Read In Times Like These for Free Online Page B

I’ve never met any time travelers before and I feel you must be tremendously interesting people.” He smiles and folds his hands in his lap, awaiting our responses. We look around at each other briefly. I give Francesca a nod.
    "Um, I'm Francesca,” she starts. "I’m twenty-six and I work at a bank and  . . . my family is from Cuba. Um, I don't really know what else. I have a cat named Toby. I’m feeling very awkward about having a hole burned in my pants."
    "Wonderful!" Mr. Cameron exclaims, smiling at her candor. "And how about you gentlemen?"
    "I'm Benjamin," I begin. “My family is all from Oregon. I work on boats at a marina and sometimes do boat sales. I’m pretty terrible at selling things, so it's not that great of a job, but it gets me on the water. These guys are pretty much my best friends." I look around at the others as I say this, realizing that there could be far worse people to be stuck in this situation with. "This is also my first time time traveling. It's been pretty cool so far though." I smile and stop talking.
    “And all of you are friends with my Robbie here?” Mr. Cameron asks.
    “Yeah, I actually grew up playing soccer with Robbie,” Carson says.
    “We three went to high school together,” Francesca adds.
    “Now we all play softball together,” Robbie says. “At least that was what we were trying to do when we ended up here.”
    “You got here from playing softball?” Mr. Cameron raises his eyebrows.
    “There was a storm and a power line hit our dugout. That must have had something to do with it. We don’t really know what happened. We just know that we were playing softball last night and we woke up here this afternoon.”
    “It’ s very fortunate you are okay,” Mr. Cameron says. “I was shocked once pretty badly in my younger days and I know it can be very scary. Nothing to the scale of a power line however.” He looks around at all of our faces. “I’m sorry that you are dealing with all of this, but I’ve learned over the years that while life is not always predictable or necessarily enjoyable, it certainly holds no lack of surprises.”
    Mr. Cameron stands up slowly from his chair and smiles. “I feel I’m in for a treat having you fine young people as guests. I don’t feel at all that you are here to rob me. Why don't I give you the nickel tour?"
    We follow him out a side door different than the one we came in. We walk through a hallway that leads off of the front door and contains a collection of framed art. Most of them are impressionistic landscapes but I spot one Norman Rockwell Saturday Evening Post cover mixed in. The hall doesn’t receive any comment from Mr. Cameron and we proceed through it into another room, slightly smaller than the one we’ve just left.
    "This was my wife Abby's sewing room," Mr. Cameron explains. There is a wooden spinning wheel with a stool and pictures of family members hanging on the walls. A quilt is draped over the back of a couch and there are a couple of armchairs facing a TV.
    "Hey, is this you, Robbie?" Carson is looking at a group photo of Robbie's family.
    "Oh, look at your mom!" Francesca exclaims. "Aw, check out how young everybody looks. Your mom's hair is great."
    "Wow, you were goofy looking back then too, eh Robbie?" I smile at the photo of the brown haired four-year-old.
    "That was your family Christmas photo this year,” Mr. Cameron says. He looks at Robbie and back to the picture. "Fascinating. I can’t say as I understand a bit of this situation but it’s certainly remarkable. I don’t know how anyone will ever believe me. Probably say I’ve gone off my rocker.” He pokes Robbie in the shoulder with his index finger as if checking to see if he’s a hallucination. “But there you are.”
    He seems really intrigued with Robbie. I guess I would be too if someone showed up at my door claiming to be my grandson.
    Robbie smiles and then continues to follow his grandfather, who walks to the far side of the