Part 12: The Trolley

Previously in—the Vines Inquiry, Frank decided he would rather know than fear and set out to investigate what his family is up to. Meanwhile, Harlow ran into an old college menace, Tucker, who revealed he has become the new landlord for her family’s bar.

The trolley was crowded on the way up-island. Even Harlow said it was more than usual when she dropped Frank at the station. With her business to attend to back home, the first leg of the journey would be a solo trip for the young(est) Vines.

Christmas music hummed through the speakers, barely audible over the riders’ chatter. Frank listened in, shamelessly enjoying the snippets of conversation that circled round him. Talk of what wine to buy so that Sarah would like it. Excitement at the prospect of Little Dennis opening his gifts tomorrow. The final preparations of a plan to surprise Marcus with an engagement ring Christmas morning. Frank always thought it was better to do that last one on Christmas Eve so any other gifts stood a chance, but overall, the proposal sounded like a winner.

As long as they weren’t blown down the mountain by a snow drift. He imagined a video six months from now: “10 Best Proposal Fails UPDATED.” 

Better not tell Harlow about that one. She’s too good at setting things to music, he thought.

When Frank had set off from McCroy’s, he’d had big man gumption. He wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but it involved walking tall with his shoulders as broad as possible and almost not slipping on the snow in the parking lot. Right then, his options seemed slim. He could either talk honestly with his parents about what he’d overheard (completely impossible, of course) or go snooping around.

He looked around the trolley car, full of cheer and/or mirth, riding the rails up his gorgeous home island (a snowy island paradise, for god(s) sake); and felt guilty for tainting the place in his memory. He vowed to try and itch at it less, to focus on the things he’d enjoyed. The good times he’d had with his parents, his family, ‘back home.’ 

A Christmas song so notable that even the youngest kid on the trolley knew it came on, and everyone began to sing. Frank nodded along, smiling at people that smiled at him. The snow was falling in that summer storm heaviness; large, feather flakes that had already accumulated to a few inches and clouded vision. While they sang, part way through the second verse, Frank spotted her in the window. 

A woman, moving through the woods.