Page 59 of Whistle

“Thank you. You know I was born here. I am an American citizen.”

“I know.”

As Basher went to join his family, Harry turned his attention back to the town’s new business. The crowd had thinned, some heading off with purchases. Harry stepped forward and offered a hand.

“Hello again,” the chief said as Mr. Choo’s hand wrapped around his and squeezed.

And Harry felt... something.

Something so fleeting, he almost didn’t catch it. A half-secondchill. If he’d even given it a thought, he would have blamed it on a cool gust of wind that coincided with the greeting. Fall was in the air, after all. The changing leaves were a cascade of color. It was a beautiful autumn day.

“And how is our chief today?”

“Good, thanks,” Harry said. “We met the other morning. You brought Gavin a coffee.”

“Right, right, yes. Haven’t seen him today.”

“He’s probably around somewhere. Just wanted to welcome you to Lucknow, Mr. Choo.”

He laughed. “Nabler.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not Choo. Nabler. Edwin Nabler.”

“Well, welcome, Edwin. Looks like you’re doing a booming business today. Amazing, for being so new to town.”

“You know what the key to success is? Offering people something they don’t need, because if they need it, they already have it. But offer something they might want? That’s a different story. And word of mouth is everything.” Nabler smiled. “Toy trains are such an iconic toy. They never go out of style.”

“Trains were never really my thing, even as a kid,” Harry said, “but I understand the appeal. My son would love them, I bet.”

“Is Dylan here somewhere?”

“He’s got a soccer practice this morning.”

“You must bring him in one day. Open nine thirty to five.”

Harry asked, “Have you had a shop like this in other places?”

Nabler nodded. “I’m a bit of a traveling salesman, to be honest. Hang out my shingle in a place, sell my wares until I’ve pretty much saturated the market, then move on.”

“Has to be hard on a family, packing up and moving so often.”

“It’s just me, so I’m the only one inconvenienced. You’ve been eyeing my patches.” Nabler ran a hand over the various railway logos stitched into his garment.

“They’re quite something.”

Nabler leaned in close and whispered, “I feel like a damn fool. The hat, the patches, thewoo-wooand thechugga-chugga. But you have to get them into the tent, if you get my meaning.”

“Sure. Salesmanship.”

“Exactly. But it’s worth it. Because there’s a child within all of us, no matter how old we get. Did you know Frank Sinatra—bless his soul, three years now without him—was a collector? He had a separate building behind his house just for his trains.”

“I’ll be.”

Nabler smiled slyly. “We’re like a cult. Hiding in plain sight right in front you. You think we’re normal, but in the privacy of our own homes, we get up to some very strange things.”

Harry gave him a nod. “Nice meeting you. You have a great day.”

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