Provincial

New Story for the third OldTown Novel:

OldTown WeKare Inc.

Provincial relates a contest of wills between two women who see the world very differently. One looks forward to a progressive future, while the other treasures words of the past. Only time will tell what powers they unleash on an unsuspecting world.

Amy didn’t think that “might made right,” though she had to admit that when one was right, might helped a great deal. As she drove through OldTown, she could see the place for what it was—a backwater with no hope of development, except for serious intervention, which she was happy to supply, so long as the town understood the true cost of progress.

An agreement for an old warehouse on Main Street was cleared by her contractors, signed off by her lawyers, and paid for in full. All she had to do was convince the citizens of OldTown that WeKare Incorporated was good for everyone, even if it did bring change. The bulldozers, dump trucks, and building site managers should have arrived already. She passed the cemetery on the right and let her car coast till it slowed to the posted speed of 30 miles per hour, her heart beating faster than that, she was certain.

On her left, she passed OldTown Court House, Favorite Films Theater, the All in the Family Vet Clinic, and finally, the spot where the old building once stood.

Did they get the fence up? Was it high enough? Were people standing around with picket signs?

As she neared, her breathing evened out, along with the speed of the car. Nothing to worry about. The fence was huge and, by the look of it, the bulldozers were nearly finished. Not a picketer in sight. She grinned. Though not normally a gambler, she occasionally indulged in a small wager on the side. She loved to win.

Resuming her typical nonchalance, she turned right at the Savings & Loan building, sniffed disdainfully at the triple-story “Mansion Apartments” building, and found herself heading toward the intersection of Highway 10. There being no reason to rush out of town, she thought she might stop by the park and stretch her legs. It was time she let OldTown meet their biggest investor.

A beautiful April day, Amy locked her car and strolled down Maple Lane, inhaling lungfuls of fresh air. When the golden lights inside the Literary Enlightenment Bookstore beckoned, she swung her purse strap over her shoulder and sauntered up the wooden steps to the gleaming front door. Surprised at the elegance of the brass knocker, she lifted it with care.

When the door opened suddenly, she nearly fell backward.

“Oh, goodness! I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”

Petite with a long, narrow face, brown hair, gray eyes, and wearing a flowery dress, the woman could have stepped out of a 1940s movie set.

The retro look—so provincial! Amy pursed her lips, making her annoyance plain. “I was just strolling by and saw your little shop, so I thought I’d stop in for a moment.” She lifted her hands to ward off any excuses. “But I see you must be expecting company…or something.”

A happy, chuckling laugh, the kind that most people can’t pull off, accompanied a hand to the chest and sincerity in the eyes. “Oh, heavens, no! I saw you coming and thought I’d catch you before you used the knocker.” She gestured to the brass fixture. “It’s ornamental. John thought it would add a touch of class to the place. No one around here uses it. I suppose we need a sign saying, ‘Please, walk right in.’” The woman’s smile widened at a secret joke as she stretched out her hand. “My name is Elspeth Gillis; my husband and I run the bookstore. I’m also the secretary of Restful Glen Cemetery. You probably passed it as you came into town.”

Uncertain, Amy ignored the hand and took a step backward. She didn’t want complications, just a quick introduction to calm nerves and excite interest. This shouldn’t take long. She appraised the older woman carefully. Must be somebody if they made her secretary of one of their little committees…

With an agreeable smile, Amy let herself be led inside. Her heart nearly stopped in mid-beat as her gaze took in the dark wood shelves, gleaming countertop, cozy enclaves, and shelves upon shelves of well-ordered books. Images of her many trips to Europe scrolled through her mind, and though this quaint shop in no way rivaled the august maturity of an authentic bookstore, still, it had an old-style charm that captivated the imagination.

Elspeth bypassed the counter and led the way to two plush chairs set on either side of a low table, with a bowl filled to the brim with jellybeans. “Would you like to relax a bit or browse the stacks?”

Challenged by the woman’s tone of calm authority, Amy decided to establish her position quickly. “I’m Amy Rose Eaton, perhaps you’ve heard of me. I am the founder of WeKare Incorporated.”

Disturbingly, the twinkle in Elspeth’s eyes suggested laughter. “Yes, of course. I knew it must be you the minute I spotted you through the window. Few OldTown residents wear a three-piece suit with a blazer, vest, and matching trousers.” Her eyebrows peaked. “Though Lucia and Maisie would be impressed—They’re the proprietors of the Quilt and Sew Shop.”

Gliding onto one chair, Amy nodded to the other, an elegant sign of permission to sit for those who might not know they need it. “Please, tell me all about your wonderful store.” With an air of acting surreptitiously, she slipped her phone from her purse and checked the time.

It didn’t take long for the breathlessly happy bookstore owner to color in all the details of the small business.

After a modest pause, Amy led to the more important topic—what WeKare Inc could do for OldTown. She gave a few impressive particulars, then offered a generous proposition to the simple secretary. “Perhaps you know a literary-minded person who would like to start the official record of WeKare’s beginning in OldTown for your historical archives? I am sure it will draw admiring crowds in the years to come.”

As if a warm breeze had died, stillness settled over Elspeth, her hands clasped as she leaned forward.

The door opened, and a woman with a baby on her hip, towing a toddler by the hand, sauntered in and headed straight for the children’s section. Clearly, they knew the store well.

Elspeth’s eyes didn’t even flicker in their direction. Her enunciation suggested thoughtful care as her attention stayed fixed on Amy. “To be quite honest, I am not sure that WeKare is right for OldTown. We’re a simple community, generations of farmers and small business proprietors who enjoy family gatherings, street festivals, and nurturing friendly ties in good times and bad. We’re not progressive.” The direct stare underscored the last word in bold.

Just what I thought—provincial. A shake of the head, and Amy signaled her disappointment. She sucked in a bracing breath. Educating the ignorant wasn’t for the faint of heart. “There’s no way to keep the world out of OldTown, much as you might like to think you can. This isn’t a fairytale world where some benign guardians will protect you from the hardships of life. Though you—” Amy made a point of directing her gaze to the other woman’s flowery dress, “—may manage to live in the past, the next generation isn’t content to passively experience life, as some kind of impressionistic painting hung on a wall. Women today demand more, and they should get more. I don’t know what kind of education you were allowed, but WeKare insists that our daughters, sisters, and friends be educated in the opportunities that await them. The walls of the past have tumbled. WeKare is here to build the steps to emancipation and a new vision, one where women take the lead.”

Viciously, Elspeth patted her hands together in a silent clap, a sardonic grin on her face. “Well said! Worthy of one of the infomercials your PR man has been putting out. Or is that a new release?”

A man in his 50s, tall and lean, with dark hair and his glasses slightly askew, strolled down a mahogany staircase, his gaze sweeping from the twosome in the corner to the newest arrivals.

In a private secret code, Elspeth nodded toward the children’s section. In proper obeisance, the man directed his steps toward the small family.

Amy rose to her full height, a good three inches taller than the woman opposite her. She’d have to be content to let her words sink in over time. Perhaps this wasn’t the right place to start. It was a well-known fact that bookstores might offer the newest in progressive thought, but they also harbored old texts, the faded prints of what once was, suggesting that the direction one should look was not always forward but also back. Amy had no interest in the past—her own or society’s. As far as she was concerned, revolutionaries were anarchists at heart.

Elspeth made a show of thanking Amy for coming, though her smile didn’t shine in her eyes. “Come back any time. And remember, you don’t need to knock. If the store is open, the door will be unlocked.” Her smile widened, reaching her eyes this time. “Much like the mind.”

As she marched back to her car, Amy decided that she’d had enough of OldTown for one day. She got in, turned her car around, and headed back down Main Street, pleased by the sight of the tumbled bricks, wood, and steel. Before anyone in OldTown knew it, the ground would be cleared, and it would be as if the old building had never been there. When WeKare Incorporated rose four stories high, they’d learn, whether they had a mind to or not. A new power was in town, and provincial minds would discover the rightness of progress.

As she passed Restful Glen, she caught sight of an old woman placing flowers on a gravesite. Amy Rose Eaton ignored the shiver racing down her spine.