“No. I knew she was estranged from her parents, but she wouldn’t tell me why. After a while I stopped asking.”
“Well, if she didn’t tell you, she didn’t tell anyone, not even Dad.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. And to think she carried that terrible pain all these years. Oh, my heart! But what a blessing that you chose that cookie tin to be your special treasure. And then wished that Sofie could be your friend. What an amazing gift that was to your mother, however accidental.”
I hadn’t thought of that. It made me flush with a strange sort of pride.
The microwave dinged. Jen took out the first two cartons and put in two more. Then I got busy pulling out serving bowls and plates.
Jen found the linen napkins and her grandmother’s silver. This was going to be a celebration.
While the last of the takeout was being nuked, Jen cleared the coffee table of everything except the flowers, while Barrett and I set out plates and napkins and silver for everybody. We’d eat on our laps, but we’d eat in style.
Then we brought in the bowls of food, now transformed into a feast.
“Sofie?” I said as we were all scooping beautiful, complicated food out of bowls and onto our plates. “That day in the garden, when you first arrived—why didn’t you say your name was Claire?” I remembered how she’d paused to think before answering.
“Because Sofie is my actual name, the one my parents gave me when I was born. But when I appeared in the Camraths’ kitchen, they decided to call me Claire—I don’t think it even occurred to them that I already had a name. I didn’t mind.”
I wondered what would have happened if, that day in the kitchen, I had said to Mom, “This is my new friend Claire.” Would we have had this same conversation right then and there? And would it have made any real difference in the long run? Probably not. If anything, we knew more now. We were all together, all on the same page, ready to solve the problem. Maybe it was just as well.
For a while we ate without speaking. Just the clink and scrape of forks on china, the occasional little sigh. It felt weird. I was glad when Jen finally found something to say.
“This was meant to be, you know. Before Sofie went home—and we’ll make sure she does—she needed to mend something else that broke when your mother smashed that platter. Restore order to the universe, heal some very deep wounds.”
Mom looked up and smiled. She looked ten years younger. Like she was glowing from inside.
“And I hope this isn’t rushing things, Anne. But it’s getting late, and I suspect Barrett needs to go home pretty soon. But more important, in two days Joplin and Sofie have a meeting with that terrible man. We need to decide how they’re going to handle it.
“As it happens, I’ve been considering the matter, and I think I have a really good idea. Shall I tell you?”
“Of course!” we all said. “Please!”
“Okay. This is a bargain Lucius Doyle wants to make—call it a deal, an agreement. He will do this if you agree to do that. Only, it’s tricky because you don’t trust the other party to keep his promise. In a situation like that, who do you call?”
I wanted to say, “Ghostbusters?” But I said, “I don’t know.”
“Leonard!”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a lawyer, honey, and a very good one. He’s going to write us an airtight contract that will cover every possible contingency.”
“Like what?” I couldn’t imagine.
“Well, let’s say you grant Lucius Doyle the temporary and fully legal ownership of your platter for a period of exactly ten seconds, but only on the stipulation that he uses it to make a single particular wish—he’ll put in some language about exactly what wish can be made and how it must be worded—after which Mr. Doyle agrees to release Sofie from her bondage. And in the event of his failing in this aforementioned duty, his rights to said platter and the powers it possesses will be retroactively rendered null and void, with all the advantages of said ownership lost, destroyed, abandoned, and blah, and blah, and so on.
“If Doyle’s magic has logic and laws and he signs that contract, then he has to fulfill his promise or he’ll lose what he’s gained.”
“I don’t believe it!” Barrett said, boggle-eyed with admiration. “She fixed the flaw!”
“You always were my guardian angel,” Mom said. “Now you’re Sofie’s too.”
“Thanks, honey. I am sort of floating on air.”
“Me too,” I said. “And I think I speak for all of us.”
20
The Letter of the Law
LEONARD HAD PROMISED TO BE at our apartment at eight thirty sharp the next morning. He had a meeting at ten he couldn’t miss, but he thought the contract sounded simple, probably no more than a single paragraph of well-crafted legal prose. It should take less than an hour to discuss. We could give him all the details when he arrived.
I couldn’t wait for that conversation. Little did he know what he was in for.
We were all a little giddy and exhausted that morning. Sofie’s couch-cushion bed had been set up in Mom’s room instead of mine, which was fair, I guess. But every time I woke, I wondered where she was. Then I would remember, turn over, re-fluff my pillow, and lie there staring into the darkness for a while. Each time, I would hear voices floating from the front bedroom. I guess they had a lot to talk about.
Finally, just before dawn, I fell into a deep sleep. So when the alarm rang I woke in a panic, desperately trying to remember everything and wondering if there was something important we’d missed.
I waited till seven fifteen. I assumed that anyone with a job or kids who needed to get to school on time would be up by then. So I called Barrett and pretended I was letting him know I’d be missing school again. I didn’t want him to search for me in the library and worry that something bad had happened.
He said he’d actually figured I’d stay home, considering all that was going on. He’d drop by the apartment after chess club, though he’d pass on dinner. Apparently his parents had started making comments, like Barrett was beginning to fade from their memories, he’d been gone so much lately.
Just before hanging up, I asked my real question: Was there anything we’d forgotten? Any little loophole we’d failed to consider that Lucius Doyle could slip right through? No, he said. He’d thought about it long and hard, and if Leonard was as good as promised, the plan should work like a charm.
I went back to getting dressed, wondering what you were supposed to wear to a meeting with a big-time lawyer—not at his office but in your own apartment. In the end I went with a sundress and flats. I even fluffed my hair the way Jen did, but it just hung back down the same old way the minute I stopped fluffing.
It was then, as I was standing in front of the mirror, feeling dissatisfied with the consistency of my hair and the amount of space between my eyes, that it hit me like a punch: Abby! We were supposed to meet at the corner.
I checked the clock. It was almost eight. She’d be standing there already, waiting for me. And she would probably go on standing, doggedly waiting, till it was absolutely clear I wasn’t coming and, if she didn’t hurry, she’d be late. Her heart would shrivel up with pain because she’d think I’d done it on purpose. That I’d set her up for a fall: ha-ha-ha!
“Where are you going?” Mom asked. “Our meeting’s at eight thirty.”
“I know,” I said. “Be right back.”
“But—”
She was probably going to say something about Lucius Doyle and how I shouldn’t be going out alone. But I didn’t hear it because I was already out the door—sprinting up Perry Street, hanging a left on West Fourth, dodging a very startled woman, flying over the leash connecting the woman to her little dog, and reaching the corner about six minutes past our usual meeting time.
Abby was there, stiff and small, waiting for me.
“Sorry!” I said, gasping.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I
bent over to catch my breath. “Ran the whole way.”
She looked confused. “You forgot your backpack.”
“I know. I’m not going to school today. There’s something going on at home. Nothing bad, but I need to be there. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I saw it dawn on Abby then. “You ran all the way over here just to tell me that?”
“Yeah. I said I’d be here. I didn’t want you to think I . . . well, you know. I didn’t want to stand you up.”
“Oh,” she said. I saw it cross her face: the realization that I was, at least in some very small way, still her friend. That I cared enough to run five blocks at breakneck speed to keep from hurting her feelings. “You are so amazing.”
“Nah,” I said, kind of embarrassed. But it felt good to hear her say it. “Anyway, gotta go. See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here.”
And then I was off again, sprinting back toward home. I met the same woman with the little dog. This time she saw me coming, scooped up her fluff ball, and stood cowering with her back pressed to a deli’s plate-glass window.
I waved at her as I went by. I felt like a million bucks.
I got home ten minutes before Leonard was due. Mom was standing at the door, hand on the knob, peering out the window. I could see she was upset with me and had been stoking the flames the whole time I’d been gone.
“It was important, okay?” I said. “Have a little faith.” And I trotted off to my room.
I’d sponged myself down and changed into another, nonsweaty sundress by the time Leonard arrived. I was glad I’d bothered, because he wasn’t his usual khakis-and-Hawaiian-shirt self. This was expensive-lawyer-in-a-custom-made-suit Leonard. A whole different creature.
We sat in the kitchen because he needed the table for taking notes. “Think of it as a conference room,” he said with a grin.
Once he was settled, legal pad out and pen in hand, he turned to me.
I had to go first because I knew the most. I was the one who’d heard Lucius Doyle’s proposal. And Sofie and I were the ones who’d have to meet with him the following day.
I launched into my story and tried really hard to be clear. But I was nervous, and pretty soon I was deep in the weeds. So Sofie jumped in to help. Then Mom or Jen would notice things we’d left out and come to the rescue. You might call it a group effort.
Leonard was amazingly patient. He listened very carefully and didn’t ask many questions, but the ones he asked were good. And he made only one snide remark: “I’m just going to pretend this is all real, and concentrate on the letter of the law.”
“I think that would be wise,” Jen said.
After that, if we’d told him we needed him to add a clause preventing the ogres from kicking the fairies out of their sublet, he would have found a way to do it.
“Okay,” he said, checking his watch. “We finished? Anything else?”
“One small but important request,” Mom said, looking at Sofie. “We were talking last night, and I’m afraid this will have to be done in two steps—the meeting tomorrow to sign the contract, with the understanding that the actual transaction will occur one week later. Sofie and I—and Joplin—need a little more time.”
“I doubt the other party will like that.”
“So do I. Nevertheless . . .”
“Okay, Anne. I’ll write it in. I’ll make it very specific: that you will complete the transaction at such and such a place and time or the contract will be rendered null and void. That should reassure him. If you don’t follow through, there’s a penalty for you as well.”
“Make it exactly the same, just one week later,” Mom said. “Five thirty at Manny’s Pizza. He chose the location, so he’ll feel comfortable with that.”
Leonard nodded and wrote on his yellow pad.
Then he put the pen down and did a weird thing with his mouth, sucking in his lips and pressing down. It was like he had a serious concern with something we were doing. He glanced over at Jen and they silently agreed.
“I have to say, I’m a little uncomfortable with this,” he said.
My stomach lurched. “Why?”
“Because, from what you’ve told me, this man is—how should I say this delicately?”
“Is a criminal?” I suggested.
“Yes. This is a man who forced an eleven-year-old girl into a car and took her to some abandoned building to make his proposal.”
Worse than you know, I thought. That didn’t even include the pillowcase over my head, the rope, the slap, and the hard hand gripping my arm.
“Now he insists that Joplin and Sofie meet him alone in a pizza joint—without an adult. I don’t like it.”
Mom flushed. I knew she felt the same but didn’t think we had a choice. Now she was embarrassed that Leonard had to be the one to point it out.
“What do you suggest?” Mom asked.
“That you and I be present at the meeting. Not Jen. He knows her. But it’s a public place, after all. We’ll get there early and order pizza. How is he to know we aren’t ordinary patrons? I suggest you dress down. I’ll do the same.”
“Thanks, Leonard,” Mom said. “That’s beyond generous.”
“Like hell it is,” he said. “This is family. Jen, once I get this done, I’ll messenger two copies of the contract over to you at Christie’s. I’ll drop by here after work tonight to make sure you’ve approved the language. Okay? All done?”
“Um,” I said. Everyone looked at me. “One last thing? I’m just hoping—I mean, Lucius Doyle isn’t a lawyer or anything. He’s an artist and a shopkeeper. I’m sure he’s read a lot of contracts before, like when he rented shops and stuff. But people get nervous when they see a lot of legal mumbo jumbo—”
“Mumbo jumbo!” Leonard said. And then he laughed—really, really hard.
“Was that rude?” I asked.
“No. It was very astute. Doyle is not expecting a contract. That’s going to throw him off right from the start. If he doesn’t understand what he’s being asked to sign, he’ll think you’re trying to pull a fast one on him.”
“Right.”
“Actually, Joplin,” Sofie said, “he may be a potter and a shopkeeper, but he’s also really smart. He had these big, old books on alchemy and other dark arts—he taught himself Latin so he could read them. And he’s had a long, long life since then to learn things, maybe even law. Whatever we do, we shouldn’t underestimate him.”
Leonard nodded. “Well said, Sofie. It’ll be a good contract, I promise. Bulletproof, shockproof, waterproof to ten fathoms, belt and suspenders—and in plain English. It’s a simple agreement and you have nothing to hide. All you’re asking the man to do is what he’s already promised. You just want him to play fair.”
“Phew,” I said.
Leonard folded the pages of his legal pad back down, slipped it into his briefcase, and got to his feet. “I’ll see you this evening,” he said, leaning down to give Jen a kiss.
This time I didn’t mind at all.
21
Do or Die
BARRETT WALKED WITH US MOST of the way. We were all pretty nervous.
Two copies of the contract were tucked in beside the platter in a sturdy canvas bag. The platter was protected by layers and layers of Bubble Wrap. And in case Doyle insisted on actually laying his eyes on it, I’d added some scissors for cutting away the tape. I asked Mom to buy the kind they use in preschools, with blunt tips. I didn’t want him to think I’d brought a weapon.
Actually, there was no point in bringing the platter at all. We wouldn’t be using it that day, assuming Doyle agreed to our contract. And the following week, when we did the actual wishing, it didn’t really need to be there. Ownership was the only thing that mattered. But he’d said to bring it, so we had.
It made me nervous, though. I was afraid I’d trip and drop it, and then it would break, and Sofie would disappear into darkness and forgetting. I couldn’t get that out of my mind.
“If it broke, y
ou’d just get it fixed again,” Sofie assured me.
“I know.” But I clutched the handle even tighter. So tight my fingers were starting to go numb.
We stopped at the little park in Abingdon Square, where Barrett would wait for us. We sat on one of the benches over by the World War I memorial. It’s this big bronze statue of a soldier holding a giant flag.
“I’ll be right here when you’re finished,” Barrett said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said—then realized he was talking to Sofie, not to me. And she didn’t look fine at all.
“I’m just scared, that’s all,” Sofie said. “I haven’t seen him up close since that day—well, you know. And the thought of sitting down across from him . . .”
Her arms were folded across her middle, hands tucked under her arms, the way you do when it’s cold. She was trying to calm herself.
“I hope you’ll do the talking, Joplin. I’m not sure I can.”
“I will—but if you think I’m saying the wrong thing, just give me a nudge. And we’ll be in a public place, remember. Mom and Leonard will be there. And I still own the platter. If it gets scary, I’ll make a wish.”
“You didn’t when he grabbed you,” Barrett said.
“I know. It never even occurred to me. It’s just not something I’m used to doing. I’ll remember this time, though. I promise.”
Barrett checked his watch. “It’s time,” he said. Then he raised a long, skinny arm like a priest giving us his blessing and said in a deep Obi-Wan Kenobi voice, “May the force be with you.”
As we headed up Hudson toward Jane Street, I took Sofie’s hand. It was damp with sweat and she squeezed mine hard. She was clearly terrified.
Up ahead was a faded awning in a color best described as dirty red. Somehow I knew this was going to be the place, and sure enough it was. Lucius Doyle had picked the most nondescript, unappealing, walk-right-by-it-without-a-glance pizza parlor in the whole West Village. As we got nearer, the smell of garlic nearly knocked us over.
“This is it,” I said.
Joplin, Wishing Page 13