Chapter 7

Today was Schemer's first official day away from the station, and to Stacy it was particularly difficult. She had to field all the questions from the regulars who had no idea of any of the events that had transpired. To them, they had left a perfectly normal Shining Time Station on Saturday and returned on Monday to a much emptier building.

"He had to move suddenly for a... new job," she said for what must have been the fifth time since starting her shift an hour ago, this time to Midge and Ginny. "Excuse me," she told them, before rushing into Billy's office and shutting the door behind her. She allowed herself to fall into Billy's guest chair.

Billy looked up as she walked in. " Are you okay?" he asked with concern in his voice.

She shook her head no. She couldn't cry though. She had used up all her tears the previous day. "This is all my fault, isn't it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's not, you were just two people in an unfortunate situation," he said kindly.

They didn't speak, and just let themselves think about the current situation. It was only when a faded, and out of tune, train whistle sounded from inside the office that they broke from their reveries. They looked at a spot on Billy's desk where Mr. Conductor appeared. His emergence was much slower than normal, and instead of the usual shimmering gold dust following him, a grey soot-like matter seemed to dully dust over him.

He coughed as he appeared and promptly fell over. "Mr. Conductor!" Stacy exclaimed. Billy caught him in the palm of his hand.

"What's wrong Mr. C?" Billy asked, very worriedly. He exchanged glances with Stacy who looked shocked and horrified.

Mr. Conductor's breathing was laboured, and his face was strained with effort. "Remember what I told you about the dark magic?" he asked, wheezing. Stacy froze in fear.

He coughed again, his breathing laboured. "It's here, and it wants Shining Time Station. The balance is disrupted."

Stacy didn't know what the balance was but she could see his eyes closing. "No, Mr. Conductor! Please! You can't leave us now!" she cried out. Billy looked on with sadness and shock.

"Goodbye, and thank you for being my friends. Tell the children... to be good..." he struggled as he forced the words out.

And for the last time, Mr. Conductor disappeared. The only thing he left behind was a small silver whistle, sitting in the palm of Billy's hand.

They had decided to make a small grave, located just under the apple tree outside Stacy's window from her desk at the station. They had buried the whistle a few inches below ground, because it was the only thing they had left of Mr. Conductor, and then topped it with a small engraved stone.

The perfect friend, confidante, and storyteller.

M ay your knowledge and wisdom carry forward through Shining Time Station, in good times and bad.

You were the spirit of the Indian Valley, Mr. Conductor. Rest in Peace.

Stacy circled around the station, trying to come to terms with the new atmosphere. She struggled with the idea of telling the children about Mr. Conductor. She struggled with the idea of this empty building. The station had been in her family for so long and years of her life had been devoted to keeping it alive and running. But for what? Her already stormy mood darkened further. Schemer was gone, Mr. Conductor was dead, the children would be well graduated and long gone from these walls within two years. Above all, there was Mr. Conductor's parting words, leaving them with the looming threat of darkness falling over the station.

She stopped within the former arcade, for what was probably the fifth time that day, and felt unsteady. Maybe she should have left with him. If the station was being targeted by some unknown malicious force, maybe it was foolish to stay behind. Even if there was nothing, he was right about having Mr. King as her boss, what kind of person wanted to remain in a position with a verbally abusive employer?

She shook her head. But still, she couldn't leave. Not now, especially not when things were so vulnerable. " The relationship had run its course, it was done ," she told herself, " Leaving for a town four hours away wouldn't have saved it ." Still, she continued pacing the station and stopped in front of the signal house, feeling a pang of loneliness. Mr. Conductor was the mentor of most of the residents of the Station. He would want her to keep the Station alive, wouldn't he?

She continued on in her walk, completely deep in thought. As she came back around to her desk, two men entered the station. She looked up to see Mr. King and Paul walking up to her desk.

"Afternoon Mr. King, Mr. Miller," she greeted with as much forced cheerfulness that she could manage.

"Ms. Jones, how do you find yourself?" Mr. King asked tentatively.

"I've been... fine, Sir. And yourself?" She asked politely. The working relationship was currently tense. As was usual with Mr. King, he had an explosive temper, but otherwise was neutral. She also realized that while he hadn't spoken to Mr. Conductor in years, probably since he was a boy, judging by his stories, she knew that he still considered Mr. Conductor a dear friend. She debated telling him the news, privately, but decided against it. Call it petty, or call it sorrow, she didn't feel the need.

"Just fine. Do you mind if we talk to you in Mr. Twofeather's office? I saw him working outside so I'm assuming that it's unoccupied," he suggested carefully.

She nodded and followed the two inside. As usual, Mr. King sat behind the desk, and Paul flanked him, standing. Stacy chose to stand, opposed to sitting. "What did you need to speak to me about, Sir?" she asked. Her outside demeanor was calm but inside she was terrified. A surprise closed-door meeting? Rarely did anything good come of those.

"Well Ms. Jones, as you know Mr. Miller is a stakeholder in the railway. He's stationed out of Dillylick currently, but needs to work more central for at least part of the time," Mr. King explained.

Stacy gave Paul a suspicious look, and he responded with an almost apologetic look. Mr. King continued on, unaware of any undertones. "Basically, he needs an office and I know this may be a sensitive subject, but I'd like him to take over the former arcade site."

Stacy blinked. She could hardly comprehend what she was being told. How could he put an office over the arcade? That's where the arcade was, whether or not the machines were still there, that was the arcade. But here they were, and they seemed serious about it. Realizing that they were watching her and waiting for a response, she willed herself to nod, recognizing she had no choice in the matter.

"Good!" Mr. King said cheerfully, unaware of her conflict. "Though I'm sure you're aware, this means you'll be seeing him more than myself. Treat him as you would me. Mr. Miller, I'm leaving this station in your capable hands," Mr. King said sanctimoniously. He checked his watch, "I must leave, Mr. Miller please take your measurements, familiarize yourself with the location. I'll see you at next week's board meeting."

With that, Mr. King bustled out of the office, leaving Stacy and Paul to themselves.

She kept her expression neutral and felt anger taking root. What right did Mr. King have to just give away arcades to become offices. He was the superintendent, it was true, but this was undignified. She remembered Paul was still in the room, and seemed to be looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

She didn't want to have this conversation, she had gone through too much in the last two days to justify that with any response that didn't involve breaking down into tears. So she just shrugged and said, "When will you move in?"

"Within a few weeks, Mr. King hired the contractor so they'll work over the evenings and days that the station isn't open. I do want you to know, I didn't willingly choose this," he said sincerely.

She must've looked surprised because he gave a kind, knowing smile and continued, "I know how special this place is to you, and I know the arcade shouldn't be replaced so easily, but unfortunately I can't interfere with the day-to-day running of the railway. That's Mr. King's job, I'm just working as his right hand."

"I wish you just ran the whole railway!" she blurted out suddenly. She regretted it though, knowing it made her seem petty and immature.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, and I don't always agree with Mr. King's methods, but he is effective on the business side, despite his shortcomings with the people aspect. Nonetheless, I look forward to working with you," he said warmly, "Goodbye Stacy."

She wished him well and he left her to Billy's office. She still didn't like the whole idea, but maybe it would be bearable. To Schemer's credit, he also wanted to get away from Mr. King and work under Paul instead. Perhaps if Paul were here, Schemer would eventually come back. Maybe. She wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed like something she would want.

A desk job. It just had to be a desk job. As Schemer slammed his head onto his desk, a resounding thunk rang out. Sometimes unemployment looked far better than doing the one type of job he swore he would never have to do. He raised his head slowly, only to find a piece of paper stuck on his forehead and obscuring his vision. He swatted it off and crumpled it up with a growl of dissatisfaction. Paul's job description was lacking, Schemer decided. Sure it was kind of like Stacy's job, if you squinted. The only real resemblance was the fact that there was a desk involved. At least Stacy was allowed to get up and walk around, Schemer was essentially bound to his desk from nine to five. The desk itself was situated in a cubicle of sorts. Customers could approach him in person for information but he mostly just dealt with them over the telephone.

Compared to his roomy arcade it felt like a small, cramped prison to him. And he hated every second of it.

The worst part wasn't the job though. The worst part was that he didn't know anybody at this station. He didn't just miss working with Stacy and Billy. He missed all the regular passengers and Shining Time residents who would pop by. Worst yet, it was all his fault. He gave that up to come here.

His prior annoyance was replaced by regret. It was like starting entirely over. Sure, he had a rocky start with practically everyone at Shining Time Station. Somewhere along the line, everyone began to give a little. Trust began to emerge and friendships were forged. He didn't feel that he had it in him to try again. It took years to get to that point, and only a few short days to tear it all back down. What was even the point?

As he thought more about it, he realized that the same thing had happened with Schemee too. He had initially clashed with the other children and now they were best friends. Though, if there was one bright side of all of this, it was that at least Schemee still had Shining Time Station, somewhat. He wasn't too far from another train station and could easily take a ride over. Between work and the distance, Schemer didn't have too much time. His weekends would be spent visiting Schemee at Allcott's house, leaving little time for visits to Shining Time Station. Still, maybe he would eventually find the time.

Overhead, the clock struck five. He heaved a sigh as he got to his feet, and turned the sign on his desk to "Closed". As he left the station he noticed a group of some of the other workers getting together to go out after work. He walked past quickly, juggling feelings of self-isolation and loneliness. This was his life now, he thought bitterly to himself. He lived and worked in Dillylick and would never be part of the Shining Time Station team ever again.

The drive home was quiet and boring. And when he reached his apartment, he found it was even quieter. Dropping his keys to the side table, he collapsed on the couch. It had only been a week and he felt like he would never settle in, despite hardly giving it a chance. At least it was Friday, the end of the work week. He figured that he would go visit Schemee and his uncle Allcott tomorrow. They offered a small but bright light in his unhappy state.

He folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. It was eerie to be alone in an unfamiliar house and he missed his nephew terribly. It was the right thing to do, to leave Schemee behind to finish at his high school with his friends, wasn't it? He often asked himself this, and struggled to answer it. The usual arguments played through his head like a rolodex. He would be going off to college in just two years, it was better not to uproot him too much. Allcott was better equipped to help him through any inner turmoils he was suffering. He would be closer to his friends. Schemer took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, closing his eyes as he tried to convince himself for the umpteenth time that week.

Schemee had wanted to come with him, he fought for it. Schemer told himself it was selfish to try and keep Schemee glued to his side. Schemer would benefit from the company, but would Schemee really enjoy this dull and drab new life? Schemer struggled to shake the feeling that he had made a bad decision in not giving Schemee the option of who to live with. Was he failing as a guardian by denying him the choice? He was effectively cutting himself out of his nephew's life for the next two years. Afterwards he would go off to college, wherever that may be, and how often would he get to see him then? Was keeping him in a familiar setting without his guardian worse than bringing him somewhere completely unfamiliar, but with his guardian? The look on Schemee's face as Schemer had pulled away was unbearable and Schemer wasn't sure he knew the answer anymore. Schemer still couldn't help but feel guilty. But as long as he was doing the right thing...

"Your father isn't coming back. He can't hurt you anymore."

A voice from a distant memory rang out in his mind. His eyes flew open as he considered what it meant. That was what the social service worker had told him, after he had woken up in the hospital bed. That was the day he was released from the hospital. That was the day he was taken out of his parents custody. He had been Schemee's age, now that he thought about it. He placed a hand on the side of his head, feeling the bumpy scar hidden by his curl. No. That was completely different. It had to be. He had never hurt Schemee, he would never hurt him. Not like that. His memories replayed unbidden. Schemer's reaction to the house party and subsequent rift in their relationship. Schemee being left behind at a previously unknown family member's home.

"He can't hurt you anymore."

"I didn't hurt him!" Schemer said aloud, "I did what I thought was best!"

He flushed in embarrassment, despite no one else being inside the house. He collapsed onto the couch, letting his weight sink into the unfamiliar furniture. "Isn't that the point of being a parent?" he thought to himself, though he was continually plagued by the feeling that his best wasn't good enough. Breathing heavily, he walked around the living room to calm himself down, smoothing the front of his jacket and re-curling his curl in a comforting and familiar way. Once he had regained his composure, he reached for the phone.

"Uncle? It's me, Horace. I'll be coming over tomorrow if that's alright. Yes, of course. See you then."

The hospital waiting room was such a dreary place. A bunch of sick people sitting around in one room was both depressing and disgusting to him. A twenty year old sat on a chair in the far side of the room, isolating himself away from as many sick bodies as possible. He was just barely into adulthood. He was not allowed to enter the labour room, and he was fine with that. He didn't think he could handle it, he could barely handle most things these days. It had been nearly eight hours since he had driven his sister to the hospital and he was beginning to worry. That was a lie, he was quite worried already. He didn't know how to be an uncle. He wasn't even becoming a parent yet he felt acutely aware of the responsibility. His own father, if you could call him that, wasn't a good example. How could he possibly do any better?

Well... He angrily rubbed the side of his head. No, he didn't know what he would be, but he knew he would never be that.

A nurse approached him. "Mr. Schemer? Could you follow me please?" she asked. As he got up to follow he felt a feeling of dread. She had given him no indication that everything was fine.

"Is she alright?" he asked nervously. His dark hair falling into his eyes, he brushed it back quickly.

"There were some complications, and she had to undergo a cesarean section. However, she is recovering well," she explained with a smile, "She's not awake yet, but she mentioned you were to be her son's godfather."

He looked at her, mouth open in shock. She either didn't notice his reaction or didn't care. "Would you like to see him?" she asked.

Panic raced across his mind. What was he supposed to do exactly? He had no idea how to handle a baby. Before he could respond, a screaming bundle was brought into the room by another nurse.

"He's got quite a set of lungs on him," she said with a smirk and placed the screeching bundle in his arms before he could protest. It was immediately awkward, and he struggled to adjust his arms into a position that felt more comfortable.

"Support his neck a bit more, there you are," the nurse said, adjusting his rigid grip, "I've got to get going, one of us will be back momentarily to collect him and bring him back to his mother's room." She left him alone with the still crying baby.

The blanket the baby was wrapped in partially covered his face. Schemer gently pushed it aside with one of his fingers. He was shocked to find that the baby had been born with dark curls. He looked very much like his mother, and the Schemer side of the family. He continued to scream so Schemer attempted to rock him gently.

"It's okay, you're okay," he whispered, almost pleading with the crying infant. He was caught off guard, suddenly feeling completely mesmerized by the sight of such a small person. He continued to whisper gently at him. The baby calmed down as his uncle talked to him, eventually quietening completely. He stared up at Schemer with large brown eyes and grabbed one of his fingers in his small fist. Schemer smiled down on him.

"You're quite the little Schemer. Little Schemer, hmmm. Well, your mother would kill me if I put it on the birth certificate. But, let's just say, between you and I, that you're Schemee. I think it fits," he said conspiratorially. Schemee just gave a small hiccup in response.

Schemer felt his heart melt, feeling a greater sense of purpose. His newborn nephew's father was gone. Dead. Schemer knew that his sister would struggle to raise a child on her own, especially with her recent loss. He felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of their situation. However, he knew he would do anything to help his nephew. Of that, there was no question.

He paused for a moment before smiling and saying, "I promise, I'll never let anything happen to you, Schemee."

Schemer sat in Allcott's large office. "How is he doing?" he asked. He was worried. Schemee hadn't shown himself yet. Allcott said he was roaming around the property, exploring. This was undoubtedly true, it was a large former working farm, and there were ample places to explore, but he couldn't shake the anxiety that Schemee knew he was there, and was avoiding him.

Allcott gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "He seems to be fine. Fortunately, the adjustment isn't too bad for him. He's been able to see his friends and visit the train station that you all seem to gravitate towards. Though, he is more than a little downcast. He tries to deny it, or suppress it, but it is quite obvious. At least to someone who was a professional at reading people for the past thirty five years," he explained while taking a sip of tea.

Schemer shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose that helps. Have you tried talking to him at all? I mean about everything that has happened."

Allcott smiled coyly. "I am sworn to confidentiality with anyone who talks to me. If you're asking if he's said anything about you, I cannot answer that."

Schemer rolled his eyes. "I know that. I just wanted to know if he's talking to you about anything. It would be good for him to open up, and you're much better at that sort of thing than I ever was."

"No, he has not. If he wants to talk, he will open up. He is remarkably like you, however. Both of you only talk at the exact moment that you want to and no sooner," he said with a small smile, "Keep in mind that you brought him here more or less against his will, he probably won't open up to someone he still considers a stranger. When you came to me, years ago, you willingly sought me out. It was easier for you to open up, because you were ready."

"It wasn't against his will. At least, I didn't intend for it to be. I did it because I felt you'd be better for him right now. Heck, you're probably better for him than I ever was or could be." Schemer admitted sadly.

Allcott shook his head in disagreement. "I know you did what you thought was best. But never doubt yourself when it comes to you and what you've done for that boy. You are the only guardian that he had when he lost his mother. Spontaneous, and sometimes reckless, though he is, he's grown into a respectable young man. I don't doubt for a second that every decision you make is made with him in mind. If you're asking me whether leaving him here was for the good, I cannot say with certainty. It's a choice between whether or not he remains here with his friends and high school to try and limit the upheaval or whether he leaves to an unfamiliar location with his guardian. And neither of us can answer which he would truly prefer."

Schemer frowned, Allcott had really only echoed his own question back to him. "How will I know if I made the right decision?" he asked.

Allcott smiled knowingly. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" he responded simply.

After chatting with Allcott he had made his way downstairs to wait for his nephew to return. If Schemee knew he was here, he was probably making him wait. So instead of chasing him down Schemer busied himself with reacquainting with Allcott's house. It was better to let Schemee come to him instead of cornering him.

Schemer moved around the living room thoughtfully, frowning in thought. He had stayed here for a few months when he was much younger. He was nineteen but turned twenty during the duration of the stay, which was about fifteen years ago. He shook his head and snorted disdainfully. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime ago, when he needed help turning his life around. He barely recognized that time in his life anymore. He often tried to forget about it, but being here brought those memories back regardless. It wasn't something he wanted to think too hard about, particularly because he and his uncle had a falling out and didn't speak for a long while, not until very recently. But nonetheless, Allcott had still accepted Schemer's call for help with Schemee. He was grateful for that, regardless if Schemer had made the right decision or not.

"Uncle Allcott, I'm back!" He snapped back to reality and turned his head towards the living room door as he heard Schemee's call. Schemee passed by the living room, seeming perfectly content Schemer noted, as he made his way to the kitchen. Schemee walked past the doorway, but backtracked and froze in his tracks as he peered into the living room to see his uncle.

"Oh... hey," he said neutrally. Schemer could read the confusion written across his face.

"Hey, do you have a minute to take a walk?" Schemer asked gently.

Schemee paused in thought, but finally nodded to Schemer's relief. "Yeah sure, let me just grab my coat."

Once they were outside and walking around, neither spoke. Schemer inwardly winced at the lack of conversation between them. They had never really not spoken, apart from the house party incident, and this awkward coolness was killing him inside. Finally, Schemee was the one to break the silence.

"I thought that you weren't coming back for another week."

"I wasn't. But I wanted to come back sooner," Schemer replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. Schemee nodded in response and the two continued their walk in silence through the snow.

"So how have you been doing here?"

"It's been fine. Your Uncle is nice," Schemee said with a shrug.

"Yeah, he is," Schemer agreed. He sighed, realizing that he should get to the crux of the matter while he had Schemee's attention. "Schemee, I feel I might have been wrong to assume that you should automatically come live here. I mean, you didn't even know Allcott up until the day that you moved in with him. He's family to me, but virtually a stranger to you. Maybe I didn't think things through when I left you here," Schemer suggested in a strangely distant voice.

Schemee said nothing but continued to give Schemer his attention. Schemer took it as his cue to keep going.

"I mean, maybe, you would have been more comfortable continuing to live with me?"

"You mean, like I what I was saying the whole time you were leaving me here?" Schemee asked pointedly.

"Yes... like that," Schemer admitted sheepishly, "The choice should have been yours."

Schemee shrugged. "Maybe," was all he said.

When Schemee said nothing else, Schemer couldn't hold back anymore. "Are you happy here?" he asked bluntly.

Schemee looked at Schemer with an unreadable expression on his face. "I don't know," he said finally after a pause that made Schemer's heart feel like it was breaking, "It's different here, and he's not you, but I'm close to the place that I used to live. I'm close to my friends, and the -" Schemee cut himself off abruptly.

"Close to the station?" Schemer offered. He knew why Schemee held himself back, he was afraid of hurting his feelings of how he couldn't just go and spend time at his old workplace.

Schemee nodded gently.

"Would you be happier if you... came to live with me?" Schemer asked hesitantly.

Schemee looked away slightly. "I don't know," he confessed softly.

Schemer looked down and then back up again. Trying his best to let any disappointment wash off of him before Schemee noticed. "I'd like you to decide, and please be honest with me here. All that matters to me is that you're happy, and you're in the right place. I'm not the greatest at deciding these things anymore, evidently, and you're probably old enough to be able to pick for yourself. You can stay here, like I originally intended, and be with your friends and school and the station, hopefully not too uprooted. Or you can leave and come with me, I'd do my best to find you a good new school and get you settled in," Schemer offered, forcing himself to sound cheerful.

Schemee looked back at him. "I don't know, Uncle Schemer. It's… difficult. I understand why you struggled with it, I think. I mean, at least by staying here I can stay back and finish up my junior and senior years. I'd have to switch in the middle of the year to a new school which could really affect the marks I need to get into college. I didn't mean to beg to go with you, I was just a little shocked. I just didn't think that you would ever -," he caught himself, "I mean that I was just a little shocked, is all," he finished lamely.

Schemer nodded. Schemee didn't actually want to go with him. He could tell that he wanted something a bit more stable. The sort of stability that he couldn't provide at the moment. Schemer realized that it meant his initial choice was correct, but somehow it left him feeling empty instead of vindicated.

"I understand," he replied, carefully keeping out anything that could be construed as negative, "I think you're making the right choice for yourself. And if you ever change your mind I will always be here." He tried to feel confident in his initial decision, but the thought of seeing his nephew only once every one or two weeks suddenly deeply unnerved him. He had no right to be upset in front of Schemee. It was and always should have been his decision. If he wanted to stay here in the beginning then there should be no problem with him, he had left him here after all. No, not "left", Schemer stubbornly said to himself. He couldn't bring himself to call it an abandonment or anything of that nature.

There was a silence between them once more until Schemee broke it. "Why didn't you just let me choose in the beginning, Uncle Schemer?" he asked pointedly, slowing and coming to a stop and facing Schemer.

Schemer, in turn, stopped and faced his nephew. "I wanted to give you time to think about it carefully," he fibbed.

Schemee wasn't fully convinced. "Did you leaving me here have anything to do with the party?"

Schemer hugged his arms around himself and rubbed his arms, suddenly feeling the cold seeping in. "No, no. It had nothing to do with that. The party was just a mistake, and it's as far out of my mind as possible." That wasn't a lie at least.

"Okay," Schemee said, accepting the answer with a small smile, "I'm sorry for getting mad when you were leaving."

"Don't worry about it. You had every right to be," Schemer said sincerely.

"By the way," Schemee said, a sour expression spreading across his features, "Your old location has already been filled."

Schemer nodded regretfully. "I figured as much. It's a good spot and a popular location."

"Yeah, they're putting some administration office up there. Some big shot guy from corporate is taking it."

Schemer froze dead in his tracks, eyes wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Who's office?" Schemer asked softly, but there was something that sounded dangerously like betrayal spreading through his voice.

"Umm, I think his name is Paul or something," Schemee said hesitantly, wondering what was the problem.

Schemer turned on his heel abruptly and began jogging back towards the house. Schemee took off after him, confused at the reaction. Despite Schemee's atheleticism, he was shocked to find that he struggled to catch up to his uncle's hurried strides.

"Uncle Schemer! Where are you going?" he called, as he finally closed the gap between them.

"To the station!" he replied hastily.

"But you just got here!" Schemee protested as they reached Schemer's car at the same time.

Schemer's face softened a fraction as he reached for his keys. "I know... And I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you. I'll stop by tonight, and I'll be back by next weekend, I just really have to go see this for myself," he said as he unlocked his door.

Schemer watched as Schemee's expression froze; from confused to impassive.

Schemer opened his door but pulled Schemee into a one armed hug before he climbed in.

"I'll be back, I promise," he said gently. But as he roared away in his car he watched with a sinking feeling as his nephew's frosty gaze stared him down in his rearview mirror until he couldn't see him any longer.

Construction had begun on Paul's new office. He was spending a lot of time at the station to oversee some of the design work, but also to get an idea of Stacy and Billy's day to day activities so that he could better understand their jobs and workloads. They were cordial and respectful with him, but he made it clear once again, this time to Billy as well, that he did not want to replace Schemer and that he hoped they would have a friendly working relationship with him.

Neither one of them disagreed, but they were still slightly distant. Not out of spite, but between mourning Mr. Conductor, losing the arcade and missing Schemer, they weren't quite ready to join forces with this newcomer. They knew and liked Paul, but he did feel like an interloper in this situation. Still, they did their best to make him feel welcome.

On this day, Paul eyed Stacy's red station master's cap and gently picked it up from her desk, inspecting it. She looked up, curious.

"This is a nice hat Stacy," he said gently, admiring the fabric and stitching as he turned it over in his hands, "it looks very authentic."

She smiled, possibly the first real smile she had worn in awhile. "That was my grandmother's, she was the first station master here," she explained, beaming in a way that had felt unfamiliar to her as of late.

He handed the cap back to her and returned her smile. "Do you have time to tell me about her? Only if you don't mind." He sat on the edge of her desk.

"Not at all! She was very kind, and loved by this town. She helped bring rail travel to this community, which was previously very poor in resources due to its remoteness. It was difficult to travel through the Indian Valley, and we've always relied on rail travel for our livelihoods. Anyways, she, along with Mr. King's grandfather, created schedules that helped not only this town but others around the valley, which ushered in prosperity."

"So your family and Mr. King's family go back quite a ways?" Paul asked kindly.

"Yes, also with Billy and Schemer's families. They each had grandparents working here at one time," she explained, thoughtfully considering those families. What had Jebediah Schemer been like? She realized she had never asked Schemer. Sometimes he could be touchy with his family, given his background but she hadn't heard anything unbecoming of Jebediah. She was determined to talk to Billy about his family, not wanting to make the same mistake twice.

"That's wonderful, so this place has been kept between several families," he considered this thought carefully, "I've heard, also, that this place is quite magical."

She nearly dropped her pen in surprise. "What do you mean by that?" she quickly asked, wondering what he knew.

"Oh, there's just something about this place, that's all. Mr. King had mentioned how special it was to him, and he specifically called it magic. I'd have to agree."

She forced her smile now, knowing that Mr. Conductor had been intensely protective of who knew about his existence. Not even Schemer knew who Mr. Conductor was, so what did Paul actually know?

That thought was abruptly cut off by someone entering the station, letting the door slam against the wall as they pushed it open. Stacy from her seat and Paul from his casual perch on her desk both looked up in unison.

"Schemer!?" Stacy exclaimed in shock.

Schemer marched in, nearly tripping down the stairs as would be usual, except this time there was no gleeful "I meant to do that" or boastful proclamation. He looked between Stacy and Paul, who was still holding Stacy's hat, and then at the former arcade, which was now under construction.

"I see that you've wasted no time," Schemer angrily insinuated at Paul.

"Schemer, please, I wanted to explain when I saw you next and didn't realize you'd be here today," Paul said, getting up and still holding Stacy's cap.

Stacy watched as Schemer eyed the cap, like a bull catching sight of a matador's muleta. He sniffed in disbelief and turned on his heel.

"No, wait!" Stacy began to say and caught up to him quickly, cutting him off. "Trust me, this is not what anybody wanted, not even Paul."

He shook his head in disgust, his normally well kempt dark hair was ruffled and falling into his eyes. He swiped at it and pushed it back, for what Stacy realized was probably not the first time that day.

Paul walked up behind, leaving just enough space so that Schemer didn't feel threatened. "It's true Schemer, I had no intention of any of this, it was Mr. King's idea."

"And you all fought so hard I'm sure. Let me guess you all pleaded and begged and told him you couldn't stand the thought of it," Schemer mocked them angrily, "Because you're all so great at standing up to Mr. King." He practically spat out Mr. King's name as he said it.

"Schemer, you chose to leave us!" Stacy barked, starting to get annoyed with this display.

"No Stacy, you left me!" he snapped back. Her lip twitched and her eyes narrowed in anger but he paid no mind and turned to Paul. "And you, you told me how much you wanted me to work for you, and how you believed in me. You thought I should apply to that stupid position, the one that not even my friends and family thought I had a chance at receiving in a million years! Did you lie? Why did you give me false hope? Now I'm stuck in a dead-end job hours away from my old life," he was practically shouting now.

"We believed in you." Stacy said in a throaty, raw voice. He turned back to her once more and met her eyes. She could see the regret in his eyes suddenly, and he flushed with sudden embarrassment. His shoulders dropped and his face released its tension, leaving the look of a lost little boy instead.

"Schemer, please. I need you to know, I did and do believe in you," Paul explained calmly, "It's just that with the recent circumstances, and with your record here, I only have so much power. But I do want you to continue in this current position, and I want you to succeed so that I can prove to Mr. King and the other directors and stakeholders that you have much to offer. It just won't work right now."

Schemer looked like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth and walked right past Stacy, leaving the Station quietly.

Schemer wheeled back into Allcott's house later that day. His head was spinning from the earlier events of the day. He couldn't return here right away, and drove around country roads for as long as it took for him to stop seething with rage. He didn't want Schemee to see him like that, agitated and upset. They would see so little of each other as it was, might as well make the occasions as lighthearted as possible.

He entered through the door for the second time that day to find Allcott seated at the kitchen table.

"Hey. Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but is Schemee around?" Schemer asked, whirling his head around for signs of his nephew.

"You missed him, he went to his friend Dan's house," Allcott explained simply.

"Oh. Oh, that's too bad. I came from that direction," Schemer explained, feeling crestfallen. "I could still go pick him up."

Allcott shook his head, a slightly sad expression on his face. "He said he was going to stay the night. Schemer, I know we haven't spoken for awhile, and I may not be in the best position to say this, but Schemee looks up to you. A lot."

Schemer rose an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.

"You've been his guardian for a considerable amount of his developmental years. His confidant, his friend, his partner in crime. I don't want to sound judgmental, but I think your actions today really hurt him. Given the recent circumstances, I would highly suggest that you are consistent with your visits, and offer as few disruptions as possible," Allcott explained, making eye contact with his now emotionally stricken nephew, "Horace, are you alright? I get the impression that to leave your nephew, twice in recent history, without warning and to his great disappointment is highly out of character for you. It doesn't take an expert to see that you're emotionally compromised from everything that's happened recently. I would like to help you, and I would hate to see you suffer further. Please consider this current job and what it means for you, or worse yet what it's costing you. You're always welcome here, and I just want what's best for both you and Schemee. Please understand that."

Schemer tried to speak, but nothing came out except cracked syllables. He turned to leave, mirroring his earlier departure from the station.

"Horace, please-," Allcott called at his retreating back but Schemer didn't turn back. He knew it would appear to Allcott that he was running away once more, but really the only thing he meant to escape was the harsh sting of the truth.

Monday meant that Schemer had to return to his job at Dillylick. As much as he despised his new job, he now realized with complete certainty that his old job was completely gone. The relationships he once had seemed irreparable, and he had spent all of Sunday in bed lying in a fog of unhappiness. There was no going back. He sat down at his desk and flipped his card to "Open", ironically. The empty feeling currently weighing inside him had nothing to do with the fact that he had barely seen the point in eating the last few days.

He noticed an envelope was sitting at the corner of his desk. Curious, he tore it open.

To Horace Schemer:

We have heard about the closure of your arcade and would like to extend our condolences. However, we have also heard that your arcade was a highly successful business, and offered many novelty antique machines. We'd like to extend to you an offer to come view some premises for a new location. All details of the business deal will be explained in person onsite. We feel that you will be pleased with what we have to offer.

If interested, please come to the following location at nine o'clock in the evening:

Building 480

Dillylick Piers

We hope to see you there.

Schemer felt his curiosity piqued. It was the first time in days that he felt wanted, useful. Best of all, if this location was at the harbourfront there was sure to be bounds of tourists. It sounded perfect. There was no return address or contact but he paid no mind. He would without a doubt be there to check it out. Perhaps things were beginning to pick up. He grinned at the thought of getting his arcade back, bigger and better than before. Maybe everyone would start seeing him as a success again. Maybe Schemee wouldn't be so disappointed in him anymore. And, maybe, he would finally be able to do what he loved while putting Shining Time Station far out of his mind.