Talk of the Town Read Online Free PDF Page B

purchases on the table before beginning to sort them by project.
    “Good afternoon, Alice.” Maxwell stopped in the doorway.
    “Good afternoon,” Alice responded. “Are you enjoying our little town?”
    “Very much.” He nodded, and Alice suspected the tepid enthusiasm that he showed was as much excitement as he ever allowed himself. “I visited the Coffee Shop for lunch today. One meets all kinds of fascinating characters there.”
    Alice had to chuckle. “That’s certainly true. Jane told me she introduced you to a few folks yesterday. Whom did you meet today?”
    “Well, there was Zach Colwin—I have not yet met his wife Nancy although I know she works at the Good Apple Bakery. And I was joined by an older lady who was quite entertaining. Can you guess who?”
    Alice was bewildered. Acorn Hill was small, but not that small. “May I have a clue?”
    Maxwell smiled slyly. “Red hair.”
    “Oh! You met our aunt, Ethel Buckley, didn’t you?” Alice began to laugh. “That clue was a dead giveaway. Aunt Ethel has been using that hair color for years. It’s called Titian Dreams. It’s hard to miss, isn’t it?”
    Maxwell nodded. “It is, indeed. I doubt I’ll have any trouble remembering who she is.”
    Maxwell stared at her incredulously. “It’s amazing.”
    “Oh, not really.” Alice shrugged. “By the time you’ve been here another week, you’ll have most of the ins and outs of residents in Acorn Hill down pat.” She rose from her seat. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I left my scissors in the library.”
    As she walked out of the dining room, Maxwell trailed after her. “So I understand you have lived in this town all your life.”
    Alice laughed. “I have lived in this house all my life, except for when I attended college. I imagine that seems strange to you.”
    “A bit.” He stepped into the library behind her. “I began attending boarding school when I was eight years old. I haven’t lived at home since then.”
    Alice was sincerely shocked. She stopped and turned around. “ Ever? ”
    Maxwell shook his head. “I did have holidays, of course, but those were rarely more than a week long. In the summers I usually went to camp when I was younger. Then during my college years I traveled in Europe: Austria, Hungary, France, Germany, Poland, Italy, Portugal, the U.K… . I even went to Russia on a kids’ tour when I was younger.”
    “Russia! How fascinating. What impressed you the most?”
    “That’s an easy one—Lenin’s tomb.” He laughed. “I was ten years old on that trip and I thought a moldering, decades-dead body had to be the most enthralling thing ever.”
    Alice chuckled. “Oh yes. I know some ten-year-old boys who would be equally fascinated by that.” She crossed the room and found her scissors lying on her father’s desk. “Aha! Just what I was looking for.”
    Maxwell was looking around the library with interest. “This room has a certain charm.”
    “It was my father’s study before he passed away. He used fountain pens all his life. My Aunt Ethel, whom you’ve met, gave him this lovely box for the special pens in his collection. And these vases are collectibles called Depression glass. Are you familiar with it?”
    He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid my art education consisted largely of studies of the Old Masters.”
    Alice laughed. “These are a bit newer than that. Depression glass was made, as the name implies, before, during and just after the Great Depression. There were many patterns. Single pieces were sometimes packed in cereal boxes as premiums. People collected their favorite patterns and colors.” She picked up one of the green glass vases. “This pattern also was made in yellow and pink. It is formally known as ‘Cameo’ and often is referred to as ‘Ballerina.’”
    “For obvious reasons.” Maxwell peered at the tiny dancers in the glass’s motif as Alice pointed them out.
    “It’s my favorite pattern,” Alice told him.