The Silver Bough by Lisa Tuttle

know it,” she interrupted. “A healthy organism changes and grows. This town’s not changed except to shrivel and age. Every year it gets smaller, and more people move away because there are even fewer reasons to stay. I can remember when there were two cinemas, three bakeries, four hairdressers’, and five butcher shops.”
    “A lot of meat-eaters left town.”
    She ignored this. “I know shopping patterns have changed. People have big freezers, and they’d rather go a long distance and buy in bulk once a month—get exactly what they need at the lowest price—not trawl around the local shops every day and make do with whatever happens to be available. But nothing’s come in to replace the things we’ve lost. Other towns manage; it’s not like this everywhere. And it’s such a lovely place—people who come here fall in love with it.”
    “Or we fall in love with her daughters.” Graeme moved his chair closer and put an arm around his wife.
    She smiled and let her head drop briefly onto his shoulder before going on. “Maybe it’s just the right person hasn’t come yet. We need somebody to come along, love the town for what it is, but also see what it
could
be and set out to make it happen. It would only take one.”
    “Calling Richard Branson,” Graeme intoned. “Would Mr. Bill Gates please report to Appleton Town Hall? We have a business proposition for you…”
    They invited her to stay for lunch, and Graeme offered to take her around and show her sights, including the landslide.
    “Ach, Graeme, she doesn’t want to see a load of mud and rock!”
    “Everybody else does. Where do you think the boys were off to on their bikes?”
    “I don’t want to take up your time,” Ashley said. “You must have other things to do. Maybe later…but right now, I’ll just go out and have a wander.”
    “You’ll get to know the town better that way,” Shona agreed. “Come back here whenever you want. Don’t stand on ceremony. The wee house is for you to use, but drop in here whenever you want a bit of company, or something to eat.”
    A few minutes later, she was outside in the fresh, bright, foreign air, making her way down the gentle slope to a street of houses. The sweep of shoreline down to her right looked appealing in the sunshine, but she turned left, more curious about the town.
    On her arrival, dusk and heavy rain had veiled the scene, allowing her only vague glimpses of a bleak, sleepy seaside town huddled against harsh, barren hills. It looked very different on a sunny day. The rocky hills still loomed above, but they seemed warm and sheltering now, and the streets were thronged with people in light, bright clothing, strolling and shopping, congregating in clumps and clusters on street corners to talk. The predominant mood was cheerful, even festive, despite a few complaints about disrupted plans caused by the landslide.
    There were more small shops than Shona’s gloomy description had led her to expect, and they all seemed to be doing a roaring trade. She didn’t see anything she could identify as part of a chain; every single business seemed to be independent and locally run. It was a bit like traveling back in time, she thought. Even the ubiquitous McDonald’s and Starbucks had made no inroads here. Instead, fast-food outlets were represented by the Syracusa Fish Bar, the Chat ’n’ Chew, and Bud’s Burgers.
    The main thoroughfares had been planned on wide, straight lines, although they’d been narrowed in practice by a general disregard for road signs and markings, and an amazingly casual attitude toward parking. Behind the main roads she discovered narrow, winding streets, some of them cobbled and barely more than a single lane wide. Here she saw the first signs of decay: two empty shops with boarded-up doors and soaped-over windows, one on either side of Curl Up & Dye, a feverishly busy hair salon. Across the narrow, cobbled lane was an antique shop with a cardboard sign in the