Page 109 of Whistle

“The secret ingredient islove.”

“Oh come on!” the woman said, laughing. “I thought you were going to say cheese or mayonnaise or onions or something. So that’s it, then. You putloveinto your trains.”

“What can I say? I hate to toot my own horn.” He waited to see if she would laugh at that. When she didn’t, he said, “That was a train joke. Toot? Horn?”

“Ah,” she said.

Nabler smiled sheepishly. “We train nerds aren’t particularly noted for our wit.”

“Tell me about this set,” she said.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Edwin said, coming around the counterand checking out the woman’s choice. “A Southern Pacific steam engine, four-six-two, a—”

“What does four-six-two mean? The number on the side is zero-four-three.”

“Okay, so, you see all the drive wheels? Four small wheels at the front, then six big wheels in the middle, and two small wheels at the back end. Four-six-two.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe that’s more detail than you need. So, a Southern Pacific steam engine with matching tender where the coal would be, a cattle car, a missile-launching car, and—”

“Like, a military missile? A rocket? Why would a train be carrying a missile?”

“There’s an element of whimsy with these sets. They’re designed more for fun than realism. The roof opens down the middle and a missile pops up and fires. Just don’t aim it at anyone’s eyes.”

“It fires? You’re not serious.”

“Ma’am, I would never kid about something as serious as a missile car. It has been a mainstay of the toy train lineup since the early sixties.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m a bit of a literalist.”

“Not a problem. So, a cattle car, a missile car, this one carries a giraffe, and then there’s the matching Southern Pacific caboose. And it comes with track and a power pack, or transformer, to make it run.”

“It’s perfect. I can see it under the tree now.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” Nabler said hesitantly, “why not give it to them now as opposed to waiting another couple of months till Christmas? And if they get the bug—”

“A bug? Is that an accessory?”

“Thebug. As in, they get caught up in the hobby—then you’llwant to come back to get more boxcars and buildings and scenery for them for Christmas. So that they can build their empire.”

The woman smiled. “Aren’t you the clever salesman.”

He raised his palms innocently. “It’s only a suggestion.”

“An empire,” she said thoughtfully. “Doyouhave one of those?”

“I do, in fact. In the back of the shop. I wouldn’t be cut out for this line of work if I hadn’t caught the bug myself.”

Her eyes brightened. “Would I be able to see it? I mean, is it available for public viewing?”

It was then that he fully appreciated how nice her hair was. Long and flowing, and once dyed, it would be ideal for a field or a lawn. And there were hints of a fine bone structure in her face and, presumably, her entire body. Given her petite stature, she would be easy to prepare. He could fillet her like a perch, extract her delicate frame in no time.

He felt an itch, wanting to make her part of his process.

But no, he’d already had this debate with himself. Time to take a bit of a breather. Although this particular set she had her hands on, it would pack a punch, he believed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s a bit of mess at the moment. Before I show it off, I have to work out some of the kinks in the track. Don’t want to be running a train and have any embarrassing derailments.”

---