Page 20 of Killing Time

“Already taken care of,” I said with a smile. “I did it as we were entering Sedona, just to be safe. Probably the odds of encountering any Wilcoxes there would have been pretty small, but — ”

“You’re amazing,” he said, lifting one hand off the steering wheel so he could reach over and give my fingers a brief squeeze.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

Seth only shook his head and then immediately returned his attention to the road. Good thing, too, because we were coming into Flagstaff’s city limits, and I knew both of us needed to stay sharp. We’d studied the map the night before — and had it safely stowed in the glove compartment in case we needed to take a peek while we were on the road — but looking at lines on a piece of paper wasn’t anything close to experiencing those locations in person.

It was very different. Sure, the mountains were the same, sporting a light dusting of snow similar to what they’d worn when we’d escaped from Flagstaff just two days earlier, but the city was both much larger than it had been in 1884 and much, much smaller than it was in my time. This part was open fields with lots of grazing cattle, and I remembered how much ranching had fueled my hometown’s economy in those early days. No sprawling suburbs yet, that was for sure.

Seth guided the car onto Route 66, and although a lot of it was very different, I recognized the Riordan house on my right, which I thought had been built in the 1890s or somewhere around there. Just beyond was Northern Pines University.

No, it’s not Northern Pines yet,I reminded myself.It’s some kind of school for teachers or something.

The campus was much smaller, of course, but at least it was located in the same general spot as its modern-day version, and that made me feel a bit better. And as we got to the border of the real downtown section, a familiar building a block off to our left made me sit up.

“Turn left here, on Leroux Street,” I told Seth, and he dutifully cut across oncoming traffic — to be fair, those cars were still a safe distance away — and slowed down. “There, on the left. The Weatherford Hotel.”

“You know it?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Sure,” I replied at once. “It’s still standing in my time. They do a fun pinecone drop there on New Year’s Eve, sort of the Flagstaff version of the ball dropping in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.”

Had that even been a tradition in the 1920s? I had no idea, but because Seth didn’t ask me what the heck I was talking about, I had to believe he’d at least heard of it.

No parking lot, unlike the Weatherford’s modern incarnation, but there was plenty of room at the curb, which seemed like a hopeful sign. Surely it would be a lot more crowded around here if the hotel was at capacity.

I reached for the door handle, but Seth said, “Wait,” and I stared back at him, wondering why he wouldn’t want to get settled so we could plan our next step.

“What is it?”

“Here.”

And he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box.

Was that…?

Sure enough, he opened it to reveal an antique gold band studded with diamonds.

“Where in the world did you get that?” I asked. It wasn’t as if we’d stopped to go jewelry shopping somewhere along the way.

He gave me a sheepish smile. “At the general store. They had a small case at the back that had some pawned jewelry, so I took a look while you were picking through the baking supplies. This band looked like it would fit you, and since we’re pretending to be husband and wife….”

His words trailed off there, and he seemed to be studiously avoiding my eyes.

“It’s perfect,” I said as I took the ring from its box and slid it onto my left hand. “I should have thought of this. There are plenty of married people in my day who don’t wear rings, but I have to believe that’s probably not too common in 1947.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Another hesitation, and then he added, “It’s not a proper engagement ring or anything, but….”

Before he could say anything else, I leaned over and placed a kiss against his cheek. “Like I said, it’s perfect, and it will help a lot to make people believe we really are married.”

“Good,” he said, and his jaw set. “I guess we need to go see about getting a room.”

“Not quite yet,” I replied, to which he gave me a startled look.

“Why not?”

“Because,” I said as I dug through my purse, “I think I need to wipe that lipstick off your cheek before you can be seen in public.”

Our luck seemed to be holding, because not only was there no sign of the Wilcoxes descendingen masseto demand what we interlopers were doing in their territory, the Weatherford had several rooms available, and soon enough, Seth and I were checked in and hanging our clothes up in the closet. Although the furniture looked different, the layout of our hotel roomseemed oddly familiar to me, and I realized when I went into the bathroom to wash my hands that I’d actually been there before. A friend of mine from college had thrown a New Year’s Eve party at the hotel after her roommate told her there was no way she was going to let a bunch of noisy revelers keep her up until all hours.

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