Going down in the elevator, she turned to meet his gaze then looked away, then back. “I'm jealous,” she said with a put on display of anger.
He saw through it, as he was intended to do and kidded her. “I thought you were sleeping last night when I sneaked down to the lounge.”
“No, I mean about your psychic experience. I've been interested in psychic phenomena most of my life but I've never had a psychic experience. I feel deprived.”
“You wouldn't feel deprived if you went through what I did last night. Anyway, you did have one didn't you? She looked puzzled.”If you're with someone who is having a psychic experience then aren't you having one too? And anyway, wasn't your dream a psychic experience?”
“Yeah, I guess you're right.”
They reached the lobby and the door opened. “I've been wanting to ask you. You said you did CPR last night when you thought I was dead.” She nodded. “Did that include mouth-to-mouth? He gave a smile then looked like he wished that he hadn't made such a high-school level remark.
She put her hands on her hips. More put-on disapproval. “You'll never know,” she scolded, then gave him an affectionate hit on the arm.”Let's go,” she said, then stopped, emboldened by his question, turned to him, put her hands on his shoulders, drew him close and kissed him. She moved back, left her arms on his shoulders, her hands clasped behind his neck. They looked into each others eyes for meaning, intent, feeling.
“Did that seem familiar like anything you remember from last night?” she said.
“Maybe,” he said with a wink, then put his arms around her, took a last look to see if anyone else was in the hallway and then held her in an intense kiss that was interrupted by the sound of another elevator arriving.
CHAPTER 12
They left the hotel, drove back to town and looked around for a realtor, having decided that would be the place to get information about a town. After about an hour of driving, Lynn said, “Isn't this the way it always is? When you're not looking for something there's always one on every corner, but if you are looking for something, there never will be any. I'll see what information I can get on my phone.
“There aren't any,” Frank said in an absent-minded tone. In answer to her inquisitive look, he explained. “The thought just came into my mind. I don't know why but I just know. That feeling again. Think I'm psychic?”
“Depends on whether we find a realtor or not,”Lynn said, still looking around. “But seriously, are you sure? No realtors? There's always realtors.”
They both searched as they rode. No realtors, and no realtor signs on the lawns. “This is weird,” she said. We had to go all the way back to the highway to find a place to stay too didn't we?”
“That's because there aren't any motels or hotels here either.”
“No motels...no realtors. What else isn't there in this town?” Lynn left her expression blank a slate to be filled with his answer.
“No poverty, no property taxes, no medical bills, no crime and no pollution.”
Lynn was silent, then challenged, “Then why have I never heard of this town? You're talking about paradise. Are you sure?
“I just feel it. It just feels like I know it. I don't know how. It's like having a vague pain and not being able to pin down where it's coming from.” He thought, then came up with another analogy. “It's like knowing how to breath. Where do we learn that? We just know how.” He shrugged, shook his head, then continued. “It's like I'm having feelings about this town as if I know it well. And there's this vague feeling of satisfaction along with the knowledge. Like something you planned and worked on for a long time has turned out right, but I can't imagine what that is.” He glanced at Lynn. “You know that I've never been here before and I certainly didn't make any plans until recently concerning this town. I have trouble as it is deciding what to do from day to day.” Lynn nodded encouraging him to continue. “But as we drive, I have this weird feeling of being pleased as I look at things in this town and I'll be damned if I know why.” He bit on his lower lip, trying to come up with some explanation about why he had that feeling.
They spent hours driving, refueled at a service station where the fuel was at least 25% cheaper than in Boston. They sustained themselves with hot dogs and cheese sandwiches heated in the service station microwave.
They drove around all that morning seeing neat houses, prosperous shops, new cars, parks with tennis courts, pools, extensive playground equipment that they never even imagined existed, picnic areas, well-maintained bandstands, elaborate-gardens, happy-faces everywhere. An endless display of affluence.
Around noon at what appeared to be one of the main intersections in town they stopped at a topiary garden occupying at least ten acres stretching back from the s street. It was full of trees and shrubs cut in fantastic shapes and also in the more common topiary subjects-animals and birds.
“Amazing,” Lynn said. “This is something you'd expect to see at Versailles.”
They got out in the parking area and took a walk through the garden, entering through a stone arch, a masterpiece of a stone worker's craft. A keystone was lettered 1967.
They walked down into a lower area, through a gigantic chess board. The squares of the board were two different shades of grass, and the chess pieces two different shades of evergreen shrubs, one set of chess men dark green, the other light green, a giant's game frozen in time, the light green bishop attacking the dark king across a long diagonal.
They walked up out of the chess board into another area of sculpted trees, bordered by a stream. One large willow tree was sculpted into an animal drinking out of the water. Frank and Lynn noticed a bit farther down the stream a gardener trimming a tree into a shape that was not yet apparent. A bucket lift truck was parked nearby, with the bucket extended up to the top of the tree.
They walked closer and when they were about twenty yards away, Frank applauded and Lynn joined in.
“Bravo!” cheered Frank. “Amazing work. All yours?”
“Yes. And my staff.” the gardener replied. “My pride and joy.” Then a quizzical look crossed his face and he said, “You're new around here aren't you? I don't recall seeing you before.”
Frank said, “Just passing through and we saw this beautiful garden and decided to have a look at it.”
“Is this your hobby?” said Lynn.
The gardener laughed, then said, “It's my job...and my hobby I guess you could say. I like to claim that I don't get paid for my job but they give me 125,000 a year just out of appreciation.” He laughed again at his humor.
Lynn gave a look of surprise that wouldn't have been any more pronounced if she had just seen a topiary animal come to life. “125,000,” she exclaimed. “You must be some kind of international expert!”
Naw, if I were an expert they'd probably pay me twice as much. Maybe I'll take a course someday and actually learn something about it.” Once again a hearty laugh. “Why'd you say you were here?” said the gardener
Frank felt comfortable with the man now and spoke without thinking. “I'm interested in finding out about a man that used to be a big businessman around here,” Frank said. “Lawrence Lowell. Heard of him?”
Frank expected the usual good-natured banter he had received from the gardener so far. Instead the gardener gave him a look which would have been appropriate if Frank had just said that the gardener's topiary looked amateurish. The gardener turned away and went back to trimming. After seeing the look on the face of the gardener and because the gardener had a long pair of shears, Frank took hold of Lynn's hand and they hurried back to the car.
“I guess I said something wrong,” Frank said as they drove again.
“He definitely wasn't interested in talking about Lawrence Lowell,”said Lynn.
They did more exploring and were amazed at the prosperity. Later, back on Main Street, people were out in a park strolling, sitting on benches, or continuing a picnic into the early evening. Frank and Lynn pulled over and watched. Children
, seemingly unattended, played on swings and slides. A huge construction in the shape of a pirate ship was at one end of the park. Children walked across trembling wood plank walkways and swung on ropes hanging down to the ground from masts. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry to abandon the park as night settled in. If anything, the people seemed to grow even more relaxed than people were during the day in big cities or even small town parks elsewhere. Why weren't they concerned with criminals, druggies, derelicts who took over parks and streets at night in other places?
“Ever read or see 'The Stepford Wives?” Frank said.
“I know what you mean. This place is unreal. Did their clocks stop in 1955 or something? It's like something out of 'Happy Days'. You know, that T.V. Show?”
An old man and woman, arm-in-arm walked along the sidewalk. They were well dressed. As they neared their car, they seemed to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to Frank and Lynn and they stopped right in front of the car, not trying in the least bit to act subtle. They examined the license plate, stared in at the occupants, then continued on. No smile, no greeting, just a look that could only be described as concern or caution. They sped up a bit after a good stare and hurried off.
Frank and Lynn had 'Do you believe that?' looks on their faces. Lynn shrugged her shoulders and gave an uncertain smile. She looked out the back window. The old people hurried away glancing back from time to time.
“They must have moved here from New York City,” Lynn joked.
“Let's explore Stepford a little more,” Frank Said.
As they drove off Lynn saw the old couple walk onto the playground to talk to a younger couple. The four people watched Frank and Lynn drive away.
Frank and Lynn took a left after seeing a sign that said 'Water Park.'
“Wanna take a look?”
Frank agreed and they drove down the road until after about a half mile they came to what Frank imagined it would be, but much more. A brightly-lit parking area was surrounded by brightly lit entertainment areas with water slides. Colored fountains shooting high into the air, and a huge wave pool where they could see a few surfers riding the artificial waves. The air was a bit cool but the surfers and water slide riders looked comfortable. No wet suit tops on the surfers.
“Maybe it's heated,” said Lynn.
There was a trail that led off from the parking lot over a wooden bridge into an oriental garden with a gazebo-like structure which a few people lounged around.
Off to the left of the parking area was a large pond with a sandy beach. A young, couple holding hands walked back to their car. Frank and Lynn could barely make out the shapes of a few row boats and the white sails of a lone sailboat on the pond. A light mist hung over the surface of the water.
“I wouldn't be surprised if that's heated too, considering what we've seen so far.”
An ice cream truck was stopped in the middle of the parking lot and there was a crowd around it.
“Feel like having an ice cream?” Frank said.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
They waited their turn behind a family and then Frank ordered two ice cream sandwiches. The man handed them to Frank, said “Enjoy,” and went back to his work.
Frank waited a moment then said, “How much?”
The man just said, “Oh,” as he realized that Frank and Lynn were not from Southford. “No charge. Don't worry about it.”
Frank was bewildered. He walked away then turned and said loud enough so the man could hear him, “Thanks.” He looked at Lynn and they exchanged silent expressions of disbelief.
When they were farther away from the ice cream truck, Lynn said, “How does he make any money?”
“I can't imagine. He must get paid by some one.”
They went back to the car to see what else Southford had to offer. “Maybe I should see what else is free around here,” Frank said. “Maybe I could pick up a new car before heading back.” Then he looked down at the instrument panel and said to the car, “Sorry...I'm not serious. Don't break down on us now, okay?”
After driving around and exploring for another fifteen minutes or so, Frank looked in the rear view mirror to identify the source of a bright flashing light. “Back to reality,” he said
Lynn turned around and saw the flashing light was from a police car. “Better slow down and pull over,” she advised. “Maybe he just wants to get by. We weren't doing anything were we?”
“Some tail light is out or something,” said Frank as he slowed down. The flashing light remained in the rear view mirror so he stopped.
“Well, at least maybe we can find out where to get some information,” said Lynn, watching the policeman get out and walk toward their car. Frank just looked forward, a disgusted look on his face.
Lynn whispered, “I think there's a dashboard camera going in the police car. I can see a little flashing light on it.” The policeman approached now so Lynn quickly added. “Watch what you say.”
The policeman walked to Frank's side of the car. He stood there, in a perfectly tailored uniform. The badge reflected the light from a street light. It appeared to be made of gold or was gold plated and his belt buckle had a matching brilliance.
“May I see your license and registration, Sir?”
“What's wrong,” said Frank.
“Nothing Sir.”
“Nothing?”
“Right Sir. Your license and registration please.”
“Then why did you stop us?” said Frank.
“Security Prerogative.”
“Security prerogative? What's that?”
“Town security code, paragraph 503. An officer may at his discretion stop and interview anyone he feels may be in town for any reason that may be detrimental to the town's security.”
“Yeah, but isn't that unconstitutional?”
No comment from the officer. He examined the license and registration, then picked up the radio from his belt and read some information from Frank's documents into it. Frank assumed it must also be a recording device.
“Do you have a residence here? Relatives?”
“No.”
“Have you been invited here for any reason?”
“No,” replied Frank with a smirk on his face.
The officer, expressionless, said, “And you say there is no reason for stopping you. Why are you here?”
“This line of questioning was beginning to rattle Frank. “I...I'm tracing my roots. I have reason to believe that one of my relations used to live here. I just--”
The officer interrupted. “You want the information center. You must have seen the information center, across from the sign at the entrance to town.”
“Oh,” said Frank glancing at Lynn and looking skyward, then back at the officer. ”You mean the 'Welcome' sign?” he said the word welcome in a sarcastic tone.
“Yes, Sir. If you have legitimate business in town, you should go there. If not then please respect the law abiding citizens of this town by continuing on. They will accept no criminal activity here. It isn't tolerated here like it is in other places. We won't permit the...” He paused, catching himself from saying more, then continued. “The information center is available to you, your source of information on Southford, otherwise continue out of town. Good Day.” He walked back to his car. Lynn and Frank sat speechless. She watched the officer get back into his car and saw him checking the camera, apparently making sure it had recorded the exchange.
“This place is weird,” said Frank. “Let's go back to the motel and talk this over. Maybe we can get information about the town from the outside. I mean if that information center is anything like that cop, I don't want any part of it. It's probably closed anyway by now.'
I'll go in,” said Lynn “Let me go in okay? We should at least try. It might be easier. Maybe that cop was just a jerk. If we reported him he'd probably be in trouble for stopping us for nothing and acting like Gestapo.”
Frank thought for a moment then started the car and headed back to the sign a
nd the information center. “Yeah, the sign does say welcome. So they damn well better welcome us! The cop must have had a bad day. Or maybe he was nuts. They'll give a gun to anyone.” Frank wondered what else weird might await them in Southford.
CHAPTER 13
On the way to the welcome center, Lynn grabbed Frank's arm and yelled so that Frank almost lost control. “Hey! Wait! Stop! I just saw something down that side road. Something...and someone on a bridge in the light of a streetlight, and if I saw what I think I saw...”
“What? You mean that graffiti? I couldn't quite make it out since I 'm driving. I only got a glance at it.”
“Yes. Come on.” She looked back behind to check traffic as if she were the one doing the driving. “It's big white letters. Let's go! It looks like someone's actually dissatisfied with this town? Maybe we can get some information.”
Frank made a quick one-eighty and headed back to the road. “What did it say?” he said.
“I don't want to ruin the surprise.”
Frank turned onto the road. They were both silent at what they were seeing. As they neared the bridge, Lynn said, “There he is!”
The graffiti artist, an old man, had just leaned back over the bridge, after putting the finishing touches to his lettering, an 'E' and a period that completed the phrase...or question. 'Lawrence Lowell Memorial??? Bridge. He stopped when he heard the car coming and stood at the edge of the bridge looking down to see what the car would do. Frank stopped and got out. The man, who may have seen the out-of-state license plate, hurried along the railroad line.
“Wait! Hold it!” Frank yelled, grappling his way up the slope to the rail bridge.”I just want to ask some questions. I need some information.”
A look of fear appeared on the man's face. He dropped his spray can and hurried faster. Frank knew he hadn't said the right thing.
“I'm not from here,” Frank added. ”Who is Lawrence Lowell?”
The Ice House Page 7
