Download a sample - David C Cook

T H E R E N O V A T I O N 1 3
Buffalo Street, and a right turn onto South Park Street. Then he turned onto
Liberty, flanked on both sides by a long row of elegant old brick buildings—
some a bit tired and worn, some newly restored and repainted.
The welcome signs at the edges of the town boasted FRANKLIN:
THE VICTORIAN CITY. It was once a town of many who prospered in
the area’s oil boom of the mid-1800s and who built remarkable structures
downtown and lived in stately homes in the bordering neighborhoods.
Downtown Franklin had struggled for decades to stay alive and vital. The
town’s Venango Historical Society promoted the preservation of the over
two hundred buildings of historical significance, many of which displayed
plaques boasting their years of completion. These buildings, once home to
scores of thriving businesses—from haberdasheries to drugstores with
soda fountains to millinery shops—now housed a curious mix of antique
shops, one- and two-member law firms, offices of start-up insurance
agents, two secondhand clothing consignment operations, and, increasingly,
more upscale specialty shops.
Ethan drove past the old theater on Liberty Street. After years of community
fund-raising and bake sales, it had been restored almost to its
previous vaudevillian grandeur. A colorful banner draped over the
entrance announced next month’s concert—a big-band orchestra from
Erie. He glanced over at the park opposite the theater. The same cluster of
old men rested on the same benches by the fountain, watching the traffic
as always. Ethan waved. A few waved back.
He turned right at the Shell station, then again on Elk. It ran parallel
to the river. Two blocks downriver from town was Sibley Park.
He pulled into the parking lot of the baseball field. The truck tires bit
and crunched at the loose gravel. He found that compressed munching to be
enormously comforting—as if the very ground welcomed a traveler home.
The baseball game had already begun. Three zeros hung on the scoreboard.
Ethan had only missed the first inning and a half.
The Franklin Flyers took the field as Ethan found his usual seat on
the next-to-the-top row of the section of bleachers on the first-base side.
He smiled and waved. Chase looked toward him. His son gave little indication
that he saw his father, save an almost imperceptible nod.