Page 8 of Bryce

“Good.”Bill nodded as he handed her back her card. “the Fall Festivalis coming up and we’re looking for volunteers to man some ofthe booths. We’re hoping you will join the planning committeethis time.”

“I am notpromising anything, but I will certainly be interested in taking on abooth or two.”

Excellent.” Theman beamed at her and gestured for his nephew to take her bags out tothe car. “Have you heard about Molly?”

Chapter 3

He had chosen well,he decided as soon as he was on his way from the small local airport.His assistant was very efficient and more than that, he was loyal, Hehad done his research and found the perfect destination.

And Andre would keepit quiet. No one could pry the information out of him. The man hadbeen with him for ten years and was worth every bit of the verygenerous compensation package.

He had leased asimple car, nothing fancy or that would draw attention to himself. Hewas going for anonymity after all. Slowing down, he spent timeappreciating the quaint store front shops, the slope of hills andprofusion of flowers everywhere. He supposed that’s what hadgiven the place it’s cute and frivolous name.

Touching the button,he sniffed the air as the window rolled down and would swear he couldsmell the wafting of flora and fauna. Over to his left was an oldcrumbling building that he suspected had once been a church, from thesteeple rearing towards the startling blue of the sky.

But instead ofdetracting from the beauty of the place, it managed to lend a certainnostalgic quaintness that was unmistakable. He had lived in bigcities all his life, except for the few times he had spent on filminglocations.

But for some reason,the place had an appeal that spoke to him.

Shaking his head andlaughing softly, he pressed the accelerator to add speed, realizingthat he was going a little over twenty-five miles. Looking to hisright he also noted that the posted speed limit was thirty.

Figures, he mused.The place had a Norman Rockwell feel to it that would certainlyencourage anyone visiting for the first time to slow down and havemore than a second glance.

His phone buzzed,interrupting his musings, and he glanced at the screen. It was amessage from Andre, a simple “All Set” that brought asatisfied smile to his lips. He replied with a quick “Good,”before turning his attention back to the road.

As he navigated thenarrow streets, he marveled at the absence of the usual chaos thataccompanied city living. There was a rhythm here, a gentle hum oflife that was both foreign and strangely inviting. He passed a smallpark where children laughed and played, their carefree joy a starkcontrast to the calculated precision of his own life.

Then he came to thetown square where a huge bouquet of flowers spilled over a crackedand weathered urn. Padded benches went all around it and wereoccupied by people of all ages. No one seemed to notice him, but hecould not help but slow down to admire the clean and tidy park facingthe square.

The wind was pickingup and he had studied the weather pattern enough to know that fallwas already making its presence felt. He continued to watch as atoddler raced away on uncertain legs and the mother making quicksteps to rescue him or her from crashing into a trash can.

It was quiet andlooked serene. Further on, several women were gathered around an openblaze of fire coming from a rusted trash can. They were eating frompaper plates, talking, and laughing.

He parked the car ata discreet corner and stepped out, taking a deep breath. The air wascrisp and carried a hint of the sea, reminding him of childhoodsummers spent on the coast. He strolled towards the town square,blending in with the locals, his anonymity intact.

Observing the livelychatter and the simple pleasures that the townsfolk enjoyed, he felta pang of envy. Their lives seemed uncomplicated, free from therelentless demands that dictated his every move.

As he walked, henoticed a small café with a charming outdoor seating area. Thearoma of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee was irresistible, andhe decided to indulge in a rare moment of leisure. He chose a tablewith a view of the town square, where he could watch the world go by.

The waitress greetedhim with a warm smile and recommended the day's special - a heartysoup made from locally sourced ingredients. He nodded, appreciatingthe personal touch that marked this place.

While waiting for hisorder, he pulled out his notebook and began jotting downobservations. There was a serenity here that was hard to capture inwords, a sense of community and belonging that eluded him in hishigh-flying world.

He watched as anelderly man fed the birds, his wrinkled face alight with contentment.Across the square, a young couple shared a laugh, their joyinfectious.

His thoughts wereinterrupted by the arrival of his soup, steaming and fragrant. Hesavored each spoonful, letting the flavors transport him to a simplertime. As he ate, he pondered on the choices that had led him here, tothis moment.

Life had a way ofsurprising him, offering brief glimpses of what could be, if only hedared to step off his well-trodden path.

Finished with hismeal, he left a generous tip and continued his exploration of thetown. He found himself drawn to the old church, its crumbling façadea testament to the passage of time.

He entered throughthe heavy wooden doors, greeted by the cool, dim interior. Thesilence was profound, offering a respite from the noise of histhoughts. He sat in a pew, allowing the peace to wash over him.

For the first time ina long while, he felt a sense of clarity. This town, with itsunpretentious charm, held a promise of renewal. It was a place wherehe could rediscover himself, away from the demands and expectationsthat had shaped his life.

As he left thechurch, he knew that this was not just a fleeting visit. It was thebeginning of something new, a chapter waiting to be written.

With renewed purpose,he returned to his car, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead. He hadchosen well, indeed.

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