Chapter 12
Half an hour later, the long silver car slid slowly down Main Street. I looked out the window and tried to pull myself together. The plastic flowers in their hanging baskets shook in the fresh, dusty breeze. Tourists bunched and drifted along the sidewalks. They licked ice-cream cones, chewed taffy, and munched on popcorn from paper bags. Out of nostalgic habit, I glanced at Town Taffy, where Arch had pressed his nose against the glass on many a summer afternoon. The subject of his fascination had been the taffy machine’s arms as they stretched and pulled impossibly long strands of bright pink, green, blue, and white candy.
And there he was. Arch was once again standing in front of Town Taffy, his eyes fixed on the mechanical arms moving around and around with their thick ribb
