Chapter 32 – Winfield’s One Folly

Milo Colt was busy looking over the day’s earnings when he heard the small bell above his shop door jangle. He didn’t look up.

“The sign says we’re closed.”

“Even for me, old man?”

Colt raised his head, adjusted his thick glasses, and laughed. “Oh, now you’ll come to see me, Penn?”

“You’d rather I come back in the daytime?”

“Dressed like that? God, no! Why, I can see your face and everything.”

“It’s positively indecent, isn’t it?”

“Draw that blind before someone sees you.”

“I’ll lock the door too. You really should be more careful. I hear there are thieves about.”

The old shopkeeper cackled. “Come in, boy. I haven’t seen you in ages. Not since you got too la-di-da and prim for my cold blood.”

“I set my sights higher, not my standards.”

“If I suddenly started selling diamonds and rubies, I think someone might think it was odd. Can I tempt you with a drink?”

“All your drinks could be used to peel the paint off the walls.”

“So only one?”

“Oh, all right, old man.”

Colt disappeared into the back. Penn was left alone to look around the shop.

There was something eternal about the place. Penn hadn’t been inside for years, but even though the shop must have had a decent turnover, it looked eerily familiar.

Colt sold secondhand knick-knacks and useful items. They weren’t antiques, and they weren’t really valuable; it’s where you went for gifts or odds and ends if you didn’t want to buy them new. There were thimbles, umbrellas, small furniture, picture frames, hats, and more. In one of the scratched up old bureaus (Colt always had several) there was a drawer full of random cutlery. Five clocks were displayed along the wall. It was always five clocks. Their shapes and ability to keep time varied, but the number did not.

Colt joked that he’d sell his wife if anyone would buy her, but Penn suspected that if the shopkeeper ever got down to his last set of clocks, he might refuse to part with any of them for fear of the universe becoming unbalanced.

On a shelf near the front of the store, next to some old books, he found the egg. It was bigger than he thought it would be—roughly the size of a large orange. It was rich with a variety of green hues, and the pattern was oddly alluring.

“His one folly,” Penn muttered to himself. He sighed. “One of two, I think.”

“What was that?”

Penn spun around. Colt had returned with the poison in one hand and two shot glasses in the other.

“I was considering the folly of man,” Penn said as he wandered back toward the counter.

Colt put down the glasses. “You’ve fallen in love, have you?”

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Penn smiled. “Well, I have met a wonderful girl.”

“If she’s a wonderful girl, she won’t have you.”

“But we’re engaged!”

“Oh, are you?” The shopkeeper didn’t sound convinced. “Where’d you steal the ring from?”

“That’s not fair, old man. I bought that ring.”

Colt’s face scrunched up with confusion. His narrowed eyes were warped by his lenses. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed more proper.”

The shopkeeper went back to pouring. When he was done, he put the bottle aside and lifted his glass.

“To love then!”

“To love!” Penn echoed.

They drained their drinks. The thief thought he’d adequately braced himself, but time had dulled his memory. He coughed and wiped at his watering eyes.

When Colt was done cackling, he said, “You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course.”

“I don’t know if it’ll go that far. I mean, let’s not be silly now.”

“Uh-huh. That’s about what I thought. But if you’re not here to ask me to be your best man, you must have something else in mind.”

“I do.”

“Does it have anything to do with that little boy I had to chase out of here earlier?”

Penn raised an eyebrow. “Colt, you sly old dog. All those times you played dumb.”

The man shrugged. “Dumb works for me. What are you looking for?”

“That malachite egg.” Penn gestured to the item.