The Vanderbeekers Make a Wish

by Karina Yan Glaser

  The bedroom door opened, and Laney leaped inside with Tuxedo. Hyacinth and Franz were behind her.

  “I slept so late!” Laney exclaimed. “And now I’m full of energy.”

  Tuxedo leaped onto Jessie’s bed and sat on her face.

  “Ugh,” Jessie said, turning her head.

  “We need to see Mr. Ritchie today,” Hyacinth said, referring to the owner of a flower and tree stand just over the Harlem River in the Bronx. Papa had known Mr. Ritchie since he was a little kid, and they bought their Christmas tree from him every year. “He doesn’t have a phone, so we couldn’t tell him Papa’s party was canceled.”

  Isa nodded. “We should do that right after breakfast.”

  Mama had left a note on the dining room table with a bowl of fruit and a big pile of cheese croissants from Castleman’s. The note said that she had gone to the bakery with Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Penny. They would be back after lunch.

  The Vanderbeekers dug into the croissants and fruit, cleaned up the kitchen, and headed to Mr. Ritchie’s stand. Walking along 145th Street, they crossed the bridge, taking a moment to admire a group of rowers on the Harlem River. They entered the Bronx and waved when they saw Mr. Ritchie. He sat on an overturned apple crate next to his white van. A couple of folding tables were covered with flowers and plants. He nodded to the kids as they approached, his small black radio propped up next to him and playing one of Isa’s favorite pieces from Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev.

  “Hi, Mr. Ritchie,” Hyacinth said, handing him a bag with two croissants in it.

  Mr. Ritchie nodded his thanks, a toothpick wedged between his teeth.

  “I know you were planning on coming to Papa’s fortieth birthday party tomorrow, but we have to postpone it,” Isa said. “Papa went to Indiana for a funeral and his flight got canceled and he can’t get home until next week.”

  Mr. Ritchie nodded again.

  “We’ll let you know when it’s rescheduled,” Isa told him.

  Hyacinth, who had been looking at the plants, pointed to one of them.

  “Is this a Cattleya orchid?” she asked.

  Mr. Ritchie nodded.

  “That’s the one Grandma really liked,” Hyacinth told her siblings. “I think we should buy it for her. I have some allowance money.”

  Isa looked at the price sticker.

  “I have some money too,” Oliver said, pulling a five-dollar bill from his pocket.

  “Me too,” Jessie said, reaching into her pocket for some dollar bills.

  While Isa paid, she kept an eye on Laney, who was doing cartwheels on the sidewalk by Mr. Ritchie’s van. She was about to say “Be careful!” when Laney got a little too close to the van and almost ran into the back bumper. But then Isa’s eyes drifted over the license plate, and she froze.

  Twenty-Six

  Oliver was eager to get home—he was hungry again, and he knew Mama had left a container of Auntie Harrigan’s ginger cookies on the counter—but Isa was taking her sweet time paying for the orchid. Now she was just staring at Mr. Ritchie’s van as if it were a ghost.

  “Hello!” Oliver said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Can we get going? I’m—”

  “Look,” Isa whispered, pointing.

  Oliver looked at the van.

  “What do you want me to—”

  “Look!” Laney yelled as she too pointed to Mr. Ritchie’s van. “His license plate says Ludwig! Just like Ludwig van Beethoven!”

  “Oh my gosh,” Jessie said.

  Isa turned slowly back to Mr. Ritchie. “Is that van’s name . . . Ludwig?”

  Mr. Ritchie smiled.

  “How long have you had it?” Isa said.

  Mr. Ritchie pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “’Bout twenty-five years.”

  Isa swallowed. “You knew our grandfather?”

  Mr. Ritchie nodded.

  “Is your first name Joe, by any chance?” Oliver asked, remembering the name from the letter.

  Mr. Ritchie nodded.

  The Vanderbeekers looked at one another.

  “Was this the van our grandfather was going to use to take a road trip after our dad’s graduation?” Isa asked.

  The Vanderbeekers all held their breath, waiting for Mr. Ritchie to respond.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  Laney couldn’t help it. She just had to hug Mr. Ritchie. “We have been trying to learn more about Pop-Pop,” Laney said as she squeezed him tight, “and we found a letter he wrote to Papa and discovered he was going to surprise Papa with a road trip and we figured out where Whalers Cove was in California but we didn’t know what other places they were supposed to go to and we wanted to re-create the trip for Papa but we couldn’t and now I can’t believe we found the actual van and it was your van!”

  Mr. Ritchie nodded and, after hugging Laney back, stood up and walked to the passenger side of the van. The Vanderbeeker kids followed. He opened the door, leaned in, opened the glove compartment, shifted some things around, and pulled out a canvas pouch. He unzipped the pouch, removed a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Isa.

  Laney watched Isa open the paper with trembling hands. There, in their grandfather’s beautiful handwriting, which they had become so familiar with over the past week, was a hand-drawn map with a complete itinerary of the road trip.

  Mr. Ritchie waited until they had all read the paper. Then he stepped aside and gestured to the vehicle. “He’s ready when you are.”

  * * *

  The Vanderbeekers burst into the Treehouse Bakery and Cat Café. They were shocked to see Grandpa behind the counter, wearing a bakery T-shirt and preparing coffee drinks, while Grandma stood by the cash register, taking a person’s order.

  “Grandma! Grandpa!” Jessie said, shocked. “What are you doing?”

  Grandma’s eyebrows rose. “We are working. What do you think?”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Isa asked.

  Grandma frowned. “I worked as a cashier in a restaurant for forty-five years.”

  Grandpa held a mug aloft, as if he were toasting them. “She was the best cashier. Never a mistake. And so fast.”

  Grandma shook her head, but it was obvious she was pleased.

  “We’re going back to see Mama,” Jessie told them.

  “And this orchid is for you,” Hyacinth said, pushing the orchid across the counter.

  “We found the van!” Laney called.

  The Vanderbeekers rushed down the hallway that led to the kitchen and burst through the doors. The industrial mixer was churning away, creating lots of noise.

  “Mama!” they yelled.

  “We got the itinerary!” Oliver added.

  “Mr. Ritchie said the van is ready for us!” Isa said.

  “And that means—” Jessie began.

  “—that we need to go to California!” Hyacinth finished.

  Mama, Aunt Penny, and Auntie Harrigan had frozen in the middle of their work. They stared at the kids.

  They heard footsteps behind them, and Grandma walked in, cradling her orchid. She turned and looked at a very confused Mama. Aunt Penny stopped the mixer, and the kitchen went silent.

  “The kids found a letter from Pop-Pop that he meant to give to Derek for graduation,” Grandma explained. “He was going to take Derek on a crosscountry trip to California right after graduation. And the kids figured out the trip so they could re-create it for his fortieth birthday present.” She looked at the kids. “Did I get that correct?”

  “Yes!” they said.

  “How did you know?” Hyacinth asked.

  “You are very loud,” Grandma said. “It was easy to figure out.”

  “But, Mama, guess what?” Jessie continued, breathless. “We found the exact van Pop-Pop was going to use. It belongs to Mr. Ritchie, and he keeps his van in top shape because he used to be a mechanic—he recently replaced the engine and the tires!—and he says we can use the van for the trip! So we could go on a trip in the exact same van that
Pop-Pop was going to use!”

  “But doesn’t Mr. Ritchie need his van?” Mama said, confused.

  “His friend has one he can use!” Laney shouted.

  “You’re not saying that we should leave today?” Mama said.

  “We have to leave today because we have to pick up Papa,” Oliver said reasonably. “So we can be with him for his birthday.”

  “We need to get there by tomorrow!” Laney shouted.

  “It’s an eleven-hour-and-thirty-nine-minute drive, so if we start tonight, we can stay in a hotel somewhere in Pennsylvania and get there by tomorrow afternoon,” Jessie said.

  “We have to be with him on his fortieth birthday,” Hyacinth said.

  “But we can’t just leave our home,” Mama said, her eyes wide. “I have work! The bakery won’t run itself.”

  “I can take care of the bakery,” Auntie Harrigan offered. “I pretty much work here full-time anyway, with my freelance jobs being so unpredictable. I know all your recipes, and I have lots of other ideas. Who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with a whole new cookie menu by the time you get back. And Manny said he was coming back to work tomorrow. We’ll be fine!”

  “Grandpa and I can stay at the brownstone and work the front of the bakery,” Grandma said.

  “But you just retired!” Mama said.

  Grandma sniffed. “I do not like retirement. Better to be busy.”

  “What about Papa’s job?” Mama asked, looking at her kids.

  “He has lots of vacation time saved up!” Hyacinth said. “He told me that last week!”

  “And we’ve been putting money in the Fiver Account all year!” Laney said, referring to their vacation fund. “That will pay for the trip!”

  “And our pets?” Mama said.

  “Franz and Tuxedo would come with us, obviously,” Laney said. “They’ve always wanted to go on a road trip.”

  “We’ll take care of George Washington and Paganini and . . . the chickens,” Grandma said, with reluctance.

  “As long as you don’t eat the chickens!” Laney said.

  Grandma rolled her eyes. “Of course I will not eat the chickens. They have names.”

  “But we will eat the eggs,” Grandpa said, stepping into the kitchen and catching the last part of the conversation.

  “I’m okay with that,” Hyacinth said.

  “This is nuts,” Mama said, shaking her head.

  “But we’re going to do it, right?” Oliver asked.

  Everyone looked at Mama and held their breath, waiting for her answer.

  Twenty-Seven

  The scene at the brownstone was positively chaotic that afternoon.

  “Don’t forget to turn the ovens off at the end of the day,” Mama told Aunt Harrigan as she grabbed random items and threw them into a huge duffel bag. “The health inspector comes once a year—it should be in the next couple of months, but it’s unannounced, so always make sure everyone in the back is wearing their hairnet, and do the cleaning regimen posted on the wall every day—”

  “I know,” Auntie Harrigan said. “I was around the last time you had an inspection.”

  Oliver emerged from the basement, dragging some camping gear.

  “Oliver, do we really need all that?” Mama asked. “Yes,” Oliver grunted, then proceeded to lug a tent out the door.

  “This is just nuts,” Mama said, reaching into the cupboard for her emergency chocolate and shoving it into her backpack. “Mom, don’t overfeed George Washington. He’ll look at you as if he hasn’t been fed in months, but don’t give him more than one scoop of food twice a day, okay?”

  “Okay,” Grandma said, looking at George Washington. He was staring at his bowl sadly.

  “And be sure to let the chickens out at six o’clock every morning. There’s a latch you can pull from my room that will open the coop so you don’t have to go downstairs—Jessie rigged it up—but you have to physically latch it when you put them back in at night, okay?”

  Grandpa nodded. “We will do that.”

  “And be sure to open the windows when you use the stove or the oven, because the fire alarm is really sensitive, and the fire department doesn’t like it when it goes off because they have to come here and—”

  “Okay, okay,” Grandma said, waving her hands. “Don’t worry.”

  Grandpa raised one finger in the air. “I will fix all the leaky faucets!”

  Oliver ran back inside. “I need my basketball!”

  The sound of feet on the stairs revealed Mr. Beiderman and Orlando.

  “Jessie just texted me. Are you really going on a road trip for a month?” Orlando said.

  “Yes!” Laney said as she rolled her bike out the door. “We’re going to pick up Papa in Indiana and then take him to California to see Whalers Cove!”

  Mr. Beiderman looked at Aunt Penny. “Are you going with them?”

  She shook her head. “My flight home is on Sunday morning, and I’ve got work on Monday. But they’ll stay with me when they get to California.”

  Jessie, wearing Pop-Pop’s blazer despite the heat, emerged from the basement with more camping equipment. “Hi!” she said when she saw them.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving for a whole month,” Orlando said as he went to help her. “What will I do without you?”

  “You should come,” Jessie said. “You and Mr. Beiderman. The van is huge. There’s plenty of room.”

  Mr. Beiderman said, “That’s ridiculous,” at the same time that Orlando said, “Could we, Mr. B?”

  And because Mr. B was a softie around Orlando, he looked at Mama. “What do you think? I mean, I can work from anywhere, and Orlando has nothing to do until school starts up again.”

  Mama looked at him, then at Jessie, who was standing behind them with a big smile and both thumbs up.

  “Sure, why not?” Mama said. “The van seats ten. You have to share the driving, though. And you have to be ready in thirty minutes, or we’re leaving without you.

  Jessie cheered, and Orlando sprinted up the stairs to pack.

  Mr. B looked at Aunt Penny. “Looks like I’ll see you in California.”

  Aunt Penny smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

  Mr. B gave her a rare smile back, then went up the stairs to gather his stuff.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Mama said.

  Fifty-three minutes later, everyone was lined up on the sidewalk of 141st Street. Mr. Ritchie, Miss Josie, Aunt Penny, Grandma, and Grandpa had been helping organize the luggage and pet food and camping equipment, so it all fit in the van like a huge puzzle. Mr. Beiderman finished strapping Laney’s bike to the rack on top of the van, and they were ready.

  “I think that’s it!” Mama said, looking at her parents.

  “Be safe,” Grandma said at the same time Grandpa said, “Drive safely.”

  Grandma looked at Mr. Beiderman. “You better be a good driver. If anything happens to them . . .”

  Mr. Beiderman cut her off. “I’m a good driver.”

  Mama looked at Grandma. “Don’t forget—”

  “Don’t worry,” Grandma said. “Everything is fine. Have a good time. Tell Derek we said hello. I love you.”

  Mama immediately turned sniffly as she hugged Grandma. Then Laney hugged Grandpa. Oliver hugged Miss Josie. Jessie hugged Grandma. Hyacinth hugged Aunt Penny. Isa hugged Mr. Ritchie. Everyone was hugging everyone else until finally the Vanderbeekers and Orlando—plus Franz and Tuxedo—piled into the van and put their seat belts on. Mama climbed into the driver’s seat and Mr. Beiderman got into the front passenger seat and everyone rolled down their windows.

  “Good-bye!” Laney yelled. “See you next month!”

  “We love you,” they said back, waving and wiping their eyes. “Be careful!”

  “We love you!” the Vanderbeekers said back.

  Mama started the van and pulled out of the parking space. She honked the horn.

  “Good-bye, brownstone!” Oliver said.

  Ludwig t
he Van rolled down 141st Street. Laney swiveled her head so she could watch her favorite people until they became tiny specks. Then the van turned north on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, and the specks disappeared.

  “Mama!” Laney said, an idea popping into her brain. “We have to stop by the bakery!”

  Mama knew what Laney wanted. She exchanged a look with Mr. Beiderman; then she made a couple of turns and came to a stop in front of the Treehouse Bakery and Cat Café. She turned the engine off and jumped out of the van with Laney. A few minutes later, they emerged with Peaches and Cream in a big animal carrier.

  “More animals!” Oliver grumbled, but he moved over so they could wedge the carrier at his feet.

  “Meow,” said Peaches.

  “Meow,” said Cream.

  “Aaaa-rooo!” said Franz.

  “Purr,” Tuxedo said from her crate.

  Before Laney buckled up, she took the two photos of Pop-Pop that Mrs. Castleman had given Isa and propped them up on the dashboard.

  The van turned onto the avenue, weaving around potholes, leaving Harlem and rolling through Washington Heights toward the George Washington Bridge. The bridge led them across the Hudson River, and then the van pointed toward Indiana and Papa. The miles stretched before them with the promise of new adventures.

  The Vanderbeekers couldn’t wait.

  Acknowledgments

  This is the fifth book I have worked on with my wonderful editor, Ann Rider, and I always find myself in awe that I get to work with such a lovely and thoughtful human being. I am so grateful for her love for the Vanderbeekers and the brownstone on 141st Street. Thank you to Tara Shanahan, who has believed in these stories from the very beginning and does so much to share them far and wide. I could not ask for a better team at HMH. Sending love to Celeste Knudsen and Cade Kung for the gorgeous book design, Katya Longhi for another stunning cover, Jennifer Thermes for the charming map endpapers, and Catherine Onder, John Sellers, Mary Magrisso, Candace Finn, Lisa DiSarro, Amanda Acevedo, Alia Almeida, Anna Ravenelle, Harriet Low, all of the sales reps, and Colleen Fellingham and Alix Redmond.