“And Paganini dug a huge hole in the pot of my ficus,” Mr. Beiderman added. “He scratched up all the roots and killed the tree.”
“We bought a new one for you,” Hyacinth reminded him.
“I liked my old tree,” Mr. Beiderman grumbled. “And don’t forget George Washington threw up on my couch and on my bed.”
“We’re very sorry about that,” Hyacinth said. “The change of environment stressed him out.”
“You should help us,” Laney declared. “Did you know that Princess Cutie woke us all up at five in the morning every day? She’s super loud when she’s hungry.”
Mr. Beiderman shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine. Your pets can come over for two hours, max. Bring a leash for Franz. Leave Paganini in his carrier. Why do you need them out of the apartment?”
“There’s an inspection,” Hyacinth said. She didn’t mention that it was a kitchen inspection, and it felt a bit icky to fudge the truth that way. It’s just a temporary fix, Hyacinth said to herself. Only until the photo shoot is done.
Mr. Beiderman nodded, trusting that he wasn’t being pulled into a nefarious plot. “Fine, fine.”
Hyacinth gave him a wobbly smile, and Laney began telling Mr. Beiderman all her ideas for guinea pig names while Hyacinth chewed on her lip and worried about whether she had just told a lie.
Fifteen
Jessie was tired. Between being awake most of the night and cleaning up the paint disaster, she felt completely beat. She didn’t understand how Isa could already be downstairs practicing after the night they had.
The kittens had a lot more energy than she did. She watched them scramble over one another in the pen Hyacinth had cobbled together, using a combination of boxes and stacks of books. Franz, who had gotten very attached to the kittens, hung his head over the top of the pen and whimpered until Hyacinth let him inside.
Biting into a warm blueberry muffin, Jessie turned her attention to the kitchen, where Mama was packing up her orders for the day. Oliver gave her an uneasy glance. They really hoped Mr. West didn’t find out that Mama was operating her business without a license. A brief image of Mama behind bars, wearing an orange jumpsuit, flashed through Jessie’s head but was interrupted when a clumping sound revealed Papa giving Laney a piggyback ride down the stairs, Hyacinth following with the guinea pig cage in her arms. Papa had changed out of his coveralls and was wearing his “computer work clothes”: pants with a collared button-down.
“You will not believe the work request I just received,” he told them. He was remarkably cheerful, given the unexpected three-hour paint-clean-up job that had caused him to be late for work. Laney refused to let go when he tried to drop of her off at a stool, so Papa made his way to Mama, and they both gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s your work request?” Oliver asked.
“I get to see if I can restore an IBM computer from 1992,” Papa said, a smile taking over his face. “MS-DOS, baby!”
“That doesn’t sound fun,” Oliver said around a mouthful of muffin.
“What’s MS-DOS?” Isa said, coming up from the basement.
“Now you’ve done it,” Oliver muttered.
“Oh, it’s brilliant!” Papa said, grabbing a muffin. “It’s a nongraphic command-line operating system derived from 86-DOS. So instead of using a mouse or a keypad to navigate Microsoft Windows, you can use command lines. Isn’t that awesome?”
“So awesome,” the kids murmured.
Mama glanced at Papa and smiled, then turned away to put a dish in the sink. Isa opened the refrigerator door and picked up a glass jar filled with a smoothie she had made the night before. Jessie watched Oliver snatch a muffin when Mama’s back was turned—he had finished the first one moments after he grabbed it—and go back to sit on his stool, but Isa had beaten him to it. He was forced to take the seat Laney usually sat in, the least desirable one, due to his youngest sister’s tendency to eat with her hands and then wipe her fingers along the edge of the counter.
“At least it’s not another phone dropped in the toilet,” Papa continued. “Did you know that’s considered a biohazard? We have to use gloves. Safety first.”
“Ick,” Laney said, still hanging on to him, fiddling with the ID tag clipped to the pocket of his shirt.
“What are you up to today?” Papa asked the kids.
“Uncle Arthur is coming to work on the treehouse,” Oliver said.
“I need to practice for my audition,” Isa said.
“I’m going to help Allegra make kitten flyers,” Laney said.
“And then we’re going to post them all around the neighborhood,” Jessie added.
“I’m going to knit house slippers for Franz,” Hyacinth said.
“That sounds like a great—” Papa began, then looked at Hyacinth. “Wait, what did you say?”
“I’m going to knit house slippers for Franz,” Hyacinth repeated. “His feet get cold.”
They all turned to look at Franz. He was sprawled out among the kittens, belly up and ears flipped open.
“How would he keep them on?” Oliver wondered aloud.
“Velcro,” Hyacinth explained.
“I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative,” Mama said as she made her way to the door with her bakery boxes. “When is Uncle Arthur coming?”
“In a couple of hours,” Oliver said.
“Don’t forget to ask him about the paint! We need to get that wall fixed before the photo shoot,” Mama said before disappearing out the door.
Jessie felt her stomach squeeze. The thought of having to repaint the fuchsia wall—and using the Fiver Account to do it—made the muffin she had just eaten sit like a rock in her stomach.
* * *
Allegra sent Isa a text saying she would come by later that morning, so Isa decided to practice in the basement until her friend arrived. She tackled a particularly challenging section of her audition piece over and over again, until she finally put her violin down and rolled her head to release some of the tension that had built up in her neck and shoulders. The passage was filled with double stops, places where she had to play two strings at once, and spiccato bow strokes, where the bow had to bounce on the string like a stone skipping on water.
She was just about to pick up her violin again when the doorbell rang. Isa nestled the violin in its case and jogged up the steps and across the living room, then looked through the peephole. There was Allegra. She had a drawing pad under one arm and a handful of dresses covered in plastic draped over her other arm.
“Are we ready for dress fittings?” Allegra asked when Isa opened the door.
“Um,” Isa said, “I thought we were going to make flyers.”
“I’m multitasking,” Allegra said. “Hey, where is everyone?”
“I’m not sure,” Isa said, “but don’t question it. I’m enjoying the quiet.”
Allegra squeezed past Isa and kicked off her shoes in the entryway. When she reached the living room, she froze, and the drawing pad and dresses fell to the ground. “What the heck happened in here?” she said, staring at the fuchsia wall.
“It looked like a rose color in the dark,” Isa explained. “We’re going to paint over it.”
“Paint over it?” Allegra said. “Why? This color is gorgeous! ”
“Really?” Isa stood next to her, and they both stared at the wall.
“I’m in love with it,” Allegra said. “It’s perfect. I say keep it.”
Isa had to look away. The color was too much. “We have to repaint. It’s not going to work for the photo shoot.”
Allegra tilted her head. “I guess you’re right. Wow, I want my whole bedroom to be this color.”
“Seriously?” Isa said. She pointed to the leftover paint cans. “If you want, take them.”
Allegra squealed. “Oh my gosh! My parents are going to flip!”
Isa helped Allegra pick up her drawing pad and the dresses. “So what are these?”
“Outfits for your audition
, of course,” Allegra said. “Dress for success and all that.”
“I was going to wear my recital clothes for the audition,” Isa said.
Allegra clutched her chest. “Your recital clothes? Girl, don’t give me a heart attack. You are not wearing those drab black pants and that white button-down! As your best friend, I cannot stand by and watch you do that to yourself. Now, which one do you like best?” She picked up the first one from the pile. It was a glittery, floor-length gold dress. “What do you think?”
Isa gave a strangled “No.”
Allegra held the dress toward Isa and squinted. “You’re right. This is too Oscar-ish. We’ll save it for when you solo at Carnegie Hall.” She tossed it to the side and picked up a yellow one. “How about this?” She didn’t even let Isa answer before she tossed that one aside too. “That color won’t look good on you. Ooh, what about this one? Hold it up in front of you.” Isa obeyed, and Allegra nodded.
“Yup, this is the one,” Isa agreed. It was a black dress with lace details at the collar and sleeves, and Isa thought it said “elegant and professional,” exactly the combination she was looking for.
“Try it on,” Allegra said, settling down on the couch with her sketchpad. “And be quick. I’m hungry.”
Isa dutifully took the dress to the downstairs bathroom. As she put it on, she heard Allegra talking to their rabbit.
“Paganini, you are just too cute,” Allegra crooned. “I know you want to come home with me. I can sneak you out in my jacket and you can be the rabbit king of my apartment.”
Isa smiled as she zipped up the dress and went back into the living room. She spread her arms out. “What do you think?”
“Spin,” Allegra commanded, twirling a finger.
Isa did a 360, and Allegra nodded with satisfaction. “My duty as best friend is done. You look perfect. Now let’s find your siblings and get to work on those kitten flyers.”
Sixteen
Isa and Allegra found Hyacinth and Laney asleep on their bedroom floor next to the guinea pig cage. The kittens were batting at Hyacinth’s braids.
Allegra narrowed her eyes at the cage and whispered, “Guinea pigs? Really?”
Isa shook her head. “Don’t ask.”
They gently woke Hyacinth and Laney, then got Oliver, who was reading in bed, and Jessie, who was hunched over a notebook in her room. Together they went downstairs with the guinea pigs and the kittens and worked on the flyers.
“Can you draw guinea pigs?” Jessie asked Allegra.
Laney glared at Jessie. “Why are you asking that?”
“We can’t keep the guinea pigs!” Jessie said.
“But I’m a Guinea Pig Expert,” Laney said, her hands on her hips. “I’ll take care of them.”
Isa pulled Laney into her lap. “I know this is hard. I wish we could keep all these animals too.”
The low rumble of a truck engine indicating Uncle Arthur’s arrival provided a welcome distraction, and Oliver raced outside to help his uncle bring in tools. Uncle Arthur froze when he walked in the door and saw the bright fuchsia walls in the living room, as well as the tarps covering the ground. “What the . . .”
“The color looked different in the nighttime,” Oliver said.
“It couldn’t have looked that different,” Uncle Arthur responded.
“I think it’s fantastic,” Allegra said. “I’m going to paint my bedroom that color.”
“How much would it cost to fix it and repaint it white?” Isa asked.
Uncle Arthur stared at the wall, then looked away and blinked really hard. “Wow, that color is making me dizzy. Okay, if you want to repaint it—and I think you definitely should—you need to use a high-hide primer. It’s specially made to cover dark colors. Two coats will do the trick. I’ve got some left over from when we painted our apartment. Remember when we first moved in and the previous tenant had painted his bedroom all black? The high-hide primer worked great on that room. That way you would just need to buy two cans of the paint color you want. Hopefully the next color you choose will be less . . . uh, vibrant.”
“Can you bring the primer tomorrow?” Oliver said. “The living room needs to be perfect by Friday.”
“Sure,” Uncle Arthur said. “Get the paint today, and we can fix the wall tomorrow.”
The Vanderbeekers breathed a sigh of relief.
“We owe you bigtime,” Isa said.
Uncle Arthur grinned. “Be sure to remember how amazing I am when Christmas comes.” Then his smile disappeared. “What is that?” he asked, pointing at the guinea pig cage.
“Guinea pigs,” Laney told him.
Uncle Arthur sighed. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask.”
* * *
The kitten and guinea pig flyers done, Allegra said goodbye, and Jessie, Hyacinth, and Laney went back to the library, this time to use the photocopier. Oliver stayed behind to supervise all the pets and work on his treehouse with Uncle Arthur, and Isa went back down to the basement to practice.
As they made their way through Harlem, Hyacinth kept her eyes peeled for bulbs pushing up through the soil in the tree pits along the sidewalk. Hyacinth loved flower bulbs, probably because she was named after one. Her favorites (beside hyacinths) were daffodils, and those were out in abundance that morning. To Hyacinth, the yellow against the gray sidewalks was the most beautiful color combination in the world.
The library was brick, with swirling iron work in front of all the windows. A brass plaque attached to the front entry announced that it had been built back in 1891. Jessie pushed open the heavy wooden doors, and they stepped inside. Hyacinth breathed in the smell of books and let the hushed voices wrap around her.
The Vanderbeekers waved to the librarians at the ground-floor circulation desk, then made their way upstairs to the children’s section on the second floor. Hyacinth tried to put her feet in the exact middle of the marble grooves of the steps. She liked thinking that she was walking in the footsteps made by thousands of people going up and down these same stairs over the last one hundred years.
When they got upstairs, they went in search of Ms. Abruzzi, the nicest and most fashionable children’s librarian in all of Harlem. They found her sitting on the floor next to the picture book stacks, reading one of Hyacinth’s personal favorites, Bee-bim Bop!, out loud to a handful of enraptured four-year-olds. Ms. Abruzzi wore black combat boots, a green dress printed with hundreds of colorful butterflies, and long silver earrings with tiny pink dinosaurs hanging from the ends of the chains.
After she was done reading, she looked up and saw the Vanderbeekers.
“Back so soon! How are the kittens?” she asked.
“Great,” Jessie told her; then she handed over the flyers. “We also have guinea pigs. Can you help us? We need to make copies of these adoption flyers.”
“Sure,” she said. Her black combat boots clomped along the floor as she led them to the copier machine. She ran off twenty-five copies each of the kitten and guinea pig flyers, then refused to let them pay for it because “finding homes for abandoned pets is the epitome of good deeds and love.” Hyacinth gave her a hug, then memorized Ms. Abruzzi’s outfit so she could replicate it one day.
The Vanderbeekers hung flyers in the library, one of each by the two circulating desks; then they headed outside and taped them to lampposts and in the windows of Castleman’s Bakery, Harlem Coffee, A to Z Deli, and Hiba’s Hardware Store. While they were at Hiba’s, they picked up two cans of the most boring eggshell-white paint they could find. Fortunately, Hiba gave them a discount and the paint was affordable enough that they could pay for it from their shared allowances. They breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, they’d messed up bigtime, possibly destroyed Mama’s dream, and were now broke, but at least the Fiver Account remained untouched.
* * *
Before they got to work on the treehouse, Oliver and Uncle Arthur made a quick stop in the kitchen to snag a couple of muffins and had a brief debate about the superiority of mu
ffins versus cookies (Uncle Arthur was Team Muffin, which Oliver could not understand). Then they went outside and put together their game plan.
“This is going to be easy,” Uncle Arthur said. “We’ve already got the platform, plus we’ve framed the walls. All we have to do now is put on the siding, install the walls, and add the roof.”
“Since this project is so easy, can we do two floors?” Oliver asked. “I have the plans already drawn up.”
Uncle Arthur laughed, then said, “We’ll see,” which Oliver took as a yes.
“Have you ever made a treehouse before?” Oliver asked as they set up their work site.
“Sure I have. Didn’t I tell you the story of when your mom and I put a treehouse in Ottenville Park?” he asked. Ottenville was where Mama and Uncle Arthur had grown up. Oliver’s grandparents still lived there.
“Really?” Oliver said as he pounded a nail into the treehouse frame. “Whose idea was that?”
“Your mom’s,” Uncle Arthur said. “And she forced me to help her. Back then, your mom was pretty annoying once she got an idea in her head.” He paused. “Actually, she’s still sort of like that now.”
“Why didn’t you build one in your backyard?” Oliver asked.
“We lived in a little apartment,” Uncle Arthur said. “Your grandparents didn’t move into their house until after we all finished college. Anyway, your mom had this idea that she was going to start a baking business and she would run the shop out of the treehouse. She said I could share in half the profits if I built the treehouse for her, so I agreed.”
“How old were you?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, we were in middle school. A little older than you are now. Back then we had to take wood shop in school, and my best friend’s dad was in construction. He thought the treehouse was a great hands-on learning experience, so we collected materials and he helped us put it up. We were even able to pass it off as a final project for the class. When it was done, your mom painted it bright pink and white and put streamers and a sign on it. Summer had just started, so she figured she could spend all her time baking and selling cookies and brownies from the treehouse. We designed a pulley so she could collect money in exchange for baked goods. It went great for about six days.”
The Vanderbeekers to the Rescue Page 8