ARIELLE ARRIVES VERMONT just as the sun retreats behind the quaint mountain Town. The RV she drives is a blessing, providing comfort and anonymity and she blends easily into the countryside. She drives another ten minutes and spots a chic metal welcome sign that speaks in pretty tiny cursives.
'WELCOME TO WINTERVILLE - REFRESHES ACHING BONES.'
She sighs at the cuteness of the little town. Moderate white-washed homes line the borders of the asphalt. The Air is clean and you can just smell the exotic freshness. It cools the ears, massages the skin... and the Green. There's so much green everywhere. This alone makes Arielle want to roll in the lush verdure.
A small moan comes from beside her. Arielle turns to Fallon and a small smile warms her lips. She had told the beautiful brown-eyed woman to recline on the mattress upon the start of their journey, but she'd refused, insisting on taking the space next to her at the driver's seat.
Classic Fallon!
Arielle may not love Fallon the way she does love her, but she knows she would in a moment die for her. Her eyelids flutter open and warm hazel eyes stare up at Arielle.
"We're there?" Fallon enquires softly.
"Yes, love. We're here."
The notification on the MacBook offered four locations as to the probable manufacturers of the red strip. The first three were large-scale textile manufacturing companies. Arielle ruled them out almost immediately. The last address sang to her.
It fit perfectly.
A Mountain Town. A sweet-smelling embroidery. A Ghost of a man.
She immediately ordered the purchase of the RV, and with Fallon by her side, began the journey. Michael of course followed them with his weird GPS app.
They halt beside a quaint Diner. Arielle doesn't bother to lock the doors as they exit the RV. She doesn't know why but she feels a sense of security and a weird feeling that she knows the area. The pleasant smell of sugared cinnamon bread and fresh-milk shakes fill their nostrils.
A little golden bell dings as they walk in and a group of men turn to stare at them with interested eyes. One of them actually tips his hat at them. Fallon notices their eyes linger below, and she peers down at their clasped hands. She immediately withdraws her hand from Arielle's grasp.
The Country's a nice place and all but they don't particularly deal well with same-sex lovers. Arielle notices this also and quickly takes a seat, hoping the patrons send their eyes elsewhere.
The waitress arrives—a strangely pretty middle-aged woman with stunning pale-blue eyes. This, Arielle notices is common among the gathered throng. The woman politely takes their order and leaves.
"I love this place," Fallon sighs. "...the Atmosphere, the birds, the weather. Everything. It's beautiful."
"Yes. It is. But I love the sight before me more." Arielle replies, taking Fallon's hands in hers.
They stare intensely at each other as pink crawls up their necks. A cowboy clears his throat from behind and they immediately withdraw. The woman returns with their order. She places it on the white tablecloth but rather than leave, she pulls a chair closer and sits on it.
Fallon clears her throat.
"I doubt my food is the peak of your worries," the woman begins, her voice surprisingly light like a singer's. "Now, how can I help you?"
Arielle and Fallon exchange looks, and Arielle bows her head with a sigh, hating what she had to do. Ever so calmly, she pulls the red strip from her purse and places it gently on the table. Fallon looks to her in confusion.
"I'll explain later Fall," she says to her. Fallon frowns but nods her understanding. Arielle takes a deep breath and begins her tale.
She cuts out the part of her being a wolf, billionaire, and virtual lover to some ghost. The rest—which isn't much, she tells the woman.
The woman gazes intensely at them as if trying to gauge the sincerity in her words, and Arielle wonders if blue-eyed people can somehow detect lies. The woman blinks a few times. Her next words shock Arielle.
"I'm Anne, and I made the strip. Twenty-five years ago."