The Vanderbeekers to the Rescue

by Karina Yan Glaser

There was a long silence after that, because there was nothing else to say. Even the neighborhood, usually filled with cars honking and buses squealing and dogs barking and people calling out greetings, was oddly quiet.

  Finally, Mr. Beiderman spoke. “Our lives are filled with so many moments that make up years and days and hours and seconds. And sometimes when we’re going through life, we get to a moment when we lose our way and need help finding it again. You helped me when I was very lost, and I believe you can help your mom find her way too.”

  Isa was crying. “But what if we can’t? What if we screwed things up too much?”

  Mr. Beiderman pulled the Vanderbeekers into a rare hug. “The universe is so big, much bigger than you and me and bigger than any of our mistakes. There are always opportunities to forgive and be forgiven. You kids have the power to put so much good and love into this world. I know because you shared that good and love with me.”

  He gave them one last squeeze and stepped back. “Now I’m going to feed you lunch, and then you’re going to get to work.”

  * * *

  After they had eaten, the Vanderbeekers said goodbye to Mr. Beiderman, then left to pick up the kittens from Herman, each thinking about what their neighbor had said. He was certain they could fix things, but to them it seemed impossible. How on earth could they help Mama?

  They made their way to Frederick Douglass Boulevard with Franz, New Dog, and their wagon, then turned east on 144th, where Herman’s building was. Hyacinth buzzed his apartment number, and Herman’s voice came through the intercom.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Hyacinth,” she said into the speaker. “We’re here to pick up the kittens.”

  “Come on up!” The building door buzzed, and the Vanderbeekers stepped inside and got in the elevator to go to the fourth floor. Herman was waiting, his apartment door open.

  The Vanderbeekers had been in his apartment only once before, and it was nothing like theirs. First of all, there were no books. In the living room, a big television was mounted on the wall, and there was a white (white!) couch with matching armchairs and a glass (glass!) coffee table across from it.

  Herman led the way down a wide hallway with framed (framed!) artwork on the walls, then around a corner. He opened his bedroom door, and they were greeted by an explosion of color. Herman was a master knitter, and most of the things in his bedroom were covered with knitting. Willowy knitted clouds hung from the ceiling among yarn stars threaded with silver. His desk chair was wrapped in navy-blue yarn.

  The kittens were batting around little yarn balls, and the gray one was now sporting a tiny red sweater.

  “Did you make that sweater?” Hyacinth asked.

  “Yeah,” Herman said. “And those yarn balls. They love them.”

  “Cool,” Hyacinth said without enthusiasm.

  “What’s wrong?” Herman asked, looking around at their forlorn faces.

  “The inspector came early,” Jessie said.

  “We weren’t ready for him, and then he got attacked by a chicken,” Isa said.

  “Goodbye, home processor’s license,” Oliver added.

  Herman’s eyes widened. “A chicken?”

  “Mama has to go back to her accounting job,” Jessie added. “A job she hated.”

  Silence fell over the room, and Hyacinth felt tears pooling in her eyes again.

  “Hey!” Herman said. “What’s with the doom and gloom?”

  The Vanderbeekers looked at Herman warily.

  “Your family never lets things get in your way,” Herman said. “Remember how you built a garden from scratch? And made friends with the grouchiest person in the neighborhood? Jessie built a water wall. Laney taught a rabbit how to do tricks. If you can do all that, you can figure out how to save your mom’s business.”

  “That’s what Mr. B said,” Oliver said. “But we already tried everything we could think of. We’re out of ideas.”

  “Ideas are everywhere,” Herman said.

  Laney stood up, Tuxedo the cat in her hands. “I have an idea.”

  “Awesome,” Herman said. “What is it?”

  “We’re gonna give Mama a bakery!” Laney proclaimed.

  “How about we start a little smaller?” Jessie suggested.

  “No,” Laney said. “I want to start big. Really big!”

  “And who is going to give her a bakery?” Oliver asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

  Laney pointed her index finger at Herman. “He is.”

  * * *

  Laney wasn’t sure why everyone was looking at her with such wide, I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about eyes. They wanted to help Mama, right?

  “That’s not—Why do you think—” spluttered Herman.

  “Laney, that’s silly,” Isa said, saving Herman. “Herman can’t get Mama a bakery.”

  Laney kissed Tuxedo on the head. “His dad sells stores, right? He can get a place for Mama to start her bakery.”

  Herman swallowed. “That’s my dad, not me. I can’t help you.”

  “Of course you can,” Laney said, her eyes full of trust.

  Herman was quiet for a moment. The only sound was Franz’s dog tags jingling on his collar as he shook off the kittens, who were trying to climb on him.

  Then, as if his mind was made up, Herman stood and walked out of the room.

  Oliver let out a low whistle. “Now you’ve done it.”

  Laney shrugged and gave Tuxedo another kiss. “He’s coming back.”

  Sure enough, Herman came back into the room lugging a laptop and a projector. “Just give me a second to set this thing up.” The Vanderbeekers watched as he plugged in cables and pulled the shades over his windows. He pressed a few buttons on his computer, then turned on the projector. The hum of the machine began, and then a spotlight shone on his white wall. An image flickered into view. It was the picture from the promotional postcard, the one of Mr. Huxley standing in front of a fancy building. Along the top it said, “Huxley Realty: Find the Best Home for Your Best Idea.”

  The Vanderbeekers exchanged looks, then snapped to attention when Herman cleared his throat and flipped to the next slide, which showed a busy Harlem street.

  “Harlem is home to thousands of businesses,” Herman began, “from top-quality restaurants, clothing establishments, and museums to libraries, banks, coffee shops, and more. It is a thriving economic center, and Huxley Realty can help find the perfect spot for your business.”

  “Wow, you’re good at this,” Oliver said, impressed.

  Herman shrugged. “I’ve watched my dad give this presentation a bazillion times.”

  Herman proceeded to flip through a series of slides showing available retail space, which meant places that could be used for businesses like Mama’s bakery. Laney wasn’t great at calculating really big numbers yet, but she knew that even if she gave up her entire allowance for a very long time, she would not be able to catch up to all the zeroes and commas in that monthly rent number.

  Some of the spaces looked really big (bigger than their local library), and some looked tiny (half the size of Harlem Coffee). Some of the places didn’t look right for a bakery at all; they were too new and fancy, as if the space belonged to people who wore suits and shiny shoes that rubbed your heels and made blisters.

  Herman showed them five properties, throwing out phrases like “recently remodeled,” “state-of-the-art technology capabilities,” and “short- and long-term leases available.” Meanwhile, all the animals dozed off, lulled into a deep slumber by the darkened room and the steady whir of the projector.

  “Herman,” Jessie interjected, “all these spaces are really fancy. And expensive. How can anyone afford the rent?”

  “Well,” Herman hedged, “you’d be making money selling the cookies your mom makes. That would pay for the space.”

  Isa shook her head. “You’d have to sell a thousand cookies every day just to pay rent!”

  Herman nodded. “This is New York City. Real estate is
expensive.” He flipped through the next slides, passing over gleaming glass storefronts and cavernous spaces.

  “Wait!” Laney said as Herman’s slides flew past. “That one!”

  He paused. The slide showed a narrow store. It reminded Laney of the shoe-repair store where Papa had the soles of his work shoes fixed when they got worn down.

  “Not that one,” Laney said. “The one before.”

  Herman went back.

  Laney was absolutely sure this was the perfect store. “Look at the address!” she said. “It’s only a block away!”

  Oliver winced. “It looks like a biohazard site.”

  Jessie agreed. “I would love to get a bacterial sample.”

  Hyacinth shuddered.

  Laney stared at the picture. The awning hung crookedly, and the windows were cracked. A storefront security grate went only a quarter of the way down and was sprayed with graffiti. An interior view showed dusty shelves nailed into the walls, loose wooden boards scattered everywhere, and what looked like four inches of dirt on the ground. When Laney squinted, she could almost imagine it being a cheerful, brightly lit bodega in its glory days. Despite its current decrepit state, Laney knew deep in her heart that this was Mama’s bakery.

  Herman was skeptical. “This one? Dad only puts this in his presentation to make people want to get the nicer properties.”

  “So it’s not for sale?” Laney asked.

  “I mean, I guess someone could lease it,” Herman said. “But no one has ever been interested, because . . .” He gestured to the photo, as if that image held all the reasons in itself.

  “What’s the rent?” Isa asked. “It’s not listed on the slide.”

  “I’ve heard Dad try to get some people to rent it, and he says they can have it for free for the first six months but they would have to pay for the renovation costs,” Herman said. “It would probably be expensive to fix it up.”

  At the word “free,” the Vanderbeekers’ eyes lit up. That was all they needed to hear.

  “We’ll take it,” Laney declared, and the rest of the Vanderbeekers agreed.

  Isa handed Oliver her phone. “Call Uncle Arthur. We’ll need his help.”

  The kittens, sensing the excitement in the air, slowly woke from their naps and looked immediately for Franz, who was snoozing under the desk.

  But before Oliver could get Uncle Arthur on the phone, they heard the door to Herman’s apartment open.

  “Herman!” called a deep voice. “Did you see this wagon in front of our door? It’s probably those Leffert kids again. Come out here and put the wagon in front of their door. Don’t they know we have a rule in this building about leaving stuff in the hallways?”

  “Hide!” Herman said to the Vanderbeekers, his eyes filled with panic.

  The Vanderbeekers, despite many years’ experience with hide-and-seek, discovered that it was not so easy to hide themselves along with five kittens and two dogs in a small bedroom, but they made a valiant effort. Oliver and Laney dropped to the ground and wiggled under the bed, Jessie and Isa squeezed into Herman’s closet, and Hyacinth dove under the desk with Franz. Herman snatched up the kittens, put them back into their crate, and shoved the crate behind his beanbag chair, where the kittens protested for two seconds in their tiny kitten voices before growing quiet. New Dog was still sitting in the same place she had been, and Herman left her there, not knowing if she would fuss at being moved.

  The door to Herman’s bedroom opened. “Herman, did you hear me?”

  Herman ran to the door and squeezed out before his dad could enter. “I’ll take the wagon back to the Lefferts’ apartment right now,” Herman told him. He closed the door behind him, and the Vanderbeekers all breathed a sigh of relief.

  Unfortunately, the new dog chose that exact moment to make herself vocally known for the very first time. She opened her mouth, and a clear, high bark echoed throughout the Huxleys’ apartment.

  Twenty-Six

  From her spot in Herman’s closet, Isa had a direct view of the bedroom door. Through a tiny opening in the closet, she got a clear look at Mr. Huxley after he burst inside the room. A flash of something went across his face; Isa thought it looked like sadness, or longing, or some other emotion that actually made Isa feel sorry for him.

  “Buster?” Mr. Huxley said.

  Jessie nudged Isa and mouthed, “Who’s Buster?”

  Isa raised her hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.

  “Dad?”

  That was Herman, who had just come into view. Mr. Huxley seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, and his face stiffened back into its normal starchy look.

  “What is that doing here?” Mr. Huxley asked Herman, pointing at New Dog.

  Herman glanced around anxiously, probably to make sure everyone was well hidden, then said, “I found her? On the street?”

  Isa and Jessie shook their heads. Herman had broken the cardinal rule of trying to get away with something: responding to a question with a question.

  “You found this dog?” Mr. Huxley asked. “What do you mean? Does this dog belong to anyone?”

  “Dad, she—” Herman began.

  Mr. Huxley’s words steamrolled over Herman. “Does it have a collar? Have you called around to shelters? Did you check if it has a microchip?”

  Isa felt Jessie tense next to her, and Isa shook her head. If Jessie burst out of the closet, Herman would only get into more trouble.

  “I was going to—” Herman tried again.

  “Why does your behavior not surprise me? You never think before you act! I’m sick and tired of fixing your mistakes!”

  Jessie was practically vibrating with frustrated energy at this point, and Isa saw her sister’s hand inch to the closet door, when . . .

  “Stop it right now!” Hyacinth crawled out from under Herman’s desk, and although Isa couldn’t see her from her limited view in the closet, she was pretty sure Hyacinth’s face was flushed and red, which happened in those rare moments when her sister got upset.

  Then there was Laney, crawling out from under the bed. “Yeah, stop being mean to Herman! He’s our friend!”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Mr. Huxley exclaimed, his arms waving and his voice booming in the small room. “Of course these . . . these . . . hooligans are involved!”

  A low growl came from under the desk, and gentle, I-wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Franz leaped out in front of Hyacinth and bared his teeth at Mr. Huxley.

  “Oh, fudge!” Jessie said, then jumped out of the closet, grabbed Franz’s collar, and yanked him back.

  Mr. Huxley startled at the sudden appearance of yet another Vanderbeeker.

  Isa sighed and emerged as well.

  “I don’t think Franz would bite you,” Oliver said to Mr. Huxley, emerging from underneath the bed after Laney. “He’s never bitten anyone before, but he sure doesn’t seem to like you!”

  Mr. Huxley stared at them. “I want all of you out of my apartment right now.”

  Wordlessly, the Vanderbeekers gathered their stuff. When Oliver walked across the bedroom to pick up the box of kittens behind the beanbag chair, Mr. Huxley’s eyes bulged from their sockets. Jessie kept Franz on a short leash just in case, and Hyacinth took New Dog’s leash. They filed out of Herman’s bedroom, heads held tall. They were not ashamed to be Vanderbeekers, even though Mr. Huxley seemed to find them abhorrent.

  Mr. Huxley and Herman followed them out of the apartment, and Isa could hear Mr. Huxley’s angry whispers.

  “I gave you specific instructions to stay away from that family,” Mr. Huxley said.

  “I like them,” Herman angry-whispered back. “They’re my friends.”

  The Vanderbeekers loaded up the wagon.

  “Bye, Herman,” Hyacinth said.

  “Bye,” the rest of the Vanderbeekers echoed.

  “I’m sorry,” Herman said. “I’ll talk to you later.” “He will not talk to you later,” Mr. Huxley said before closing the door.

  They could hear
more arguing behind the door, and although Oliver put his ear right up to the front door, he couldn’t make out what was being said . . . only the tone, which was not at all friendly.

  The Vanderbeekers got into the elevator and exited the building. No one said a word. They went down the street and turned south on Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard, but instead of continuing down to 141st Street, Laney grabbed Isa’s hand and made them turn left on 143rd Street.

  “Laney, we have to go home,” Isa told her little sister. “The kittens are getting hungry.”

  “I just need to see something,” Laney told her. “Really fast.”

  Oliver heaved a huge sigh, as if Laney had asked him to walk five miles in sleet to watch a movie about rabbits and unicorns.

  Halfway down 143rd Street, Laney stopped and pointed at a building. “That’s it,” she told them.

  Isa was surprised to see the storefront from Herman’s slideshow. “How did you know it was here?”

  “The building number was almost the same as Herman’s, so I knew it was on the same block on the next street,” Laney explained. “Ms. Garcia thinks people use their phones too much, so she taught us how to figure out New York City addresses without technology.”

  The Vanderbeekers gaped at Laney in astonishment. She was learning a lot more in kindergarten than they thought. The storefront, however, was not so impressive. It was very rundown, even worse than the photo. Laney tried to peek in, but Jessie pulled her back.

  “I don’t know if your tetanus shot is up-to-date,” she told her.

  They were silent for a few minutes as they stared at the storefront. A bird chirped from a tree growing through the concrete in front of the store, and ivy crawled up the brick façade on either side of the security gate. It was the kind of storefront you could walk by and never really notice, but to the Vanderbeekers, it seemed to glow and beckon them.

  “I’m getting a good feeling from this place,” Hyacinth said at last, and Laney beamed in satisfaction.

  “Me too,” Isa and Jessie said.

  “Mr. Huxley is never going to let us have it,” Oliver pointed out.

  “I’ll be right back!” Laney said. Then she walked to the store next door—a Jamaican restaurant—and came out with a broom. “I asked the lady if we could borrow a broom, and she said yes.” Laney began to sweep the front of the store.