“Sort of,” she said briefly. “Something to talk to.”
“But you have real people to talk to,” Charli protested. “You have Aunt Lilly and Uncle Will and Dan and—you could talk to me if you wanted to.”
“Maybe,” Sophia said slowly. “But I say the wrong things. People think you’re weird if you know things before they happen.”
Charli wondered how many more surprises this day could hold. Smart, confident Sophia actually worried about how other people felt about her!
“Well, I might have thought that,” she admitted. “Just at first, I mean. But you saved Mickey’s life, so nobody’s going to call you weird now.”
Sophia closed her book and looked up. Her eyes were red. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said. “I’ll be leaving here soon.”
Charli frowned. “You’re leaving? Are you sure?”
“I know because of Lilly,” Sophia replied with a touch of her old impatience. “Haven’t you noticed how quiet she’s been since we got back from Madison? I came to Wisconsin in the first place because my great-grandmother was here. Now that she’s gone, I’ll have to go back to California.”
That didn’t make sense to Charli. “You’d better come downstairs,” she said finally. “Everyone wants to thank you for saving Mickey.” Then she remembered Uncle Will’s big news. “Uncle Will isn’t going to have a Crandalls’ Castle after all,” she announced. “Aunt Lilly won’t let him.”
That, she was pleased to see, made Sophia smile.
The scene on the front porch was pretty much as she’d left it. The twins had moved to the steps with their cars, and Rona was cuddling Mickey. No one was talking. Uncle Will looked close to tears, but his face lit up when he saw Sophia.
“We’ve got a lot to thank you for, Sophia,” he said huskily. “Lilly says you were the only one who guessed where the kids had gone.”
“She didn’t guess, she knew,” Charli said proudly. “She knows things before they happen.” She looked at Ray when she said it, daring him to argue.
“I don’t see how—” he began, but Sophia didn’t wait for him to finish. “Neither do I,” she said simply. “But sometimes it just happens.”
Silence returned, except for the noise of the racing-car drivers on the steps.
“I suppose Charli told you about the Castle,” Uncle Will said dejectedly. “I know you’re disappointed, too—you girls have worked hard.”
“Listen, Will,” Ray said suddenly, “I don’t understand what happened today, and I’m beginning to think I never will, but whatever, it’s probably for the best.”
Charli scowled at him. He was going to say it. He was actually going to say “I told you so!”
“You own the land,” Ray went on. “If you tear down that wreck of a house, you’ll have a pile of pretty good lumber to work with. Build something else there—something really useful. If you do, it’ll be a lot easier to find investors to help.”
Uncle Will stared at him.
“Come up with a good idea,” Ray went on, “and I might be glad to invest in it myself.”
Uncle Will stood up, his eyes bright. “You mean it? You mean you’d be interested in—in Crandalls’ Castle Hotel?”
Ray shook his head. “Way too big,” he said. “Too grand. Too much money.”
“How about Crandalls’ Castle Motel?”
Ray shook his head again. “I was thinking of something really practical for all the tourists who’ll be coming this way. How about a Laundromat?”
Uncle Will looked stunned. “A—a Laundromat?” He thought about it, while Charli held her breath. Then he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “Crandalls’ Castle of Clean Clothes.” His eyes sparkled and he reached over to shake Ray’s hand. “We’ll have a play area for kids and a coffee corner and maybe a lending library and …”
They were all laughing by that time and Charli was dizzy with pleasure. Instead of making Uncle Will feel worse, Ray had come up with a way to make him happy again. It was unbelievable. Uncle Will was smiling, and it was her blunt, no-nonsense, wonderful stepfather who had done it.
“Lemonade, anyone?”
Aunt Lilly appeared at the door, carrying a tray of glasses. Dan hurried to open the screen for her, and Charli and Sophia passed the glasses around.
“Wait’ll I tell you the news, Lilly!” Uncle Will exclaimed. “You’ll love it!”
Aunt Lilly settled on the swing next to him. She was herself again, smiling contentedly at them all. “I’m sure I will,” she said. “You all look so happy—except our Sophia.”
“I’m okay,” Sophia said quickly. “Honest!”
Charli peeled a scrap of paper off the bottom of a glass and handed the lemonade to Dan. She was about to drop the paper back onto the tray when Aunt Lilly stopped her.
“Read that, Charli,” she urged. “Read it out loud. It’s a telephone message Dan left on the kitchen counter. I didn’t notice it until just now.”
Charli smoothed the sticky note. “It says, ‘Rita called.’ Who’s Rita?”
“She’s a social worker in Madison,” Sophia said in a dull voice. “She was at the funeral.”
“Read the rest,” Aunt Lilly said. She was still smiling but now there were tears on her cheeks.
“It says, ‘All fine with Sacramento if it’s fine with you. Tell Sophia.’” Charli studied the words. “That means she doesn’t have to go back to California, right?”
“That’s right,” Aunt Lilly said. “We hoped she could stay right here with us, but Rita wasn’t sure. She’s been checking into it.”
“Go back?” Ray repeated indignantly. “Why in the world would she want to go back?”
“I didn’t!” Sophia exclaimed. “I don’t!”
“But you said you were going,” Charli said. “You said you’d have to. I thought it was one of those things you knew.”
Sophia’s cheeks were pink and her voice shook. “I thought so, too,” she said softly. “But I was wrong.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2003 by Betty Ren Wright
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1346-8
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; And so began our history. Holiday House “has changed over the years, sometimes by design and sometimes not. And it will continue to evolve and adapt. Yet in many ways it remains the same old place: relatively small, very independent, and completely devoted to its authors and illustrators.”
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