The Vanderbeekers to the Rescue

by Karina Yan Glaser

  “Lucky,” Oliver said, thinking about his own beat-up sneakers.

  “I’m just waiting for sneakers your size to go on sale,” Mama told Oliver.

  Orlando didn’t take the box. “Thank you, Mrs. Vanderbeeker, but it’s too much. I can’t accept them.”

  “Take them,” Oliver said. “Mama probably got them on sale and then talked the manager into giving her an additional eighty percent off.”

  Mama shrugged. “What can I say? I excel at two things: bargaining and baking.”

  Oliver glanced at Orlando’s sneakers, which he had left by the door. They were in a sorrier state than his own, which said a lot. Mama kept nudging the box toward him, and Orlando finally lifted the lid, took the shoes out, and slid his feet into them.

  “Do they fit?” Mama asked.

  “They’re great,” Orlando said. “Thanks, Mrs. Vanderbeeker.”

  “My pleasure,” Mama said as she bustled into the kitchen to put out the final dishes.

  Orlando took the shoes off and nestled them back in the box in the tissue paper; then he pulled Jessie aside. “Hey, I forgot to tell you that my mom and I are taking off for a few days for spring break. I won’t be around this week.”

  “Seriously?” Jessie said. “I thought we were going to work on our epic science fair project! I was thinking of a Rube Goldberg cat-feeding machine—”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Orlando interrupted. “We can work on it when I get back, right?”

  “I guess,” Jessie said. “This week would have been better, since we don’t have school.”

  “Sorry,” Orlando said again, not meeting her eyes.

  “Dinner!” Mama called. “Grab a seat!”

  People took their spots around the table, chatter and laughter filling the room. Mama passed platters across the kitchen island to Papa, who transferred them to the dining room table.

  Miss Josie blessed the food, and when she had finished, Papa looked at Mama. “You’ve got a big birthday coming up. Any special requests?”

  “When’s your birthday?” Orlando asked.

  “This Saturday,” Mama said. “My one and only wish is to sleep in. My thirties were excellent but exhausting!” She picked up the platter of green beans and passed it around.

  “Nothing could top your twenties, though,” Papa said. “After all, that’s when you met me.” He flipped up the collar of his button-down work shirt and shot her his best grin.

  “Oh jeez, Papa,” Jessie and Isa said in unison.

  “Young love,” Miss Josie said to Mr. Jeet, squeezing his hand.

  Mama smiled at Papa. “My twenties were pretty great, too.”

  “Come on, we’re still waiting to hear what made your thirties so great,” Uncle Arthur said.

  “Well,” Mama said, “I left my accountant job, for one thing. And I started my own baking business, which was the best career choice I have ever made.”

  The Vanderbeeker kids exchanged worried glances.

  “It will forever be a mystery to me why you went into accounting,” Uncle Arthur said. “Even when we were little, you were always fiddling around in the kitchen.”

  Mama shrugged. “I thought it would make our parents happy. They wanted me to follow in Dad’s footsteps.”

  “You shouldn’t have listened to them,” Uncle Arthur said.

  “Hey,” Mama said. “You should talk!” She glanced at the kids. “Guess what Uncle Arthur studied in college.”

  “They don’t need to know,” Uncle Arthur interjected, then turned to Oliver. “Hey, how about those treehouse plans, huh?”

  “Ooh, a story about Uncle Arthur,” Jessie said, rubbing her hands together.

  “This is going to be good,” Oliver said, taking a big bite of lasagna and waiting to be entertained.

  Mama leaned in. “He wanted to study . . .” Mama gave a dramatic pause. “. . . exercise science.”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” murmured Miss Josie.

  “I chose it because I liked sports,” Uncle Arthur said. “The college catalogue was confusing.”

  “It’s okay, honey,” Auntie Harrigan said, patting his arm.

  “How did you get into construction?” Orlando asked.

  “I’d worked in construction every summer since high school, and halfway through college I was on summer break, working a construction job, and I realized I didn’t care much about exercise science. So I pulled out of school and went into construction fulltime.” He looked at Mama and shrugged. “Our parents never forgave me.”

  “Why?” Oliver asked. “They didn’t want you to have an awesome job?”

  “They wanted me to be a doctor. Or a lawyer.” Uncle Arthur grimaced. “Can you imagine me, a lawyer?”

  “Nope,” said Mama, Papa, Isa, Jessie, and Oliver.

  “What about you, Papa?” Laney asked. “What did you want to do when you were little?”

  “Oh, I’ve always wanted to work with computers,” he said. “That’s how I met your mother.”

  “We know,” they all said at once.

  They had heard the story of how Mama and Papa met dozens of times. Papa loved recounting how Mama had called the tech-help hotline at school when her computer showed the blank screen of death, and how Papa fell in love with her right away even though he hadn’t laid eyes on her.

  “Remember when you wanted to open your own bakery?” Papa asked Mama, then looked at their kids. “She dragged me all over the city to visit bakeries for research.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Oliver said. Orlando and Mr. Jeet nodded in agreement.

  “Did you have a name picked out?” Isa asked.

  “Rainbow Sparkles Bakery,” Laney declared. “That would be a good name.”

  Mama laughed, then glanced at Papa. “We came up with some good names, but I don’t remember any of them. That was a long time ago, before any of you were born. Once Isa and Jessie arrived, there wasn’t much time to think about it, so I started baking at home. That way I could still be with you all when you were little, but I could also earn money and do something I loved. It was a win-win-win situation.”

  Mama looked around the brownstone, her eyes lingering on the damaged walls

  Oliver followed her eyes. “We should patch and paint, right?”

  He watched his parents exchange glances. His mom cleared her throat.

  “Maybe we can strategically place some framed pictures over the damaged areas,” Mama said.

  The doorbell rang, and Hyacinth and Laney raced for the door. Mr. Beiderman was back! Princess Cutie flew down the stairs and wrapped herself around his ankles, purring wildly. While everyone greeted him, Oliver saw Isa check her phone, her face brightening. She nudged Jessie and showed her the screen, and they did their wordless twin-conversation thing. Although Oliver couldn’t understand their secret language, he knew one thing for certain: his sisters were up to something.

  * * *

  After the Vanderbeeker kids were done cleaning up dinner, Isa called a family meeting. Usually when the Vanderbeekers had something on their minds, they would go up to the REP, the Roof of Epic Proportions, or to Jessie and Isa’s room. But the day had been so rainy that the roof was one big puddle, and Jessie and Isa’s room was also out because Hyacinth refused to go in there after an unfortunate incident in which she’d sat on one of Jessie’s science experiments, a petri dish that was growing bacterial cultures swabbed from the bathroom sink.

  Laney had deemed Oliver’s bedroom the next official meeting place despite its being the smallest room in the entire brownstone. It had originally been a walk-in closet, so space was quite limited, but Oliver’s younger sisters believed that only added to its charm. Hyacinth had sewn some floor pillows to go underneath the loft bed, and she and Laney had claimed that area as their own during family meetings. Jessie and Isa were relegated to sitting on the stacks of books in front of his overflowing bookcase, and Oliver sat on his desk chair. The kittens were set free once the door was closed and immediately beelin
ed for Franz. They appeared to see him as a mother figure and loved cuddling up next to him and hiding under his ears.

  “All right,” Jessie said, ahem-ing loudly to get everyone’s attention. “We need to figure out this animal dilemma. Hyacinth, you’ll ask Mr. Beiderman if he can take Franz, George Washington, and Paganini on Thursday, right?”

  “I will, but doesn’t that feel too much like lying?” said Hyacinth. “I mean, the inspector guy must have those rules for a purpose. People might have animal allergies. My friend Andrew is allergic to pistachios; he can’t eat anything made in a kitchen that had pistachios in it. Will, Leah, and Kalyani are all allergic to peanuts.”

  “Well, what other ideas do you have?” Jessie asked. “We also have to figure out what to do with the kittens.”

  Hyacinth shrugged. “I don’t have any other ideas, but this plan doesn’t sound great to me.”

  Isa rubbed her eyes. “Maybe we should tell Mama about the whole thing. Come clean. Take the punishment.”

  “No way,” Jessie objected. “Did you hear what Mama said about her business? How it’s her dream job?”

  “If we fail,” Oliver said, “Mama will have found her dream job in her thirties and lost her dream job in her forties. And Perch Magazine will be a bust. Right before her birthday, too.”

  Isa’s phone chimed, and she looked at the screen. She broke into a huge smile. “Hey, I have the best news, people!”

  “Mama got her license back!” Laney said, jumping up and startling the kittens.

  “Well, no,” Isa said. “But this is second-best news. We can do something awesome to get the brownstone ready for the photo shoot. I got us free paint so we can paint the living room!”

  “Paint! Paint! Paint!” Laney chanted.

  “Shhh!” said all of her siblings.

  “It’s from Castleman’s Bakery,” Isa explained. “They bought the wrong color, and they couldn’t return it.”

  “I can help, right?” Laney asked.

  “We’re all going to help,” Isa said. “We are going to paint the whole downstairs.”

  Oliver narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to make Uncle Arthur use my treehouse time again, are you?”

  “Nope,” Isa said. “We’re going to do this tonight, under the cover of darkness.”

  “Ooooh,” said Oliver, Hyacinth, and Laney.

  “It will be a surprise for Mama and Papa,” Isa said. “When they wake up, ta-da! Brand-new paint job, all for free!”

  “They’re going to love it!” said Laney.

  Isa smiled at her siblings. “Downstairs at midnight. Don’t be late.”

  Tuesday, April 2

  Twelve

  It was time for Hyacinth and Laney to go to bed, but first the Vanderbeeker kids had to decide where the kittens would sleep. The argument got so heated that Mama stepped in to help negotiate. It was decided to keep the kittens in Laney and Hyacinth’s room on one condition: they had to sleep in Franz’s old dog crate. No amount of begging and pleading could convince Mama to let the kittens sleep on their beds, so Hyacinth lined the crate floor with towels that were soft with years of use and placed a shallow bin filled with kitty litter inside. Then she dragged her comforter and pillow down from the top bunk and set up a bed on the floor next to the crate. Laney made Isa and Jessie push the cage up against the edge of her bed so she was as close to the kittens as possible.

  When Mama stepped out of the room to say goodbye to Uncle Arthur, Laney quickly found what she wanted to wear for bed: black leggings, black T-shirt, and black socks. She was ready to be a sneaky secret-agent painter at midnight. Then she jumped into bed and concealed her outfit underneath her covers.

  When Mama returned to read the stack of books Laney had chosen for bedtime, her eyes narrowed in concern at Laney’s bundled-up state. She pressed her hand to Laney’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes!” Laney blurted out. Then she said in a quieter voice, “Yes.”

  Mama took her hand away. “No fever.”

  “I feel great!” Laney said, wiggling with excitement. “I could stay up all night!”

  Mama laughed. “Let’s hope not.” She glanced at the pile of picture books by the bed and raised an eyebrow. “All of these?”

  Laney grinned. “Yes!”

  Mama read all eight books, doing every voice perfectly and even throwing in some faces, and Laney’s heart swelled with joy. She was so glad they were going to do something that was going to make Mama so happy. The brownstone would be the prettiest house the magazine people had ever seen, and she couldn’t believe she was allowed to help with the actual painting! Uncle Arthur always told her that painting was a delicate job and that he would teach her when she got a little older, but maybe he had underestimated her abilities. She was going to be the best painter in all of history.

  After the books, Mama gave Laney six good-night kisses, one for each year she had been alive. Then Mama knelt down by the kitten crate to say good night to Hyacinth. She gave Franz a scratch behind his ears before turning out the lights and closing the door. Laney lay in bed, wide awake. Mama was going to be so surprised when she woke up!

  Hyacinth was less enthusiastic about trying to stay up until midnight; she really liked sleeping. Laney tried to keep Hyacinth awake by playing their favorite nighttime games, like drawing pictures on the wall with the beams of their flashlights and trying to guess what the images were. They also did a strobe-light extravaganza by clicking their flashlights off and on as quickly as possible. Pretty soon, though, Laney could tell Hyacinth was getting tired. She was in the middle of telling a very exciting story about the peregrine falcons that lived on the sides of tall buildings in New York City when Hyacinth began to snore.

  Laney pulled off her covers, slipped out of bed, and crawled along the floor to where Franz was sleeping in his bed. He was also snoring. She lifted up his ear. “We’ve got a big mission today,” she whispered, then proceeded to tell him all of her favorite foods for each letter of the alphabet.

  Laney was on “mozzarella” for the letter “M” when the door creaked open and Jessie’s face emerged from the darkness.

  “You ready?” Jessie asked.

  Laney jumped to her feet and ran to the door. “Ready!”

  Jessie eyed her sister’s clothing choices, then kneeled down to shake Hyacinth awake.

  Hyacinth answered with a snore.

  Jessie shook her again, and Hyacinth, who was used to getting up in the middle of the night to accompany Laney to the bathroom, rubbed her eyes and followed her sisters out the door without protest.

  The three sisters and Franz went downstairs as quietly as they could. Laney could hear the white-noise machine whirring in Mama and Papa’s bedroom. When she was a baby, the machine had belonged to her. After a couple of years, she didn’t need it anymore, and Mama tried it out herself to see if it would help her sleep better. It worked, so she kept it.

  Hyacinth was the expert at navigating the stairs as soundlessly as possible, so she went down first, and Jessie and Laney followed in her exact footsteps. Oliver and Isa were already downstairs, and Isa was bringing paint cans inside from where Benny had left them on their doorstep a couple of hours earlier.

  Oliver was using blue painter’s tape to line the baseboards, entryways, and windows. Tarps and bedsheets covered the floor. Laney knew Oliver was an expert at painting because he had helped Uncle Arthur paint his apartment once. She hoped they could use those stilt things to reach high-up places.

  “Are we ready?” Isa said. She waved a paintbrush in the air like a warrior’s declaration. “This is going to be awesome. Mama is going to be so happy!”

  While Jessie patched the damaged walls with joint compound, Oliver pried a can open with a screwdriver, then stirred the paint with a wooden stick. “Are we really painting the walls this color?”

  Laney peered into the can. The paint was a beautiful rose pink, the same color as her favorite socks. “Oooh, this is pretty.”


  “Isn’t it?” Isa said. Then she looked at the scuffed white walls. “I think this will be perfect for this room.” Oliver’s professional opinion was that they should begin on the west wall, since it wasn’t covered with bookcases. Laney grabbed a brush and dipped it into the paint, and to her surprise no one tried to stop her. This was shaping up to be the absolute best night in history!

  * * *

  Two hours later, the excitement over being awake way past their bedtime had lost its sheen. The brownstone did not murmur, creak, or whistle, and the quiet extended beyond their apartment. The dogs of 141st Street were all asleep, the ambulance sirens were silent, and the streets were empty of cars. Jessie was not used to hearing nothing. For some reason, the silence seemed very, very loud.

  Jessie put down her brush after working on a particularly challenging corner, which had caused her to turn her neck in an unpleasant way, and now she put her brush down and rolled her head to loosen all the stiff muscles. Next to her, Laney was lying on the ground, her brush hanging loosely from her hand as she ran the bristles against the same area over and over again, getting most of the paint on the blue tape or the tarp.

  Oliver was standing on a chair, trying to reach up high with his paint roller. Hyacinth had given up half an hour earlier and was asleep on the couch with Franz as a pillow. Isa was the most productive of them all; she was painting feverishly with the other roller, with no sign of slowing down.

  Jessie looked at her sister, wondering where this burst of productivity had come from. “Everything okay?” Jessie asked.

  “Of course,” Isa said.

  Jessie put her brush down and stared at her sister. “Is something bothering you?”

  Isa’s answer was quick—too quick. “Nope.”

  Jessie dipped her brush back into the paint. “Okay.”

  They continued to paint in silence. Of course Jessie knew what was bothering Isa. It was the audition, it was Mama’s business, it was all those things Isa could not control. But Jessie knew Isa could handle it all and more. She wanted to tell her that, to really make her sister trust that it was true, but she knew it was one of those things Isa needed to figure out on her own.