by Lisa Marie Mercer

Created on: January 09, 2008   Last Updated: January 10, 2008

Breckenridge Back in Time

Suspects:
Mrs. Gelgrib
William
Amanda
Mr. Ford
The Harris's

Jennifer's Story

It all began in the summer of 2004. After earning my degree in hotel management, I sent my resume to various hotels at Colorado ski resorts. Why Colorado? As a hopeless snowboard addict, I dreamed of waking up surrounded by fresh powder and adorable snowboard instructors, not necessarily in that order. Imagine my delight when I was offered a job at the Fireside Inn, a quaint little Bed and Breakfast on French Street in Breckenridge. Oddly enough, since I didn't know about the Fireside, I hadn't sent them my resume. Yet the Harris's, who owned the Fireside, insisted that it was in their PO Box.

After settling into my new home, I picked up my mail and discovered a post card that read:

Welcome to Breckenridge!
Free Bicycle Rental
Only valid on August 25th
Ask for William.

Upon entering the store, the clerk, whose name tag read "William," greeted me.\
"Where shall you ride, Jennifer?" he asked. How did he know my name?
"I'm open to suggestions."
"Many folks enjoy Swan Mountain Road," he replied.
As I was leaving, I heard him talking on the telephone. "Our plans are in order, Kathleen. Have you the bear?"

Have you the bear?" I must not have heard him correctly.

I soon discovered that I had made a huge mistake. Where is the top of this mountain? Then, I saw the bear. Veering off to the side to avoid him, I fell off my bike. Suddenly, everything went black.

When I came to, a man with the most beautiful blue eyes was standing over me. Had I died and gone to heaven?

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I think so," I answered. "But what happened to me?"

"You fell off your bicycle."

I saw a bear," I said, feeling ridiculous.

"Well, you seemed to have scared him off. But I don't think that you should get back on your bike," he suggested. "Why don't you let me give you a ride?"

As a native New Yorker, I usually don't take rides from strange men, even strange men that look like angels. Sensing my hesitation, he smiled and said, "I'm quite safe, really. In fact, my mom is visiting here in Breckenridge." He took out his cell phone. "Should I call her and have her attest to my trustworthy character?"

"That okay," I laughed. "I'm Jennifer Castle," I said.

"Timothy Herkle," he replied, as he helped me put my bike on the racks of his Subaru..

"What brings you to Breckenridge?" I asked.

"I'm a filmmaker," he answered. "Apparently, some of my ancestors lived in this town, and I've been granted permission to do

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