Paul retrieved the canister the intruder had left behind from his car, where it was wrapped carefully in a plastic bag. He put it wordlessly on Wilma's desk, acknowledged with an unflinching look.
Back on Main Street, he looked left and right out of habit to see whether he had a tail, but found nothing and no one suspicious. This was Welcome, Montana, after all. Not Geneva's diplomatic district. As a good US citizen, he should take the car down Main Street to the commercial stretch. But, as an honorary Londoner, he walked the few hundred yards instead. Some stores were still as he remembered them, maybe with a redone exterior or updated shop displays: Fergusson's Funeral Parlor, Barbershop Mayer, the John Deere sales and service shop. Others were typical Corporate, USA retailers, making their way into the small-town strips in order to show growth in sheer numbers. A Starbucks had replaced the old ice cream store, a TGI Friday's had opened where Schneider's Steakhouse had been, and Henry's Truck Stop had become a regular Exxon gas station.
Welcome Real Estate was still in its old spot, right behind the gas station. Paul crossed the street and stepped into the front office, a friendly white showroom with four desks and cleanly arranged displays along the walls where various offers of houses and ranches were shown. The big window showed Main Street and the opposite Lewis and Clark museum in all its restored glory. A large Star Spangled Banner hissed on one side in the window.
The only occupant looked up when Paul entered and broke into a wide smile. "Paul, what a rare sight! I haven't seen you in a long time!"
"Hey, Ray, it's great to see you, too. How are you?"
"Fine, fine, can't be better. I have to say that, don't I? Being the premier place for quality real estate in Deacon County. We make it happen! Don't tell me you want to buy a house in this part of the world? Or maybe sell your dad's place?"
"Dad would kill me! No, I am just visiting and thought I would catch up for once."
"Yeah, I heard that you and your old man made up somehow and that you come by every year around the holidays, but I never saw you in town." Ray Parks was Paul's age. They had been best school buddies up to the day Paul had left town for the Navy. They had remained in contact through the years, though Paul had reduced it to occasional Christmas cards after he had left the Service and had settled down in London a few years ago. Ray had kept his boyish looks, full blond hair and blue eyes, and his youthful charm. "Speaking of catching up, why don't I close the shop and we go for a lunch across the street?"
"No one else is minding the store?" Paul waved at the three empty desks.
"All three sales ladies are out, showing property, and we just opened an office in Butte. My business partner Sue is spending three days every week kick starting it. I am so busy right now that I even need to open on Christmas morning!"
Ray turned the "Back soon" sign and locked the door, still talking. The friends walked to the next block where Barney's Diner announced, "Proudly serving Big Sky Country for eighty years."
Paul appraised the place when they stepped in. "Man, I still remember the 'serving fifty years' celebration of this place. They served free ice cream for a weekend and had fireworks."
Ray laughed. "That's right; I remember. We ate as much as we could, puked it out around the corner, and went back for another helping. I go here every day for breakfast and lunch."
They sat and received the menus.
"You know what I find scary walking through town after such a long time?" Paul said, speaking over the menu and watching the waitress walk away. "I constantly wonder if I'm supposed to know people I meet on the street. Someone from school? Someone from sports? Someone working in the store twenty years ago?"
