A PICTURE WORTH A HUNDRED YEARS

Ellen opened the envelope. There was a copy of a photograph, just a Xerox, but remarkably clear. It was a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Naile and their two (unnamed) children. 

“This has to be an elaborate practical joke, Jack.” 

“Lemme see, princess.” 

She handed it to him. Despite the age of the photograph and the fact that it was a Xerox, the resemblance between the Naile family of nine decades ago and the Naile family of today was enough to make her want to throw up. 

She’d been looking out the Suburban’s open window but now focused on the other items in the envelope. There was a summary of its contents, typed on an old-seeming machine, Arthur Beach’s name scrawled at the bottom. 

“The Naile family arrived in town in 1896. They were apparently on their way to California for some new business when their wagon suffered an accident and was destroyed. Reduced to only a few personal belongings, the Nailes seemingly had considerable financial resources. There is no material yet available to me mentioning the fate of their descendants, nor concerning how or when Mr. and Mrs. Naile eventually died. The county medical examiner’s office burned to the ground in the 1940s, all death certificates archived there destroyed. I’ll keep looking.’” 

“Holy—” 

“Tell him to stop looking, Jack!” 

“Startling resemblance, that photograph. I’ll say that.” 

“Jack, it’s you and me and David and Elizabeth, and the picture was taken almost a hundred years ago!”