Free The Color of Forever by Julianne MacLean Page B

gravel lot.
    Feeling as if there wasn’t a moment to lose, I grabbed my purse off the floor and hopped out, pausing only briefly to scan the length of green sloping lawn that led down to the sundial, just before the shoreline. Two freshly painted Adirondack chairs—one red and one blue—stood empty beside it.
    Everything seemed small in the distance, except for the ocean, of course. If a boat had been tossed up during a storm, I wondered if another rogue wave, sweeping in upon these rocks, might have swept the sea captain’s wife to her death. Despite the summer heat, I shivered at the thought.
    “Ready?” I said to Bailey as she got out of the vehicle and shut the car door.
    “Yes.”
    Together, with the sun warm upon our shoulders, we strolled onto the stone path that meandered down to the water, and passed beneath a charming, white painted rose arbor with a butterfly flitting about.
    We noticed Angela on the far side of the property wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and denim overalls. She was pruning a hedgerow with a giant pair of clippers. She waved at us and we waved back.
    As we drew nearer to the sundial, I lifted my sunglasses to rest on top of my head. “It looks ancient,” I said, stopping in front of it.
    Slowly, I circled the stone dial plate and ran my fingers over the Roman numerals carved into its surface.
    “The stand is pretty elaborate,” Bailey commented.
    I squatted down to inspect the column that stood upon a stone slab, and ran my open hand up and down the intricate designs. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This part looks Asian or Middle Eastern.”
    Rising to my feet, I turned to look out at the sparkling blue sea, and spotted a sailboat in the distance. Shading my eyes, I watched the boat for a moment, then walked forward to the edge of the lawn and looked over the rugged shoreline below. The tide was out and the rocks were covered in seaweed and barnacles. I breathed in the salty scent of the pebbly beach, then turned back to consider the sundial again.
    “Well,” I said, “we’re still here.”
    Bailey pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. “And it’s still August, 2016.”
    She pointed at a wooden deck on the far corner of the property with a few empty lounge chairs upon it. “Listen, do you hear that? I think those chairs are calling to us. Want to get into our bathing suits, grab a couple of drinks, and do some reading?”
    I glanced at the deck. “That sounds good, but you go ahead and get changed without me. I’d like to talk to Angela first, to see if she knows anything about the sundial. I’ll meet you on the deck. Save me a chair.”
    Bailey and I parted ways. She returned to the stone path while I started off in the opposite direction across the wide green lawn.
    o0o
    “A lot of guests ask me about that sundial because it’s so unique,” Angela said, as we began the short walk back to the house together. “My husband and I both wish we knew more. What we do know is that Captain Fraser was also an inventor late in life, and we found all sorts of fascinating Victorian contraptions in the attic when we bought the place. We donated everything to the local museum.”
    “That’s interesting. Is there a display there? I’d love to take a look.”
    “Yes, they have a cabinet dedicated solely to his inventions, and they also have a number of items stored in their archives.” Angela stopped, bent over and tugged a weed out of the grass, then we continued on.
    “I heard that the captain lost his wife when they were still quite young,” I mentioned, “and that he wanted to build a time machine so that he could go back and prevent her death. Do you know anything about that?”
    “Yes, of course. I was the one who discovered it in the letters his children wrote to each other, which we found in the attic. That’s her portrait hanging over the fireplace in your room. Sadly, the family destroyed most of his paperwork referencing his inventions and his travels