My eyes started to glaze over with the onslaught of historic dates. I hoped he didn't intend to test us on the information later.

The bus made a right-hand turn into an area reserved for tour buses. "Our bus is number 222," Wally reminded us, as we popped out of our seats. "We'll board from this spot at twelve-fifteen. And remember, at nine-forty we'll gather in front of Bucherer to begin our walking tour."

As we left the bus, the wind picked up, blowing rain into our faces and chill air down our necks. "Wind's a good sign," said Dick Stolee, whose hair remained unruffled in the gale. "Maybe it'll blow the fog away. What time are we supposed to board the bus again?"

"Two-twenty-two," said Grace.

Dick Rassmuson snugged on his seed-corn hat and pulled a cigar out of his pocket. "I heard him say nine-forty."

"I thought nine-forty was the year they built that church back there," said Dick Teig, who would like to have donned a seed-corn hat, but the only thing big enough to fit over his head was an airplane hangar.

I rolled my eyes. The Dicks had better hope we weren't going to be tested either. As the newly appointed escort to the Windsor City group, I thought it my duty to intervene. "Our bus number is 222. We leave on our walking tour at nine-forty. We board the bus again at twelve-fifteen."

"We only have a half hour until the walking tour begins," fretted Helen Teig. Her eyebrows formed such perfect arches today, they almost looked real.

Lucille Rassmuson gnawed her bottom lip with worry. "We'd better wait in front of that store Wally talked about so we'll be on time."

"But you have a whole thirty minutes!" I reasoned. "You could get out of the rain. Browse. Buy a cup of coffee."

"Too risky," said Dick Rassmuson, who angled his umbrella over Lucille's head, lit up his cigar, and herded the other two Dicks and their wives through the rain toward the meeting place.

"Well, I'm not gonna stand out here in the rain," Nana informed me. "Bernice and me are gonna find us a chocolate shop. This is good weather for chocolate. You don't have to worry about it meltin'. You wanna come with us?"

I shook my head. "I need to see a man about a watch."

Bucherer dazzled. Opulence. Glitter. Crystal chandeliers. Gleaming display cases. Precious gems set in eighteen-karat gold and platinum. Mont Blanc pens. Reuge music boxes. After receiving directions from a clerk on the ground floor, I climbed the stairs to the watch department on the first floor. Clerks abounded behind a maze of glass counters--tall, slender, unsmiling clerks with no-nonsense faces. I inched my way toward one of the nearest counters and scanned the multitude of watches displayed on blue velvet trays.

"May I help you, Madame?" The woman looked anorexic. She was dressed in a body-hugging black dress, had a thin red slash of a mouth, and wore her hair pulled back so severely from her face, her eyes slanted halfway to her ears. Blinking was probably a major undertaking.