I don’t go around sharing this part of my life, for obvious reasons.”

Tripp nodded in agreement.

“Well, one time, my neighbor accidently came with us, so I ended up having to explain the whole thing.”

“I don’t remember that. She must be a fairly open-minded person.”

“You hadn’t self-realized yet, and we managed to get him off-scene before you showed up.”

“Him. So, a guy neighbor. You were lucky then. Women tend to be more open-minded about hokey stuff like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve been fairly open-minded about it.”

“I’m not like other guys.” He grinned and bumped my shoulder.

We arrived at the same malt shop from the other evening after the game. The overhead bell tinkled as what could only be described as a greaser stumbled out on to the sidewalk in front of us. A girl followed him. Not exactly a girl. She was obviously with him; the painted-on capri pants and leather jacket placed them as a couple. But the rest? Oh my. Her hair was completely pewter-gray with several pure white streaks. It was swept up into a ponytail, high on the back of her head, with strategically escaped ringlets curling at her temples. The bright red scarf tied around her neck perfectly matched the lipstick that was slowly bleeding into the wrinkles around her lips. She batted her mascara-encrusted eyelashes at me before assuming an expression of bored contempt. She wasn’t an unattractive woman by any means but dressing like someone forty years younger was not a look I’d recommend for anyone.

Finally, I turned my attention to the greaser.

“Penelope? What have you done now?”

I had to admit, Gregorio wore “bad boy” exceptionally well. “Hey there, neighbor,” I gave him a little wave.

“This is the neighbor?” Tripp tightened his grip on my hand.

“This is the guy?” Gregorio smirked and ran his hand casually through his hair, which really looked much the same as it normally did.

Tripp scowled at him.

“Tripp, meet my neighbor, Gregorio. Gregorio, this is Tripp, the guy.”

They grudgingly shook hands, barely refraining from squeezing the life out of each other.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Penelope’s mentioned you a time or two.”

“Whereas I, just two minutes ago learned of your existence,” Tripp responded with a smug smile.

Time to change the subject. “Who’s your friend, Gregorio? I can’t believe she belongs here.”

“Ah, yes. Remember I told you I’d be showing the apartment today? This is Cora, my godmother.”

“I promise, this was a total accident. I’m actually in bed, asleep. Tripp read me in this time.”

Gregorio’s eyebrows flew up as he shot a glance at Tripp. “Really? Bobbie will be most interested in this development.”

At this point, Cora inserted herself into the conversation. “You Warriors won’t even know what hit you.” She blew a small bubble with her gum and popped it sharply. “The Cavaliers will wipe the court with you, plus another little surprise,” she chuckled snidely to herself.

“That was NOT my Aunt Cora,” Gregorio said.

“Um, okay. I gather that was script. You probably need to get her out of here, otherwise she’s going to self-realize and you’ll have a lot of explaining to do,” I told him.

“You tell ‘‘em, Billy!” Cora encouraged Gregorio, who hadn’t told anybody anything. Then she said, “I’m coming, baby,” and proceeded to stroll over to a classic-looking black convertible and get in. She slammed the heavy door and, after settling in her seat, pulled out a file and began to shape her fingernails.

“I guess that’s your cue to leave.” Tripp draped his arm over my shoulders.

Gregorio scowled at him, which complemented his overall look, then turned back to me. “Penelope, I can’t wait to hear all about the escapade.” He paused and pinned Trip with a pointed glare. “When I see you.” A feral grin spread over his face. “Tomorrow.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss across my cheek before striding to Billy’s car.

“There was no need to be rude.” I shrugged Tripp’s arm off my shoulder after Gregorio pulled away. Why didn’t he just pee on me and be done with it?

“That’s a mid-1950s Buick Skylark,” he said almost to himself. “As if I didn’t need another reason to hate the guy.” He ignored my comment. “What’s your deal with him? He was way too familiar to be ‘just a friend.’”

I tried to sound casual. “We dated. Just a couple of times.”

“Who ended it?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I did. Having a real relationship was not exactly compatible with whatever we have going on here. I thought about how I’d feel if you were dating someone.” I shrugged. “I didn’t like the feeling, so I told Gregorio we should just be friends.”

Tripp’s body relaxed. “He doesn’t look much like a shopkeeper. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Technically, he’s not. His late uncle ran the shop. Gregorio’s in construction and he’s been remodeling the place. The older woman, Cora, is thinking about renting. He showed her the apartment this evening. I guess they weren’t finished.

Tripp was silent for a moment. “You’re right. I don’t like the feeling either.” He reclaimed the hand. “Let’s get to the library.”

We reached the library in another short block, then climbed fifteen marble steps to a pair of grand oak doors. “Not very handicap compliant, is it,” I joked.

“Why would it matter? Neither of our characters is disabled.” Tripp’s tone was flat. I wondered if he was still grumpy about my past relationship with Gregorio.

“It was just an observation. It’s not integral to the plot. Besides, I don’t think the laws were as strict in the era this story takes place, and certainly not in whatever year this monstrosity was fictionally built.”

“Disabled people rarely showed up in books unless the book was about being disabled.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you, and I don’t know that now is the time to have a philosophical discussion about it,” I said carefully, not understanding Tripp’s weird mood. He was acting like a tired child. I wondered idly, since I was still asleep in my bed, if I’d wake up when I returned this time. Would I remember my time here, or forget it like a dream? More notes for Bobbie’s book.

Tripp grunted, but seemed to throw off his bad mood like a coat. He yanked open the heavy door and ushered me inside.

The smell of old books hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold. It reminded me of my shop, but with fewer dusty overtones. The lobby was dark, and oppressively oak. In fact, all walls, molding, and doorways were made out of the dark-stained wood. The ceiling, high above us, was a light plaster of some sort. From it hung an ornate brass chandelier that cast everything in a slightly yellowish hue. The dark walls absorbed most of the overhead light, requiring several floor lamps to be placed throughout next to equally dark leather club chairs.

To my right, a wide hallway led to a lighter space, and I could see short bookshelves and tiny chairs. To my left was an identical hallway that led to a large room full of work tables. As my eyes adjusted, I realized the lobby walls were not plain wood, but column upon column of tiny drawers. A real, honest-to-goodness card catalog. Dewey decimal, don’t fail me now.

Our feet echoed as we crossed the marble tile to the built-in circulation counter. Several women, stereotypically all wearing glasses and buns, were behind the oak counter sorting books or stamping cards. Occasionally, one would disappear into the tall shelves behind the desk, where I assumed special volumes were housed. The women moved on silent feet. After Tripp and I stopped, the only sounds were the slaps and slides of books being stacked and the thump of the rubber stamp.

“Excuse me,” my voice thundered. Not really, but it sounded really, really loud.

“May I help you?” the bespectacled woman in the gray cardigan asked.

“Yes, please. May we look at your microfiche?”

She looked at me over the top of her rims. “What year and month?”

“Um…” I did rapid subtraction in my head. “1933, September through November.”

“The local Chronicle or the Times?” The librarian character lacked depth. She neither smiled nor judged us. She was perfunctory.

“Definitely the Chronicle.”

“One moment please.” She jotted my request down on a scrap of paper and retreated to the back. She returned an impossibly short time later with three small yellow envelopes. “The reader is through there.” She gestured toward the room with the tables. “Make sure your hands are clean. Return them to me when you’ve finished.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered automatically. We left the desk, but Tripp turned back.

“May I borrow a sheet of paper and a pencil?” He turned on the charm. I should have told him to save his breath. She wasn’t scripted to have depth.

Pu-lease. The woman actually blushed as she handed over the requested items. Tripp charmed personality out of a scene extra. “Thank you, Miss Hatcher,” Tripp said, glancing at her name tag. “I’ll be sure to return the pencil when we bring back the films.” He caught back up to me. “We might need to write down what we find out,” he explained.

“I should have my notebook in my purse. You can’t take it back with you, you know.”

“I know, but writing stuff down helps me remember it. I was serious about actually trying to solve this thing.”

I smiled at him, relieved he’d pulled out of his funk. “Great! Now, do you know how to work this thing?” We’d reached the only high-tech piece of equipment in the room. And by high-tech, I really meant the only thing not made out of wood or marble. It still qualified as a dinosaur.

“I think it’s pretty straight-forward. Slide the film in here and flip the switch there on the side.”

I did so and the screen lit up. I placed the first film on the tray and slid it into the machine. A bunch of tiny squares appeared. Tripp adjusted the knobs on the side and the squares became big and blurry. After a few more turns, I could make out the headlines. “Hold it there. Let me see if the headlines tell us anything before I try to comb through individual pages.”

“If you’re all set here, I’m going to go ask where they keep old yearbooks.” He jabbed his thumb back at the circulation desk.

“Good idea. Just go easy on the charm. You don’t want to give anyone heart palpitations.”

Tripp gave me a mock salute before turning on his heel and heading back to the lobby.

I refocused on my task. There had to be a clue here, because this is where Beth had been heading. I hoped it would be obvious that I was on the right track. How embarrassing would it be for a couple of twenty-somethings to not be able to solve a pre-teen simple mystery? Not finding anything in the September edition, I replaced the film with the October slide. I scanned the headlines. Pay dirt. Class of 1933 Prepares Time Capsule. I enlarged the page so I could read the article.