Dedication: To my mom, Nancy. I love you, wherever you are.

Thank You's: CN Winters and TNovan for coming up with the wonderful idea of rewriting the movie classics "Xena style." As soon as I received the email, I knew exactly which movie I had to do. This will always be one of my favorites. So ladies, thank you both so much for asking me to participate in such a fun endeavor. I hope you enjoy it as well. May I present, my adaptation of the classic…

Part 1

The campus of Millfield College was quiet and peaceful on this night. Couples were holding hands walking in the moonlight while others were sitting on the grass talking and laughing with each other. The Student Union building was buzzing with excitement as the Grad Night Party was in full swing under its roof. Several people were coming and going and others were screaming, "I did it!" while running out the door and into the night.

Rachel Collier and her date, Anna, were dancing on the dance floor, uncaring who saw them, or even who cared. Both of them were in their early twenties and were casually dressed for the occasion. Anna wore a light yellow sundress and sandals, where as Rachel wore jeans and a black short-sleeved dress shirt with "Selling Author" printed on the nametag that rested on her chest. The music kept them swaying and laughing with each other, giving them not a care in the world. Rachel turned around to spin Anna when she saw her friend, Steven approach them.

"Hey! You really sold a story!" He bellowed.

"Five cents a word, Stevie!" She happily cheered.

"Sensational! What's next? A novel?" Steven inquired.

"Why not?" Rachel answered with a smirk and turned to dance again with Anna and stepped on her foot.

Rachel watched her face cringe in pain, but couldn't contain the smile on her face.

"I'm really sorry, Anna," Rachel apologized.

"Hey, it's okay. I think it's really wonderful about the story, Rachel. You're going to be a big success," she beamed.

"Tonight?" Rachel asked saucily.

"We'll see, Ms. Selling Author," she smiled airily.

They turned to continue their light banter and dance near the bandstand as a small figure watched them from the shadows. Rachel sensed that she was being watched and turned in the direction of the figure. Their eyes met briefly and Rachel noticed the woman's gaze never left hers. She continued to dance with her date, feeling extremely uncomfortable, but trying not to let it show. The woman didn't take her eyes off of Rachel and she was very aware of that fact.

The song ended and Rachel decided she needed to get a drink from the bar. She led her date over to the bar and ordered two drinks. While speaking to the bartender, she felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned around very abruptly and locked her eyes on an old woman staring back at her. Rachel couldn't keep the startled unease off of her beautiful face.

Unknowing what to do or say, Rachel was stricken with wondering who this person was and what she wanted. She flinched slightly when the old woman placed something into her right hand and leaned over to whisper something into her ear.

"Come back to me," she whispered desperately to Rachel and turned quickly away from the bar and disappeared into the throng of people. Rachel couldn't help but stare after her retreating form.

"What did she say, Rach?" Anna asked to an unhearing Rachel. "Rachel?" Anna tried again startling Rachel from her thoughts.

"I…I'm not sure," she breathed taking a step in the direction of the old woman's path.

"What did she give you?" Anna looked at Rachel and then down to Rachel's fist.

Rachel opened her hand to reveal an antique gold pocket watch. She stared at the watch feeling her heart tense with a strange and inexplicable sensation.

A limousine driver was taking the old woman to her hotel. Kingston Point Hotel was a massive structure, which had stood on Kingston Point since the late 1800's. Her face was expressionless as she sat in the backseat of the car. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared straight ahead. The car stopped in front of the old building and the doorman greeted her warmly as he helped her exit the vehicle.

She entered the hotel and walked through the lobby to the metal cage elevator that would take her to her room. Closing the door of the elevator, the operator greeted her.

"Evening," he said with a smile, but got no response from her. Shrugging he started the elevator raising them to the third floor.

She walked out of the elevator when it stopped on her floor. She walked down the corridor until she reached room 317. She unlocked and walked through the door resting against it as it closed. Her eyes were shut as her head leaned against the wood.

Her assistant, Laura Roberts, was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room reading a book, when she heard her enter.

"You're back early," she commented. "Nice party?" she added when she got no response.

The old woman nodded and walked into her room. Laura attempted to speak to her when she saw the door close and heard it lock. She hesitated, then set her book aside and got up and went to the door.

"Are you alright?" She asked gently.

She waited and was about to ask again when she heard music come from the other side of the door. It was the same easy music that was heard on the dance floor when the old woman was watching Rachel. Laura put her ear to the door and listened curiously.

Inside her room, the old woman opened the French doors leading to the balcony and stepped out to look at the ocean. After a while, she decided to sit on a chair with a sigh. The look on her face was clearly one of acceptance as the moon shined brightly on it. She sat in her chair looking out at the ocean until her head fell forward and her body slumped over in death.

June 26, 1979

Rachel was standing on her balcony gazing at the city as music came from her stereo. It was the same music that was playing the night of her graduation party thirteen years ago. The night she met that mysterious woman. It was music that had stayed in her heart since that night. She was totally immersed in the romantic music and the visions it was painting in her mind. As the song ended, Rachel was shaken from her reverie and walked back into her living room. She quickly shut and locked the balcony door. She walked to the stereo, ejected the cassette that was playing and turned the receiver off. She put the cassette into her jacket pocket and walked across the room until she reached a sign on the wall that read:

THAT WHICH YOU THINK BECOMES YOUR WORLD

She shook her head and walked through her door leading to the hall where her baggage awaited her. She had a few bags and a portable cassette recorder ready to accompany her. As she turned to lock her door, she jumped humorously as she noticed her brother, Bob, on the doorstep about to ring her bell.

"You're going to work early," she said.

"I thought I'd see how you…" he stopped as he noticed her luggage, and looked at Rachel. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," she said casually.

"Now?"

"Yup."

"Rachel," he mocked with a frown.

"Robert," she said with the same frown and tone in her voice.

"How can you leave?" he asked clearly disturbed.

"Down the elevator, and into my car," she answered lightly.

"Come on." he waited a beat. "Your tests won't be back 'til tomorrow."

"By tomorrow, I'll be in Canada." "Rach, you can't do this," he said with an angered expression.

"Bob, I am doing it. I've planned this trip for seven months and…"

"…You're going to escape no matter what," he said finishing her sentence.

"I'll let you know where I am along the way, but I'm not staying here," she said matter of factly.

"And the headaches?" Bob asked.

"I've got pills for them," she answered matter of factly.

"And an answer for everything it would seem. Is it that simple?"

"I gotta go, Bob," she said with irritation etched in her voice. "I want to miss the morning traffic."

Rachel scowled as she felt her brother put his arm around her broad shoulders.

"You can't run away from this, Rachel."

"I'm not running away. I'm just going on a trip," she said trying to keep her patience.

"You're escaping. The way you've escaped in your work. The way you've escaped settling down," he said quietly.

"Bob!" She said pulling away from her brother. "For the last time, writing fantasy is not a crime. Staying single is not a crime. Going on a trip instead of hanging around waiting for doctors' reports is not a crime. I am not a crook. I'm just your sister leaving on vacation. Okay?" She paused waiting to hear a response. "Okay, Robert?"

Bob looked into her determined blue eyes and wouldn't back down. "I don't think you should go."

Rachel groaned and finally walked away from her brother leaving him to stare after her in disbelief.

Rachel drove her Porsche through Manhattan to the Queens-Triboro Bridge and crossed it. She watched the traffic heading in the opposite direction inch down the highway. She smiled and thanked whatever god that was out there, that she wasn't going that way.

She drove into the suburbs of Connecticut, through Rhode Island and into Massachusetts. As she drove along the coast highway, she listened to the music from her cassette that she'd brought from home. Humming quietly along with the tune, she approached a sign which read Kingston Point Hotel. She glanced at it and then looked ahead. Thoughts were racing through her mind so she pulled over to the shoulder on the road. She sat back and listened to the tune playing and made her decision.

"Yeah," she said to herself.

She pulled out from the shoulder and completed a U-Turn in the direction of the hotel. As she drove up the entry road, she was completely enchanted with the appearance of the old hotel.

"Oh, yeah," she whispered as she took in the large structure that stood on Kingston Point.

She happily drove the Porsche up to the entry of the hotel. The doorman who greeted her was the same gentleman that had helped the old woman thirteen years ago. She amiably shook his hand as she gestured towards the hotel gushing compliments about it to him.

Walking through the lobby of the hotel, Rachel walked up to the desk and greeted the clerk behind the counter.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked.

"I would like to stay here tonight," she said with enthusiasm.

"You have a reservation?" He asked coldly.

"No. But I'm…"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. All the single rooms are booked," he said while interrupting her.

"The double rooms then," she said to him. "The suites."

The clerk just stared at her confident smile and registered her. After she signed in, she jumped when she heard the clerk ring for the porter to help her with her bags. An older gentleman approached her and smiled warmly as she grabbed her luggage.

"I'll be glad to carry that, Miss," he said.

"No, no, I can do it," she insisted on carrying at least one of her bags.

"Is this your first time here, Miss…"

"Collier. Yeah. For some reason I never got around to coming here. Heard how nice it was though."

They started to walk towards the elevator.

"Oh? When was that?" The porter inquired.

"Thirteen, fourteen years ago. When I was going to Millfield College."

"Oh! Right up the coast, yes," he said with a nod. "The students still come here to enjoy the restaurant… and the rooms," he added conspiratorially and Rachel chuckled. "Seems to me they held a graduation prom back in… oh let me see now… '47 was it?" He said trying to recall the year.

"You've been here that long?" Rachel asked with wide eyes.

"I've been here since 1910," he said amused.

"Nineteen-ten?" Rachel gasped then whistled as the older man pushed the button on the elevator. "Wow," she added.

"I came here with my parents when I was only five years old. My father was a desk clerk. See that corner of the lobby?" He asked as he pointed towards the area in question.

"Yeah."

"Used to hang fish there."

"Did you say fish?"

"Fish the guests caught," he answered while nodding. "Real whoppers some of them. I used to play with them. Drove my father crazy. 'Leave those fish alone' he'd say," the porter shook his head. "He got so mad at me sometimes."

The bell of the elevator rang and they turned around to greet it. When the elevator stopped the operator opened the large metal caged door. He was the same operator that took the old woman up to her floor. The two walked into the elevator, and the porter turned and faced the operator, addressing him by name.

"Four, George," he stated. The elevator door closed and the cage started to rise.

"How long has this hotel been here?" Rachel asked.

"Since 1887," the older porter replied.

"That's a LOT of years," she said back to him.

The elevator reached the fourth floor and stopped. The operator opened the door and Rachel and the porter exited. They started to walk in the direction of her room, when the porter turned to her.

"On vacation?" He asked her.

"Yeah. I'm gonna visit the college… haven't been there since I graduated… take a look at Eastern Canada… then come back and drive across the country," she said cheerfully.

"I can tell you're not married," the porter chuckled.

"I just never met the right person," she said casually.

They reached her room and the porter let them both in. Rachel took in the look of the room and seemed very pleased. The furniture in the sitting room was aged and would almost be considered antiques. The living area of the room was a little more contemporary. The porter opened the French doors showing her the view of the ocean. She could hear the surf outside making her smile warmly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few bills to give to the porter.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"Thank YOU, Miss. Collier." "You're very welcome."

"If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. My name is Arthur and I live in the bungalow behind the hotel," he informed her.

"Thanks, see you around, Arthur," she said as she turned towards the sound of the surf.

Something in the words she spoke and how she said them made Arthur pause to look at her. Sensing she wasn't alone yet, she turned around to find Arthur staring at her quizzically.

"What?" She said gently.

"Have we ever met before?" He asked curiously.

"I don't think so." She paused. "Why do you ask? Do YOU think we have?"

Arthur looked at her intently and the shook himself from the feeling and smiled. "No, I'm sure we haven't. Have a nice stay here, Miss Collier."

"I will, thank you."

As Arthur left the room, Rachel reached in her jacket pocket and took out the pocket watch the old woman had given her. She pressed the stem and looked at the face as it opened. It was just past two-thirty. After several moments, she put the watch on the bedside table, sat on the bed, and picked up the telephone receiver.

"I'd like to make a person-to-person call to Scarsdale, New York, please," she paused as the operator asked her name. "Rachel Collier."

After changing her clothes, Rachel decided to go site seeing around the hotel. She locked up her room and headed for the elevator that had just arrived on her floor. There were several other people on the elevator with her. She listened quietly to the multitude of conversations whirring around her.

"I hear the fishing's good this time of year," said the first man.

"Let's rent a boat and try it," said the second man.

"If Teddy runs next year, I'll vote for him," a lady next to her said.

"They can't just keep raising the price of gas indefinitely," the second woman said.

"What's to stop them?" A third man asked.

"To hell with Perrier water, I need a triple martini," another woman said with a laugh. Rachel looked at her and smiled.

As they exited the small cage, Rachel took a look around the hotel noticing several guests arriving and chatting amongst themselves. She looked around the lobby and a small corridor caught her eye. As she got closer she read the sign above the doorway which read:

HALL OF HISTORY AND THEATRE

She smiled and walked through the entrance. The sunlight coming in through the windows gave the corridor a strange haze-like brightness. There were photographs on the walls, display cases, and an alcove. Walking behind some other guests, she waited to look at the first photo on the wall. It was of the hotel in the early 1900's. A carriage and a horse team were in front of it. She smiled and walked towards the next photograph of a huge fish hanging in the lobby. She shook her head and smiled thinking back to her conversation with Arthur about his antics as a child.

Rachel walked towards the display case and looked inside. There were little things placed inside of it. There was a dish, a menu, a napkin ring, an iron, a telephone, an open hotel register, and a program for a play entitled "Wisdom of the Heart / June 28, 1912". She looked at the objects with a charming smile, and then moved to an alcove.

Inside it, behind a glass partition, was a typical hotel bedroom from the early 1900's. It contained a bureau, a table and chair and a wall mirror. Rachel looked at it then turned around. Abruptly she froze staring at something on the wall. It was a photograph of a young woman. The fading light of the room illuminated it mysteriously.

She was drawn to the photograph as if she was entranced by it somehow. She stopped in front of it and just stared. The woman in the photo was in her late twenties, gloriously and ethereally beautiful. She was dressed in the style of the early 1900's and had eyes like emerald gems. Rachel looked down at the bottom of the photograph and noticed the nameplate was missing. The last rays of sunset reflected Rachel's face on the glass of the photograph, melding their faces together. After a while she finally tore herself away from the photo and went back towards the lobby.

She walked to the clerk at the desk to ask for some assistance. He motioned for her to find Arthur in the lobby. As she entered the lobby she noticed Arthur working on some luggage.

"Arthur?" She said loudly to get his attention.

"Yes, Miss Collier?" He answered.

"That lovely man behind the counter said you might be able to help me. There's a photograph in the Hall of History, a young woman. It has no nameplate…"

"Oh, yes." He answered immediately. "That's Elise McKenna."

"Elise McKenna," she said savoring the name.

"Yes'm. She was a very famous actress in her day…. Starred in a play here in 1912."

"Nineteen-twelve," Rachel said taken slightly aback.

The repetition of the year reinstilled the sense of oddness in Arthur and he stared back at an unknowing Rachel. Lost in her own thoughts, she put a five-dollar bill on the counter.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said as she walked away. Arthur watched her leave as he tried to put a name to the weirdness he was feeling.

Later that night, Rachel was lying awake in her bed listening to the surf sounds coming from her balcony. She had been lying there for hours unable to sleep. Finally, she flung her bedclothes aside and sat up quickly.

"This is ridiculous!" She shouted to the empty, dark room.

She turned on the light on the bedside table and picked up her pocket watch. She opened the watch and looked at the time with a groan. She put the watch back on the table and got out of bed.

"Ridiculous," she repeated as she went to the closet to get dressed.

Rachel walked down the hallway towards the elevators. As she approached them, she noticed a sign that read:

CLOSED

"Of course," she mumbled to herself.

She immediately looked to her right finding the stairwell door. She followed the stairs downward and entered the lobby. She walked right up to the Hall of History and into the corridor. Drawn once again to the photograph of the young woman on the wall, Rachel sighed as she stared at the young woman's face. After awhile, she moved away from the photograph and walked towards the theater.

Rachel approached the theater door and tried the handle. The door easily opened and she walked inside noting the soft romantic feel of the atmosphere. She walked down to the orchestra seating and took a seat about ten rows away from the stage. She looked up at the stage and just stared in total silence. Startling Rachel from her thoughts, the night clerk tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ma'am?" he said. "The theater is closed to the guests after midnight."

"Oh, okay," she said standing. "Okay."

As she walked towards the exit door, the night clerk stopped her. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"It's all right. It's time I went to bed anyway. I have to leave in the morning. I'm glad you came in," she said as she left the theater.

Morning finally came for Rachel and she collected her things together for her departure. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw the tightness in her face. She grabbed her watch to check the time.

"Good," she said opening a bottle of pills, tossing one into her mouth and swallowing it. "Go to work."

A knock sounded on her door and she looked around. Her packed bags and cassette recorder were on the unmade bed. She put the medication bottle in her bag and walked to the door. Arthur was standing outside waiting for her.

"Good morning, Miss Collier," he said brightly.

"Morning, Arthur," she said pointing to the bed. "My stuff is in on the bed, but please leave half to carry down myself. Okay?" She said with a glint in her blue eyes.

Arthur couldn't help but smile back at the tall beauty. "All right," he acquiesced.

They grabbed the bags and Arthur looked to her again. "Did you enjoy your stay?"

"It was… different," she said with an odd expression on her face.

The two went down in the elevator to the lobby, and walked towards the desk to check out. Rachel put her key on the desk and the woman cashier picked it up and smiled.

"Thank you," she said as she looked for Rachel's bill.

Rachel's gaze was drawn again to the Hall of History and she walked quietly towards the corridor unbeknownst to the cashier looking for her bill.

"Collier, Collier… ah, here we are," she looked up to find Rachel gone. She looked around making sure the guest wasn't trying to run out on her bill. After a few moments her eyes found her standing in the corridor of the Hall of History.

Rachel walked to the mysterious photograph and stares. Her expression was one of obvious obsession. She started to turn to leave, then stopped to look at the face again. She was almost nearing surrender when she finally made a decision.

"I'm NOT staying," she said to the photograph and walked out of the corridor. She walked towards the desk repeating her mantra. "I'm not staying… I'm NOT staying." She looked to the cashier and grabbed her key.

"I'm staying."

The cashier watched her go with bill in hand and a blank look on her face. Rachel walked outside to find Arthur waiting to put the luggage into her car. She immediately grabbed some money from her pocket and gave it to Arthur.

"Arthur, would you put my luggage back in the suite?"

"Uh… yes of course, Miss Collier," he said surprised.

"And would you tell me where the nearest library is?"

"South on the highway, seven miles down. It's in Duxbury," he said perplexed.

"Got it," she said handing him another bill. "See you around, Arthur."

Rachel jumped in her car leaving a puzzled Arthur watching her go.

"See you around, Arthur," he mulled in his head again, unknowing why these words held such meaning.

Rachel drove quickly to the library and entered the building barely turning off the engine of the car as she did so. She immediately went to the desk asking the woman there for information. The woman pointed to the room and Rachel thanked her and moved in that direction.

Rachel went to the rows containing theater books and pulled each out one by one. She grabbed as many as she could carry and set them down at her table. The first one she found was entitled, "American Stage Actresses." She leafed through the pages, stopping at every one containing information on Elise McKenna. She stopped to look at a photo of Elise and read the text under it.

"Elise McKenna, 1888-1966. One of the most revered actresses of the American Stage. "

She grabbed another book finding another entry about her.

"Known primarily as a light comedienne in her early days, she later became one of the world's great tragediennes. "

Rachel continued her search of books on the shelves of the Duxbury Library. She grabbed another pile of books and set them next to the others on the table. She grabbed "Luminaries of the American Stage" by John Fraser. She looked through the book finding more information on the actress.

"Elise McKenna was the first American actress to create a mystique in the public's eye. She was never seen in the public in her later years, the absolute quintessence of seclusion. "

Rachel was relentless, she paged through several more books and finally opening "Famous American Actresses" by Laura Roberts.

"After her retirement, she lectured occasionally at various schools and colleges in the New England area. She died on the night of June 19, 1966. "

Rachel stopped and tried to understand why that date meant something to her. "June 19, 1966," she repeated trying to remember.

The librarian approached Rachel with more periodicals and theater magazines. After looking through several she finally found a magazine article about her.

"Elise McKenna - The Final Years"

She turned to the page containing the article and froze when she saw the picture of Elise in her eightieth year. It was the old woman she'd met thirteen years ago that had whispered in her ear as she gave her the pocket watch. Rachel's world as she knew it froze as she sat in the stillness of the library staring at the photograph.

The next day sitting in room 417, Rachel telephoned her agent. Her attitude was compulsive as she tried to solve this enigma.

"The first one is by John Fraser. "The Luminaries of the American Stage" Harpers, 1948. The second is by Laura Roberts, "Famous American Actresses" Galliard Press…"

"Hold it, hold it! Not so fast!" Peter shouted. "Famous American Actresses."

"Galliard Press, 1968. The jacket says she lives in Massachusetts. The third is Bernard Appleby, "Nineteenth Century Stage Actresses" Lippincott, 1952. What I need are the phone numbers and or addresses of the three authors. So far they're the ones with the most information about her."

"I'll see what I can do," Peter said.

"How soon?" Rachel asked.

"Tomorrow morning?" He suggested.

"Today," Rachel said firmly.

"Today! Rachel, I've got lots of things to…"

"Peter!" She cut him off. "Please; it's important."

"Is it for a novel by any remote possibility?"

"Yes. A BIG one," she lied.

"All right," Peter sighed.

"Thank you, Peter," she paused. "Get back to me as soon as you can, okay?" She added anxiously as she hung up the receiver.

Later that day Rachel was in her bathroom throwing water on her face when she heard the phone ring. She quickly dried her face and ran towards the phone.

"Peter?" She answered anxiously.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Let's have it." "John Fraser is dead." "Great." "Bernard Appleby moved to Spain nine years ago," he continued.

"Suuuuper," she answered sarcastically.

"And Laura Roberts…"

"Fell down a well and drowned," Rachel finished cutting Peter off.

"No, I got her address if you want to try and see her." "Yes! What is it?" She asked excitedly and her eyes widened when she heard the address. "That's incredible."

Rachel quickly said her good-bye and grabbed her keys and ran out the door. She drove quickly but carefully as the rain hit the windshield of her car. She watched as the numbers of the cottages increased from thirty-seven to forty-five. Seeing forty-seven she braked in front of the small weathered cottage. She pulled into the driveway, got out of her car and walked to the front gate. She walked down the path to the door and rang the bell. After awhile, Laura Roberts opened the door.

"Miss Roberts?" Rachel addressed the woman with long curly hair and brown eyes.

"Yes?" The woman answered.

"My name is Rachel Collier," she paused trying not to frighten the woman. "I just read your book 'Famous American Actresses' and enjoyed it very much, especially the part…" "How did you get my address?" Laura interrupted. " It isn't listed in the telephone directory." "My agent in New York got it for me. He contacted Gilliard Press…" "I never authorized anyone there to…"

"It's my fault, Miss Roberts." Rachel cut her off. " Ordinarily I'd never do such a thing but…"

"What is it you want?" She asked suspiciously.

"Information about Elise McKenna," she said trying to ease herself out of the rain.

"What sort of information," she asked guardedly.

"Well… you see, I'm a writer and I'm thinking of doing a novel based on her life and…"

Laura began to shut the door with a hardened expression on her face.

"Don't," Rachel begged. "Please… it's… not a novel, Miss Roberts. It's something very personal."

"I don't understand," Laura said.

Rachel took in a deep breath and pulled out the pocket watch from her jacket and showed it to Laura.

"Miss McKenna gave…" "Where did you get that?" Laura asked with a sudden jolt.

"You recognize it?" Rachel asked startled.

"Where did you get it?" Laura asked again icily.

"She gave it to me," she answered not understanding her ire.

Laura stood staring at her unbelieving waiting for Rachel to explain herself.

"At a party at Millfield College," she finished.

The two stood in silence staring at each other. Laura finally began to speak.

"That watch was very precious to her, Miss Collier. She never let it out of her possession. It disappeared the night she died."

"She died the night she gave it to me?" Rachel asked startled. "My God," she whispered then took a step back.

"Would you like to come in?" Laura asked.

"Please."

Rachel entered Laura's home and watched as she shut the door and approached her. "May I see it?" Laura gestured to the watch.

"Of course," Rachel said handing her the watch.

"She kept it with her all the time. I… almost thought she died because she lost it."

After a few moments, she returned the watch to Rachel. Rachel looked at her curiously not knowing where to begin.

"I know this will sound insane to you, but… I saw her photograph at the Kingston Point Hotel and…" "That's where she died," Laura softly said.

Rachel looked at Laura as new emotions filled her with this revelation. She thought she knew why she was drawn to the hotel now. She looked around the room and noticed some photographs on the mantel of the fireplace. She walked towards them as Laura silently followed.

"She was so beautiful," Rachel said reverently.

"Yes, she was," she agreed.

She continued to look around and noticed a stern looking bearded man in a different photo. "Her manager?"

Laura was taken aback. "How did you know?"

"You described him perfectly in your book," she said with a faint smile. "Not a man to be trifled with, eh?"

The two shared a smile as Rachel saw some books out of the corner of her eye. One in particular caught her attention and she picked it up. "Journeys Through Time" by G. Finney.

"He was one of my teachers at Millfield," Rachel revealed.

"Really," Laura answered politely.

Rachel looked at the other two books. "Man and Time" and "An Experiment with Time". A wave of curiosity went through her. She looked at Laura. "Have you… other things of hers?" Laura hesitated momentarily and then nodded.

"In the next room," she said and led Rachel out of the room.

Laura led her into a den that held many artifacts owned by Elise McKenna. The room was beautifully arranged and held a touching feeling of nostalgia.

"May I look around?" Rachel asked hoping she wasn't overstepping.

"Please," Laura said warmly.

Rachel walked first to a dressmaker's dummy on which a pale white evening gown rested. Long white gloves were pinned to it. She looked at the dress trying to imagine Elise McKenna wearing it. She touched the fabric with a delicate tenderness.

"It's a costume from one of the plays she was in," Laura commented.

"It's lovely," Rachel said entranced.

Laura nodded and smiled. Rachel moved to a wall shelf that had a pair of perfume bottles resting on it. Next to them rested a hand mirror, a brush and a comb that were all decorated in silver. She again tried to imagine Elise using these items as she stared at them.

"Lovely," she whispered.

"Yes, she had wonderful taste. I was so pleased when she left these things to me," she said with melancholy in her voice. "I had such respect for her."

"Miss Roberts, what was she like?" Rachel asked as she walked through the room marveling at all of Elise's belongings.

"When I knew her… she was kind and thoughtful but…" She hesitated. "Remote… withdrawn. She'd been living alone since her mother died in 1927. I didn't start to work for her until 1950."

"She was alone for…" she quickly did the math. "Twenty-three years? Why?"

"She never said, and… well I didn't feel it was my place to ask." Laura took a deep breath and continued with her memories. "She was just too much within herself," she sighed. "As though, in some way, she'd… died before that night in 1966… As though there was nothing left in her."

"Was she always that way?" Rachel asked sadly.

"Oh, no. Not at all. People who knew her when she was young said that she was quick and bright and full of fun. She was strong… willful… but not at all the way she was later. Not the way I knew her when I worked for her."

"What made her change?" Rachel asked deeply curious.

"I'm not sure. All I know, from my research, is that the change took place in 1912. Right after she performed a play at the Kingston Point Hotel."

Rachel took in Laura's words and felt something within her cry out. She looked over at the window and on a shelf next to it, rested a small replica of the Kingston Point Hotel. She immediately walked towards it and stared at it.

"She had it made," Laura informed her.

"Oh, my," Rachel sighed looking at the craftsmanship of it.

She picked it up carefully and noticed the top had hinges on it. The miniature hotel was a music box. She opened the lid and almost lost her footing as she heard the music begin to play.

"What is it?" Laura asked curiously.

Rachel couldn't answer, but could only listen to the music as it played until it winded down. She wound it up again and listened as it started to play. She was completely lost and Laura began to look at her with concern.

"What is it?" She asked again gently.

"It's my favorite music in the whole world," she said with a dazed look on her face. "What is happening?" She paused again. "Dear God, what is happening?"

She putdown the music box with shaking hands and she and Laura looked at each other. Laura had sympathy for Rachel's deep distress. They decided to leave the den and Rachel felt the loss as soon as they exited the room.

The two walked into Laura's dining area and had a cup of coffee. They sat across from each other at the table.

"Are you all right?" Laura asked.

Rachel nodded and managed a small smile. She hesitated briefly but had to ask a question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

"I know she never married, Miss Roberts, but… was there ever someone special in her life?"

"Yes, I think there was," she answered quietly.

Rachel tried to hide her disappointment as Laura continued.

"There was such a sadness in her. Such a sense of loss."

"Did she ever speak about them?" Rachel asked disturbed.

"Oh, there were hints now and then, but nothing definite. Except for that watch you have. And the," she stopped and remained silent.

"What?" Rachel asked but Laura didn't answer. "What, Miss Roberts?" Rachel persisted.

Laura sat and debated with herself momentarily then got up and walked out of the room. Rachel heard a drawer open and shut and waited for Laura to return.

Laura came back and sat down holding something in her hand.

"One day, in 1928, she burned everything she'd ever written. Had her gardener dig a pit in the backyard of the house she was living in; threw everything inside it, had kerosene poured across the pile and set it all ablaze." Rachel sat in silence as she listened to Laura speak.

"All that remained was a fragment of a page the fire wind had blown away. Her gardener found it and kept it. Later on, he sent it to me when I called to ask him some questions for my book."

She took the paper fragment from the envelope in her hand and handed it to Rachel. The paper had brown edges from the fire and looked extremely fragile. Rachel eyed the fragment but it was too faded to be legible. Laura closed her eyes and began to recite it from memory.

"My love, where are you now?

From what place did you come to me?

To what place go?

Come back to me."

As she listened to Laura recite the beautiful words, the astounding realization came to her.

"Come… back to me."

Rachel left Laura's cottage almost in a dead run. She knew where she had to go for answers. She took the highway north and headed for Millfield College. She saw the sign on the highway stating she had four miles to go. She felt the anticipation running through her veins.

She parked the car and ran to the building at full speed. She reached the landing wheezing for breath and started along the corridor that was filled with students eying her warily. She came to room 321 and looked in the window to find Dr. Gerald Finney talking animatedly with several students. He was a short bearded man easily in his seventies, but had energy for life that belied his true age.

She watched him grab his briefcase and head towards the doorway and opened the door.

"Dr. Finney?" Rachel said to the hurried man.

"You'll have to walk with me young lady. I have another class. What's your name?" He asked as Rachel kept up with him easily.

"Collier, sir. Rachel Collier." "Student?" " Thirteen years ago."

"Just visiting?"

"I came to see you."

"Well," he said brightly. "I try to make my classes interesting, but I've never seen that interest last for thirteen years before. What can I do for you?" He asked clearly intrigued.

"A question, sir," she answered simply.

"Shoot." "Is time travel possible?" Rachel asked as Finney stopped dead in his tracks.

"That is a question."

"I read your book about journeys in time when I was at school and I remember your lectures on the subject," Rachel said as she braced herself to ask her next question. "Is it possible?"

Dr. Finney hesitated then continued down the stairs with Rachel in tow.

"Two Englishwomen thought so in August, 1901. Misses Moberly and Jourdain. Deans of ladies' schools, I'll have you know, not idiots, by any means. Claimed to have walked back to the year 1789 in the Gardens of Versailles. Seen Marie Antoinette celebrating her 34th birthday. They drew sketches of what they'd seen but no one was ever really convinced. For one thing, they wrote down the music they claimed to have heard but experts said that no such music was ever played at that time."

Rachel was discouraged. "It isn't certain then."

"Well… consider this. Just recently, in Paris, some music manuscript was found. It had been composed for Marie Antoinette's 34th birthday and played only on that day," he said smiling. "Guess what?" Rachel looked at him fascinated.

"Also recently discovered was a journal kept by one of the ladies of the court. In an entry written on Marie Antoinette's birthday, she commented on 'two women dressed in very strange clothes' who had wandered unexpectedly onto the grounds."

"My God!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Did the Misses Moberly and Jourdain travel back through time?"

"What do you think?" Rachel challenged.

"Scientifically?" He smiled. "Or personally."

"Personally," she said.

"That we are where we are because it's accepted, by the world around us, therefore, by US… therefore it is."

"That which you think becomes your world?" Rachel added with a smile.

"You know the phrase," he said pleased. "Yes. A perfect description. That which you think becomes your world. The consciousness of the observer influencing, perhaps even determining, that which is observed."

"You think it can be done then?" She said nervously.

Dr. Finney looked up in to tense blue eyes as they walked looking at each other in silence. They reached his classroom and they both entered. Dr. Finney put his briefcase down on his desk while students started to file in.

"Let me tell you something, Rachel, is it?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

"I was in Venice in 1971 staying in a very old hotel, but I mean very old; the structure, the furnishings, everything. The atmosphere was… aged if you follow me. In my room, I felt as though it was a century or more earlier than 1971, you understand?"

"The location is very important."

"Not all-important but essential," he said touching his head. "The rest is here…" he paused. "One afternoon, I was lying down in that room, all the sights around me a part of the past; even the sounds I heard.

"And I conceived a notion. What, I asked myself; if I attempt to hypnotize my mind… suggest to it that it isn't 1971, but 1571. I mean actually. Actually 1571."

"Did you do it?" Rachel asked quickly.

"I closed my eyes and fed a suggestion into my brain. It's August, 1571. I'm in the Hotel Del Vecchio. I spelled out details for myself, kept doing it over and over. August, 1571, the hotel, the details of the past. Again and again and again." "And?" "Well, I'll never really know, Rachel. I've never done it since and I'm not sure I'd want to do it again, but… for a flicker there, the… fragment of an instant… I was certain I was there. Venice. 1571. It was imperfect, granted. How could it be otherwise? There were objects around me that were clearly of the present; I knew they were there. A telephone, a book, my luggage. And the clothes I wore; strictly 1971; well, in my case, probably a lot older." They exchanged a smile.

"If I were going to try it again… mind you, I have no such intention, but if I did… I would disassociate myself entirely from the present… Move everything out of sigh that could possibly remind me of it. Then…who knows?"

Rachel felt closer to Elise than she'd ever hoped. "I do," she paused. "Thank you, Dr. Finney."

Rachel left the classroom feeling very positive and very determined.

Rachel drove into town towards the hotel and stopped at a phone booth to through the yellow pages. She found a listing close to the hotel for Smythe's Costume Shop. She quickly jumped back in her car and drove through town hoping to get there before closing time. She found the store and noticed the OPEN sign still in the window. Rachel entered a costume rental shop and quickly found a salesman.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for a suit that would've been worn in the early 1900's. Specifically 1912."

He scratched his head. "1912?"

"Yes." "Let me check my catalog," he said walking towards the book on the counter. "Ah yes, I believe we just got this suit back. It was a man's suit you were looking for, correct?"

"Yes, I don't do well with dresses and heels at my height," she smiled.

"Let me see if I can find it."

The salesmen walked into the back room and came out with a brown suit and a white shirt and tie. "Try these on," he said motioning to the dressing room.

Rachel took the clothing and nearly ran into the dressing room. A few moments later she emerged wearing the suit with the pants covering her feet.

"The pants are a mite long," the salesman said.

"A mite," she said quite amused.

"What about the rest of it?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said as she looked at her reflection. "You're sure it's what they wore in 1912?"

"That's what the catalog says."

"Okay, how soon can the pants be shortened?" She asked.

"A day or two," he replied.

"Now," she said confidently.

"I'm afraid that's a…"

"Whatever it costs," she cut in.

"The gentleman who rented it just brought it back. We haven't even had a chance to clean it yet," he said exasperated.

"Whatever it costs," she repeated.

"It's so late in the day," he continued to argue.

"And twenty more for you," she said pointedly.

"I'll talk to the tailor," he acquiesced. "How long will you be needing the outfit?"

"Sixty-seven years," she answered while looking into the mirror.

"Beg pardon?" he asked unsure he'd heard her correctly.

Rachel smiled back at him. "Just a few days."

The salesman nodded and Rachel looked at her reflection again. A few moments later she bowed a little. "Good evening, Miss McKenna. You don't know me but… you will."

After the suit was fitted and paid for, Rachel made her way down the street until another shop caught her eye. She pulled over into a parking spot close to the shop. McNeil's Coin Shop was on the sign and she hoped they'd have what she needed.

She walked in and the bell on the door sounded alerting the salesman that she was there. She smiled briefly at the man behind the counter and told him she was looking for currency from the year 1912. He smiled at her and walked into the storeroom. While she waited she perused the contents of the display case in front of her.

After a few moments, the man returned holding a box with drawers in it. He opened the box and pulled out an aged twenty-dollar bill. It was larger in size than a contemporary bill, it had a portrait of President Garfield on it and a colorful red seal that held the words: Twenty dollars in Gold Coin repayable to the bearer on demand.

"How much," Rachel asked.

"Three hundred dollars," he said calmly.

"Three hundred dollars for a twenty-dollar bill?" She said aghast.

"That's very inexpensive. It was never circulated," he said with an incredulous expression.

"Just what I've been looking for," she said dryly.

"Tell you what I'll do. Three hundred and I'll throw in a ten-dollar certificate worth forty-five dollars," he paused. "You did say 1912?" He added when he saw the indecisiveness on her face.

"Right!" Angry at herself. "What am I wasting time for? I've gotta have them." She took out her wallet and removed her credit card, tossing it onto the counter. "I can't use this in 1912."

The two shared a chuckle until the salesman looked at her quizzically when he realized he didn't get the joke.

Rachel was now finished with her shopping and headed back towards the hotel.

Rachel entered her hotel room with bags in hand. She had her suit, her money, her shoes, and some blank cassettes she had purchased. She threw her goods on the bed and started to organize them quickly. She grabbed the cassettes and ripped open the packaging with her teeth. She reached over to the bedside table and got the cassette recorder. She removed the cassette from it and placed a blank one in its place. Rachel took a deep breath and took the microphone in her hand. She pressed the "start" and "record" buttons simultaneously and began to speak.

"It's June 27, 1912. You're lying on your bed, eyes closed, completely relaxed and it's June 27, 1912. June 27, 1912…" she continued until she had filled the cassette completely.

Later that night she lay on her bed fully dressed in the suit and was listening to her voice come from the recorder.

"You're lying on a bed in the Kingston Point Hotel and it's June 27, 1912."

Rachel was lying with her eyes closed trying to relax to the deep timbre of her own voice.

"Your mind accepts this absolutely. It is June 27, 1912. You're lying on your hotel bed, eyes closed, on June 27, 1912…"

Rachel had removed all the items from the room that would have reminded her of the present. She put all the items in a closet and closed the door. It was no longer 1979 it was 1912 in her mind. She listened in vain as her voice continued to play.

"You're lying quietly, at peace, your eyes closed, in this room in 1912. You have traveled back in time. It is 1912 in the hotel; June 27, 1912. Soon you will get up and leave the room to find Elise McKenna. Soon you will open your eyes in 1912 and walk into the corridor and go downstairs and find Elise McKenna. She is in the hotel now. At this very moment. Because it is June 27, 1912…"

A few hours later Rachel staggered into the bathroom completely drained and exhausted. She switched on the light and picked up the bottle of pills and removed one. She washed the pill down with a cup of water and returned to her bedroom. She rewound the cassette and started the playback once again. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

"Elise McKenna and her company are here in the hotel at this very moment. The stage is being set for their performance tomorrow night…even as you lie here on your bed in the Kingston Point Hotel on June 27, 1912…" the tape played on.

"Come on… COME ON!" Rachel said in desperation. Her face was tight as she tried to will herself back in time. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

"There is no question in your mind; it IS June 27, 1912. Relax and believe. Relax and accept…"

Rachel was not relaxed nor was she believing. She got tenser with each moment that passed. She listened to her voice repeating again and again until the phone rang nearly making her scream out. She grabbed the phone from under the bed and barked into the receiver.

"What!"

"Rachel?" Her brother Bob said.

"Oh… Bob," she said fighting control. "Look, can I call you back?"

"No, Rachel. We have to talk."

"Bob, I'm all right. I'll…" "Your reports came back this afternoon," he interrupted and Rachel went still. "You'd better get back here as soon as possible," he said waiting for a response from his sister and getting none. "Rachel?" "What?" she said quietly.

"You'll have to start treatments right away." "NO, Bob," she said quickly.

"Rachel!" He said alarmed. "You can't escape this one."

"What makes you think I've been escaping it?" She said angrily and pressed the button on the telephone base ending their conversation. The receiver began to buzz and very slowly it fell from her fingers. She held the cassette recorder and pressed the stop button. The room was completely silent except for the buzzing telephone and the surf sounds coming in from the balcony.

Rachel got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the cold water and washed her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"Time travel…" she said with contempt. "You… stupid… dying.. idiot!" She leaned over the sink with a groan and slapped the flat of her hand against the counter over and over.

Rachel walked down to the hotel bar and ordered a drink. She sat alone in a booth watching the crowd and listened to their cheering of the basketball game being shown on the TV. She was immersed in thought not touching her drink. A loud burst of laughter made her wince so she got up from her seat and left.

Rachel's expression was lifeless to anyone that passed her in the lobby. Many heads turned in confusion as they saw the beautiful woman walk by. She walked towards the elevator but quickly turned into the Hall of History. She walked to the photograph and stared at Elise's face.

Suddenly she couldn't bear to look at the face any longer, so she turned away with tears streaming down her face. She immediately noticed a couple enter the corridor so she moved to the display case so they wouldn't see her crying. She looked down and noticed the items in the case. Suddenly it dawned on her.

"Wait a second," she said and ran out of the corridor and out of the hotel. She reached Arthur's bungalow and started to pound on the door.

"Arthur!" she screamed. When there was no response she pounded again more loudly. "Arthur, wake up!"

She watched as a few lights turned on and a sleepy Arthur answered the door wearing his pajamas.

"I apologize for waking you up but I asked at the desk and they couldn't help me. Those things in the Hall of History display case. Where did they come from? Is there a storeroom or something?" She asked to a confused Arthur. "Arthur, please. Where did those things come from?"

"The… attic, Miss Collier," he said.

She went back to the hotel and up to the attic with Arthur in tow. She lifted the trap door and shined her light inside the dusty attic. She looked around and saw boxes and books and old furniture. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

"Be careful, Miss Collier. It's a low…"

"Ow!" Rachel exclaimed as she hit her head.

"Ceiling…" Arthur finished.

"Thanks," she said rubbing her head.

She moved forward more carefully and shined the light ahead of herself, but not before she tripped on something.

"Miss Collier?" Arthur called.

"It's okay. It's okay… I'm not going to…" she paused as the light shined on the figure of a woman in an old fashioned dress stunning her silent.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Just a… mannequin.. I guess it uh... caught me by surprise," she said while swallowing nervously.

She moved the beam of light around the room until it fell upon what she was looking for. She walked over to an immense book; it was about a foot and a half long, a foot wide and several inches thick. It was covered in a thick layer of dust and when she blew it off, it created a cloud that made her cough roughly.

"Oh, Jesus!" She said in between coughing fits.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked concerned.

"Yes," she said while still coughing.

She opened the book. It was a ledger filled with figures. She frowned and put the book down. She pointed the beam of light at a pile of ledgers and registers, all covered in the same dust.

She picked up each register and looked at the spine of the book looking for the correct year. She went through several books until she came to the one that had 1912 on its spine. She grabbed the book and wiped it down with her sleeve instead of blowing off the dust.

She opened the book and ran her fingers down the list of guests in the hotel. The columns on the registry had the names, residences, rooms, and times for every guest. She ran her finger down the list of names until it landed on the name of Elise McKenna.

Elise McKenna, Ronkonkama, NY, Suite 123, 12:37 p.m.

Rachel's anxiety rose about one hundred percent as her finger continued down the page. She read through the many names on the pages and her finger moved continually faster increasing her anxiety level. Her face fell when she didn't find what she was looking for. Her lips trembled as she turned the pages once again hoping she'd missed it. After a few pages turned her eyes locked on a familiar name and she screamed.

"What is it?" Arthur asked with a shaky voice.

Rachel couldn't answer him. She couldn't contain her emotions as she let herself cry. She held the book close to her body as she rocked cross-legged on the dusty attic floor. Her sobbing became louder and Arthur was clearly worried for his guest.

"Miss Collier? All you all right?"

"Yes!" Rachel answered through her sobs of joy.

She brought the book back down and fingered the entry from June 28, 1912.

Rachel Collier, New York, NY, Room 350, 9:18 a.m.

Rachel ran back to her room and dressed in her suit once again. She grabbed the coins she had purchased and put them in the pocket of her trousers with shaking fingers.

"Take it easy," she said trying to calm her racing heart.

Her excitement would not be repressed however and she took the watch off the table and started to put it in her vest pocket and almost dropped it. She made a face and flinched.

"God, don't drop the watch!" she scolded herself.

She took a deep breath and the smile she'd just made went away as she felt the pain in her head increase. She grabbed her head and went into the bathroom in search of her medication. She grabbed the bottle and took out a pill.

"One for the road," she said before swallowing it. She took another look in the mirror and couldn't contain the pleasure she felt.

"I'm on my way, Elise," she whispered to her reflection.

Forgetting the bottle was still in her hand, she turned back towards the bedroom. She sat on her bed and took a deep breath. She pressed play on the cassette recorder as she lay down and closed her eyes. The tape began to play.

"It's June 27, 1912. You're lying on your bed, eyes closed, completely relaxed and it's June 27, 1912…"

The sound of her voice was beginning to blur and fade. Rachel immediately opened her eyes believing she had traveled back in time. The room looked a bit obscured to her as she lifted her head from the pillow. She sat up and became conscious of the bottle in her right hand. She looked at the label which read June 26, 1979 and cried out as she let herself fall back to the bed. She was breathing hard and as she recovered from the shock, she looked at the bottle in her hand. She remembered Dr. Finney's words.

"I would dissociate myself entirely from the present… Move everything out of sight that could possibly remind me of it."

With a deep snarl she flung the bottle across the room. She sat back and listened to her voice continue to play on the machine when realization struck her.

"Hold it," she said as she sat up and hit the "stop" button on the recorder. She stood and walked to the bureau across the room and opened the top drawer. She placed the cassette recorder inside and closed the drawer. She returned to the bed and closed her eyes.

"Now," she said with confidence. "It's June 27, 1912. Relax and believe. Relax and accept. There is no question in your mind. It is June 27, 1912. You're lying on your bed, eyes closed, completely relaxed and it's June 27, 1912. You're mind accepts this absolutely. You are in the Kingston Point Hotel and it is June 27, 1912."

She spoke to herself as she felt herself drift into a brief sleep. Realizing she'd fallen asleep, she immediately opened her eyes and heard the surf coming in through the balcony. She looked around slowly and became conscious of the room around her. The room no longer held the contemporary look of 1979, it now resembled 1912. The room began to swim around her as she looked around frightened. She was terrified she was going back so she closed her eyes. She whispered to herself and kept her body perfectly still.

"June 27, 1912, it's June 27, 1912."

The swimming sensation stopped and very cautiously, Rachel opened her eyes and made a sound of gratified relief. The room was still as it was in 1912. She tried to keep calm believing if she did otherwise, it would send her back to 1979.

"I made it," she said unable to stop the grin on her face from forming. "Jesus, I made it."

Rachel looked around the room trying to keep her emotions in check. The drapes on the French windows were now white airy curtains. The furniture was now much like the furniture in the Hall of History. She took in every object she saw and it only enhanced her wonderment and delight.

"Look at that…Holy shit…" she mumbled to herself.

She finally slid her legs off the edge of the bed and took deep breaths.

"1912 air going in," she said as she breathed deeply.

She took many breaths and eased herself off the bed. Without any bad results, she sighed in contentment and walked slowly through the room. She held her arms out to balance herself during her explorations. She got a bit dizzy and sped up to grasp the top of the bureau, closing her eyes. She looked into the reflection of the bureau mirror.

"I think you left your blood in nineteen seventy…"she stopped and scowled. "NEVER say that again; never. It's 1912, 1912, 1912."

She noticed the some of objects on the bureau were men's toilet articles. She picked up a whiskbroom and looked at it. The words Just A Few were inscribed on its handle. The inscription confused her until she moved the brush and it made a gurgling sound.

"Ah-ha!" She said as she unscrewed the cap on the end of the handle and held the opening to her nose. She twitched back from the strong smell and made a feint whistling sound before she took a little sip. As soon as the liquid hit her throat, she began to wheeze and cough. She held her mouth trying to silence herself when she heard a woman begin to sing "Beautiful Dreamer" in the next room. She kept a hand over her mouth and dropped the cap onto the bureau looking frantically around the room.

She picked up the cap and rescrewed it onto the handle of the whiskbroom. She turned towards the sitting room where the woman's voice was coming from. She stepped into the room and tried to cross it as quickly as she could when she heard approaching footsteps. She looked around the room finding a curtained alcove and practically dove into it as the woman entered the sitting room wearing nothing but her undergarments. Rachel stood frozen and started to cough again. The woman, oblivious to Rachel's presence, continued to sing as Rachel peeked around the edge of the curtain.

The woman moved around the room looking for a tortoise shell comb she found on the fireplace. She picked it up and returned to the bedroom. Rachel moved with silent speed across the sitting room to the door. She reached for the knob and turned it only to find it locked. The only way for her to unlock the door was with a skeleton key, which she did not have.

"I don't believe this," she mumbled in amazement. "Now what?" She asked while looking around haplessly.

She looked at the door as she heard a key being shoved in the keyhole. Shock registered on her face and then she dove behind the sofa. Just as she disappeared behind it, a whiskered man entered the room wearing a dinner suit. Rachel lay dazed behind the couch as she listened to the man speak.

"I'm back, Maude. Are you ready yet?" Rollo asked.

"No," Maude replied coolly.

He put the key in the lock and turned it aggravated. He walked towards the bedroom trapping Rachel behind the sofa unbelieving this was happening.

"I don't know why you act in such a fashion, Maude."

"Indeed I suspect you do not," Maude answered back.

"And what am I to make of that remark?" Rollo said agitated.

Rachel sat there and rolled her eyes wishing this would end soon so she could get out of there.

"What you will, Rollo. What you will." "Are we to have this maddening exchange each and every time I notice the existence of a female other than yourself?"

"Notice her existence?" Maude repeated sarcastically. "That scarcely describes your rapt appraisal of her every inch." "Rapt appraisal of her…!"

"You just don't love me anymore…" Maude started crying.

"Oh, Maude," Rollo protested.

"Oh, Christ!" Rachel groaned as she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

"I'm going to lie down for a little while," Maude said sniffling.

"Good idea," Rollo agreed.

"Great idea," Rachel said fervently.

As the silence continued, Rachel began to look over the sofa edge. She peered around the sofa and saw the man standing by the sitting room window. With a sigh, Rollo walked into the other bedroom. Rachel watched him enter the room and bolted for the door. She turned the key clicking it loudly as she unlocked the door.

"Who's there?" Rollo called.

Rachel panicked and yanked the door open and jumped into the corridor. She silently closed the door and sped towards the elevator stealthily. She moved a few yards when she heard the door open to suite 417. She immediately spun around and walked casually towards the room. Rollo came out and saw Rachel.

"Did you see someone just come out of this room?" He asked Rachel.

"Why, yes. Some young chap, ran that way," she said as she pointed down the hall.

"I'll be damned. I'd better check to see if anything is missing." "Indeed you'd better," she answered as Rollo turned back inside.

"I'd have stopped the rascal if I'd known that…"

"Yes, yes, thank you," Rollo said curtly over his shoulder and shut the door.

"I traveled sixty-seven years for this?" Rachel breathed out.

She leaned against the wall briefly then headed down towards the elevator. As she reached the doors, there were a number of people waiting to enter. Some glanced at her and whispered, while others just looked away. She smiled nervously at her first interaction with 1912 people.

"I'm told there are good plover near here," she heard a man say. "And curlew are abundant, too. Also black brant." Rachel looked on in confusion.

By the time the elevator arrived and she got on, the elevator was full. She was feeling confused from her experience and from the conversations overlapping around her.

The elevator reached the lobby opening its doors, revealing the Kingston Point Hotel, in 1912. Rachel was fascinated by the changes despite her feeling of disorientation. Suddenly, she noticed a bright red ball coming towards her chest. She automatically caught it while people looked around in disgust and amusement. She could only stare at the ball as she heard a little boy come up to her.

"Not inside, Arthur," the clerk yelled to the boy.

The little boy looked up at Rachel with guilt in his eyes. Rachel gazed down at him extremely charmed and touched. She reached down and tousled the boy's hair as she smiled and gave him the ball.

"See you around, Arthur," Rachel said to the young charge.

Arthur grabbed the ball and ran away, bringing an even brighter smile to her face. Knowing she had lots to do, she walked along the corridor and began to talk to herself.

"Miss McKenna? You don't know me but…" she scowled as she continued down the hall.

She moved quickly until she reached suite 123. She swallowed heavily and braced herself as she knocked on the door. She stood nervously waiting for the door to open. With a jerk, a heavyset woman wearing a floor-length yellow gown opened the door.

"Yes?" Mrs. McKenna greeted.

"Is…Miss McKenna here?" Rachel swallowed hard.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" She asked in a motherly protective tone.

"My name is Rachel Collier. You must be her mother." She realized.

Mrs. McKenna stepped back suspiciously as Rachel looked past her.

"Is she here?" Rachel asked again.

"She is not," she said as she started to close the door. "If you'll excuse me." "Could you tell me where she is?"

Mrs. McKenna eyed her coldly and answered. "No, I couldn't." She shut the door in Rachel' face.

"Well, that went well. Okay, strike one." Rachel stood in the hallway until she got an idea and ran down the corridor.

Continued in Part 2.