Page 35 of The Reason I Married Him
“Yup. He took my grandma to Vermont one year for their anniversary, and they fell in love with the town of Stowe. So he modeled his town off Stowe in the fall. It was really beautiful. I occasionally helped him work on the town. I think it’s been taken down since he’s passed, but we have many pictures of it.”
“Can I see?” he asks, his eyes looking like they’re going to pop out of his head out of pure excitement.
“I don’t have any on me at the moment. I can dig them up on my drive on my computer, though.”
“Where do you live? I’ll go with you.”
Oh boy.
I chuckle. “Well, I’m visiting at the moment, and I have to hit up the general store for some supplies, but I’m guessing you have something to do with that model train museum over there?” I thumb across the street where a tiny shop is squeezed between two large ones. It’s not as pristine as the other businesses surrounding it, but it seems like it meets the town’s standards, which I’m sure is good enough for him.
“Yes, I’m Rodney.”
“Rodney,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m Wyatt. It’s so nice to meet you. How about I stop by tomorrow or the next day with those pictures? You can show me around your store. Does that work?”
He nods. “Yes, that will do.”
“Great, I’ll see you . . .” He walks away before I can finish talking.
Okay, I guess that’s it.
I head toward the general store when someone says, “William. William.”
I turn around to see Rodney holding his hand up, trying to get my attention. I walk back toward him. “It’s Wyatt, actually.”
He dismissively waves his hand. “I’m leaving for a convention this weekend. So you’ll have to come to the museum on Monday.”
“Okay, I can do that. Are you going to a train convention?”
He nods. “With my good friend, Parson. Would you like to come?”
“Oh, I would, but I have some things to take care of here.”Also, I don’t know you, man. You look like a cute old grandpa, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have skeletons buried in your backyard from people you’ve killed over the years.
“Shame. I’ll grab you a hat.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.
Huh . . . okay. I mean, I’ll wear the hat. Not to mention, thanks for the book inspiration, man. There will definitely be a creepy old train man in my next book. Maybe make him seem like the murderer when it’s his arthritis making him a cranky old coot.
I make a mental note to stop by the railroad museum on Monday and then head toward the edge of town to the general store.
Almond Bay really has it all. Tourist shops like The Almond Store, Almond Outpost, and Ambrosial, which is a soap place. Then there are plenty of places to choose from to eat, like Provisions, The Cliffs, By the Slice—my favorite—a Cantina on the other side of town, and The Hot Pickle, which serves sandwiches. They top it off with The Sweet Lab and Sozzled Saloon for any nightcaps. Seriously, whoever planned this town had everything in mind.
I cross the street and pass by Pieces and Pages. I consider going inside for a moment but then think better of it. I reallyneed some ibuprofen and hopefully Icy Hot if they have it. Not to mention, I’ll need some food as well.
The general store has this Pacific Northwest feel with the gooseneck lights and weathered roof shingles that add to the ambiance rather than make it seem unkempt. I open the front door and smile when the bell rings above me.
Immediately, I’m transported to the general store inGilmore Girls, which is organized and quaint with everything you might need. The wooden plank floors look like they were stripped from an old barn, while the shelves are fully stocked, nicely labeled, and organized in a way that makes sense but also seems slightly chaotic.
I grab a green basket from the stack near the door and head straight for the medicine section, but it’s so small I’m actually disappointed. What the hell?
“Looking for something?” a familiar voice says.
I look to my right, where Hayes stands with a jar of pickles. “Oh hey, man,” I say. “Uh, yeah, I was looking for some ibuprofen and possibly Icy Hot.”
“You’ll want to check out the pharmacy for anything medical.”
“Oh shit, I didn’t even think about that.”
“Small-town living,” he says. “Every business in town has a claim on a specific market. Abel, the doctor in town and a good friend, opened a pharmacy next to his practice, selling everything you might need regarding pain and illness. Coleman’s barely carries anything, and I think what you’re looking at there is what they have left in stock, and fuck knows how old it is.”
