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fire, JJ’s blood rose to a boil.

    * * * *

    Judd Clayton was taking Dan and Rebecca Woods on a tour of downtown Turtleback Lake. It was something he did whenever he felt his clients were getting serious.
    “It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting,” said Rebecca, eyeing the quaint storefronts lining Lake Street.
    “Like the cover of The Saturday Evening Post,” said Judd.
    Rebecca Woods smiled.
    “It’s like we’ve stepped back in time,” she said. “It could be 1965.”
    Judd smiled. The Woods were selling themselves.
    In a world that was changing at an alarming rate, the idea of living in a community that stayed the same was very appealing – especially to couples with young children.
    This was the Woods’ second visit to Turtleback Lake. They’d driven all the way from Manhattan twice. They had to be serious. They’d even left their two kids behind this time. Maybe they were ready to talk turkey.
    With just the slightest thrust of his chin, Judd directed the Woods’ gaze toward Druckers’ General Store.
    On Druckers’ front porch was a large mechanical turtle. It was painted a bright yellow – just like the high school team’s Snapper emblem. A child – Judd thought it might be Bill Lupo’s granddaughter – climbed onto the turtle’s back. She slipped her feet into the stirrups and dropped a coin into the slot. The turtle began rocking back and forth, its webbed claws moving in a circular swimming motion as its beaked mouth opened and closed.
    “Oh, the kids would just love riding on that!” Dan said to Rebecca.
    “I used to ride on it myself,” said Judd. “Only back then, it was just a nickel. I think it might be a dime now, maybe it’s even up to a quarter.”
    Judd wanted the Woods to know that he was more than just a broker. He was also part of the community.
    “Let’s take a peek inside Druckers’,” said Judd. “I think you’ll like it.”
    As Judd pushed opened the wood frame screen door, a little bell tinkled. Again, Rebecca was enchanted.
    “I can’t believe a place like this actually exists,” she said.
    The store was like an unopened time capsule. Yellow shoeprints painted on the pine plank floor led customers up and down the aisles. Against one wall wooden bins were brimming with penny candy. Above the bins, a handwritten sign said: Please weigh and bag candy yourself. Customers wrote down the right price themselves. It was the honor system. Even the cash register was an antique. It had been in continuous use since Druckers’ opened in the 1940s.
    Judd let The Woods mosey up and down the aisles while he filled a paper bag with pink and white Good’n Plenties . He glanced over at Dan and Rebecca. They were examining vintage post cards in a spinning wire rack.
    Suddenly a shriek pierced the air.
    “Jesus!” thought Judd.
    It was the last thing he needed. Now what would the Woods’ think?
    Judd rushed to the door. Stan, Dan and Rebecca followed him.
    The little girl on the mechanical turtle had somehow managed to flip over the side. She was dangling upside down from one of the stirrups while the turtle continued to buck back and forth.
    “How do you turn this thing off!” said Judd, turning to Stan.
    “I don’t know,” said Stan. “It always stops on its own when the coin runs out.”
    Judd looked down at the floor. An electrical cord ran from the base of the turtle to an outlet in the wall. With the toe of his topsider, Judd kicked out the plug. The bucking turtle rocked to a stop. Then Judd and Stan freed the girl from the tangled straps of the twisted stirrup.
    “Are you okay?” asked Stan Drucker. “Are you hurt?”
    The little Lupo girl wiped the tears off her cheeks and shook her head.
    She was frightened, but she wasn’t hurt.
    “Come inside with me,” said Stan. “Sometimes a little candy can help in a situation like this. Or maybe you’d rather have some ice cream? We just got in a fresh tub of mint chocolate chip – the green kind.”
    As Judd