Maggie Bean Stays Afloat

by Tricia Rayburn

  “I guess I’ll hang on to this.” Maggie removed the digital camera from Summer’s backpack and slung the bag on one shoulder. She snapped a series of shots as she and her mother followed after Summer, who skipped down the redbrick path toward the porch and front door.

  “You’ll keep a level head, won’t you, sweetie?” her mother asked, wringing her hands nervously. “And carefully evaluate everything I mentioned before forming a solid opinion?”

  “You can count on me.” Maggie might have been impressed, but unlike Summer, she could always prevent emotional reactions from interfering with logic. After all, this was just a house, with a few walls and maybe some fancy crown molding that served the same purpose as any other set of walls. Did it really matter where they lived, so long as where they lived kept out the rain and let in the sun?

  It most certainly did, it turned out.

  Maggie had been in nice houses before—never one of her own, of course, but Arnie’s and Aimee’s homes were both probably as large as this house, if not larger, and decorated with expensive-looking furniture and real artwork. Anytime she visited, she was always a tiny bit jealous on top of being happy to be there, and wondered what it was their parents knew that hers hadn’t figured out—what they had that enabled their families to live in the same beautiful houses year after year, while her family rented one small place after the next.

  But as nice as Arnie’s and Aimee’s houses were, they didn’t compare to this one.

  “Wilma, hello!” their mother sang, closing the front door behind and walking purposefully across the foyer to shake Wilma’s hand.

  Standing near the entrance with Summer, Maggie looked around. It wasn’t the impressive, wide staircase they stood near, or the large rooms that connected to the foyer. It wasn’t the natural stone tile under their feet, or the shiny wooden floors that led to the rest of the house. It wasn’t even the warm sunlight that streamed in through the room’s many windows. And if anyone had asked what it was, really, the best Maggie could’ve come up with was that it just felt right—the air (cool and refreshing), the size (big, but not overwhelming), the way walking through that front door once felt like she’d done it a million times before.

  “This is it,” she whispered to Summer.

  “Mom, may Maggie and I show ourselves around while you talk business?” Summer asked in her politest, most grown-up voice.

  Since their mother and Wilma had barely gotten past the weather, let alone delved into business details, and since Maggie and Summer were supposed to be on flaw-finding duty, their mother looked at Summer, surprised. “Well, I suppose if Wilma says it’s all right....”

  “The bedrooms are upstairs,” Wilma, an older, rather professorial-looking woman in a black suit and trendy tortoise-shell glasses, said with a smile.

  Maggie and Summer exchanged quick, excited glances before dashing up the stairs. Their assigned task forgotten, they split up and hurried down the long hallway, popping in and out of four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an office. The feeling Maggie felt stepping inside the house was only stronger upstairs, and nearly knocked her over when she reached the last bedroom on the right.

  It wasn’t the biggest bedroom (since her parents, being older and more than one person, got automatic dibs on the biggest), or even the second-biggest bedroom. But it was in the back of the house, which made it quieter than other rooms, and had two big windows on two walls, thanks to its corner location. The views from the windows looked like framed postcards; being on the cul-de-sac, the house was tucked away from all the others in the neighborhood, so instead of seeing into the neighbor’s backyard or second-floor bathroom, she saw stretches of green field, trees and even a distant pond. Inside, the hardwood floors were warm, chocolate brown, and shiny, and the walls were painted her favorite shade of light blue—like the sky, but with a hint of lavender. But the best part, the very best part that made this room more hers than any other she’d ever stepped inside, was on the only wall that lacked windows or doors.

  Bookshelves. Built right into the wall, and running its entire length.

  Standing in the middle of the room, Maggie turned slowly and pictured her favorite books neatly on display instead of crammed under her bed, in random drawers, or in her closet. She pictured a wide, white desk against one wall of windows, and herself sitting there, occasionally stopping to admire the view in between homework assignments. She pictured a full-size bed (instead of her current tiny twinsize), covered in soft white sheets, a blue-floral-print down comforter, and piles of pillows. She pictured the closet filled with new size-eight clothes and cute shoes. She kept picturing it until Summer burst through the door and stopped short.

  “Maggie!” she gasped. “This is your room.”

  “I know,” Maggie said, shaking her head at the odds.

  “Let’s go tell Mom.”

  Snapping back to their still-renting reality, Maggie hurried after Summer. She’d promised her mother a level head, and even if it had taken her all of ten seconds to break that promise, she could still pull it together for appearances while her mother kept her cool with Wilma.

  She didn’t have to try hard. Reaching the living room and finding Summer hovering impatiently near their mother and Wilma, Maggie gave her a quick shake of the head and patted the P.A. backpack to remind her that they still had a job to do. Once certain Summer could be trusted to keep quiet for a little while longer, Maggie turned her attention to the task at hand, dutifully followed the adults from one room to the next, and evaluated everything she was supposed to. She opened cabinets, tested faucets, took pictures, made notes, and came to a very important conclusion.

  The house was perfect.

  “So what do we think?” Wilma asked after they’d explored every last square inch and returned to the foyer.

  “Can I say it now?” Summer whispered loudly to Maggie, hopping from one foot to the next.

  “We’re interested.”

  Maggie and Summer turned toward their mother, mouths wide in surprise.

  “Aren’t we?” Her expression was serious and businesslike, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. She knew they’d already mentally arranged furniture and unpacked their bags.

  “It’s very nice,” Maggie said, nodding and struggling to keep her voice level. Just because her mother knew didn’t mean Wilma did—or should.

  “When can we move in?” Summer asked, apparently not caring what Wilma knew.

  “Why don’t you two try out the front porch swing while we discuss details?”

  Maggie would’ve preferred to never leave the house ever again—with enough research she could homeschool herself, after all—but she grabbed Summer’s hand and hurried outside. The sooner details were discussed, the sooner they could move in.

  “You saw me eat breakfast, right?”

  Maggie sat next to Summer on the wide white porch swing.

  “Rice Krispies with blueberries? Big glass of orange juice?”

  Forcing herself to tear her attention away from the cluster of kids her age laughing and playing Frisbee in the culde-sac, Maggie looked at Summer curiously.

  “I did wake up this morning, right? I took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast, and drove to the most perfect house ever with you guys, right?”

  “Did you spike your OJ with espresso?” Maggie asked, concerned. “You’re starting to scare me.”

  “It just feels like a dream.” Summer leaned against the back of the swing and looked across the front yard. “I know we’re really here, but I can’t believe we might actually get to stay here, someday.”

  “Me either,” Maggie said, pressing her feet against the ground and gently rocking the swing. “But maybe it’s just our time, you know? Just because we’ve never had anything like this before didn’t necessarily mean we were never supposed to—even if it usually felt that way.”

  “So maybe this is our reward,” Summer said thoughtfully.

  “Our reward?”

  “For getting throu
gh everything else. Dad losing his job, Mom and Dad fighting about money and bills, moving around … all of the hard stuff.”

  Maggie couldn’t have said it better herself. Their family had stuck together and made it through some very tough times. They deserved something good—something great. And this house definitely qualified. “Just imagine Christmas morning,” she said, leaning against Summer. “We’ll get the biggest, tallest, fattest tree in the lot, just because we can.”

  “And pile hundreds of presents underneath, just because we can.”

  “And we’ll get up really early, before the sun’s even up, and come downstairs, and it’ll be totally quiet, and totally dark except for the Christmas lights. And we’ll take our stockings from the fireplace mantel, and wait for Mom and Dad to wake up.”

  “And it’ll be snowing outside.” Summer sighed happily.

  “And it’ll definitely be snowing outside. And later, after we’ve opened our hundreds of presents, we’ll have a big breakfast with pancakes and hot chocolate and French toast. And then we’ll stay in our pajamas, play with our toys, and watch movies all day.”

  Summer tilted her head up to look at Maggie. “It was worth it.”

  Before Maggie could agree, the front door opened and their mother stepped onto the porch. In the nanosecond it took for Maggie and Summer to leap from the swing, she’d cleared the steps and was halfway down the redbrick path that led to the driveway. “Mom?” Maggie called, taking Summer’s hand again and hurrying from the porch.

  “I was very clear.”

  Reaching the car, Maggie opened the back door for Summer, closed it after she’d climbed inside, and jumped in the passenger seat. Their mother already sat in the driver’s seat, fumbling with her key chain.

  “I couldn’t have been clearer,” she continued, unsuccessfully trying to shove one key after the next into the ignition. “Three bedrooms, one bathroom, living room, kitchen, move-in ready. That’s it. That’s all we need.”

  Maggie watched her nervously. “Mom, it’s the one with the black rubber—”

  “But instead she shows us this—this monstrosity. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, den, wine cellar, two fireplaces, fancy appliances, central air-conditioning. I mean, who does she think we are? Did I introduce myself as Mrs. Hilton? I don’t think so.”

  Leaning across the console, Maggie grabbed both her mother’s trembling hands with one hand, and the key chain with the other.

  “Thank you,” her mother said softly when Maggie gently placed the right key in the ignition. Sighing, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do what?” Maggie asked. “What happened?”

  “I can’t disappoint you girls.” Turning slightly in the seat, she blew Summer a kiss and then gave Maggie a small, sad smile.

  “We’re not disappointed,” Maggie promised, even though she had no idea why her mother thought they might be.

  “You love this house. Your faces lit up like the sun the second you stepped inside. And all I want is for your faces to do that every single day.”

  Knowing she had to keep a calm, steady expression but fearing what she knew was coming, Maggie focused on the small freckle just under her mother’s right eye.

  “This isn’t it,” she finally said sadly. “And I’m so, so sorry. If there was any way we could swing it, we would, but it’s just not in our price range. It’s not even close. If we never took another vacation or bought new furniture—or even food and clothing, for that matter—it still wouldn’t be in our price range.”

  “So why did she show it to us?” Summer asked quietly from the backseat.

  “Because she’s evil,” Maggie said simply.

  “She’s not evil. She’s a salesperson. She knew this was too much, but thought that if we just saw it we’d fall so in love, we might sell your firstborn children to pay for it.”

  “Ew.” Summer cringed.

  “Exactly,” Maggie agreed.

  “Yes, but I should’ve known better. I mean, I did know better, but I just got caught up in the moment. I lost my head.” She frowned. “I’m sorry, girls. You know your father and I just want to make you happy.”

  “We’re happy!” Maggie said brightly, forcing a smile. “So this isn’t it. There are tons of houses out there, and we won’t stop looking until we find the one that’s meant for us.”

  “Absolutely.” Apparently wanting to prove it was no big deal, Summer unzipped her backpack and pulled out a note-book and pen to prepare for the next evaluation.

  As her mother started the car and pulled away from the curb, Maggie slid down in her seat and watched the blue Colonial grow smaller. She wanted to be as unaffected as her little sister appeared to be, but couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe they just weren’t meant to have a nice house; maybe they were always meant to have less than everyone else seemed to have. Or, maybe they really hadn’t earned it yet. And if that was the case, she didn’t know if they ever would, because she couldn’t imagine what else they’d have to go through before they did.

  9.

  “Maggie Bean.” Smirking, Erin tilted her head down to peer over the top of her sunglasses. “Nice of you to join us.”

  “Sorry,” Maggie said, jogging across the sand. “My mom got wrapped up in something this morning and—”

  “Doesn’t matter, you’re here just in time.”

  “Oh.” Reaching the lifeguard stand, Maggie smiled. She’d been dreading Erin’s reprimand for forty-five whole minutes—while her mother finished e-mailing Wilma, while Summer scrambled for socks without holes after her mother finished e-mailing Wilma, during the drive to camp, and as she sprinted the final distance across the endless lawn to the beach. She was only ten minutes late, but on the first day of her second week at Camp Sound View, that was about twenty minutes too many. “Thanks.”

  “The pump broke, and my lips are chapped.”

  When Erin turned her attention back to her clipboard without further explanation, Maggie scanned the area surrounding the lifeguard stand. “Inner tubes?”

  “And rafts. Ten of each. They’ll be pretty hard to inflate since they’re brand-new and have never been inflated before, so you’ll want to get started right away.”

  “These are huge.” Maggie shuffled across the sand and used both hands to lift one gigantic, flattened inner tube from the stack. “I only have two lungs.”

  “Which apparently work very well, given your performance last week.”

  “But the first groups will be here any minute.”

  Hugging the clipboard to her chest, Erin faced Maggie. “Your concern is sweet. But we have everything under control.”

  “But—” Before Maggie could protest, Erin spun around and marched toward Polly, the swim instructor with the short blond bob who lounged on the sand a few feet away and yawned like she’d just woken up. Maggie waited for Erin to scold Polly for still being half-asleep while on duty, or blast the whistle in her ear to jar her to consciousness, but all she did was squat, talk quietly, and giggle.

  Maggie sank to the sand. It wasn’t worth an argument, even though Erin had said last week that Maggie would be helping Polly with groups of campers this week. The first few days had been introductory free-for-alls, for Maggie as well as the campers, and swim time had been devoted to water games and icebreakers instead of instruction. The lessons were supposed to start today, and though she’d been looking forward to serving an actual purpose and getting to know the kids, she wasn’t about to put up a fight. If Erin assigned Maggie inner-tube-and-raft-inflation duty to keep her out of the water, there was no telling what she’d do if somehow forced to do anything else against her will. What would be Maggie’s next task then? Collecting the thousands of rocks scattered across the beach and buffering their sharp edges in the interest of camper safety? Building a life-size sand castle with actual rooms for campers to hang out in during bad weather?

  Sighing, she drag
ged the gigantic flattened inner tube across her lap and opened the small plastic air valve. She would do as she was asked, just like she always did. If they really were in a bind and needed her help, which was why Adam had hired her in a hurry in the first place, then she’d just have to hope that that became apparent very quickly, and that she was put to real use out of necessity.

  “Good morning, my little angels!”

  Blowing into the air valve, Maggie raised her eyes to see Erin jump up and open her arms, as if to embrace all of the dozens of campers descending onto the beach at the same time.

  “I hope you’re ready for a great day of learning and fun!”

  Maggie watched Polly stand and stretch, and Ben and Jason (the other male swim instructor) jog out of the water and head for their groups. She’d learned last week that the boys got to work extra early every day for a morning workout of alternating laps and beach sprints, and had been happy to spot them in the water when she finally reached the beach earlier. Swearing off boys entirely didn’t make being embarrassed in front of them any easier.

  As campers divided into their swim groups and dashed toward the water, Maggie focused on breathing—a suddenly laborious task. The inner tubes were made of thick black rubber, and even though she inhaled and exhaled until her lungs threatened to pop or shrivel into nothing, the rubber hardly moved.

  “Mags!”

  Maggie squeezed the air valve shut with two fingers to free her mouth so she could lift her head. Her lips were already dry, but she managed to smile as Aimee sprinted toward her.

  “What’re you doing?” Aimee asked, gently kicking the stack of rubber with her sneaker.

  “Teaching campers what to do when they need a flotation device because they never learned how to swim.”

  “Why aren’t you in the water?”

  “Tell you later,” Maggie said, spotting Erin talking to a counselor near the lifeguard stand. “How’s your morning?”