Romance in a Ghost Town

by Robert P McAuley

  Edward reached over and they shook hands. “Deal! Will you be wanting to go out again tomorrow?”

  “No. First thing I want to do is buy the place and then fly back to New York and settle some things. I hope to be back here in a few months then I’ll be needing an SUV, some clothes and will want to take another trip out. I’m sure the GPS coordinates comes with the land.”

  They both laughed and ordered another beer.

  5

  The Purchase

  Early the next morning Bob woke and realized that he had been so tired that he didn’t remember having his ‘dream’. He dressed, ate a light breakfast in the hotel and a little after nine, entered the Bensen Real Estate office. Finding himself as the only person there beside a woman typing on her laptop, he took a seat, picked up the Bransville Speaker and went to the sports section.

  Fifteen minutes later Jim entered and flew right past him as he shouted out, “Good morning, Debbie.” He opened his office door and turned momentarily to say something to the woman when he noticed Bob sitting there. He almost tripped running over to him while talking fast.

  “Bob? Bob, what-what’s up? How come you’re not out with Edward?” his face suddenly got dark as he went on, “Did he stand you up? I’ll chew him out the minute I see him. Come on in and have some coff…”

  “Jim, no, I told him I wouldn’t be going out there today.”

  Jim shook his head and asked with an audible sigh, “What went wrong? Did you fall on one of those stupid sidewalks? Or those friggen snakes, hey man, they have companies that get rid of those things.”

  “Hey, Jim, whoa! Nothing like that at all. I just wanted to talk price with you, that’s all.”

  Jim’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung down for a moment as he tried to rethink his situation. “Did-did I mention a price yet?”

  “Actually, yes. You said one point-five million.”

  “And-well what do you think of that? I mean we can talk. It’s just that it’s been in my family for so long that it’s like a part of us, know what I mean, partner?”

  “One point-four.”

  “Sold,” said Jim as he offered his hand. They shook and Jim tried not to make it look as though he was in a hurry as he took out the paperwork. He hesitated a moment and said, “Uh, Bob, there’s something that I forgot to tell you: there are taxes that I’ve been paying the state every year, so that’ll now be your responsibility.”

  “How much are they?”

  “Right now twenty-five hundred, but when they find out that the town’s been sold, I believe that they’re going to want five thousand.”

  Bob nodded, “Shouldn’t be any problem.”

  Jim’s smile was wide as he said, “My lawyer is right around the corner. We’ll see him and celebrate over lunch. I’ll call him.”

  Bob shrugged his shoulders and said, as he stood, “Why not just walk right on over?”

  Anne Dallas sat at a corner table in Mortimer’s Restaurant, sipping her white wine. Twice the waiter had come over and twice she told him that she was waiting for someone. This is embarrassing, she thought as she sipped her drink. I look like I was stood up. She checked her watch once again while making believe that she was fixing her napkin. 12:25! He’s 25 minutes late. I swear I’ll kill him, she seethed to herself. She looked in the smoky mirrors that adorned the restaurant’s columns and touched her shoulder length brown hair as though she were fixing it while actually looking at the door. Might as well see if the sun melted my eyeliner, she thought and she recoiled momentarily as her slate gray eyes looked black in the smoky mirrors. Stupid mirrors! She downed her drink. Now she deliberately looked at her watch and said to herself, “Ten minutes more and I walk!”

  Five minutes later she heard Tom’s voice from behind her, “Can I get you something else, ma’am?”

  She turned and he saw her narrowed eyes and clenched teeth and knew he went too far. “Hey, babe, sorry, I had a last minute meeting. Seems there’s a new guy coming in to handle the videos and I needed to brief him.”

  “Tom Madrin, do you think that I can just take an extended lunch hour without letting my editor know? I have a deadline and my newspaper prints with or without my story!”

  Tom pushed back his jelled, almost spiked dark hair and said as he tried his best to turn his brown eyes into the shape of a puppy dogs, “Anne, I’m really sorry. How long do we have?”

  “Not long, Tom, not long at all.”

  Her boyfriend slid his slim, six foot frame into the seat opposite her and shoved the double meaning away as he went on, “I mean, how long do we have for lunch?”

  The waiter came to their table and Anne rapidly said, “Tuna steak, mushrooms, tiny-tot potatoes, small salad with Russian dressing and the check.”

  The man scribbled on his pad as he looked at Tom.

  “Same and a cold beer, any kind.”

  The waiter hustled away wanting to leave the feuding couple as well as to get the order in.

  Anne stared out the window as Tom tried to smooth things over. “So, what’s today’s subject?”

  She shook her head at his obvious attempt to engage her in her latest favorite subject: The planned trash dump at the edge of Bransville. “It’s no good, Tom. I’m sorry but I’m pissed! You always seem to have your own agenda and I’m second in this, supposedly equal, relationship.”

  He reached across the table and said in a low voice, “Shh, voices travel in here.”

  Anne snipped, “And we don’t want the public to know that Channel 12’s Weatherman has troubles with his girlfriend, do we?”

  Still looking around with a set smile on his face, Tom continued, “Look, hon, I’m really sorry but this new guy was going to keep his camera on the map and, well, you know, I am the Weatherman and need the face time.”

  “Well, what about my job? I went to college too and I demand that my job gets equal time.”

  He sat back and with a smug smile said, “Well, in reality, hon, when we get married, it’s my job that’s going to put us in the nicer neighborhood.”

  Her eyes flared even more as she said in a hissing voice, “How dare you use the ‘married’ line with me? The day you come up with a ring is the day that we’ll talk about making plans, not one day sooner. Do you understand?”

  The waiter saved the moment as he returned with Tom’s beer, placed it on the table and left.

  Their lunch soon was served and although the restaurant was full, there was an empty table in the corner and the owner himself carried the menus as he escorted two men to it. Most of the people looked up momentarily as they walked past and then glanced again as one of the men leaned heavily on a cane as he walked by.

  Tom also glanced up and remarked, “It’s that character, Jim Bensen and some other guy I haven’t seen before. Looks like an out-of-towner.”

  “How can you tell that?” asked Anne who was facing the other way.

  “Pale as a sheet!” He broke off a piece of the Tuna and being happy that he had been able to turn the subject to another person went on, “Probably another of his millionaire buddy’s in town to buy some of his properties.”

  “He does well, and he helps out with any problem that pops up in Bransville.”

  “You mean like the new dump?” he said with a wiry smile.

  “He explained that. He sold that property over one year ago, way before that company decided to turn it into a trash dump.”

  “So says the Bransville Speaker.”

  “So says me!” said Anne putting her fork down with a slam. “You seem to skip over the fact that I investigated the story before it became news on Channel 12 and found that Bensen Reality knew nothing of ChemCo’s plans to turn it into a trash dump.”

  Tom shushed her as he kept the faux smile on his tanned face, “Hon, I don’t mean to belittle your findings, it’s just that, well, he seems so oily and all. Always wearing that stupid cowboy hat and boots.”

  “Well, Mister Ohio, it’s for sure that your one-hundred and
forty dollar Florsheim boots wouldn’t even get you across some of the desert treks he’s crossed growing up here in Bransville.” She threw her napkin down and once again in her hissing tone of voice said, “Pay the check immediately and I’ll walk out with you or else I’ll walk out alone and the town will know that Channel 12’s Tom Madren has girlfriend problems.”

  Tom fumbled with the bill’s leather folder as he tried putting his company expense card in it and wave for the waiter at the same time. The man had been anticipating the quick exit and was at the table immediately.

  “Be right back, sir. I hope all was satisfactory?” Getting nothing but a cold smile from Tom, he rushed off and returned in record time.

  Tom made sure that he stood before Anne did, and pulled her chair out while still wearing the same smile he used for his television audience. She returned his faux smile and stepped away from the half eaten food and headed towards the exit.

  Anne saw that they had to pass Jim Bensen’s table and decided to say hello. She stopped a short distance away and, as he looked up, she smiled and offered her hand.

  “Jim, hello. How are you?”

  Jim quickly stood as Tom suddenly turned and went to the men’s washroom.

  “Anne!” said a smiling Jim Bensen as he extended his hand, “Hello. I’m fine and how are you?”

  “Just fine, thank you. I just wanted to say thanks for joining the newspaper in the fundraising for the school’s windows.”

  Jim turned his attention to Bob, who started to stand as he was about to be introduced, “Anne, this is…“

  “The man from the airplane!” she said with a smile as she offered her hand and went on, “I’m Anne Dallas and you are the man I switched seats with on the flight from New York.”

  “Yes! Thanks again. I’m Bob McKillop.” He turned to Jim and went on, “This young lady switched seats with me after, well, after the airline messed up the seating arrangements.”

  “Someday,” Anne said, “I’m going to do a piece on what happens between the time reservations are made and when they become a reality.”

  “So,” asked Bob, “you’re a reporter?”

  “Yes, she is,” said Jim. “And one of the best in town. Being you’re going to be around, Bob, I suggest that you become one of the many followers of her column in the Bransville Speaker.”

  “The Bransville Speaker? Wow, that’s the newspaper I get online and found out about Bensen Real Estate. Small world, right?”

  Both nodded and seeing Tom coming out of the washroom, Anne decided to make her exit before he passed them. “It was nice meeting you, Mister McKillop. I do hope to see you in town.” She turned to Jim and said, “Jim, once again, thanks, and I know I’ll see you in town.”

  Both men smiled and said goodbye as she stepped away and Tom reached them. He did his best television smile as he flitted past checking his watch as though he were in a hurry.

  Once outside, they both put their sunglasses on and pecked each other on the cheek. “Really sorry I was late, hon. Next time I’ll make sure not to set up a meeting so close to the time we’re meeting.” He paused and held her arm as he said, “Listen, when we’re together I really wish that you wouldn’t speak to other guys, especially when I might be doing a piece on them someday.”

  “Tom,” she said pulling her arm away, “It’s my job to speak to ‘other guys’ as you put it, to keep my contacts open. As for you, maybe you should concentrate on doing the weather? After all, that’s what people talk about the most. Right?”

  From inside the restaurant Bob watched the exchange and as Anne turned and walked stiffly away, he noticed that Tom’s smile turned into clenched teeth.

  “Wow! he thought folding his napkin on his lap, Wonder what that was all about?

  Katey Pushkin pushed back her hair as she opened the door. There was nobody there and she shook her head as she said, “Darn kids, it’s after eight at night!” and started to close it when suddenly from the right-hand side of her porch, out jumped Jim Bensen.

  “Ta-da!” he shouted as he shoved a dozen red roses in her hand. “Where is that top salesman of a husband of yours? I need him, front and center, pronto!”

  Katey looked at the flowers and backed into the living room with her hand covering her mouth, “He made the sale? Oh-my-gosh! He made the sale, didn’t he?”

  “Yep! He made the sale. Now, where is he?”

  “Downstairs in that darned basement. Go ahead on down and make him a happy man.”

  Edward had heard the bell ring and thought it was Katey’s friend wanting to play cards. He was putting the finishing touches on a 1:35 scale model of a 1950 Ford. His dad had owned one when he was a kid and loved the car so much that he had pictures of it all over the house as Edward was growing up. The model replicated his car right down to the dent on the front left fender, which Edward created by holding a lit light bulb on the area and when the plastic was soft enough, he pushed it in slightly. Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs he gently placed the model on a shelf and turned to see Jim standing there with two cigars in his hand and a huge grin on his face.

  “Hey, partner,” he asked, “Where’s my Orange Butt-kick? We got ta celebrate!”

  Although he had heard from Bob that the sale was going through, Edward felt as though he was going to faint seeing his boss here confirming it. He sat and shook his head as he looked at Jim. “We did it? We sold it?”

  “Not we, partner, you! Yep! It sold for one point-four million. Now that’s a nice commission. Right?”

  Edward took the cigar Jim offered and lit both as he made a drink for each of them.

  “I couldn’t help but tell Katey,” Jim confessed as he took the offered drink, “Sorry, Edward but I was so excited that I picked up some roses and gave them to her.”

  “No problem, partner. No problem at all,” he said as they touched glasses and took a gulp.

  They smoked the cigars and had another drink before the, still excited, Jim left.

  Thirty minutes later the bell rang again and Katey opened it with a big smile expecting Jim to be standing there again. Instead, there was a young, dark haired, slim man leaning on a cane.

  “You-you must be Mister Mc, ah, sorry I always seem to forget Edward’s clients names.”

  “No problem. I’m Bob McKillop,” he said putting his hand out.

  She shook it as she backed into her living room for the second time that evening, “Sit,” she said pointing to an easy chair in the nicely furnished room, “I’ll get Ed. He’s right downstairs.”

  Once again Edward heard the bell and this time he put the model down and started up the stairs only to meet Katey coming down. She had her index finger pressed over her pursed lips and whispered one word as she tilted her head behind her, “McKillop.”

  Edward bounded past his wife and entered the living room. Bob started to rise when Edward almost pushed him back down.

  “Sit, Bob. Stay put. Like something to drink, partner?”

  “No, thanks anyway, Ed. I’m sorry to come here so late but I wanted to talk with you a bit.”

  “Hey, Bob, talk away. Jim left a little while ago and he told me the news. He is one happy man.”

  “I’m glad he is and so am I.”

  “Me too, partner, me too.” He sat in a matching chair facing his visitor and went on. “Believe me, Bob, I think you’re going to love it here in Bransville.”

  Bob sat back and rubbed his sunburned nose as he said, “Well, Edward, that’s what I want to talk about. I want to live in Rattlesnake Haven.”

  Edward leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his fingers made a steeple, “Bob, did you say that you wanted to live in Rattlesnake Haven?”

  “Yep! I want to live there and I need you to outfit me with all that I need. Can do?”

  Edward shrugged his shoulders and said with open hands, “Ah, sure. Can do, partner. But,” he said, his elbows and fingers reverting to their previous position, “that’s an awful lot of outfitting. I m
ean, there’s no electric, no water, no air-conditioning, no latrines, no TV, radio, cell phone and, well, just no nothing at all.”

  “So, except for the water, you’re saying that the town is just as it was back in the 1880s?”

  “Yeah,” answered Edward sitting back in his chair, “pretty much, but there’s more.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’d like you and me to put a list together of all I’ll need to live there.”

  Katey entered the room carrying a platter of cookies and milk. “I don’t wish to interfere, gentlemen, but,” she said facing Bob, “Mister McKillop, you can’t turn down some homemade cookies, can you?”

  “Actually, they look great. I just didn’t want to come here and make any work for you.”

  “No problem,” she said with a smile and then looked at Edward, “Edward, it seems to me that this is the perfect time to use some of that vacation time you have coming. Why not help set up Mister McKillop? I’ll take some time off and come with you both and maybe do some dusting to help get him settled.”

  Bob looked at both and said, “Well, it won’t be until I come back here from New York. I have to go back and tidy up some financial things and make my goodbyes as well as quit my job. So this’ll give us all some time to plan.”

  Edward nodded, “When is it that ya plan on comin’ back?”

  “Within two months but I’ll stay in touch with you.”

  The three spoke about the plans Bob had for the recently found ghost town and after an hour all shook hands and Bob left as the Pushkins’ watched him walk down the walkway.

  “There goes a man with a plan,” said Katey admiringly.

  “Sure hope it’s not more than he can handle,” answered her husband as they closed the door.

  The next two months were hectic for Bob as he gave his two weeks notice, went to a few parties his co-workers threw for him, sold or gave away furniture and other possessions he didn’t need to bring with him and a hundred other things. He visited his family…at least the one’s up north and spent time with his friends, all who were of the same thought: he had to be crazy! He just shrugged and grinned, as he knew he had set his course already and was determined to follow it. Bob went to the lawyer and did the final financial transactions ending up at his bank whose bank manager was upset that the young millionaire was transferring his money to a much smaller bank in Nevada. True, it was the same bank, just a different branch but the New York bank manager took it as sort of blight on his record to lose this client.