Page 90 of Broken Princess

She studies me, probably wondering what an outsider is doing coming all this way for a stack of papers. And I make no assumptions that she doesn’t know I’m not from around here. Garonet is asmalltown. The kind where everybody knows each other my name. Everyone I’ve encountered so far has been extremely nice. Here’s hoping that streak holds.

“Hmph.”

Okay, I guess not. “Hmph? What’s hmph?”

“I honestly told my boss I thought it was a typo when the archive request hit our system. She assured me it wasn’t and told me someone would be showing up to see the records in person. The old bat is always right, so I guess I owe her lunch.”

“I’m sorry. Why would the search be wrong?” I ignore the insinuation that I was once again the subject of a bet.

“Because the last time someone researched those records was almost a century ago.”

She types something on her computer and writes it down on a card, pulling gold keys from the drawer. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where to go.”

I hitch my bag higher and follow behind her.

“You’re also a lot younger than I would have guessed. Most people navigating this deep into history are older, looking into their family history.”

“Did you lose that bet too?”

“Yes,” she laughs. It’s a warm sound, and I reassess my previous assumption about her being a bitch. I guess she just needed a few more minutes to get into customer service mode. “She told me that based on the search string she knew it was a younger person. Like I said, she’s always right.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re both right. An older woman asked me to research something for her. Maybe you can go dutch on lunch.”

She ushers me into a small hallway, down the corridor another hundred or so feet, and then we descend a set of stairs. We finally come to a door, where she inserts what looks like one of those mystical golden keys into the lock and flicks on the light when we step inside.

There are books and cabinets of microfiche sheets and a machine. But there’s also a state-of-the-art computer, fax machine, printer, and scanner in the room. It’s the perfect mesh of old and new research tools. “I think I’ve died and gone to journalism heaven.”

“We’re a small town, but we stay current with everything.” Pointing to a phone on the wall, she says, “Dial zero if you need anything, seven for the diner to order delivery, though you won’t be able to eat it down here. We have a designated area at the top of the mezzanine for that.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck on your search.” Flashing a smile, she exits the room.

The card I’m holding has the file number for the article that popped up in my search. I flip through the cabinets, locating the film, and fire up the reader. I scroll through page after page. The plus side is the film is still readable. The downside is, it’s not electronic so I can’t hit Control + F to find what I’m looking for. I search for three hours before taking a break. Walking back the way we came until I reach the empty customer service desk. I’m still the only patron here. As I’m heading for the door to get some fresh air, a voice calls out a greeting.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

I turn, taking in the woman behind me. This must be the older woman the clerk was talking about. “I haven’t. Not yet. I’m just stretching my legs a bit and thinking I should get some coffee.”

“The diner on the left has the best.” She smiles then says, “Is there a specific issue you’re having with your search?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. There are way more articles than I expected for the date and year I’m searching for. It’s like every small town and settlement had a newspaper.”

“Around here they did, and then with the railroad coming through, people brought their papers for leisurely reading. I don’t know how we got to be the one archiving for seven states but we are, and as luck would have it, we’re the only one remaining with records that go back as far as they do.”

“It seems like I’ll need another day to even get through a third of them.”

“Perhaps not. I consider myself a bit of an expert on these archives. What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help you narrow your search.”

The clerk said she’s always right. It’s worth a shot. “I’m looking for jewelers in the area going by the name of Elcor and Cloutier.”

She claps her hands excitedly. “That little imp didn’t tell me you came in. Bet she was trying to get out of our deal. Doesn’t matter. I knew someone would show, eventually.” She points to the coffee pot on the side of the desk. “Go fix yourself some coffee. I know precisely where you should look.”

“Precisely?”

“Well, the general ballpark. My granddaughter and I are history buffs. We’re always reading, hoping we’ll get picked up for one of those trivia game shows. But those names. Yes, I remember reading about them.”

“Because of their business?” I ask, stirring some sugar in my cup.

---