Summer 1975
Kathryn Gray smiled as she strolled down Fifth Avenue in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn, a neighborhood she once called home. It had been nearly six years since the thirty year old brunette had done so, but many of the sights and sounds around her were as familiar as if it had been only yesterday. Sure, there were some new stores along the commercial thoroughfare, but many old landmarks remained. It was at Sixteenth and Fifth, however, that she came to a complete stop, taken by surprise by the municipal parking lot on that corner.
Growing up, this had been the 72nd Precinct, where two generations of Grays had served on the NYPD, her grandfather and an uncle. As a child, she had visited the three story station house, built back in the 1890s, many times for community events, and thankfully only once for a minor disorderly conduct infraction, born out of a graduation party that got a bit out of hand, at least in the view of some of the neighbors. That small blemish on her record had been erased by a desk sergeant who had worked with both older Grays.
'It was such a beautiful old building,' Kathryn thought as she again began walking, recalling a friend writing to her that it had been torn down a few years ago.
Two blocks further down, Kathryn again stopped, her attention drawn to an old candy store. It had been one of her happy places, where she'd pick up new comic books twice a week as well as enjoy the occasional egg creme. Her parents weren't exactly thrilled by her early obsession with comics but, since they eventually led her to a love of more complex books as well, they eventually relented. In fact, many of those 'outlandish stories' inspired her to create her own, and by the time she reached high school she'd filled several notebooks with details of magical realms and the characters who inhabited them. Notes which, with the encouragement of her English teacher, turned into a series of short stories. Tales which appeared, first in the school's literary magazine, then as part of a collection of promising authors put out by a major publishing house. Her first novel, Knights of the Last Dragon, made the bestsellers list when she was still in college.
It was the pending publication of her fourth novel in the series that had brought Kathryn from her home out in Stony Brook to lower Manhattan for an early morning meeting with her publisher to work out a few last details. Afterwards, she had declined an offer of lunch and, on a whim, decided to take the train into Brooklyn and visit the old neighborhood. Her last visit had been for her mother's funeral and she found herself feeling a bit nostalgic.
The sign etched on the plate glass window still said Petroski's, but Kathryn doubted old man Petroski still owned the place. After all, he'd been in his seventies when she'd been a regular customer, but it was still worth taking a look.
The store proved to be pretty much as she remembered, perhaps a little more run down, but still clean. The old rotating comic rack was still there, as well as one containing paperbacks -- most of them well out of date. Of those, one practically jumped out at her.
"Oh my God, I don't believe it," Kathryn said as she lifted the brightly colored book off the rack.
She stood there for a few long seconds, staring at the familiar cover illustration, running her fingers across the title. Finding a copy of her first novel here meant more to her than any other success.
"That is good book," a voice from behind her said, one just familiar enough for her to quickly turn in response to it.
There stood a much older, but still recognizable, Michal Petroski.
"That is very good book," he repeated, the inflection in his tone reflecting an almost paternal pride. "The girl who wrote that used to be my customer."
"Mr. Petroski, it's me, Kathryn, Kathryn Gray," she said, amazed that the old man still ran the place.
The bearded octogenarian stepped back and took a better look at the woman in the light blue dress. Recognition filled his eyes and he immediately surged forward, throwing his arms around Kathryn, wrapping her in a bear hug. That was immediately followed by a mix of Polish and English that Kathryn was hard pressed to follow, except for the part where she heard him say, "Sit, I make you egg cream."
As she sat at the tiny four stool counter, she watched with fond memories as the old man quickly mixed the drink, his face filled with a broad smile as he placed it in front of her. A smile that only grew as, after taking a taste, Kathryn said that it was better than she remembered.
"Picture, we must take picture," Michal said as he turned and, after rummaging through a large drawer in the cabinet behind him, produced a small Kodak Instamatic camera.
It occurred to Kathryn as the old man came back around the counter that a photograph with both of them would be better than just one of her alone. So she asked if there was anyone who could take it for them.
"You watch store, I be right back," Michal said after thinking about it for a moment.
By the time he was, he had a young, curly haired redhead with him. The girl looked to be in her early twenties and the food smock she wore read Deli Good, the name of the delicatessen next door, so the excited store owner hadn't to go far to find someone. A small nametag pinned over her left breast read Lynda.
Handing off the camera, Michal slipped next to Kathryn and wrapped his arm around her, again smiling proudly. The girl brought the camera up and looked into the small viewfinder, but then lowered it unexpectedly.
"You have a little ..." Lynda said to Kathryn, using an extended finger above her own upper lip to illustrate her meaning.
"Oh," Kathryn replied as she brought up her own hand and wiped away the egg cream mustache.
"Okay, that's good," Lynda said as she brought the camera back up.
Even though she was expecting it, the bright light of the flashcube caused Kathryn to blink, so Lynda suggested that they take another photo, just to be sure. Kathryn readily agreed, thinking that there was nothing more disappointing than getting that one-of-a-kind picture back from the drugstore and finding it hadn't come out as expected.
"There's only a few more shots on the roll," Lynda said, having had much the same thought, "so why don't I just finish it off?"
That they did, changing positions so that all the photos wouldn't be the same, then taking the last two outside in the sunlight, with the store's name in the backdrop. Once done, Michal excitedly took the camera back inside, saying that he'd drop off the film as soon as his grandson came back from making a delivery.
"Thanks for taking the photos, Lynda," Kathryn said. "I think it meant a lot to Mr. Petroski."
"Well, it's not every day that a local celebrity comes to visit," Lynda pointed out.
"I'm hardly a celebrity," Kathryn replied.
"Well, in my house you certainly were," Lynda said in turn.
Kathryn replied with a puzzled look.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" Lynda said.
Kathryn took a long hard look at the younger woman, trying to place her. The girl looked familiar, but not enough to place her.
"Should I?" Kathryn asked hesitantly.
