Finding Fortune (19 page)

Hugh was already hunched over the board in his lap with his tongue poked out in concentration. “I'm carving,” he mumbled. “Tucker loaned me his pocketknife.”

The Mayor pulled off his poncho and waved his hand at Tucker and me. “You kids run along. I'll walk Hugh back when he's done.”

The mud puddles in the lane lit up with a sudden flare of sunshine on our way back to the school. I glanced shyly at Tucker. “That was a good idea you had. The pocketknife.”

“I knew it would work,” Tucker said as he sidestepped a puddle. “Hildy gave me that knife when I turned eight. I thought it was the best present I'd ever gotten. My dad wasn't too happy about it though.”

Hearing Tucker mention Mr. Baxter jolted me back to reality again. “So what do you think? Are we going to tell Hildy that you know about the pearls?”

“Yeah, I'll tell her tonight. But I don't think we should bring up your mural idea. It would only get her hopes up.”

I stopped on the path next to the sisters' garden. “You think my idea's crazy, don't you? You think we're never going to find those pearls.”

Tucker turned around with a smile playing along his lips. “Let's just say, I think it's a long shot.”

I almost stomped my foot. He was as bad as his father. “Will you still help me though? I need to find a ladder. A really tall one.”

“All right, all right.” Tucker started down the path again. “I'll get you a ladder.”

“Thank you,” I started to say, but the words died on my lips as we rounded the corner of the school. My mother was standing on the front steps, reaching out to jab the buzzer. “Mom!” I called, running ahead. “What're you doing here?”

She spun around. “Oh, there you are! I left class as soon as I saw the lightning. I didn't want you riding your bike home in a thunderstorm.” Then Mom noticed Tucker trailing behind me. “Who's this?” she said, folding her arms. Evidently she didn't recognize him from the night when she had barged in on dinner in the cafetorium. I could see her eyes darting back and forth, taking in our wet clothes, my bedraggled hair.

“This is Tucker, Mom. He's Hildy's grandson. He's here for the summer helping in the museum.”

Mom didn't say hello. “So if you're both working in the museum, what were you doing outside? In a thunderstorm.”

“The storm's over, Mom.” I swiped my arm up at the sun breaking through the clouds. “See? I can ride my bike home. I'll be fine.”

Before I could get any further, Hildy appeared. She barely greeted my mother as she wrestled the front door open and stepped out on the stoop. “Good grief. Where have you kids been?” she demanded. “You look like drowned rats.”

Mom started marching down the steps. “Come on, Ren,” she said. “Get your bike. It's time to go home.”

“But, Mom, we've still got a lot of work to do—”

“I mean it. Let's go.” She reached in her purse for her car keys. “I don't think Mrs. Baxter needs to be treated to another scene like last time, do you?”

No, I didn't. Without another word I retrieved my bike, and Mom helped me wedge it into the trunk of the car. I didn't glance up at the school again until I was slouched in the front seat with Mom's
First on Scene
textbook in my lap. Thankfully, Hildy had gone back inside by then, but Tucker was still standing on the steps. He lifted his hand in a sympathetic little wave as we pulled away.

We hadn't even bumped onto the paved road yet when Mom coughed out a dry laugh. “I really couldn't figure it out, you know. How determined you've been to keep going back to that place. It just didn't make sense, you spending every spare minute on the weekends helping some old woman make a museum—a
button
museum no less. But now I get it!” Mom took her hand off the steering wheel and thumped her forehead. “There's a boy involved. A really cute one.”

Mom gave me a hard look as she turned left and picked up speed along the glistening river. “Seriously, Ren. I'm starting to get worried here. What exactly
were
you and that boy doing before I showed up?”

“
Nothing
, Mom,” I said miserably. “Hugh ran away this afternoon so we had to go look for him. And you want to know what I did all morning? I sat in the gym for three hours going through old pictures. And then I skipped lunch so I could go crawl around on my hands and knees and get splinters and … and … oh, never mind. You don't know anything. Tucker's
not
the reason I've been going back to the school. I'd never go to all this trouble just to flirt with some boy I hardly know.”

My words were still hanging in the air when Mom suddenly swerved off onto the shoulder of the road. I glanced around, startled. There weren't any other cars nearby. The only building in sight was an old silo covered with vines. “What's wrong? Why'd you stop?”

Mom didn't answer at first. She put the car in park and dropped her head back on the seat. Her face was welling with something strange as she blinked up at the upholstered ceiling. “I just realized,” she breathed. “You know who you sound like, Ren?”

“Who?”

“
Me!
You sound exactly like me trying to defend myself about Rick. These last couple of months have been awful—the way you've been acting so suspicious and jumping to conclusions. But now here I am doing the same thing to you.” Mom sat up straight and turned to me, her eyes pleading. “The thing is, Ren … we need to have faith in each other. We've got to stop assuming the worst when we have no idea what's going on.” She reached forward and turned the car off, right there on the side of the road. “So tell me. Tell me about the school and I'll try to understand.”

A few minutes later a nice man stopped to see if we had run out of gas or needed help, but my mother waved him away. I was just getting started and then, hopefully, it would be Mom's turn.

*   *   *

We stayed there, parked on the shoulder of the lonely road, for such a long time that we had to roll the windows down. Mom gave me the good news first: she had no plans to run away with Rick, or even date him, ever. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered by his attention at first,” she told me. “But all along, I've been very clear with Rick that we're just friends.” She squeezed my hands tight, so tight that it almost hurt. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” I said, and squeezed back.

Then came the bad news. “You need to realize,” Mom told me, “that your father and I might not get back together.” Her words weren't a surprise. Still, hearing them spoken out loud, so clearly—with Dad's homecoming only two weeks away—felt like a kick in the ribs.

An army of peeper frogs had begun to trill in the ditch outside my window. “Why?” My voice melted into their cries. “You love him, don't you?”

“Yes,” Mom said sadly. “But that's not enough sometimes.”

“It's enough for Dad!” I reached my hand out the window and banged it on the outside of the car door. The ditch went silent.

“I'm so sorry, Ren. It's complicated. There're other issues that you're too young to understand right now.”

Emotions twisted around inside me just like those vines swallowing up the silo down the road. Before the car ride, I had Rick to blame for our family coming apart. Now there was no one to blame but Mom.

“Can we go now?” I whispered.

“Sure.” Mom nodded and reached out to squeeze my hand again, but this time I didn't squeeze back.

 

TWENTY-FOUR

AT LEAST I STILL HAD THE SCHOOL.
Like a magic spell, my worries from home faded the minute I crossed the worn threshold the next afternoon. Hildy shook her head in astonishment when I walked into the gym. “Honey, you're like my birthday,” she said. “Just when I think I've seen it for the very last time, it comes around again.” But Hildy was too preoccupied to ask any questions about my mother's change of heart. Her visitors from the historical society were due in an hour.

I found myself beaming with approval as I glanced around the gym. The shelves of the display cases were lined with black velvet and Mine was carefully arranging items inside the last one in the row. Hugh had been assigned sweeping duty. And the Mayor, Garrett, and Tucker were dashing back and forth carrying garbage bags, cardboard boxes, clamming rakes, and burlap sacks full of button blanks.

“Wow, Hildy, everything looks great!” I gushed.

She sighed. “Well, it's about as good as it can get considering the amount of time we had. We stayed up half the night making things presentable. Even the sisters pitched in. They'd be here now, but they had to go peddle that soap of theirs at some craft fair.”

“I would've stayed all night too if my mom had let me,” I said longingly. “I'm really sorry I didn't get to finish sorting the pictures.”

“Oh, don't worry. They're still over there waiting for you. Did you see any yesterday that looked like they belonged in a museum?”

“A lot. It was hard to pick, but I made a stack of the ones I thought were the best.”

Hildy pointed to some empty picture frames that were piled on top of the display case where Mine was working. “There you go then. Have at it. Once you get the best ones in frames, we can set them out on those old clamming workbenches in the corner.”

“What do you think?” Mine asked when I went over to collect the picture frames. I walked along the row of cases, peering at the array of shells and fancy buttons behind the glass. Hildy's button-queen picture and crown had a case all to themselves. The crown sat on a pink satin pillow. It was as tall as a chef's hat and it looked so heavy with decorations—buttons and pearls and rhinestones—I couldn't imagine how Hildy had managed to keep it balanced on her head.

“Gosh,” I told Mine, “it almost looks like a real museum.”

She laughed and glanced around to make sure Hildy wasn't listening. “I know, right? I have to admit I've had my doubts, but some of this stuff is actually kind of cool. Look.” She held up a mother-of-pearl belt buckle. “Hard to believe a gnarly shell from the Mississippi River could turn into this.” She knelt down and carefully laid the buckle on a shelf next to an iridescent tie clip and a pair of cuff links. I bent closer. There were fishing lures, a coin purse, a ladies' fan, and even a tiny revolver with its handle covered in chips of pearly shell.

Hugh came galloping over dragging his broom. “Did you see the gun?” he asked. “And what about
that
?” He pointed to an oversize pocketknife inlaid with mother-of-pearl and barely whispered, “Maybe we can borrow it when we go carve our names in the tower.”

I flared my eyes at him in warning as I scooped up an armful of picture frames. Then I hurried off to my spot under the basketball hoop. But when I got there, the trunk and the card tables were nowhere in sight.

“Sorry,” Tucker said as he came clanking up behind me. “We had to move all your stuff to the other side of the boat so we could make room for
this
.” He banged one end of a long metal extension ladder down on the floor.

“You found one!” I said.

“Hildy's orders.” Tucker smiled slyly and braced the top of the ladder against the backboard over our heads. “She wants Garrett and me to take down the hoops and the scoreboard because she says they don't go with her button theme.” Then he paused. “I wasn't sure if you'd be needing this anymore or not. After yesterday, I didn't think we'd ever see you again.”

“Yeah.” I shifted the picture frames in my arms with an awkward laugh. “My mother kind of misunderstood what was going on.”

“What do you mean? What did she think was going on?”

“Oh, who knows?” I said in a fluster, and rolled my eyes. “She completely overreacted.” I lowered my voice, desperate to change the subject. “What about Hildy? Did you tell her? That you know about the pearls?”

“Yep.”

“What'd she say? Was she mad at me for blabbing?”

“No. She actually apologized for keeping it a secret for so long. And she says it was silly for her to worry about my dad finding out since he already thinks she's bonkers anyway.” Tucker shook his head with a gloomy laugh. “It was kind of sad. She told me that she's pretty much given up on ever finding the pearls. That's why I didn't mention your mural idea. My father would freak if he found out I was encouraging her.”

I nodded solemnly. Hildy wasn't mad and Tucker trusted me a little more now. I didn't want to press my luck by asking him for anything else. “Thanks for showing me the ladder,” I said as I turned to go. “Hugh and I can figure out the rest.”

“Oh, I don't know.” Tucker sounded doubtful as he lifted up one of the rungs. He started to grin. “This thing's pretty heavy. You two might need some help carrying it up those stairs in the hall.”

I turned back with a little hop, rattling my picture frames. “Really?” I whispered. “You'll help us? When can we go?”

Later,
Tucker mouthed as Garrett came around the corner, slapping a wrench against his palm.

Luckily we had the buzzer at the front entrance to give us a heads-up before the visitors stepped into the gym. While Hildy sent the Mayor out front to greet them, the rest of us scurried about making frantic finishing touches. I adjusted my assortment of pictures on top of the clamming bench. Tucker stashed the ladder in the storage room. Hugh hid his broom. Garrett gathered up the rusty bolts from the basketball hoops and Mine made a desperate attempt to finger-comb the mannequins' ratty blond hair. Then we all scattered to different corners, pretending not to watch as Hildy shook hands with her guests and launched into her first official button museum tour.

As soon as I laid eyes on the pair from the society, I was worried. The man had a long, prudish face, and he kept his hands clasped behind his back as he turned stiffly to study each piece that Hildy pointed out. And the woman reminded me of a Pekingese, with her snub nose and poufs of blond hair and the way she tip-tapped along in her tiny high heels. All she needed was a little pink bow on the top of her head. At least she seemed to be smiling some, but when she spoke she didn't sound so friendly anymore. She yapped out her questions in a high, tight voice.