April 15, 1925
Ouside Kitty Hawk, NC
Kate McAllister squinted up at the sign. "Ends Meet," it read in faded red cursive.
Impatient, Tom pulled at her sleeve. "C'mon, Kate. It's just an old secondhand shop."
"But it doesn't belong here." Kate pulled open the glass door. "Let's at least take a look inside."
Tom grumbled, but he followed her.
An elderly lady was minding the shop. She was wearing a rose-patterned dress. It looked like real cotton; the roses were picked out in emerald and crimson.
"Good eveing," Kate said politely. "Are you the owner?"
"Indeed," said the lady. "Forty years I've run this place."
Kate shook her head. "Forty years? Why haven't I heard of this place?"
"That's the mystery. Not just anyone can find Ends Meet, and not all the time." She tugged at her dress. "Real Colonial cotton, that is."
She must be crazy, Tom thought. Uneasy, he took Kate's hand. "It was nice meeting you, Miss... We have to go now."
"Tom, stop that! You're being rude." Kate yanked her hand away. As she did, she knocked over a magazine. She gasped. "Look! This is dated September 20, 2001!"
