A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (27 page)

When we got to the front door, I peeked out to find Evan gone. Tess sat on the floor. She watched the mantel with intense eyes. Behind her, Judd talked into what I now knew was the phone. As soon as Tess saw us, she jumped to her feet.

“Are they okay?” she asked.

“They’re a little banged up, but they’ll be fine,” I said.

“You better get out of there. Dad’s getting his tools.”

We landed on the sofa table next to Gerald, who sat munching on the banana slice. “Why didn’t you come help us with the babies?” I asked.

“I checked on the trow. Besides, you don’t need my help.”

“Yeah. I never need any help.” I rolled my eyes and smiled at Gerald until he let a grin slip onto his face. “Are the trow okay?”

“Still asleep. I don’t think they even noticed,” he said still grinning.

Iris and I sat the babies next to him and he frowned at their supposed cuteness.
 

“They are so cute,” said Tess.

“You think they’re both cute?” asked Gerald. “Even that one?” He pointed at Horc.

Tess paid him no mind. “They’re so teeny. Can I hold one?”

“I don’t know how you can hold one. They don’t fly and they’re pretty little,” I said.

Horc held up his arms. “She may hold me. I am extremely holdable.”

Easy saw Horc raise his arms and held up his own.

“She can’t hold you both at the same time,” said Iris.

“I’m first,” said Horc.

Easy reached over and cracked Horc on the side of the head. Horc wobbled for a second and then lunged for Easy’s foot. I grabbed him before he could connect, but his jaws stayed in biting mode, opening and closing, as he looked around for something to chomp on.

“They’re fighting,” said Tess.

Evan came up behind Tess. I shook my head at her, but Tess didn’t notice. She reached her hand toward Horc. “I’ll take the biter.”

“Biter?” Evan bent over Tess. He had a tool box in one hand and a cup in the other.

Tess froze and blushed.

Judd plopped down on the sofa with the phone still in his hand. “She’s nuts, Dad. She thinks this place is crawling with fairies. So do your fairies bite, weirdo?”

Tess assumed an imperious look and put her nose in the air. “Some do. I hope one bites you.”

“I’d pay to see that,” said Evan.

“I’d pay for you to see that, too,” muttered Judd.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Dad.”

“What are you going to do with the tools?” asked Tess.

“Not sure. I have to find a way to attach the mantel to the wall.” Evan set down his tools and rubbed his chin. “Maybe a lightweight adhesive would do the trick. Help me lay the mantel down, so I can get a better look at the back, Judd.”

Judd stood up and went to the mantel. “Okay.”

“What? No protests?” asked Evan.

“It’s cool,” said Judd.

They laid the mantel down on the rug and Evan ran his hands over the back.

Gerald turned to me. “Anything that wasn’t broken before is now.”
 

“This stinks,” said Iris. “We were just getting everything back in order.”

“We cleaned it before. We can do it again,” I said.

“I like the mess,” said Horc. “Doesn’t smell quite right though.”

“You mean, it doesn’t smell bad enough,” said Iris.

“Exactly.”

Judd knelt beside his father and touched the backside of the mantel with a soft fingertip. The dull unfinished wood had a rosy hue that lured me over from the sofa table. I landed next to Judd’s hand, squatted, and touched the raw wood. A little thrill went through me. I’d never touched my home in its original state before. Humans shaped, stained, and varnished the outside and my ancestors did the same to the inside. I didn’t know why they bothered. I liked the warmth, the softness of the grain without the gilding. My fingers slipped across its silky face and I knew I’d made the right decision to stay. I’d never leave my wood, even if it meant Whipplethorn Manor was lost to me forever. I had no doubt my parents felt the same way.

Judd bent close over me. He breathed out and a breeze smelling of syrup ruffled my dress. He held out his finger to me and I touched the tip.

“Check this out.” Tess pointed to something on the other side of the mantel near the top.

Evan and Judd crowded around her. I darted to the area and hovered. Large loopy letters decorated the upper right hand corner. The words were written in pencil and faded with time but still legible.

“Nathaniel Whipplethorn for Susannah Whipplethorn November 1882,” said Tess.

“That cinches it,” said Evan.

“What?” asked Tess.

“This piece is signed by the maker. There’s no way your mom is going to let me glue it to the wall.”

“Probably not,” said Judd as the doorbell rang.

“Expecting someone?” asked Evan.

Judd jumped up and ran to the front door, followed closely by Tess, me, and Iris. Judd flung open the door and found two old ladies standing on the front stoop, clutching square black purses and wearing tiny hats covered with netting.

“Good morning, Judd,” said Sarah. “You remember Marie.”

“Gram, I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Why ever not? You said it was urgent on the phone.”

Judd glanced over his shoulder toward the mantel room. Two fierce red spots surfaced on his cheeks.

“Judd?” Sarah’s forehead puckered and she began to look very suspicious.

Evan came through the archway into the dining room. “Guys, we have to go to Wood Crazy.” Evan stopped short when he saw the open door.

“Evan,” said Sarah. “Shouldn’t you be lying down?”

“What for?” asked Evan.

Tess clamped her hands over her mouth and Judd sputtered, trying to speak but coming up with nothing. Sarah eyed them both before returning her warm gaze back to Evan.

“Never mind, dear. I misunderstood something Judd said this morning.”

“Well,” said Evan. “Come on in.”

The ladies walked into the dining room and handed their purses to Judd who looked quite confused. Tess pointed to the table and he set them down like old was contagious. Sarah led us through the archway into the mantel room and she perched on the sofa, flanked by Marie.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Gram, but what are you doing here?” asked Evan.

Tess stepped up and took a deep breath. “We, I mean Judd and I, asked them to come for a visit.”

“A visit?” said Evan. “Gram was just here last night.”

“Right and, um, I have a report. A report on the Great Depression, because we’re having a depression right now and I have to do a report.” Tess sucked in another breath, but then bit her lip and held it.

“Let me guess. This report is due tomorrow and you expect Gram to drop everything to help you out.”

Tess hung her head. “Sorry.”

“Think nothing of it, Evan,” said Sarah. “We’re happy to help.”

Marie humphed but didn’t say anything.
 

“Well, I still have to go to Wood Crazy,” said Evan. “Would you mind watching them?”

“I’m thirteen. I don’t need to be watched,” said Judd.

Tess elbowed him in the ribs and he said, “Well, maybe I do.”

“Then we’re all set. We’ll watch the children and you go to the wood place,” said Sarah.

Evan didn’t move. He stood next to the mantel lying on the floor and furrowed his brow. The two old ladies sat serene, waiting for him to go. Their lavender and cookies scent filled the room, soothing us all.

“I guess I’ll just be going,” Evan finally said.

“Bye, dear,” said Sarah. “Take your time.”

Evan left by the back door, but not before he glanced over his shoulder three or four times. No one moved. We just watched him go. When at last the door closed behind his father, Judd let out a rush of held breath.

“All right, you rascals,” said Marie. “What are you up to?”

Sarah leaned forward and her hat fell over her eyes. She stuck it back in place with a wicked hat pin longer than our living room. “You don’t know they’re up to something, Marie. They’re just children.”

“Just children. Bah. They have the same look my granddaughter had before she dropped her little baby bomb on us. Mark my words. They are up to something, and we aren’t going to like it.”

“That’s not true,” said Tess. “You are going to like it.”

“Don’t contradict me, big eyes. You might be cute as button, but you don’t fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.”

Sarah watched the exchange with a neutral expression. She kept glancing at Judd who was smiling faintly at the sofa table where Easy and Horc were battling again. “What are you looking at, Judd?”

Judd jumped. “Nothing, Gram.”

“You brought us here under false pretenses. Now it’s high time you fess up,” she said.

Judd looked to Tess and said, “You tell them.”

“Why me?”

“Why do you think? Dad says you could sell ice to Eskimos.”

“I’m not buying,” said Marie.

“Hush, Marie,” said Sarah. “Go on now, Tess. Let’s have it.”

“Somebody told me you believe in fairies,” blurted out Tess.

Marie laughed a soft laugh like she hadn’t the energy to make a more raucous noise. She relaxed back onto the cushions of the sofa, but Sarah sat bolt upright, her eyes trained on Tess. “Who told you that?” Sarah asked.

“A fairy.”

“Would this be Tinkerbell or Rumpelstiltskin?” asked Marie.

“Rumpelstiltskin was a dwarf,” said Tess.

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t, and Great Grandma Sarah knows it.”

Marie straightened her hat and tried to stand. Judd rushed over to help her, only to be snorted at and pushed away. Marie clung on to the sofa arm and pulled herself up, panting like a marathon runner.

“I have known your Gram for seventy-two years, little girl, and she does not believe in fairies. Enough of this nonsense. We have quilting to do.”

“Please sit down, Marie. I’d like to hear what my Tess has to say,” said Sarah.

“I just stood up.”

“Consider it good exercise.”

Marie sat. She made grumpy noises as I gathered my little tribe on the sofa table in front of them. It wasn’t easy, but I even got Easy and Horc to stop smacking each other for no reason.

“Great Grandpa believed his father when he said there were fairies living in his old roll top desk, and you believed Great Grandpa, didn’t you?” asked Tess.

“Yes, I did,” said Sarah.

“If you believed him then, there’s no reason why you can’t believe us now.”

Sarah shook her head. A silver strand of hair fell across her cheek. Her faded blue eyes grew moist and her wrinkles seemed to deepen with sadness.

“It’s more complicated than that, dear. Grandpa was a little boy when his father told him those stories. He would’ve believed the sky was orange, if his father told him so. I believed that my husband believed. Can you understand what I’m telling you?”

Marie nodded and huddled closer to Sarah, a barely perceivable movement, but I saw it. Tess knelt on the floor by the sofa table and pointed at us. “Don’t you see them, Gram? They’re right there.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t see anything,” said Sarah.

“She needs proof.” I fluttered to Tess’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Gram, when you were at the antique mall the other day, did you talk about Miss Marie’s great-granddaughter getting pregnant?”

“Yes,” said Sarah slowly. “How did you know that?”

“Matilda, the fairy, was there. She heard you.”

“That proves nothing,” said Marie. “Everyone knows about that.”

I whispered in Tess’s ear again.

Tess smiled. “You said the boy who did it was a carhop and Gram corrected you. He’s a bellhop.”

“You were there. You heard us saying that,” said Marie.

“I was at school. You can ask my mom, if you don’t believe me.”

Sarah reached out to Tess. Tess leaned forward and Sarah cupped her great-granddaughter’s cheek in her soft, withered hand. “I believe you, dear. I just can’t figure out how you know what we said.”

“I told you. Matilda was there.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” said Marie.

“Is it nonsense that Gram bought that desk for Mom’s graduation because she loved Great Grandpa’s stories?”

“She probably told her why when she gave it to your mother,” said Marie.

I tugged on Tess’s earlobe and whispered one last fact. Our last chance to convince the ladies that they should try to see.

“If I tell you one more thing, Gram, one more thing I couldn’t possibly know without being there, would you try to believe there are fairies sitting on the sofa table?” asked Tess.

“I’ll believe there’s a flock of pink elephants sitting on the table, if you can tell me something only a fairy could know.” Marie crossed her arms. Her bottom lip protruded, and she looked more stubborn then Gerald at his worst.

“You saw a string of pretty beads in a jewelry bin on the desk you bought for Mom. You said they looked like the ones Marie’s mother wore every day. You bought them for her. They cost $1.99. Gran said, ‘Two memories to purchase and it would be her pleasure.’”

Sarah gasped. “That’s exactly what happened.”

Marie touched the string of beads around her neck. They glinted pearlescent and pretty with their dreamy colors against Marie’s pale skin. Sarah rested her hand on Marie’s knee. None of them looked very old anymore. I saw the girls they once were and still were in their hearts. Pretty girls both of them. Ready to believe.

“Look. Right there on the table,” said Tess. “They’re not so very hard to see once you know how to look.”

Both Sarah and Marie leaned forward in one fluid motion. I zipped from Tess’s shoulder to land behind the babies, who were waving frantically instead of clobbering each other. Iris jumped up and down, clapping and waving. Only Gerald stood still, his intense eyes trained on Sarah. Flames erupted from my palms. They snapped and tickled, jumping joyfully into the air. I could’ve juggled them had I wished to.

“See them.” Tess pointed at me. “See them and know everything Grandpa believed was true.”

The light of my flames danced in Sarah’s eyes as they searched the tabletop. I willed Sarah to see, not only for my own benefit but for Sarah’s too. Then the old lady’s gaze settled on me. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an O.