TWO TAKES ON ONE TOWN

TWO TAKES ON ONE TOWN

     Sara’s humongous Lincoln Navigator whizzed down the interstate. She’d picked up Travis Stewart at the airport and was taking him to the home she shared with her husband Benjy in the small town of Chipworth. Classmates in college, Sara and Benjy had been asking Travis to come visit for years, and he finally found the time to take them up on their offer.

     As they rode along the highway, Travis noticed a sign for Chipworth. “Sara, I know you know this area like the back of your hand, but wasn’t that the exit for Chipworth we just passed?” 

     “It’s an exit, but there’s another one up here that’s closer to the house and also offers, in my opinion at least, a better introduction to our fair town.”

     And what an introduction it was. On exiting the interstate and heading toward Chipworth, Travis noticed nery a fast food joint, gas station/convenience store, or any of the other staples of interstate exits. All he saw was beautiful woodland. A bit down the road, he began to notice houses set on beautifully landscaped estate-sized yards. Sara was definitely taking him through the high-rent part of town. As they progressed further towards town, the houses got a bit smaller and closer together, but no less impressive.

     “Do you see that brick wall over there and the large wrought-iron fence, Travis?” 

     “Yes, is that the entrance to some grand estate?”

      “It used to be, a long, long time ago. It was turned into a school. It’s the school Benjy went to, Chipworth Academy.  At that time, it was a pre-school for boys. Today, it’s a K-12 school and is coeducational. It still produces the largest number of students accepted into the Ivies of any school in the state. Both our children went there and got tremendous educations. We just love that place. Perhaps Benjy will be able to pull some strings and give you a tour. The school is closed right now on intersession break.”  

     “I’d love to see it. I remember Benjy being a great student, but also quite a prankster!” 

     “He still is both!  I’m not sure what you’ve got in store for you when you arrive, but I know it will be unusual.”

     It was clear they were now entering the main part of the town. The main street, about six blocks long, had a Norman Rockwell look to it. As they neared the end of the main street, Sara turned right and they entered an Edwardian-looking neighborhood. “This is the oldest section of town,” Sara commented. “Most of the homes were built in the early twentieth century. Well, here we are-- home sweet home.”

    Travis had seen photos of the home over the years, but they didn’t do it justice. Sara and Benjy had obviously poured much love into this house. “Benjy’s still at work, so why don’t I show you to your room and you can get settled in your room.”  Sara led Travis into the house and up a flight of stairs. “Your room’s the last door on the left.There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. I’m going downstairs to fix us some refreshments.  Come on down whenever.” 

     When Travis opened the door to his room, he immediately howled with laughter. Benjy had painstakingly recreated their dorm room, down to the bunk bed. He had posters on the walls that reflected the spirit of the 1980s. “I guess I’ll take the top bunk since it’s the one I took in college,” Travis thought to himself.

     After getting his things put away, Travis went downstairs. Sara motioned for him to come out onto the terrace. She had prepared some sandwiches and lemonade. The back yard was absolutely stunning. “I hope your room’s okay, Travis,” Sara commented in a very straightforward way. “It certainly brings back memories.” Sara then laughed. “Benjy’s been working on that room for months, it seems. He ordered posters online. We had the bunk bed.  Paul, our son, liked the idea of bunk beds so he could have a friend stay over every once in a while. The furniture is all straight from the 1980s.” “It’s a hoot.” “Of course, Benjy bunks with me now!”

     As Sara and Travis reminisced over their late lunch, Benjy arrived home and they had a wonderful time catching up a bit. After giving Travis some time to unwind from his flight, Benjy commented, “Travis, we’d love to take you to our favorite restaurant for dinner.  It’s downtown. I assume Sara drove you through downtown on the way here.” 

     “Yes, it’s very charming.”

     After a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant, the three returned home and spent the evening looking at scrapbooks and talking over old times. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to take you to the botanical garden and to the town museum.  We know how much you like history, so we thought you’d enjoy a visit there.”

     After breakfast the next morning, the threesome made their way back into town, turning left onto Main Street. “What happens if you stay on the road we just turned off?” 

“Oh,” Benjy said, “straight on that road is where we keep all our auto garages, filling stations, and the like. It’s definitely not the scenic route, believe me.” As they drove down Main Street, Benjy pointed out some landmarks. “There are lots of neat places downtown that you really must see. Like many small towns, Chipworth declined a great deal in the 70s and 80s but has really blossomed in the last couple of decades. Some new businesses have moved in that attract high-quality employees. It’s really never been better.”

     About three blocks down Main Street, Benjy turned left and headed down a very pleasant street. “We’re coming up to the Chipworth Museum. The building was actually practically falling in on itself and was relocated from another part of town. The museum had been located in a building on Main Street, but that building was not only poorly suited to house a museum, it was also far too small.”

     The Chipworth Museum was surrounded by a beautiful tree-filled park. Benjy pulled his Lexus into the drive and found a parking place. As a member of the board of directors for the museum, parking was never a problem. The three ambled up a walkway to the museum entrance. There, they were greeted by the stereotypical museum volunteer, a pleasant but serious-looking women who wore her hair in a bun and wore dark-framed glasses. “Oh Benjy!” she exclaimed, “You’ve been a stranger too long. It’s so good to see you and Sara.” “Alice, we’d like you to meet a long-time friend, Travis Stewart.” “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stewart.  Please, let’s all come in.”

     As they entered the museum, Travis was taken aback by the imposing staircase that swept up to the second floor. The opening foyer was open a full two floors and a balcony of sorts traversed the hall. The entire appearance of the museum was gaudier and more lavish than he had imagined it would  be. 

     “It must have been some task to move and restore this building,” Travis commented. 

     “Indeed it was,” Alice Pickering replied. “It took about five years to raise the money, and then another four years to dismantle, move and restore the building.” 

     “Well, it’s most impressive.”

     Alice led the group on a tour. For a museum that had been bursting at the seams, the contents of the museum seemed on the sparse side. “We’re still figuring out where to put things,” Alice observed, “and a good many of our holdings are being restored. It’ll be some time before the place reaches its capacity.”  

     “Well, the museum doesn’t seem to lack for photos of dignitaries,” Travis commented. “However, I don’t see many photos of the town from former times.” 

     “We have a good many photos, but they are all being restored,” Alice explained.  As they moved to the second floor, Travis noted lots of unusual decorations, but made no comment.

     Having completed their tour, Alice Pickering led the three to the front door for goodbyes. “Ms. Pickering,” Travis said, “it’s been most nice meeting you.  Thank you so much for the tour.  I must say the museum is most interesting.” “It was all my pleasure, Mr. Stewart,” Alice replied. “Please return when you’ve got more time.”  “I hope I can.” “And Sara and Benjy,” Alice said in mildly scolding manner, “I expect to see you both hear more often.  We appreciate all you do for the museum, but want to see you more!” “We’ll try to do better, Alice,” Sara responded.  “Now that the children are out of the nest, we have more time.”

     As they walked toward the car, Benjy said, “I know our little museum must seem rather quaint to you, Travis, but it’s on its way.”  

     “I think so, Benjy,” Travis replied. “Every town needs a place like this to record the town’s history and the people who have made it what it is. There were certainly some grand photos and displays in there.”  What Travis didn’t say was that the museum seemed terribly one-sided. He always felt that any town museum worth its salt should show the totality of a community, not just the elegant and refined section. He was also a bit amused by the gaudiness of the building itself. He didn't want to say what came to his mind when he first stepped inside.

     They then went to the small Chipworth Botanical Garden. Only about an acre in size, the garden was organized into four sections, each section reflecting something of Chipworth’s history. 

     “I always love the Tuscan Garden the best, “Sara remarked. “I know that the English, Scottish and French played more of a role in the development of Chipworth than did the Italians, but I just love the design of that portion of the garden.” 

     As they walked the grounds, Travis expressed some disappointment that native plants and trees were not more in evidence. “I guess,” Benjy commented, “that native trees and plants can be found in abundance throughout the town. There didn’t seem to be a reason to highlight them here. It would be redundant.” “I suppose so,” Travis replied.”

     As they got back into Benjy’s Lexus, Benjy made the comment, “I hope you enjoyed two of the crown jewels in the Chipworth crown. Another is certainly Chipworth Hall, where Chipworth Academy is housed.  We’ll get there on Monday.”  “I look forward to it,” Travis replied.  “Both the museum and the botanical garden are certainly points of pride for the town, I know.” 

     Sara then said, “Travis, we hate to do this, but after lunch, both Benjy and I need to be out of the house. He, of course, has his work, and I have a very important meeting of a group I head up.  So, you’ll be on your own.  We hope you don’t mind.” 

     “That’s just fine,” Travis replied. “It’ll be fun exploring the town by myself for a while.” “Please visit the pharmacy I pointed out, and also the old hardware store. They are both like they’re from another time,” Benjy remarked.

     After lunch at the house, Sara and Benjy struck out. They left Travis the keys to a third car they kept for when their children visited.  Travis couldn’t wait to do some exploring.  He’d always hated tours and formal places. He wanted to see the real Chipworth.  

     As he approached the intersection where he might have turned left onto Main Street, he instead continued straight. As Benjy had noted, he soon found himself surrounded by automobile repair shops, gas stations, convenience stores and dollar-type stores. What houses there were, he found much less grand, and even on the seedy side.  He soon saw a little restaurant called the Finer Diner and decided to pull in to get a cup of coffee.

     The Finer Diner evoked memories in Travis of the diners of his youth. It looked as though it hadn’t changed in fifty or sixty years. In fact, a sign painted on the front window said, “Serving Satisfied Customers for over Forty Years.”  The sign itself looked to be at least ten years old. Anyway, Travis walked in and found a seat at the counter.  A man seated next to him was chowing down on some meatloaf.  Travis ordered some coffee.  

     After he’d sat there for a few minutes, to his surprise, the meatloaf man spoke up. “You’re not from around here, are yuh?”  

     “No, I’m visiting from old friends.They’ve wanted me to come over for a long time, and I finally made it.”

      “Where you from?” 

     “Oh, I live now in a town in New Jersey.”  

     “Well, welcome to Chipworth, or Shitworth as we like to call it.”  While Travis was a bit taken aback by this comment, he was also happy to hear someone expressing what they really felt. 

     “Are you from here?” Travis asked. 

     “Born and raised here.  From your looks, I reckon your friends live up the hill from here.” 
     
     “They live on Algernon Road.”

      “Oh, yes. I fixed many a leaky toilet on Algernon Road. I’m a plumber. Name’s Sam Winslow.” 

     “Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Travis Stewart.”

     Sam started asking Travis some questions and making some observations.  “So, Travis -- I hope it’s okay if I call you Travis-- what have you been up to since you got here, besides talking over old times with your Algernon Road friends?” 

     “Well, this morning they took me to the town museum and the botanical garden.” 

     Sam Winslow laughed. “The Chipworth Museum. You know what that building used to be before it fell down on itself and was moved up the hill, don’t you?”

      “No, the museum guide didn’t go into that.” “She wouldn’t. That building was a whorehouse. It was built on the south side of town so that the high and mighty “up hillers” as we call’em could sneak out and get some. It was the one place where up hillers and down hillers could be seen together. The common denominators were money and sex.  Its heyday was way back in the 1920s and 30s. In the 50s, all the girls were run out and the place just sat there and rotted. It;s a right nice house – modeled they say on a British whorehouse.”  

     “I can’t say that I’m surprised they don’t mention that fact in the background on the house.” 

     “There’s a lot they don’t mention. That so-called museum is nothing but a glorified tribute to the up hillers. I snuck in there once. Well actually, I was called in to fix a plumbing issue.  I laughed when I saw some of the exhibits.  D’you notice that there are no photos of the old town of Chipworth?”  

     “I did notice, and was told that the photos were being restored.” 

     “Right. Restored. I think they're doing what they calling 'photoshopping.' When I was growing up, Chipworth was a fleabag of a town. It was a mill town. The founder, Stanton Chipworth, built three mills here and worked the poor millworkers to death. He made a fortune on the backs of hundreds of poor, uneducated people. And do you know what they’re getting ready to do to one of those old mills?" 

     “What?” 

     “They’re fixing it up as condos. Condos!  People are going to be paying top dollar for condos in a building where people worked for pennies to the hour and 12-hour days.  What an insult!” 

     “You seem to know quite a bit about this town.” 

     “I should.  I’ve been livin’ it for over fifty years. The downtown you see now was the brainchild of this guy named Benjamin Trent.”

   Travis remained silent. Sam Winslow was talking about his long-time friend Benjy. 

   “Mr. Trent had grandiose ideas, and somehow found the money to get them rolling.  He’s done a good job of making Chipworth a choice destination community for the high-paid workers in New Ellenton, down the road.  The entire town is phony, but it sure looks pretty.”

     “Sam,” Travis said, “would you give me a tour of Chipworth as you see it?” 

     “My view of Shitworth is as a down hiller. This area is the true deal. If you’re up for it, I’ll show it to you.” 

     “I’m up for it.”

     Travis joined Sam in his pickup and they began to make their way down the street. It was truly downhill from Main Street.

    “All these rabbit warren looking houses along here,” Sam commented, “all these houses were houses for the mill workers. Until I guess the 1970s there were, I would say, about a thousand of these glorified shacks.  Now, there are maybe a hundred left. They’ve largely been taken over by trailer parks. You’ll find no Algernon Roads here.” 

     Travis could hardly believe the abject poverty around him. “Sam, does this road lead to the interstate.” 

     “Sure does, but hardly anyone who doesn’t live here get down here from the interstate.  This part of the Chipworth is like a gulch. It’s downhill from the interstate and downhill from downtown. Now Travis, look there to your right.  See that little patch of green?”  

     “Yes.” 

     “Well, that’s the community garden started by the Methodist minister. His church is up hill and mighty grand, but his heart is here. He and his family started this garden, oh, ten years ago. It has really helped the area. He tried to get folks in his congregation to help out, but they have other commitments, you know. And it’s just as well. It’s good to see people who mostly had time on their hands doing something useful. Over there’s one of the mills Chipworth built. It’s just about fallen in on itself now. Of course, there’ll be no condos built on that site. It’s just a condo for rats and snakes.”

     Sam turned left and started down a dirt road. 

     “What’s down here, Sam?” 

     “You’ll see.”  

     Pretty soon they came upon a derelict trailer sitting with some ramshackle add-ons in a field. The sun bore down on the trailer. Travis could see what appeared to be an old man sitting in the entrance to the trailer. 

     “That man, Travis, that man is Horace Epps.  Let’s go say hi.”  

     They got out of Sam’s pickup and went over to the man. 

     “Horace, how’s it goin’ buddy? I’d like you to meet a new friend of mine, Travis Stewart.” 

     Horace stood up and went to shake Travis’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Travis Stewart.”

      “Likewise, Horace Epps.” 

     “Why don’t you two pull up chairs and sit a spell.”  

     Sam and Travis found two rusty, rickety metal chairs and pulled them up to the trailer. 

     “I’d invite you in, but today’s the maid’s day off.” Horace laughed. 

     “So Horace, once again, how’s it goin’?” 

     “I can’t complain. I don’t have anything, so I can’t complain about anything.” 

     For someone so wretched looking and for someone living in such squalor, to Travis, Horace Epps seemed educated – far more educated than Sam Winslow

       “The minister came by a while ago and brought me some groceries and plants from the garden. He’s such a nice person. He's for real. He drops by every day to see me.” 

     Sam and Horace continued to chat for a bit, and then Sam announced that Travis needed to get on back to Chipworth.  “But, Sam, you’re in Chipworth now.” They both laughed. 

     “Horace,” Travis said, “it’s been nice meeting you. I hope to see you again some time.”  

     “I doubt you will, Mr. Stewart, but I appreciate the sentiment.You both take care of yourselves.”

     After they got in the pickup, Travis asked Sam why he had stopped and talk to Horace.  

     “The reason, my good man, is that Horace Epps represents everything that’s wrong with Shitworth. Let me tell you about Horace Epps. First, he looks seventy, but he’s only fifty.  Second, he comes from an old Chipworth family. His father, Horace Epps, Sr., was a doctor, and a good one. He served the town for many years and was quite the beloved figure. He was beloved, that is, to everyone but his own family. He was a heavy drinker and abused drugs. From what the younger Horace has told me, his father was a tyrant. Horace went to Chipworth Academy just after it was founded.  In fact, he was in one of the first classes to graduate.  He graduated third in his class. His father didn’t come to the ceremony because his son wasn’t first in his class, and also because he was probably plastered. Young Horace went to college but fell into the wrong crowd. He rebelled. He got thrown out of school and decided to join the army. His father disowned him. His mother was a social climber and never rocked the boat by standing up for her son. She apparently just went along with anything the good doctor did. She basically kissed her son off.

Travis was thinking that this was the kind of story that needed to be in the museum along with the more pleasant memories of the town. He knew it would never be so.

"While he was in the army," Sam continued, "he served in combat in the first Iraq War. That experience did a number on him. He returned to Chipworth, but was pretty much shunned by all the up hillers. He decided to move to New Ellenton. He was sort of getting back on his feet. He got married and had two children.Of course, his father and mother still had nothing to do with him. Then, almost as if fate had some horrible grudge against him, his wife and children were killed when their home was robbed. Young Horace was working at the time of the robbery, but he was still charged with the murders of his own wife and children. He was so devastated by their deaths that he felt he had nothing to live for. He was found guilty at the trial and served twenty years in prison. When he was released, he returned to Chipworth, but as a down hiller. He became something of a recluse, or hermit, I guess you’d say.  His parents died while he was in prison. Apparently his father had something of a change of heart about his son toward the end of his life. His wife died first, so he left much of his estate to his son. Horace immediately gave most of it away.”

     “How is it you know so much about all of this?” Travis asked.

     “Horace and I have been friends a long time – really ever since he moved back to Chipworth.  He’s shared lots of things with me. We’ve had lots of long talks. Of course, the up hillers think of Horace as a black sheep and a total loser. We down hillers have more feeling for him. He’s eccentric, but he’s a decent guy.”

     They arrived back at the Finer Diner and parted ways. Travis didn’t feel like returning to his friends’ house, knowing now what he did about the town. He resolved to return, put on his best face, and cut his visit short. He needed to sort things out.

     When he got back to Sara and Benjy’s house, they were at home. Benjy was putting the finishing touches on a cook out.

      “Well, Travis,” Sara said, “we hope we didn’t leave you too stranded and that you found some interesting things to do to occupy your time. Did you get to go downtown and visit the pharmacy and the hardware store?  I know Benjy was excited for you to see those places, especially.” 

     “No,” Travis replied, “I didn’t. Do you know how Algernon Road becomes plain old Route 38 after it crosses Main Street?” 

     “Oh yes.” “I decided to see what I might find on Route 38.”  

     “Not much, I’m afraid,” Sara said.

      At that moment, Benjy came over to announce that everything was ready for the barbecue.  

     “Benjy, Travis told me he went down Route 38 today and did some exploring.”  

     “Are you really into gas stations and auto repair shops?” Benjy asked.  

     “I was just curious,” Travis replied. “I went in for a cup of coffee at the Finer Diner and met Sam Winslow.” 

     “Sam Winslow?” Sara asked.

      “You know, Sam Winslow, Sara,” Benjy interjected.“He’s fixed most of the toilets in Chipworth for the last twenty or so years.” 

     “Sam’s a very interesting guy,” Travis stated. “He took me on a tour of what he called “down hill” Chipworth. The culminating point of our tour was when he introduced me to someone very interesting.” 

     “And who might that have been?, Benjy asked."And for the record, I hope you didn't believe anything Sam Winslow told you about this town.” 

      “Horace Epps.”  

     Both Sara and Benjy were taken aback at the mention of this name. 

     “Poor Horace,” Benjy said. 

     “He was a classmate of mine at Chipworth Academy. He was a fine student, but a bit of a recluse.  His father was a very prominent physician in town.” 

     “I learned about that from Sam.” Travis decided not to comment on what Sam had said about the dear physician’s personal life.  

     “Dr. Epps’s boy seemed to be determined to go down the wrong path,” Sara noted. 

     “Sam Winslow probably mentioned that the younger Horace was found guilty of murdering his wife and children,” Sara went on. “Everyone in town was simply horrified.” 

     “Sam did point that out.”  

     Again, Travis did not let on that Sam was very doubtful about Horace Epps’s guilt. He decided to push the conversation in a different direction. “Anyway, I do look forward to exploring downtown more.”  

     Travis made the most of dinner. He had a very hard time reconciling the two people he had known and loved for so long, with the type of people Sam Winslow had depicted.  However, he did pick up on many obvious “up hill” traits throughout the evening. 

     At one point, he excused himself. When he returned, he explained to his friends that he had received a call from work. “You probably know that I’m a trouble shooter for my company.  Most of the time, I can fix things online or by phone.  However, the call I received indicated that I need to return to work earlier than I had planned. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut my visit short.” 

     “Oh no,” Benjy stated with some chagrin. “We’ve been planning this get together for so long and you’ve just gotten here.” 

     “I know, and I hate that I’m going to have to go. The company even got me a flight tomorrow morning.” 

     “Tomorrow morning!” Sara gasped. “But we were going to take you to church. You would really enjoy our minister.” 

     “I wish I could,” Travis replied. “At least we’ve had a little time together.”

     The next morning, Benjy and Sara drove Travis to the airport. The silence in the car was palpable. Sara and Benjy tried to understand why Travis had to leave, but were still very disappointed at his sudden departure. For his part, Travis was disappointed in himself for being deceptive. He used the call from his company as an excuse to get away.  

     They arrived at the airport and said their goodbyes. No sooner had Benjy and Sara driven away than Travis went to pick up a car he had rented. In actuality, his flight was not going to be until the later afternoon that day. He purposefully told his friends that the flight was early because there was something he wanted to do.

     Travis got on the interstate and took the first Chipworth exit, Route 38.  He found the road leading to Horace Epps’ trailer. When he arrived, he found Horace sitting at the front entrance to the trailer, just as he had found him the day before. 

     “Travis Stewart!” Horace exclaimed. “I certainly never expected to see you again.”  

     “I wanted to see you again before I left, Horace,” 

     “Whatever for?” 

     “I don’t really know for sure.I just felt that I needed to.” 

     “You know something, Travis Stewart?”

      “Please call me Travis.” 

     “Okay, Travis. I never do this, but I want you to come see my place,” 

     Travis braced himself. If the inside of the trailer was anything like the outside,Travis would be hard pressed to feel comfortable.  However, he was surprised to see that the inside of the trailer was as neat and orderly as the outside was a shambles. It was bright and airy.  

     “Bet you’re surprised, aren’t you?  Now don't lie. You're not in up hill Chipworth any more."

      "Actually, yes,” was Travis’s meek reply. "You, Sam, and the Methodist minister are the only three people I’ve ever let inside. This is my own private world, understand?” 

     “Understood.”

     Horace gave Travis a tour of his “trailer.” It had three rooms, plus an indoor john. What startled Travis the most was the fact that Horace lived completely off the grid. 

     “One of the things I learned in the service in Iraq was about solar energy and technology. I studied it even more while I was incarcerated. Looking at this place from the outside, you’d think I had no energy source at all. I’m cool in the summer and warm in the winter. I’ve even got WiFi!  What do you think?” 

     “I’m most impressed. But, to be honest, I’m also quite sad that you’re here all by yourself so much. I think the way the up hillers of Chipworth have treated you is beyond the pale.”  

     “Travis, even if they didn’t shun me, I’d have as little to do with them as possible. And by the way, how are Sara and Benjy doing?” 

     “How in the world did you know I was visiting them?” 

     “Two reasons, Travis. First, they’re the only people I could think of who might have someone like you visit them. Second, the grapevine in Chipworth is a mighty strong one. I read the local paper online.”  

     “In some ways, Horace, I wish I hadn’t come for a visit. I now feel that I never really knew them.”

      “Oh, you know them. They’ve got lots of good qualities, Travis. Sometimes, things are just the way they are.They need friends like you.” As they continued to talk, Horace made the comment, “That Benjy is something else, isn’t he?” 

     “He certainly is. I guess he’s always been the prankster.” 

     “Yep, perhaps too much so at times.” 

     “What do you mean by that, Horace?” 

     “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

     Travis continued his visit with Horace for some time. One thing he noticed was that Horace never focused on himself, and everything he had to say about others was in a spirit of charity. Travis knew he’d found a new friend.After about two hours,Travis invited Horace to get some lunch, but Horace declined.  Travis left and continued on up (literally) Route 38 until he reached the Finer Diner.  He decided to get some lunch before heading back to the airport. He noticed that Sam Winslow was having lunch.

     “Sam, do you ever work?”  

     “Not if I can help it, Travis. Actually, I’ve already had a long day. Too many toilets and not enough time!  How’s Horace doing?” 

     ”So you knew I’d go back to visit Horace.” 

     “That’s why I took you to see him in the first place. I knew you’d see something special in him, and he needs a friend like you.”  This last comment exactly mirrored what Horace had said about Sara and Benjy.  

     Sam continued, “ Did he take you inside his trailer?” 

     “Perhaps I shouldn’t say.”  Travis and Sam laughed.  

     “Sam, Horace said something that caught my attention. You seem to know lots about Chipworth. Perhaps you could fill me in.” 

     “I hope you don’t think I’m the village gossip, Travis. I just call’em as I see’em and try to be honest. I never mean to hurt anyone, though. So, what got your attention?” 

     “First of all, I assume you know that I was visiting Sara and Benjy Layton.” 

     “No, I didn’t.” 

     “ Horace sure did. He said that he read about in the paper.” 

     “Horace reads the local paper from cover to cover. He’s a voracious reader. I get my news with my eyes, first hand.” 

     “Anyway Sam, Horace and I were talking about Benjy and I made reference to his love of playing pranks. Horace then said that Benjy’s pranks sometimes went too far. He wouldn’t elaborate. What might he have meant by that?  I only ask because Benjy is a friend. I’m not even sure I want to know.”

      “Horace was probably referring to the house burning.”

      “The house burning?”

“I'm not sure I should tell you all this, but I'm going to anyway." Sam looked around to see if any prying ears were nearby. "A long time ago, when Benjy and Horace were in high school at the Chipworth Academy, Benjy and a couple of his friends pulled a prank.There are not many blacks in Chipworth, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. The Laytons, Benjy’s parents, had a black woman who served as a maid and general housekeeper. For some insane reason, Benjy and some of his friends – and by the way, Horace was not part of the in crowd at Chipworth – they decided it would be fun to plant a cross in the front yard of the maid’s house, you know, like the KKK. They planted it and set it ablaze. It was a windy night, and the fire jumped from the cross to the house. The maid, her husband, and their two children escaped unharmed, but the house burned to the ground. No one knows officially who set the fire, but I know. The reason I know is that Benjy’s father paid to have a new house built for the maid and her family, and he made his son work on that project. I did the plumbing on the house and saw the invoices. They were all marked for Benjy’s father to pay. My assumption is that Benjy’s father also gave the family some money as restitution.”

     “So, Benjy never officially owned up to what he had done?” 

     “Not to my knowledge. It’s a strange world, Travis. Horace Epps suffered by the death of his wife and children and was imprisoned for their deaths –something he would never do.  Benjy Layton burns down a house, the unfortunate outcome of a prank, and gets off Scot free.”  

     “Not to make light of anything Benjy might have done, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s never played a prank that was malicious or hurtful. I also remember in college that he refused to participate in any fraternity hazing rituals that were hurtful or humiliating. He also came to the aid of some of the black students on campus when they were subject to racial taunts.”

     “I guess he learned something from the experience. Your friends are, deep down, good people. Well Travis, the pipes are calling as the folks in Scotland said to Danny Boy. I’d better get cracking.It’s really been a pleasure meeting you. Keep up with Horace, won’t you?” Sam scribbled out Horace's e-mail address on a piece of paper and handed it to Travis.

    “I sure will, Sam.”

     After Sam left the finer Diner, Travis lingered a bit to think over what he had experienced during the last few days. He realized it was time to return to the airport and fly home.  A week later, Travis, of course, sent his friends a thank-you note praising their hospitality.  He deliberately said nothing about Chipworth in his note. They also followed up with a note and also curiously failed to mention the town they so adored. He also sent an e-mail message to Horace Epps. 

     Over the coming years, though Travis and his friends, Sara and Benjy Layton, would exchange Christmas and birthday cards, it was obvious that their friendship had petered out. He corresponded regularly with Horace and heard about goings on in Chipworth with Horace’s ears. That there was a Chipworth that his long-time friends remained intentionally blind to both saddened, and strangely amused Travis. It was as though they were on the receiving end of the biggest prank of all.