Honoring Others

Part I

As Trixie Belden walked through the attractively merchandised aisles of Ingram’s Antiques, she mentally created a list of tasks she wanted to get done by the end of the day.  Glancing through the big picture window behind the front counter, she could see the sun shining brightly on the picturesque streets of Sleepyside.  

“I can’t wait till I get off,” she said as she quickly checked the time on the large cuckoo clock that hung near the front door.  “It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside.”

Continuing her inspection through the shop, Trixie paused occasionally to straighten a display or reposition an item, then stopped briefly to peruse the shelves of mystery books.  Continuing on her way, she inhaled deeply, relishing the musty, stale smell of the old articles that filled the shop.  When she got to the front, she grabbed cleaning supplies from under the counter and polished the shiny disco ball that hung in the front window.  As she worked, she recalled how the glare from the disco ball had caused an accident on the street, one that had totaled her car but had also brought her back into contact with her old friend Tad Webster.  Shortly after that, she started working part-time for Imogene Ingram, the shop’s owner,  then eventually taking on additional responsibilities and becoming a full time employee.  As Trixie’s involvement with the store grew, so did her friendship with her boss.  Imogene’s success in Sleepyside was cemented by the addition of her restaurant, The Hideaway,  which was located next to the antique store, plus the launching of a gardening center, Bing’s Garden Center, at the edge of town. The latter was a joint venture between Imogene and Trixie’s older brother, Mart, who had returned to town in hopes of finding a career that agreed with him.

“One task completed,” she murmured as she stashed her cleaning supplies back under the counter.  She was making an imaginary check in the air when she heard Imogene call from the back of the shop.

“Trixie!  Trixie!”

“I’m up here, Imogene.”  

“You have to see this, my dear.  I can’t believe it.”

Imogene hurried excitedly through the store. Her glasses, attached to a strand of colorful, rhinestone beads, were perched precariously on the end of her nose and she clutched a small stack of old, faded photos.

“What?” Trixie stepped back as Imogene crowded behind the counter.

Shoving the computer keyboard aside, Imogene spread the aged photographs across the gleaming, wooden surface. After a quick adjustment of her glasses, Imogene pointed to one of the pictures.

“This. Right here.” She pulled the photo closer then tapped on the face in the middle of it.  

Trixie looked at the old black and white photo.   The picture was of a small boy, sitting in some kind of a cart.  But what caught Trixie’s attention was the mass of blond curls that covered his head, his big, serious eyes and the incredibly strong resemblance to Mart and herself.  In fact, the old photo could be exchanged with any one of the baby pictures of Trixie or her brother and no one would be able to tell the difference.

“Wow,” gasped Trixie, leaning forward to study the photo more thoroughly.

“Do you know this person?” asked Imogene.  “Am I wrong in assuming that it is one of your relatives?”

Trixie shook her head.  “I don’t know who this is.  But whoever it is, he sure looks like me.”

Trixie flipped the picture over to see if there was anything written on the back.  She squinted as she read a faint date someone had penciled in decades earlier.  

“June, 1923.  Johnny,” she read aloud.

“Does the name Johnny ring a bell?” asked Imogene.

Again, Trixie shook her head.  “No.  I’ve never heard of any relative named Johnny.  Where did you get this?”

“The daughter of a man named Sam Walker brought in these photos.  She found them while cleaning out his attic.”

“Sam Walker?  I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him either.”

“Really?  The woman said her father has lived in this area his entire life.”

Trixie shrugged as she continued to stare at the photo, intrigued by the young child.  

“Can I take this and show it to my mom? She might recognize the name or at least have an idea about the identity of the child.”

“Of course.  I’ll just put it in an envelope on top of your bag.”

“Perfect.  Thanks, Imogene.”

Imogene returned to the back of the eclectic shop while Trixie absentmindedly fiddled with a pencil that was lying on the counter.   When that failed to curb her agitation, she turned and stared unseeingly out the window. The tinkling of the small bell over the front door announced the arrival of a visitor to the shop.

“Hi, Trixie,” said Nick Roberts as he quietly shut the door behind him.

Trixie, lost in thought,  didn’t register Nick’s arrival.

“Trixie?” Nick rapped his knuckles on the counter.

“Huh?  Oh, Nick.” Trixie gave her head a quick shake.   “I didn't hear you come in.”

“Apparently.  Is everything okay?”

Trixie bobbed her head.  “What are you doing here?”

“Imogene wanted me to come down and take a look at some photos she got.  She’s looking for a unique way to display them.  Is she around?”

“Oh, sure.  I’ll go get her.” But first, I want to show you something and get your honest opinion, your gut reaction.  Okay?”

Nick nodded.

“I’ll be right back.”  Trixie dashed off toward the back of the shop but didn’t get far before she ran into Imogene.

“Hello, Nick,” Imogene bustled toward the young man with Trixie hopping along behind.

“Hi, Imogene.  I’m here to take a look at the photos you want to display.”

Imogene slapped her forehead lightly with her palm.  “Why didn’t I bring them with me?  The light is much better up here than in my office.  Just give me a minute.”

Imogene disappeared into the back room while Nick continued to peruse the cameras.  Trixie remained up front, her fidgeting mannerisms revealing

 her excitement.

“So, Trixie.  How’s Tad?”

“Tad?  He’s good but ...”

“Good? That’s all you’ve got to say?” asked Nick, interrupting Trixie.

“Yeah, he’s good and now he’s busy getting ready for the baseball season. But listen…”

“I thought he didn’t play any more because of his shoulder injury.”  

Trixie hurried to explain.  “He sets up all the recreational teams through the community center.  He’s hoping I’ll agree to coach one of the teams with him.  But I really suspect he just wants somebody to make the kids don’t act up while they’re waiting for their turn to bat.”

Nick chuckled.  “I remember waiting for my turn to bat when I played.  That seemed longer that the wait for Christmas.  But, for what it’s worth, I think you and Tad would make an awesome coaching team.  Tad has the skill and knowledge but you have the contagious enthusiasm.”   Holding up his index finger, he stopped Trixie before she could protest.  “Don’t argue with me, Trixie.  When you’re in someone’s corner, that person can’t help but win.  Those kids will love you and Tad.  In fact, if I ever have a kid who plays little league baseball, I’m going to personally request that you two be the coach of his or her team.”

Exhaling loudly, Trixie attempted to share her news with Nick.  But before she could, their conversation was interrupted by Imogene’s return to the front of the store.  

“Here we are,” she said breathlessly as she, for the second time, spread out the collection of old pictures on the counter.  “I was thinking these photos would look wonderful in a frame. I can’t decide between one that matches the time period or a simple black frame that will allow the picture to speak for itself.   What do you think, Nick?”

Nick leaned over and studied the pictures. He moved them around, examining each one closely.  “Hmm...these are really interesting, Imogene, an incredible snapshot in time.  Where did you get them?”

“A local customer brought them in.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t want them.  And some of them are in pretty good condition.”  Nick continued to study the pictures. “I have an idea of a perfect frame for them.  I’ll go back to my shop and grab it so you can see how it looks with the pictures.”

“Sounds perfect, Nick. Now, tell me what you think of this photo?” Imogene slid over the picture of the young boy that looked like Trixie.

Nick studied the picture, then looked up at Trixie.  “I don’t understand. Is this you?”

Trixie shook her head.  “No. I have no idea who that is.  It was in the stack of photos the woman brought in.  That’s what I wanted to tell you about and get your opinion.”

“Seriously, this looks exactly like a little Trixie Belden.  Do you think it’s a relative?”

“Based on appearances, I would think he’d have to be a relative.  But since I don’t know  I’m going to show Moms the picture. Maybe she’ll know something.”

Trixie, Imogene, and Nick discussed the pictures a bit longer, then Nick returned to his own shop.  Trixie, completely forgetting her intended list of chores, wandered around the antique store, fussing with the merchandise and helping customers when they asked, but her mind remained fixed on the look-alike child in the old photo.  

 

When she got off work late that afternoon, Trixie drove directly to the apartment her boyfriend, Tad, shared with his brother, Spider. After parking her car, she trotted to the door and knocked rapidly.

“Who is it?” called out a falsetto voice.

Trixie giggled.  “It’s the big, bad wolf and I’m here to eat you up.”

Trixie jumped back as Tad threw open the door. Reaching out, he grabbed her and pulled her into the apartment.

“Eat away,” he growled as he began nibbling at Trixie’s mouth.

Trixie’s messenger bag slid off her shoulder and her arms went around Tad’s neck as she deepened his kiss.  

“Yum,” she murmured, “You taste so good.”  

Tad smiled.  “So do you.”

Suddenly, Trixie pulled back and her face lit up.  “Gleeps! You’ll never guess what happened today.”

But before she could get any further,  male voice called out from the kitchen. “Is that Trixie?  Dinner’s ready.”

“Hi, Spider,” yelled Trixie toward the kitchen.  “Let me wash up and then I’ll help.” To Tad she whispered, “We’ll talk later, if I can hold out that long.”

Giving him one last kiss, Trixie dashed to wash her hands then returned to the dining nook where she found Spider and Tad setting several hot dishes on the small, round table.  

“Gleeps!  This smells great.  What did you guys make tonight?” she asked as she slid out a chair and sat down.

“Fajitas,” answered Spider.  “And I cooked while your boyfriend watched the sports recap on ESPN.  So don’t be giving him any credit for this delicious meal.”

Trixie snickered. “Yes, but he gets credit for the yummy greeting at the door.”

Tad, his brows waggling,  smiled broadly at his brother.  “I know how to make her feel welcome.”

Spider speared several pieces of chicken from a hot sizzling skillet and piled them on a warm tortilla.  “And I’ll be just fine if I don’t hear any more,Tad.”  He motioned toward a bowl.  “Pass me the guacamole, please.”

Trixie passed the guacamole as well as a bowl of black beans then finished loading up her own plate. Quiet filled the kitchen as the three dug into the tasty dinner that Spider had put together after getting off duty from the Sleepyside Police Department that afternoon.

“So, Spider,” began Trixie, lifting her eyebrows at the cop,  “anything interesting happening in our little town that I should know about?”

Spider rolled his eyes.  “As if I’d tell you.  I learned my lesson years ago.”

Trixie pretended to sulk.  “As a good citizen, I like to be kept informed of local goings-on.”

“Fine.” Spider laid down his fork.  “The racoons are alive and well as evidenced by the trash can ambush on Rose Drive.  Do you want me to show you the wanted poster?”

Trixie smirked.  “Haha!  Are the alleged perps masked?”

Spider chuckled. “No, we took those off before booking them.  Apparently, there’s an entire gang that hangs out in the nearby sewers.”

“Ooh!  I’ll have to watch out for them when I drive home tonight.  Wouldn’t want to run into any trouble.”  After finishing one fajita, Trixie licked he fingers, then put together another one.

Talk around the dinner table consisted of Trixie and Tad’s day,  the goings-on around town and Spider’s review of a movie he had seen a few nights earlier with his girlfriend.  

“That sounds like a pretty good movie,” said Tad.  “We should go see it.”  He looked at Trixie who was rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“It sounds like a rom com to me.  Where’s the action?” She dragged a crisp tortilla chip through the pile of guacamole that sat near the edge of her plate.

Tad leaned in toward Trixie.  “Well, if it’s action you want, doll…”

Spider stood up and tossed his napkin on the table.  “And with that, I’m out.  You have clean-up, Tad.” After giving his brother a light punch in the shoulder, Spider grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, heading over to his girlfriend’s for a quiet evening in front of the tv.  

Back in the small kitchen,  Tad and Trixie quickly rinsed and stacked the plates and cups in the dishwasher.  Then while Tad scoured the pans, Trixie wiped down the counters and the table. After putting away a jar of salsa, she turned to Tad.

“Finally! I thought I would die waiting to tell you what happened.”  

Dashing into the living room, she grabbed her bag and dug through it.   “I want to show you what came into the shop.”  With the photo in hand, she led Tad to the rumpled and worn couch, turned on the table lamp and sat down.  “Look at this.”

Tad took the picture and held it out.  “Somebody brought in a picture of you?” he asked, looking at her quizzically. “That’s the bombshell?”

Trixie shook her head.  “Look again.”

Tad briefly studied the picture.  “It looks old.  Is it photoshopped?”

Again, Trixie shook her head. “No.  It’s not a picture of me. I have no idea who that is but he sure does look like me.  I brought it home so I could show it to Moms. There’s a name and date written on the back, but that’s all the information I have.”

“Hmmm…”  Tad handed the picture back to Trixie and she carefully returned it to her bag.  

“I swear that picture could pass for either me or Mart,” muttered Trixie.  

She settled down on the couch next to Tad and plopped her feet on the cluttered coffee table, nervously swishing them back and forth in a windshield wiper fashion.  “Don’t you think that picture is mysterious?”

“Yep,” answered Tad as he brushed several kisses down Trixie’s neck.

“I mean, it looks just like me, but it’s not.  Who could it be?”

“Dunno,” responded Tad as he pulled Trixie closer.  

“I can’t wait to get to work on this.” Trixie stared at the blank screen of the television opposite her while her mind remained fixated on the photo.

“Trixie, am I in this room by myself?” asked Tad as he flopped back against the couch.

“What?”  Trixie looked at her boyfriend, then wrinkled her nose.  “Oh, yeah, sorry, Tad.  I guess my mind is still working.”

“Well, give it a break.”

Sighing, Trixie leaned into Tad’s warm body.  “Okay, I’ll try but I can’t promise.”

Tad leaned down and ran several kisses across Trixie’s jaw.  Before he could go any further, Trixie’s phone announced an incoming call.  Sitting up quickly, Trixie slid the phone out of her back pocket.

“I bet it’s my mom.”  Looking at the caller ID, she nodded her head.  “I knew it.  I just knew it! It’s like she can see what we’re doing.”

Trixie clicked on the phone and answered, trying to keep her voice level while Tad ran a hand through his mussed hair

“Trixie,” Moms said,  “I didn’t know if you were coming by tonight or not, but I saved you a piece of cherry pie.  However, your little brother has been eyeing it all evening. If you don’t get here soon, I’m afraid he’ll eat it and I know how much you like cherry pie.”

“Okay, Moms.  I’ll be there soon.  Besides, there’s something I’m dying to show you.”

“Okay.  I’ll keep Bobby away from the pie.  See you in a bit.”

“Bye, Moms.” Trixie stashed her phone in her back pocket then returned her attention to Tad.   “I’m going to drop by the farm tonight and show her the picture.”

“So I heard.  Now, where were we?”  Tad nuzzled Trixie’s neck as his fingers entwined themselves in her soft curls.  

“Yum!” said Trixie softly. She nestled in Tad’s embrace a bit longer, then suddenly shot up.  “As much as I’m enjoying this, I have to get to the farm.  The sooner I talk to Moms, the sooner I’ll find out if she can tell me anything about the kid in the picture.”

Tad released Trixie then the two stood up.

“I should know better than to ever try to compete with a mystery,” he grinned.

Giving Trixie a kiss on the tip of her nose, he waited while she got her bag then walked her out.   The parking lot was dark except for the overhead lights that cast small circles on the lined asphalt. At Trixie’s car, the two lingered a bit before Trixie finally got in.

“Call me later,” said Tad as he gently closed Trixie’s car door.

“I will.”

Tad watched as Trixie’s lights disappeared down the road, then he went back into the apartment to wait for her call.

*********************

 

“Moms!  Moms!” Trixie let the door slam behind her as she entered the cozy kitchen of Crabapple Farm.  

“I’m right here, Trixie.  What’s with the shouting?” Moms stood at kitchen sink, drinking a small glass of water.

“Look what came into the shop today.”  Dumping her messenger bag on the table, Trixie pulled out the envelope that contained the picture.

“See!”  She held the photo out to her mom.

Helen Belden took the old photo and examined it out under the light that hung over the kitchen table.  With her brow furrowed in perplexity, she pulled out a chair and sat down so she could give the picture a more thorough inspection.

“Did somebody make this for you?” Moms asked.

Trixie shook her head.  “No.  A woman brought in a bunch of old photos they found in her father’s attic and this was in the mix.  Look at the back.”

Trixie pulled the picture out of her mother’s  hands and flipped it over.  Moms squinted as she made out the faint writing.

“I don’t know, Trixie.  I have no idea who this person is. “ Wearing  a puzzled look on her face, Moms handed the picture back.    

“Did you ever hear of a Sam Walker?”  Trixie nervously tapped the photo against her hand.

“I don’t think so.  That name doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

“That’s the name of the man who owned the pictures.  I’ve never heard of him either but apparently he’s always lived in the area.”  Trixie exhaled loudly in frustration.  “I was hoping you’d have some answers for me.”

“Maybe your father can help,” suggested Moms, nodding her head toward the family room where Peter Belden and Bobby, Trixie’s younger brother, were sprawled in comfortable chairs,  watching a basketball game on tv.

“Hey, Trixie,” said Bobby when his sister appeared.  “What were you yelling about?  Did you find a mystery or something?”

“As a matter of fact, Bobby, I did.” Trixie knelt on the floor next to her father’s recliner and after an abbreviated explanation, showed him the photo.

“Have you ever heard of a Sam Walker, Dad?” she asked.

Peter thought for a moment.  “I do recall a person by that name.”

“You do? What do you know about him?” Trixie’s eyes snapped in excitement as she sat up at attention.

Peter shrugged.  “Not much, but I do believe he’s lived in the area for quite a while.   As I recall,  there was a family named Walker that lived out near that big hill by the nature preserve. When I was a kid, my brothers and I used to sled down that hill.  And I think one of the family members was named Sam. But I can’t swear to it.”

Trixie snapped her fingers.  “Maybe he’s in the phone book.” While Trixie ran off to get the local directory, Peter and Helen studied the picture.  

“She’s right,” murmured Helen as her finger gently traced an outline around the tot’s face.   “The baby in that picture could be one of my own.  There has to be a connection.  But I’ve never heard of a relative named Johnny.”

“Did Trixie say if there were any more pictures like this one?” asked Peter.

“No, she didn’t.  But I’m pretty certain that if there were, she’d have brought those home too.”

When Trixie returned, she and her father flipped through the phone book. “Look,” she exclaimed excitedly as she ran her finger down the alphabetical listings.  “There’s a S. R. Walker.  I bet that’s him.”

Peter studied the information.  “You could be right.  But that address is in town, not near the nature preserve.”

Trixie grabbed her phone from her pocket.  “We can figure that out later. Tell me the number and I’ll call him right now.”

Peter gently took the phone from his daughter’s hands.  

“What’s wrong?” asked Trixie.

“I think it’s a bit late to start calling people and asking them questions about an old photo.  You’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

“Gleeps! I wanted to solve this mystery tonight.  Now I know I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Hey, Trixie.  If you think you’re not going to be able to sleep, maybe we can play a nice long game of Monopoly,” suggested Bobby. “I’ve got a new strategy I want to try.”

“No!” said Peter and Helen in unison.

“I believe you still have some unfinished homework,” reminded Moms.

Trixie stood up. “Sorry, Bobby.  Besides, I’ve got to get home and get my own homework done.”

“You’re no fun!” griped Bobby who ignored his mother’s reminder and returned to watching the game.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Trixie and her mother headed back into the kitchen where Moms retrieved the saved piece of pie that was now encased in a plastic storage container. Trixie grabbed the treat and shoved it into a front pocket of her messenger bag, being careful to not jostle the picture that was in another pocket. With a quick wave, she  went out the back door, ignoring its slamming as her thoughts remained firmly focused on the old photo.

********************

NEXT...

word count-3850

Author's notes: A very special thank you to my sister, Judith, who edited this story for me.  Her encouragement kept me going.  Also, thank you to Vivian for her patience. Picture by me!

Monopoly - a board game that involves the buying and trading of properties. ESPN-a US sports channel.