Empire, NV III

It was getting dark by the time Brad pulled into Gerlach and the RV campground. Empire was eight miles back in the rear view mirror and Brad was happy to finally stop driving. They would camp here for the night and leave for Utah in the morning.

Matty was still wondering what spooked him back there. He was never big on sharing his feelings but she could tell it was seriously emotional. Not wanting to push him but still wanted desperately to tell her husband about the Hargroves secret, he was just not receptive right now. Past experience and wisdom gained told her to let it be.

Brad busied himself setting up the camp stove so Matty could fix some ramen and veggies, their go-to dinner on the road. Quick, easy, satisfying. He was anxious to get some sleep and put this day behind him.

That last stop was still haunting him, there was something so ominous and yet familiar, a feeling he couldn’t shake, he wanted to put some distance between Empire and himself. One of the odd coincidences that clouded his mind was his dislike for pears, as far back as he could remember he hated pears. He tried to link it to the foster home he went to. But nothing came to mind. He just knew he had a loathing for the things, the very smell made him want to wretch, and being on that farm with a pear orchard was strangely unnerving. The whole experience made him shudder.

Spring 1946

Fernley, healthcare center

There was so much confusion in the hospital, when he woke up, the doctors were cautious about telling him what happened. Not knowing how to break it to him about the crash and the two dead people in the car. They had no identification, no wallet or registration not even the woman’s purse to tell him who they were. For all he knew the boy had been kidnapped. His cautionary fear was for the boys emotional stability. He had amnesia and was mentally fragile. So Dr. Chase felt it best left until the boy’s broken leg was healed And the authorities could find a place for him to live. Maybe his memory would return on its own.

Social services tried to find a compatible, sympathetic home for him to live. He didn’t know his name so when they filled out the papers he chose the name Brad. It sounded like an all American superhero’s name. So Brad was sent to Southern California to live in the home of the Archers and their four children. It was friendly and receptive, one adorable girl, Andrea and three boys, Max, Clark and Dennis. They were all to become good friends and Brad was more than eager for a safe place to fit in. The question of who he really was, laid heavy like a sack of rocks on his heart. He may never know.

Fortune was still with him, he grew up in a happy environment, school was doable and a welcome deflection from the constant feeling hovering about him. In high school he found he had a particular affinity for wood shop. He proudly brought home his various projects, a bird house for Mother Archer, a mailbox in the shape of a tour bus. Papa Archer owned a travel agency so the concept of a tour bus mailbox tickled him. He made a very sweet trinket box for Andrea‘s 16th birthday. He adored her, so bright and always fun to be with, she taught him how to jitterbug, and make fudge. They were good buds.

Although it was her best friend Matty Birch that sparked something deep and unusual in Brad, they we’re 18 and graduating high school in two months. The youngest brother Dennis and the girls would drive to Santa Monica Pier in the Archer’s ’48 Studebaker. They trusted Brad since he had proved himself again and again a responsible caretaker for their family Car and their precious daughter.

He and Matty started dating and continued after their graduation, Matty had her heart set on art school and chose College of Marin, north of San Francisco. Brad decided to pursue a career as a carpenter, he could work anywhere, he decided Marin was a great place to start.

They were perfectly matched. Matty, tall, full figured, not fat but voluptuous, her long auburn hair and green eyes framed a sincere smiling face. Pretty and talented. The two often remarked about how they were the same age and the same height and both lovers of art, and appreciative of fine living. So San Francisco was a perfect choice.

They got married in a quaint little chapel in Pasadena with only close friends and the Archers. After the reception, they drove up the coast to Big Sur for a short honeymoon. It was 1952 and the start of a new life for Brad and Matty. The Archers legally adopted Brad when he was 14 so he became Brad Archer, fitting for a superhero and he took great pride in hearing his name spoken. Matty liked it as well, it was a good artists name.

1975

~ San Francisco

20 Years later, Matty‘s passion for photography and wanting to branch out, was making her antsy to explore new subjects. The apartment building they rented was being turned into condominiums and they had the choice of higher rent or move. Their hippie hearts were bursting to be out in the world discovering. Brad borrowed Clark’s VW Camper and the two set out to find a piece of affordable property preferably with land and a barn. After two weeks they were starting to wonder if there was such a thing. Their hopes were waning and this farm in Empire sounded like the perfect dream. Obviously, for Brad, it wasn’t.

Their next stop was a four acre 2 bedroom house in Sandy, Utah, no barn but newly renovated and close to town. It was a fair price so tomorrow off they headed to highway 80 and Salt Lake City, just 15 miles from Sandy.

Brad woke up feeling positive and anxious to get on the road. They packed up the camper, showered in the campground bathhouse and went in search of a cafe. Matty carried George’s blue diary in her purse, waiting for Brad to return to his normally curious self and listen to the story. After breakfast, finishing their last bit of coffee. Matty pulled the blue ledger out and silently read to herself. Brad, cast a smirk at her “OK you’re determined to read it to me so go ahead”. Matty let out a little shriek of joy.

“Well, evidently, George was also an inventor and just before the war he designed a guidance system for airplanes, which explains why the barn is so huge, they tested the device on planes for the Army in the barn” Brad sat up in his chair listening intently. “Imagine that“ he said. “That’s not the best part,” she added.

Actually, he and his partner, who died, had several working patents, all paying royalties to George Hargroves.” “Wow” was all Brad could manage. He was astonished, his mind flashing back to the farm. “Where do you suppose he stashed all that money?” Matty raised her hand to quiet him. And kept reading. “He set up a trust fund in his sons name. Robbie Hargroves. It lists the Attorney and firm and says they have all the papers for the patents, a deed to the farm, marriage license, Robbie’s birth certificate, family photos and power of attorney.”

Brad was staring into space again fondling his mustache, deep in thought. What is happening to me he thought, this is still hitting a nerve and it’s coming from that farm. Matty continued reading, “Brad, the attorney’s office is in Salt Lake City.”

“So? What claim do we have?”

“Think about it we’re interested in buying the property and discovered they hold the deed to it in this ledger.” He shook his head marveling at her acumen. “It’s worth a try, we have nothing to loose and it could solve the mystery of their disappearance and discovering where Robbie might be found, he’s probably a billionaire by now.”

Back on the road, Matty, riffling through the glove box for a map of Utah and Salt Lake City. Said “Oh let’s do, it will be an adventure.”

They were just minutes outside the city, Brad was getting excited, he forgot all about the doom and gloom he’d been carrying and concentrated on maneuvering this huge wandering city. After twenty minutes driving around, “Matty announced, Richards, Bird and Hart. Its around the next corner. He found a parking space a few doors down.

They took the aged elevator several floors up in an antiquated building, built in the late 1800’s. Matty found the door. And they entered. It was a moment out of time, The decor in the office suggested this man does not look backward. There are no mementos or plaques on the walls save one: a certificate that authorized him to present cases in the United States Supreme Court in the 1930s.

A man as old as the building, sat behind a mahogany desk, Brad imagined this small old man in his eighties remembering everything as far back as his responsible life could recall. Brad walked up to the desk, the old man looked up from his bifocals at Brad slowly removing his glasses standing up “My stars“ he exclaimed you haven’t aged a day. Where did you get off to George, reaching for his hand to shake. We’ve all been wondering when you’d be back, You're a rich man you know!”

Brad just stood there in shock. “No, my name is Brad Archer.“ Old man Bird stared hard at him. “Oh sorry, you look exactly like my good friend George Hargroves, he and his wife disappeared 30 years ago, you’re his exact image. They had a son who’d be about your age…you sure you’re not related?“ he moved away from his desk toward an ancient metal safe. “I have some family photos in here somewhere“ Matty put her hand on Brads arm to support his amazement.

The old man opened a metal box containing the deed to the farm and all the patents, among them were photos of George and Margaret’s wedding, a picture of Vince and of a boy, “look, look here, it’s a spitting image of you.” Matty peeked over his shoulder “Brad! That’s you!“

Brad, still shocked, collapsed into a green upholsterd chair, reached for the tip of his mustache and slipped into a reverie, after a few moments he said in wide eyed revelation, “I’m Robbie Hargroves! My Ma and Pa were the Hargroves, I remember now. I own that farm? ….and I’m rich?”

”Yes, my boy, it’s all yours” said Mr. Bird “what are you gonna do with it?”

Brad looked at Matty, her hands clapped over her mouth trying to suppress the scream building up inside. “Well, the first thing I’ll do is bring the pear orchard back to life. It was my Pa’s dream so I’ll keep it going.”

Matty dropped her hands and said “But I thought you hated pears.” “Well, now I know why, it was tied to a bad memory of loosing my identity and my parents that caused it. I think I’m over it. Besides we can always sponsor an immigrant family to rebuild the house and run it. We’ll be off in Switzerland skiing. The question now is…how do you feel about being married to a billionaire?

Matty collapsed into the other green chair laughing through her tears. Thinking of all the great photos in her future, “Oh pretty good” she said.