Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [15]
At the end of the next block was the Ponderosa Lodge Best Western. He glanced at the name of the hotel on his itinerary. Yep. The Ponderosa would be home for the next two weeks.
Across the street stood the hardware store. He pulled into the parking lot on the side of the building and sat in his car, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. One minute. Two. Probably the place where his journey would end before it started.
Jessie loved her dreams and visions. About God, about life, about all things spiritual.
Maybe the book was just another one of her fantasies.
Maybe his dad's words were the final ramblings of a mind shutting down forever.
Only one way to discover the truth. Start asking questions.
Lots of questions.
As he stepped through the door of Dream It, Do It Hardware, chimes announced his arrival. He scanned the store. No customers. To his right a small fan pushed a faint smell of sawdust and grease into his nostrils.
"How can I be of help to you today?" said a man with thinning, dirty-blond hair. He sat behind a low counter on a tall maple stool and pecked at a computer keyboard with his forefingers. He wore a rumpled blue polo shirt with a Benjamin Moore logo and khaki shorts. Cameron guessed the man was in his late fifties, early sixties.
He eased toward the man. "I'm looking for Mayor Kirk Gillum."
"Mind if I tell him who it 'tiz that's searching for him?" The man stepped out from behind the counter, his eyes narrow.
"My name's Cameron Vaux, I'm—"
"Right, we met on the phone. I'm Kirk." He folded his arms across his chest. "You don't look like you sound on the phone, Mr. Vaux. You've got one of those deep radio voices, so I thought you'd be six foot ten or something. Of course, I probably don't look like I sound either. People rarely do." He unfolded his arms and gave Cameron a weak handshake. "I suppose I should offer you a drink."
Kirk moved back around the counter and opened a small refrigerator. "I've got Diet Mountain Dew; that's about it."
"Mountain Dew is fine."
He tossed a can to Cameron who snagged it with one hand.
Kirk stepped back to the counter and leaned forward on his elbows. "You mentioned you're a videographer, right? Will you be doing any filming while you're down here?"
"Probably not."
"Too bad. It would be a real treat to have someone make a documentary about our town," Kirk said.
"Treat?"
"The wonderful things about a small town outweigh the downsides, without question, but one of those downsides is wheelbarrows full of monotony. Three Peaks is great for tourists, but sometimes we locals like a little shot of excitement. Having a film crew here would be kinda fun."
Cameron took a swig of Mountain Dew. "Sorry to disappoint you, but maybe someday."
"No problem. So you want some history on Three Peaks, huh?"
Kirk didn't wait for Cameron to answer. "Like I said when you called from Seattle, I'm not much of a historian, but a few folks around here can tell you everything, from the highest and lowest temperatures for the past fifty years to who won the Doggie Dash ten summers back. I've already told them you'd be coming."
Kirk yanked a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Cameron. On it were three names with addresses and phone numbers.
"They're looking forward to meeting you. First is Arnold Peasley. He's a little off center—most folks around here would say he's certifiably peculiar—but he knows his history like I know nuts and bolts.
"Next is Laura Moon. She was the mayor here before me and owns the crystals store in town. She runs the local theater and writes her own plays sometimes. Her plays are about as exciting as bird-watching, but we like her too much to complain."
"I know some people who really enjoy birding."
"Sorry to hear that." Kirk almost smiled. "Just kidding."
He tapped the next name on the list. "Then we've got Susan Hillman, the best of the bunch. She works at the library, so she can point you to the history books. She's a rock, solid