LatinosUSA

Streams of sunlight bounced off the golden sand. Rolling white caps eased their way onto the deserted beach. Another beautiful day at Sands Beach.

Iris Templeton opened The Sands Thrift & Antique Shop to two women waiting outside. Her shop on the boardwalk had become her saving grace. Many tourists stopped in, even if it was to find relief from the extreme temperatures.

“Good morning!” smiled Iris. “All prices are negotiable.”

Iris busied herself with a box of hodgepodge items she purchased from an estate sale as the women looked around.

“Excuse me,” said one of the women. “Would you take $10 for the trinket box?”

“The trinket box came from Europe. You can see its markings at the bottom. It is considered an antique. Fifteen dollars is a fair price for such an intricate piece. But I did say prices were negotiable…ten dollars would be acceptable.” Iris gave a slight nod.

The customer smiled. “My granddaughter will be so excited!” She moved quickly to the counter before Iris decided to change her mind.

Iris carefully wrapped the trinket in paper.  Maybe the woman would find something else for a family member or friend.

Iris returned her attention to the estate box. She let out a sigh. Several dollar items, but none that would bring a high price return.

As she set the box aside, something on the bottom caught her eye. 

Iris gently lifted the object and set it on the worn counter. It was a silver pocket watch.

“I’d like this beaded bracelet…would you take three dollars?” asked the second woman.

Startled back to reality, Iris quickly placed the pocket watch inside her smock pocket.

“Three dollars it is. Ten dollars for your friend’s purchase of the trinket box.” Iris placed each item in its own bag.

The two women paid their bill and made their way to the door.

“Thank you, and come visit again. I’m open all year long. Enjoy the sunshine!”

The brass bell jingled, and the two women were gone.

Iris immediately pulled out the pocket watch. She carefully examined it. The markings on the back indicated pure silver. Now this was worth money.

She clicked the hinged cover. It opened to reveal a dial with Roman numerals and two interlocking hands. The face was set with tiny luminous inlays that glowed faintly. 

            Iris was mesmerized by the unusual and beautiful pocket watch and the hands that constantly revolved.

            “How much for the ledger? Are you not in business to sell antiques?” The man’s tone rose.

            Startled by the customer’s abruptness, she quickly shoved the watch back inside her pocket. She did not realize someone was inside the store.

            “This is a 19^th-century railroad ledger. Quite a collector’s piece.” She gently placed her hand on the book.

            And then everything went dark.

**

The ground beneath her feet rumbled. The intense smell of damp wood and sawdust permeated her nose. A shrill whistle pierced her ears. Suddenly, her eyes popped open.

             “Ma’am!” called a voice. “If you’re going to San Francisco, the 910 will be leaving the platform in fifteen minutes!”

            Iris blinked. Several people scurried out the huge doors. Dressed in clothes from the previous century.

            “Ma’am…you’re going to miss the train!” Clouds of steam bellowed from the enormous locomotive sitting on the tracks.

            It took her a moment before she walked to the railroad ticket office. The ticket agent, dressed in a railroad uniform, sat behind a worn desk, an identification badge pinned to his peaked cap.

            “You better hurry. If you miss this one, another doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning,” he explained. His puffy grey hair stuck out from under his cap. A long white mustache hung on his old, tired face. A pair of round spectacles sat at the end of his bulbous nose.

            “Where…where am I?” asked Iris. Was she really standing inside a train depot? Or was this all just a dream?

            The old man tilted his head. “The Sante Fe Depot…fifty miles north of San Francisco. Tickets are three dollars. They’re starting to board.” He pointed to the door.

            Her heart skipped a beat. She had to get on the train. As Iris reached into her pocket for the money, her fingers touched the round pocket watch, and once again everything went black.

**

“…and this should make a wonderful addition to my railroad memorabilia,” said the old man. “Are you listening to me?”

            Iris stood behind the wooden counter inside her shop. The grumpy man scowled at her from the other side. He held the dated railroad ledger. A crumpled twenty-dollar bill lay on the counter.

            It took her a minute to steady herself. Iris was no longer inside the train station. She had somehow been transported back to her shop.

            “Sir…the ledger is worth more than twenty dollars. It is considered a rare antique.” Iris felt a bit dizzy.

            “You agreed to twenty bucks before!” He grunted.

            Iris did not remember the conversation. In fact, she didn’t remember this man at all.

            “Twenty dollars it is. Would you like a receipt?” She turned to write up the sale.

            “No!” he shouted, then headed out the door with the ledger in hand.

            Iris had to sit down. She plopped onto a chair and closed her burning eyes. The pungent smell of the railroad depot still lingered.

            Suddenly, the tiny doorbell jingled. She wobbled, then stood up.

            The tall man gave a half smile. His manicured salt-and-pepper hair accentuated his deep blue eyes. Tiny lines pulled across his face. His pin-striped suit fit perfectly.

            “May I help you, sir?” For a moment, the man did not reply.

            “I’m looking for a unique pocket watch. You see, it had been in my family for generations. It was taken from me a couple of months ago. With luck, I was able to trace it to your quaint store.” He watched Iris with intent.

            Instantly, her hand slid inside the smock. The pocket watch was still there. She did not want to part with it. If she was really transported back in time, she’d be a fool to give it up no matter what the price.

             “I can see by your expression, ma’am, you have experienced…the uniqueness of the watch. You know what it can do. It has the power to take us places we can only dream of. But in the wrong hands, it can be dangerous, if not deadly. The watch belongs to my family and me. I will pay you handsomely.”

            The stranger reached into his vest and pulled out a flat billfold. Seconds later, he laid down one thousand dollars.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Iris stepped back.

His shoulders drooped. He sighed.

Their eyes locked. She felt tranquility like never before.

“You’re a good judge of character, ma’am.”

Oddly enough, Iris did believe the stranger. With much reluctance, she gave him the watch. Immediately, he slipped it into his vest pocket.

“You have a good soul, my friend.” And without saying another word, he walked out the door and vanished into the evening twilight.