Title: Lost In Time
Summary: A found first edition leads Prue directly to a first-class mystery involving a teenage girl and her antiques.
Spoilers: Up to "Blind Sided". The timeline in the story is late season one.
Rating/Warning: K+. Occasional swearing though nothing drastic. Some imagery in later chapters.
Disclaimer: The Charmed Ones were created by Connie Burge and then taken over by Brad Kern. Since I am neither Connie Burge nor Brad Kern, I don't own the Charmed Ones. I'm just playing but I promise I'll put everything back the way I found it.
Author's Note: This story has been three years in coming. I first came up with the idea back in 2003 but due to plotting problems, I scrapped it. A year later, I finally figured out how to make the story work, but I just couldn't get it out on paper. This story has been planned from start to finish for three years, and I'm really kind of proud of it. I just can't tell if that's because I actually like it or if it's because it's finally out of my head and on paper. ;)
The last time Prue Halliwell was at a church fair, she couldn't have been more than nine years old.
The only reason she had ever been to one at all was because her mother had always taken Prue and her sisters to the church fair. The reason was partly altruistic and partly practical: Patty liked the idea of supporting the church and, in turn, the church shelter, but it was also a lot less expensive to stock the manor with secondhand toys for her three girls.
After Prue's mother's drowning, her grandmother had attempted to carry on the tradition, but they only went a couple of times before the younger Halliwells began grumbling and groaning when the subject came up. Now that they were all older, Prue was hoping they could revive one of her mother's traditions. It made Prue feel closer to her mother somehow, doing something that Patty had enjoyed.
"How come I don't remember Grams taking us here?" Phoebe asked as she slammed the door of Piper's Jeep closed. The sound startled Prue out of her reverie and kicked her into motion.
"We were really little, Pheebs," Prue said as she climbed out of the car. "I'm not surprised you don't remember."
"I don't remember it, either," Piper said, stepping around Prue to gaze up at the enormous white structure in front of them. The church had stood on the corner of Sycamore Street for as far back as she could remember. She remembered being somewhat intimidated by the staid Catholic building when she was a child.
As she led the way to the parish hall, vague memories started making their way to the surface. In her mind's eye, she saw Phoebe as a toddler having an absolute ball in a room full of toys and other children. "Not really, anyway."
"I loved the fudge room, you loved the book room, and Phoebe loved the toy room," Prue said as a nostalgic smile lit her face.
"Yeah, that sounds about right," Piper replied with a light giggle.
The sisters enjoyed the bright May sunshine as they walked to the parish hall, a hush falling over them. As Prue walked into the building, familiar smells hit her nose. The distinct intermingled aroma of baked goods, coffee, fudge, and candy hung in the air and filled the small space with a warm, inviting aura. Comforting.
Inside, the sisters separated, Phoebe and Piper heading straight for the baked goods and Prue deciding to start from the beginning and work her way around the parish hall in a circle. The first alcove on the right was the book room. She scanned the titles as she walked past each table; she didn't expect to find anything really worthwhile, maybe a couple of beach reads.
As she crept up on the fourth table, her eye was instantly drawn to the spine of a thick, cloth-bound hardcover that looked much, much different from those around it. With a curious frown, she picked up the book and turned it over to get a look at the cover. Her eyes widened when she saw the piece of American history she held in her hands.
A beautiful, first edition of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales for Boys and Girls that, with the exception of a few smudges of dark dirt or dust worn into the cloth, was in almost museum condition.
She gingerly nested the book in the crook of her arm, cradling it as if she were a student carrying her textbooks, and hurried out of the alcove. She ran her eyes over the crowd, trying to find someone she could return the book to. A moment later she spotted one of the priests standing near the refreshment table; she hurried over to him. "Excuse me, Father Allen?"
"Yes?" said Father Gregory Allen, a handsome man in his early thirties. Prue had mentioned to her sisters on more than one occasion when he had first become priest at the church that it was a shame he had taken a vow of celibacy.
"I found this in the book room," she explained, holding the book out to the priest. She smiled almost shyly when his blue eyes locked with hers. "It's worth a great deal more than the dollar-fifty you're charging for it. A first editionwould sell at auction for thousands, especially if there are Hawthorne enthusiasts present. It's kind of hard to come by."
"Oh, no," Father Allen replied, carefully taking the book from Prue's hand, "this wasn't supposed to be on the floor. Thank you very much for bringing it to my attention."
"May I ask why it wasn't supposed to be on the floor?"
"It belongs to someone staying in the shelter," he explained. "It must have gotten packed with the sale books by mistake. I'll go return it to her now. Thank you again."
"You're very welcome," Prue said before the priest smiled a goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. She let her breath out in relief, secure in the knowledge that the book was being returned to its rightful owner.
She returned to the book alcove and resumed her search for cheesy, light reads only to find herself continually thinking about the Hawthorne novel. What she had told Father Allen was correct; first edition copies of Tanglewood Tales for Boys and Girls were rather difficult to find. It wasn't an obscure title by any means, but it wasn't a title that the average person would know off the top of his head, either.
Frowning, she turned around and again scanned the crowd for Father Allen. She wanted to tell him to make sure that the owner of the book knew how valuable it was. Unfortunately she could not find him among the throng of church-goers and bargain shoppers.
At that moment, Piper and Phoebe ran up to her, giggling like small children, and handed her the largest chocolate chip cookie she had ever seen. "What the hell?"
"Prue!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Can you say that in a Catholic church?"
"What, hell?" Prue asked. She smirked. "I'm pretty sure you can. If you mean the place, which I totally did."
"Oh, I'm sure," Piper laughed. "Can you believe the size of these cookies? They're selling them for fifty cents!"
Prue grinned at her sister and bit into her cookie. She had never tasted anything so close to baked perfection; it positively melted in her mouth. "This is amazing!" she said after she had swallowed.
"Isn't it?" Piper said excitedly. "I would kill for the recipe."
"Piper!" Phoebe hissed. "You shouldn't threaten violence in a church! Thou shalt not kill, remember?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Phoebe!" Prue exclaimed. "We're not even in the church itself."
Phoebe just gave her sister a mischievous, teasing grin in response. "Using the Lord's name in vain."
Prue shook her head, chuckling to herself. "Oh, you'll never guess what I found in the book room," she said in a hushed whisper after swallowing another bite of cookie. "A first edition Tanglewood Tales."
"A first edition Hawthorne?" Piper asked, surreptitiously licking melted chocolate off her index finger. "Here?"
Prue nodded, an excited twinkle in her eye. "It was absolutely gorgeous, really well maintained. I brought it to Father Allen to let him know that it was worth much more than they were selling it for, and he told me that it actually belonged to someone staying in the shelter and that it had made it into the to-sell pile by mistake."
"Huh." Phoebe said, frowning. "I hope the person knows how much that book is worth. If anyone needed a little windfall, it would be someone staying in a church shelter."
"I hope so, too, Pheebs," Prue said softly, darting her eyes around the parish hall again. Still no sign of Father Allen. "I hope so, too."