Curiously, a hot cup of coffee sat, still steaming, on the table. Beside it, there was a manila envelope with Will’s name on it. He picked it up and stared at it suspiciously.
Had the old porter just given him the slip?
The envelope was thick. Too thick for Will’s liking. A simple note would have been less unsettling. This had the weight of serious proceedings. A legal document, perhaps. Will was very wary about any communications that required a metal clasp as well as a seal. Best to get it over with.
He perched on the stool, folded back the metal grommets and slid the contents out of the envelope.
Inside was another smaller envelope and a letter on a single sheet of antique linen paper. Written in blue fountain pen ink, in a loopy old fashioned hand, it read:
Dear Will,
I’ve just embarked on my final port. Please forgive me, but I got a call that I’ve been waiting to take for a very long time. I could not ignore it. The coffee is for you. Don’t let it get cold. I poured the last shot of my best porting whiskey in it. The dirigible is also yours. You’ll find the paperwork in the envelope. I think you’ll find it an upgrade to your van, if a bit less modern. Please take care of her. And Zani, too. She’ll fill you in on the details. I plan to pass her the keys when we get back to the train. Consider it my wedding present to the two of you.
Yes, that train. But it’s not what you think. Zani will explain.
Yours, with Affection,
Burnside Porter
PS When you decide to visit me in the future (or shall I say in the past?), you’ll find me in the same booth at Gampy’s on most Wednesdays throughout the 1980s. What can I say? Nobody since has topped their Monte Christos, and I’ve enjoyed many lunches there with friends. It’s brought me a lifetime of happy memories to cherish. Not necessarily all my own!
PPS Go easy on Zani. There’s a good reason I’m taking her back to the train. My timeline ends around there, but I’ve got it on good authority from both of you from your circa 1983 lunch with me, that yours (plural) doesn’t. No spoilers, Will, but you’re going to forgive her. You already have. There’s no reason to be overly linear about it. Chronological order is overrated, if you ask me. Life is too short not to spend as much of it as possible with the people you love.
So let’s both cut to the chase. I’ve so enjoyed, and will enjoy, our time together. We may not be blood kin but us porters need to stick together. Don’t forget to take the weathervane. If there is an afterlife for us porters, it may help you find me there.
There was stillsomething in the envelope. Will shook it and a third, much smaller envelope dropped out. Written in the same blue ink, in tiny letters, was a third postscript.
PPPS I’ve one last errand to do after taking Zani to the train. I hope you don’t mind fetching her and the dirigible. You’ll need this to get there. -B
Will peekedinside and was met with a shocking flash of turquoise blue light from the miniscule gem inside. A fourth postscript was scrawled on the inside of the flap.
PPPPS I guess this makes you the tooth fairy. Ha!
It was justlike Burnside to get in the last word. No lozenges necessary.
Will set down the letter and picked up the mug. There was at least as much whiskey as coffee in it, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
Item No. 044-H | When you don’t want to miss a single word
Hearrings
Inspired by a sketch drawn by a dolphin shifter under a full moon, these earrings blend ocean-born elegance with unexpected utility.
Delicately crafted from iridescent shells harvested during the lowest annual tides, the Hearrings catch the light, and whispered secrets, with equal ease. What appear to be charming adornments are, in truth, finely tuned instruments, channeling distant conversations straight to your ears.
They’ve been known to pick up arguments three tables over, a tour guide’s offhand comment from a hundred yards away, and once, famously, a full conversation from the top of the Eiffel Tower, was relayed clearly to someone sipping espresso six blocks down.
Timeless. Discreet. Startlingly effective.
Available in Atlantic Spiral, Pacific Pearl, and Mediterranean Conch.
(Not recommended for use at concerts or toddler birthday parties.)
Chapter30
A Porthole to the Past
Burnside collapsed onto an overstuffed Victorian style couch in what appeared to be a library or a study of some sort aboard a ship. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, the shelves loaded with leather volumes. All the classics were there, their titles stamped in gold foil.
