Across Time Part 2

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Wendy's, maybe. Maybe I'll get a job and find a place of my own."

"No college? Mom and Dad think you're going to college."

Jessie shook her head. "I know it's what the folks want, but I doubt it's going to happen. It's just not in the cards for me."

Daniel kept staring outside. A young couple jogged by as the street slowly came to life. There still was no sun, but the mist or fog or whatever it was that lingered like a lost ghost in the early morning air was finally dissipating.

The baker came over bearing two steaming cinnamon rolls the size of small pizzas and a large, welcoming smile. "You want to know what's in the cards, young lady, you oughtta go see Madame Ceara. She's one of the best in the country."

Jessie grinned back politely, but said nothing.

"Here you go," the baker said, setting the rolls down and retrieving the coffee and milk. "Free refills on your coffee."

Jessie looked up at him. "You're kidding." Nothing in California was free.

The rotund man with the flour on his cheeks nodded. "You must be from California. They all say the same thing when they come in here."

Daniel turned and nodded, staring down at the enormous cinnamon roll. "Cool. And you don't have to pump your own gas, either."

"You're right. Add to those two things my cinnamon rolls, and you'll know why some folks never leave."

Daniel took a bite and nodded, his eyes wide with joy. "You're not kidding."

"You tourists or new to town?"

"New to town," Jessie answered sipping her coffee. It was the best coffee she'd ever had. "We just moved into the inn up on Morning Glory Drive."

"The old Laing place? Then you must be the Fergusons."

"We are!" Daniel cried. "I'm Daniel, and this is my sister, Jessie."

14 *15.

"Nice meetin' you both. I'm Delmar, but folks 'round here call me Del. I own this place. You know, we were all wondering who had bought the inn. It's a beautiful place. I hear your folks are renovating the rest of it."

Jessie nodded. "They're finis.h.i.+ng what the Laings started and are turning it into a bed-and-breakfast."

"Excellent. The only other Victorian B and B we have is the bed- and-breakfast over on Cliff Drive, and it's full all year long."

"How long have you been in business here, Del?"

"This'll be my twenty-second year. You want to know something about anything, you ask me. You want to know something about everything, you ask Madame Ceara. Either way, one or both of us should be able to answer your questions. The two of us are the oldies in town. Well, you two be sure'n tell your folks about my coffee and cinnamon rolls. They'd make a great addition to any breakfast they might be thinking of serving up on the hill."

Jessie nodded. "We'll do that."

After Del returned to his work, Jessie and Daniel ate in silence, both gazing out the window at the people walking along the quiet Main Street. It was so very different than Market Street in San Francisco, where people hustled and bustled like they were always running late.

Here, time seemed to stand still.

Finally seeing a group of boys Daniel's age, Jessie motioned with her chin for him to turn and look behind him. Outside, five boys in jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts were carrying nets and fis.h.i.+ng poles and heading toward the marina. "There you go, sport."

Daniel looked over his shoulder before turning to her and wrinkling his nose. "They're going fis.h.i.+ng."

"So?"

"I hate fis.h.i.+ng."

Jessie smiled at the memory of the one and only fis.h.i.+ng trip Rick had ever taken them on. Daniel had been mortified that fish were tortured in such an inhumane manner.

"Look. They're not really going fis.h.i.+ng any more than I really went to the library all those times I told Mom and Dad I had a study *

16 *17.

group."

"Really?"

"Really. They're just going to go mess around. Go on and ask them if they'll show you some of the cool fis.h.i.+ng spots in town. I'll bet they'd dig that."

Daniel looked unsure. "I don't know . . . there's lots of work Mom is gonna want us to do back at the inn, and-"

"And that dumb inn isn't going anywhere. Go on now and make some friends. It's what Mom and Dad would want you to do."

"You sure?"

Watching Daniel open the door, hesitate, and then jog over to the group of boys, Jessie felt a pang of sadness and envy. She was sad that she hadn't realized how much the move had affected her little brother, and she was slightly envious at how easily boys were able to instantly bond. It did her heart good to see him making friends, and no matter what her parents said, she felt that letting him take the day off to play was far healthier than working him to death in a stuffy old Victorian.

Pulling her leather-bound journal out, Jessie looked up one last time to see Daniel running onto the marina with five other laughing boys. Yes, Daniel would be all right. Daniel had always been all right.

When his blond hair disappeared, Jessie uncapped her fountain pen and began writing.

Every morning, I wake up, surprised and disappointed to find I am still here. Daniel thinks the house is haunted, and I have to admit, this old place groans and moans worse than an old woman. We're almost done with the room preps on 2 to get them ready for painting, but my G.o.d, there is so much work to do. I am in h.e.l.l. I can't wait to have the gang up here. Maybe together we'll be able to see if there's anything worth seeing in this town. I bought a phone card yesterday and used the whole 60 minutes talking to Wendy. Her world now seems so far from mine-like time has stopped for me. I can see how distance makes one distant. I didn't really care who Bailey was dating or that the twins got busted for spraying graffiti. Suddenly, that all seems so . . . useless and dumb. I guess I wanted Wendy to understand my pain, to take more of an interest in what I'm feeling, but she seemed so uninterested. I'm sure I bored her to tears with tales of the inn, but they're *

16 *17.

all I have. G.o.d, isn't that pathetic? If it weren't for Daniel, I'd have taken the bus home, but I don't have the heart to leave him alone on the hill . . .

not yet. Maybe when he gets more settled. Maybe when " Excuse me, got a smoke?"

Jessie glanced up from her journal, surprised. "What?"

"Cigarettes. Do you have any I can b.u.m?" A boy leaned over the chair in the booth. The pierced eyebrow, dyed black hair that hung to his shoulders, a tattered leather jacket, and several silver bracelets screamed city dweller.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Reaching into her purse, Jessie took her pack out and handed it to the kid. He looked her age at first glance, but he could have been older. It was hard to tell with these Oregon kids. They were so different from the kids she'd known.

Taking a cigarette out, he handed the pack back to her. To her surprise, Jessie waved it off. "Keep 'em." She hadn't smoked since they'd left for Oregon, and she figured now was as good a time as any to quit. It was an expensive and stupid habit she'd picked up in a moment of immature rebellion.

"Nasty habit," the boy said, sticking the cigarette behind his ear.

Jessie shrugged. "It used to work for me. Guess I'm over it."

"Good for you." The boy stuck his hand in Jessie's direction. "I'm Tanner. Tanner Dodds."

"Jessie Ferguson."

"Your parents bought the Money Pit Inn." It wasn't a question.

"G.o.d, does everyone know everyone's business in this place?"

"Almost. Gossip is our main course here. Without it, we would wither and die, right Delmar?"

Del shook his head. "Don't go getting that girl into trouble just yet, Tanner. Try to behave yourself this once."

Tanner laughed good-naturedly and Jessie instantly liked him "So, Jessie Ferguson, Mistress of the Great Money Pit, what are you writing?"

A slight blush crawled up Jessie's face and landed on her cheeks as she closed her journal. "Just some thoughts, that's all."

"I've had those on occasion. Nastier habit than smoking." Tanner *

18 *19.

slid the cigarette from his ear and motioned to her empty mug. "Grab a refill and keep me company while I slowly kill myself. Delmar never lets me smoke in here."

"Ya shouldn't be smoking at all, Tanner," Del returned, not unkindly. "And the refill is for the young lady, Tanner, not you."

"d.a.m.n it, Delmar, I hate it when you're on to me."

"Which is always."

Tossing a dollar on Jessie's table, Tanner started out the door.

"What's that for?" Jessie asked.

"For the coffee refill I'm going to drink. Just black, if you don't mind."

As Delmar refilled her cup, he nodded toward Tanner. "Be careful of that one, Jessie. He breaks all kinds of laws . . . and hearts."

Outside, Tanner held up the cup to salute Del before taking a sip.

"Delmar's not so bad for an old coot. He means well. Most of the other townies don't even let me in their shops."

"Why not?"

Tanner flicked a lighter and lit his cigarette. "Look at me. They think I look like a shoplifter, a teen thug, your mama's worst nightmare."

Jessie watched him inhale a lungful of smoke before asking, "Are you?"

Tanner grinned. He had perfect teeth and one small dimple on his right cheek. "I could be, I suppose."

"That didn't answer the question."

Tanner studied Jessie before shaking his head. "I have a bad, yet undeserved reputation. It's the black leather jacket." Tanner inhaled again and blew his smoke away from Jessie. "But no, I'm not a thief. I like my freedom too much to risk doing something stupid like stealing something I can afford to buy."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Here, here, as in New Haven? Nope. I was born in Portland and my parents moved down here when my Dad's trust fund kicked in.

There are b.u.t.t loads of trust funders here on the coast."

"Really?"

"Sure. Money goes further here than in California or Portland or *

18 *19.

Seattle." Tanner drew a long drag off his cigarette. "So, Jessie Ferguson, enough about me. I'm boring. What's your story? Your parents trust funders who decided to drop their wad in The Pit?"

Jessie shook her head. "Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid. My parents had a dream of running a Victorian bed-and-breakfast while simultaneously saving their two children from the ravages of the Bay Area. In a nutsh.e.l.l."

Tanner studied her through the smoke he blew out. "Tough nut."

Jessie sighed and ran her hand through her bangs. "It feels like it sometimes. My folks think California has gotten mean and compet.i.tive, so they cashed in and dragged us up here."

"Kicking and screaming?"

Jessie sighed. It wouldn't do for her to trash this kid's home turf.

"Sort of. It's very . . . different up here."

"That's an understatement and a half. Oregon is about ten years behind the times in education, fas.h.i.+on, music and culture. You must be in shock."

Jessie shrugged. "I don't have time to be in shock. My parents are trying to get the inn ready to open before winter."

"Slave labor?"

Jessie laughed. "Ab-so-lute-ly."

"So, was that your little bro' going off with Chris and them?"

Jessie nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Tanner studied the lit end of the cigarette with eyes the color of caramel. "I'm not the poster child for well-behaved guys, but Chris is bad news. I'd keep an eye out on him."

Jessie straightened up. "Bad news, how?"