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Bleak Ridge was not a large town. In fact, Ryker often thought of it as a village—a fishing village, to be precise. Like a great many Maine coastal locations, Bleak Ridge had two main sources of income: tourism and fishing. What it also had was a first-class hotel, Bleak Ridge House, and a quaint village feel that many people enjoyed. Sometimes they complemented each other and sometimes they seemed to be diametrically opposed.
They pulled up in front of Everything Vintage. As she reached for the door handle, Ryker took her hand and placed it in her lap. Lori grinned at him.
“That’s sweet,” she said. “Completely unnecessary, but sweet.”
“I know, but it’s something my dad always did for my mom. It’s one of those things you see as a kid and think ‘ah, that’s what love is about.’”
“Okay, now it’s sweet and meaningful.”
Once again, she hadn’t shied away from the notion of love or of their having a future together. It might be a small thing, but at this early stage of their relationship, he’d take it. He got out, opened her door, and they entered the store. Like most of the shops on the main street, it was charming, clean, and well laid out. A little bell tinkled over the door as they stepped inside.
A lovely middle-aged woman with her hair pulled back walked out from behind the corner. Unless he was mistaken, it was the same woman who they couldn’t identify from the slide show the night before.
“Welcome to Everything Vintage. I’m Annette Hart. I own this place. Can I point you in the right direction for something, or did you just want to browse?”
“I’m Ryker McKay. I publish the Bleak Ridge Sentinel. I understand you sell vintage typewriters?”
“Yes, I do. They’ve become quite collectible. My inventory is kind of low at the moment, especially for the more economically priced ones. There’s a writer event in town and there seems to be a run on them. Were you looking for something specific?”
“No. My girlfriend is one of the featured authors and was saying she wanted one for her office. Do they all work?”
“Most do,” said Annette. “Typewriters, especially the truly antique ones, are pretty hard to kill.”
“Do you sell supplies, specific to vintage typewriters?” asked Lori. “Like spool-to-spool ribbons?”
Annette laughed. “Absolutely. In fact, there’s an enormous secondary market for those, as people like to try and figure out what was previously typed on them.”
“How would you do that?” asked Ryker.
“Well, spool-to-spool uses a single-pass ribbon. In other words, as each letter is typed, the ribbon advances just enough so that the next letter has an unused piece of ribbon.”
“That is really interesting,” commented Ryker. “I’m thinking of doing a piece on Antony Cobain—the author who died.”
“Such a tragedy. Do you know anything about it?”
“Not really. I understood he had a thing for vintage typewriters and wondered if he had wandered in here.”
Annette nodded. “He did. He was looking at one of my more expensive typewriters and was also interested in some of my more interesting ribbons.”
“Would you be willing to let me interview you for my article? I’m hoping it’ll get picked up by the wire services. It would give my story a little more local color.”
She hesitated for just a moment.
“It could be great advertising for your store,” added Lori. “Can you show me which typewriter he was interested in? I really don’t know much about them, but I do want to get a nice one.”
Annette indicated the back wall of her shop. “Right this way. It’s a No. 5, which was launched in 1900 and is considered to be the first truly modern typewriter. It’s in excellent condition. It’s also very pretty. Some of them aren’t.”
She showed Lori the typewriter. Ryker looked over her shoulder and whistled. Lori elbowed him playfully and said, “That seems pricey for an old typewriter.”
Annette gave them an indulgent look. “I’m afraid your friend doesn’t know much about them. This one is still fully functional, has all its original parts, and is in pristine condition.”
Lori ran a finger lightly over the casing. “It is lovely. And you have ribbons that could be used on it? Did they even have ribbons back then?”
“Absolutely,” said Annette, smiling. “In fact, the Underwood family founded the company in 1874 and began by making typewriter ribbons and carbon paper. Their largest customer was Remington. When Remington began making their own ribbons, the Underwoods decided to go into direct competition and began manufacturing typewriters.”
“Did you know Cobain well?” asked Ryker, taking a shot in the dark.
Annette swiveled her head to look at him. “I wouldn’t say ‘well.’ He was a frequent patron of the shop both in person when he was in the area and also by mail order. I’m one of the few suppliers in the Northeast who has a nice selection of truly vintage ribbons.”
