Page 5

Royal

The bell over the door gave a loud jingle when Royal stepped inside Jessie’s Duds. He was instantly enveloped with warmth, and the unique scent of leather and wool.

The shop was small but had an old-time charm to it.

A fire blazed in a stone fireplace in the corner, casting a beautiful glow over the polished cedarwood floors. Vintage prints of hunting, fishing and other outdoor activities appeared to be Jessie’s choice of decoration because they were hanging everywhere.

Wooden shelves lined the walls displaying folded scarves, thick gloves, and bulky, textured sweaters in all colors from crimson to earthy tones of brown. So many racks of sport, dress and rugged coats lined the floor he became overwhelmed.

Royal fidgeted, rubbing his numb fingers over one another before he spotted the footwear section, and boots that appeared as though they could withstand a month-long blizzard. He navigated his way past randomly placed displays and racks of clothes figuring he’d start there since his feet were freezing.

He needed clothes that were practical, some things that weren’t luxury items purchased in shops on Fifth Avenue.

It’d only been forty-eight hours since he’d left the destructive mayhem of Manhattan’s biggest finance firm, and now there he was, trapped in one of those films about people searching for their lost souls in a small town where people lived simple lives, oblivious to the dog-eat-dog, frantic grind of the big cities.

In Windeville, the air was so pure and fresh it felt like an element that people should have to pay to inhale. The sun shone brighter and the stars spread across a night sky that stretched wider than anywhere else. The town seemed to mock the poisonous environment he’d came from.

A tall, robust man who looked to be in his late fifties, wearing a plaid shirt under his baggy overalls approached him with a broad grin concealed by the thick scruff of moustache.

“Well now, you must be Royal,” the man said in a raspy voice that sounded as if he had a decent cigar habit. “I’m Jessie. Welcome.”

Royal nodded, a bit taken aback. “Yeah…I am.”

“This is your first time in Windeville, I assume.” Jessie asked, stepping closer.

“It is, but my parents used to come here every winter.”

“Oh, what’s their names?”

“Larry and Mary—funny enough—Peterson.”

Jessie’s eyes enlarged, and his mustache stretched so wide Royal could actually make out a small sliver of his top lip.

“You’re Larry’s boy? Well I’ll be damned. Good people, your folks.” Jessie clapped him on his shoulder. “And they used to talk about their son the big-time executive, everywhere in town they went, or more like bragged.”

Royal’s heart squeezed.

“We miss them. But unfortunately your mom told us that ole’ Larry’s arthritis in his hip couldn’t withstand the drive or cold anymore. But I’m sure you already knew that. You make sure to tell them next time you speak to them that Windeville sends its love.” Jessie laughed loud enough to hurt Royal’s ear drums. “And tell your pops that I ain’t forgot he still owes me ten bucks from that Jets game.”

My father has arthritis. He knew they’d stopped traveling a little while ago, but he’d never bothered to ask why.

Royal felt like shit.

“I tell ya…” Jessie shook his head. “That Mrs. Pearl’s intuition has never faltered. She said she had a special one wander in last night, and I’ll be damn, she was right.”

Royal didn’t know what to say to that. Receiving compliments was not his strong suit. But he could handle and counter criticism all day.

Jessie studied him up and down.

“You look like you’re in need of some duds with thicker layers, buddy. We get winters far worse than Manhattan in these mountains.”

Royal found himself wondering how many other people Mrs. Pearl told that he was a lost, and pitiful soul.

After he left this store, soon they’d all know who his parents were. People they’d loved and missed. Now there he was, misrepresenting himself as if he had an ounce of his parents’ decency.

Royal was having trouble holding eye contact, luckily the bell over the door jingled.

A couple stepped inside, bundled up in thick scarves and heavy coats. The woman was holding a toddler in her arms wearing a puffy coat with a fur-lined hood that covered sixty percent of her little face.

They all stared at him with that unmistakable curiosity, was if he were the last thing they expected to see in Jessie’s store.

“Well, well, well.” The woman chuckled, her voice high and twinged with a down east accent. “You must be Royal.”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” he answered, that time a bit slower.

He supposed he wasn’t going to have the trouble of introducing himself everywhere he went. Royal had only arrived last night, but already he seemed to be the topic of the town.

It made him feel awkward.

“I’m Rose, and this hulk standing behind me is my hubby, JB. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied, because that was the response he was supposed to give.

“Well, I hope to see you again.” She got ready to walk away but quickly spun on the heels of her maroon cowboy boots, “Are you a reader? Come by the bookstore, okay. I’m the manager there.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she walked over to where Jessie stood behind the counter.

Just as the woman’s husband—a big man with a name tag that read, JB, JB’s Auto Repair —introduced himself and offered his hand to shake, the door chimed again.

And then again, and again.

One by one, sometimes twos, people strolled in. Some stared through the window, others exchanged some pleasantries while Royal perused the clothes, others held conversations with Jessie, all while sneaking glances in his direction.

Royal’s anxiousness and discomfort increased with each new set of eyes that widened with wonder. Or was it curiosity…or confusion?

A buff guy dressed like a farmer—tall, rugged, with a full gray beard to match his thinning gray hair—walked right up to him with unapologetic boldness.

“So you’re the urbanite everyone’s going on about.” He thrust out a hand caked with dirt that looked ingrained in his skin. “I’m Hank, but everyone calls me Big Hank. I own the tackle and feed store at the corner of Main and Oak Knoll Avenue.”

Royal clasped Hank’s big palm and returned the firm shake.

“If you need anything, anything at all, you just swing on by. I got a small garden behind my shop, grows the best cabbages, some as big as my head, and I got carrots this season that are about ten inches long.” Hank held his hands in front his barrel chest, about thirty inches apart from each other. “Lie to you not.”

Royal had no clue why he’d need any tackle, feed, or big-ass carrots, but he nodded nonetheless. “Sure thing, Hank.”

“Big Hank to you, son. That’s what all my friends call me.”

Jessie, ever the considerate host, made his way around the store, seeming unbothered by the swarm of visitors. Every now and then he’d give Royal a little nod of encouragement as if he knew just what was going on in his head.

Haul ass was what he was screaming in the back of his mind.

“You’ll get used to it,” Jessie said when he came over, carrying an armful of merchandise. “Here, try these on for size.”

Jessie helped him out of his coat, that after today would go in the back of the closet in his room at the bed and breakfast, then handed Royal a few shirts he’d picked, perhaps assuming they was more his taste.

They kinda were.

Cotton high-collared shirts, fleece-lined Henleys, and a heavy, knee-length overcoat, all in solid colors, neutrals, gray, black, muted greens and burgundy, zero shirts with checkered patterns or flannel material.

Royal escaped into the one dressing room stall while Jessie waited outside.

“Don’t be overwhelmed here, Royal. The people are friendly and will go out of their way to help anyone, even a stranger. That’s just how it is here. Visitors always bring with them a uniqueness that’s all their own, that brightens our small place in the world.” Jessie paused and took a short breath. “Now, I don’t know how long you’ll be visiting, or if you plan on staying. You’re buying clothes, so I assume a while. We’re all just looking forward to what your unique qualities will be. And before you try to convince yourself that you won’t bring anything, sometimes just a person’s presence is plenty enough, son.”

Royal had wrapped the heavy parka tight around himself as he listened to Jessie’s words.

All this time he’d been thinking there was no way he’d fit in here.

But maybe if he stopped thinking of running and just sat still for a while, perhaps he would.

Ten minutes later Royal came out of the dressing room, a slight smile curving his lips.

“I’ll take it all,” he said.

Jessie winked. “Good for you.”