by Kristy Tate
“No.”
“Maybe if we ask it…”
He grinned. “You mean, mirror, mirror—that sort of thing?”
“Seems just as reasonable as conjuring up Yorkies.”
First they tried the bathroom mirrors, followed by the large one in the entry, then Cordelia’s room that looked like a three-dimensional picture ripped from Architecture Today, and finally Brock’s room. Feeling awkward, he was glad that Grace watched from the hall as he confronted the mirror hanging over his dresser. It didn’t respond.
“Maybe they’re all dialed to mute,” she said.
He shrugged. “Or maybe they’re all from Ethan Allen.”
“Or—maybe—we’re crazy people.”
#
Grace found Toby in the flickering gray light of the TV. He had the volume turned way down so it wouldn’t disturb anyone as he watched a rerun of a sitcom full of canned laughter.
“Hey,” she said.
“Heather ditched me,” he said, sounding happy about the turn of events. “She said I could have ice cream if I didn’t wake anyone up.” A giant bowl with a spoon resting in it sat by his knee. “But you’re already awake, so you don’t count.”
“Good to know,” she said, rubbing the top of his head.
The canned TV audience hooted with laughter.
“She met some guy. He told her that she looked like someone he once loved. He talked funny.”
Suspicion tingled through Grace. “Funny how? Like this?” She did her best French accent. “”Ello, my name is Prince Charming.”
Toby nodded and tried not to smile. “It’s not nice to make fun of someone just because they sound like they’ve got boogers up their nose.”
“True. Have you seen Kelly?”
Without taking his eyes off the screen, he bobbed his head. “She brought home a puppy. Said his name is Hands. That’s a stupid name. Might as well call him fingers or toes.”
Grace opened her mouth to tell him that Hans was a name as common as John in Sweden, but then she’d have to tell him about the Scandinavian countries and she was too tired for a geography lesson.
In her bedroom, Grace found Kelly buried in a quilt on her bed, the puppy Hans nestled beside her. She’d have to spend the night on the family-room sofa where Toby was watching TV, but she could sleep in Heather’s bed until her sister came home.
But Heather didn’t come home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was still dark when Grace woke. The moon and stars sent a hazy glow into the room. Hans twitched his nose at her from the other bed, and let out a growl that sounded more amusing than scary.
“Kells, wake up!” Grace shot a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m.
Kelly groaned and put a pillow over her head.
Grace scrambled off the bed and padded into the family room hoping that maybe Heather had decided to sleep there. The only thing resting on the sofa was Toby’s empty ice cream bowl.
Grace sat down and put her head in her hands. Where was Heather? What had Toby said about the guy Heather had met? Talked like he had a nose full of boogers. Where was Toby’s cell phone? If it was in the room he shared with Jeanie, Heather was toast.
Grace went to the mudroom, and to her relief, Toby’s backpack hung on a peg by the door. She rummaged through it, struck gold, and turned on the phone.
A text lit the screen. Gone to Sherwood Forest with a friend. XOXO
Sherwood Forest at four a.m.? Seriously?
Built long before she was born, the Sherwood Forest theme park was the largest in the world. In fact, according to her dad, the parking lot alone was bigger than all of Salmon Dale. The park’s slogan was Where Fairy Tales Really Do Come True.
Grace knew it was open until midnight until after Labor Day, but she also knew that it wasn’t like Heather to stay out until dawn. It was now more than four hours since the park had closed. She debated whether to wake her mom.
Grace crept past her mom’s door to her own room.
“Heather didn’t come home last night,” she told Kelly.
Kelly groaned, rolled over and peeked open an eye. “Where do you think she is?”
“She said she was going to Sherwood Forest. It closed hours ago.”
Kelly sat up, scooching Hans away, and ran her tongue over her teeth. “What time does it open?”
“What?”
She shrugged. “Maybe she’s still there.”
Grace chewed her lip, considering this. “Toby said she ditched him for a guy who talks like he has a nose full of boogers.”
Kelly’s lips twitched.
“I only know one guy who fits that description: Roy Charmant, AKA Prince Charming.”
Kelly pushed her hand through her curls. “You don’t know that she left with him. Should we tell your mom?”
“Probably, but I’d rather not.”
“Any idea where the prince guy lives?”
Grace shook her head.
Kelly swung her feet over the side of the bed. “Let’s go to Sherwood Forest.”
“Are you kidding?”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
“For one thing, it costs like a hundred dollars a person to get in, and for another, it’s not open yet.”
The look in Kelly’s eyes told Grace that a closed sign wasn’t going to stop them.
They drove the twenty miles to the theme park in sleepy-tense silence. For once, the Orange County freeways were nearly empty.
“Let’s just see if the Jeep is here. If it is, we can call security,” Grace said as she pulled the grandunit’s Oldsmobile into the deserted parking lot. The sun had yet to peek over the top of the brown hills. In front of them, the faux snowy peak of the Black Forest Mountain glistened. A robotic abominable snowman with glowing red eyes stood frozen in place. The rollercoasters loomed silent and still like giant abandoned erector sets. Only Sleeping Beauty’s palace shone with lights.
“That sounds like an okay plan,” Kelly said. “Not as good as Starbucks or a donut shop, though.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find Heather in Dunkin’ Donuts.”
“You don’t know that.” Kelly’s gaze swept the parking lot. “I’m not seeing any cars. Drive closer to the gate.”
Grace rolled the Oldsmobile through the vast empty lot, feeling like an actor in an Apocalypse-type movie.
Kelly giggled.
“What?”
“If anyone saw us in this car, they’d probably think we were pimps.”
“Don’t tell that to Grandpa Hank or Grandma Dorothy.”
Kelly stopped laughing and rolled down her window. “I hear something,” she hissed. “Cut the engine.”
Grace obeyed and rolled down her own window.
A cold wind carried leaves, trash, and bits of paper across the lot. Grace held perfectly still, trying to catch what Kelly had heard. An owl. Rustling in the bushes. And then, a snatch of a tune.
Kelly squeezed Grace’s knee.
Someone was singing inside the park.
“Come on,” Grace said, pushing out of the car and quietly closing the door.
Kelly followed.
A giant hedge separated Sherwood Forest from the outside world. A fat, substantial padlock secured the large wrought-iron gates. Although Grace couldn’t see them, she guessed that security cameras hid among the trees.
Kelly nudged Grace. “Smell that?”
The scent of baking bread wafted through the air.
“Donuts,” Kelly breathed.
“The restaurants must start baking early.” Grace bounced on her toes in an effort to get warm. “I bet they have their own entrance.”
“We just need to find one,” Kelly said.
“Because we’re worried about Heather, right? Not because we want donuts.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting both.” Kelly took Grace’s arm and pulled her closer to the hedge.
They followed the sidewalk to where it ended at a gate. Now, not only was the ar
oma from the bakery mouthwateringly unescapable, but the singing was louder. Heather’s clear, high soprano mingled with a rich full tenor. The beauty of it tugged at Grace’s heart. She stood on her toes to see Heather and Charmant holding hands, sitting on the side of the Black Forest Mountain singing their lungs out about true love triumphing all.
Grace didn’t hold out a lot of hope for princes or dreams turning to reality. It sucked that Heather had had to drop out of art school and move to Southern California because their dad was an insensitive baboon and the moronic military thought they needed him. It hurt that her grandparents were such tightwads and so entitled that they believed her mom should give up her life to serve them. It killed Grace that Heather had to leave friends in Oregon and was forced spend Friday nights hanging with their little brother. And it really blew that after Heather finally found a guy she liked, he happened to be a fairy-tale character involved in a centuries-long-term relationship with another fairy-tale character.
Not that Grace knew exactly what that meant…but she was pretty sure she had a better idea than Heather. And not just because she’d been paying attention to the bedtime stories her mom had told.
Kelly, who was a good eight inches taller than Grace, and therefore didn’t need to stand on her toes to watch the doomed love story playing out on the other side of the hedge, grabbed Grace’s arm. “We have to stop this, right?”
Grace agreed with a nod.
“I mean—he is gorgeous, but isn’t he married to Snow White?”
Grace took a long, slow breath, trying to come up with a plan. Nothing came to mind, so she just called out, “Heather!”
Heather froze. Turning, she saw Grace and Kelly. A sheepish grin covered her face. “What are you doing here?” she yelled back.
“Looking for you,” Kelly said.
“Come on, we have to go home,” Grace said.
Heather cocked her head, considering. “Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”
“Heather!” Grace rocked back on her heels and, for a brief moment, lost sight of her sister. “This is so not like her,” she muttered to Kelly.
“Look at how she’s glowing.”
Grace went back up on her toes to watch her sister. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“Maybe she’s just happy.”
“It’s like he’s put a spell on her.”
“Ohhh,” Kelly breathed.
Grace grabbed the hedge. It scratched her in return, but she didn’t care.
“What are you doing?” Kelly hissed, grabbing onto the waistband of Grace’s jeans.
“I’m going to get her!”
“How? You think you can carry her out of there?” Kelly demanded. “I have a better idea.” She took a deep breath before calling out, “Security!”
Heather grabbed Roy’s hand and together they darted into the artificial trees.
“Great! And now they’re gone,” Grace said.
A big beefy man who faintly resembled a loaf of white bread in a chef’s coat interrupted Kelly’s eye-roll. “What are you girls doing out here?”
Grace pointed with a trembling hand to the mountain. “My sister is in there with a guy I don’t trust.”
Suspicion flickered in his eyes, and he folded his arms across his massive chest. “I’m not interested in your teen drama.”
“But…no one should be in the park after hours,” Grace said.
Kelly motioned toward the gate. “I bet they got in because of your negligence,” she said, sounding a lot like her attorney mom. “I think you should call security, before they get hurt and sue the park. Something like that could cost more than just your job.”
The man flared his red nostrils, unclipped the phone hooked to his belt and turned away. He went back through the gate and clanged it shut behind him, locking them out.
Kelly elbowed Grace. “Just because she leaves the park doesn’t mean she’ll leave the prince.”
“She’ll have to come home sometime,” Grace said.
“Of course,” Kelly said, with a great big NOT imbedded in her tone.
Two men in security uniforms strode into view. They said something into their walkie-talkies before splitting up at the edge of the mountain.
“Now what?” Grace asked.
“We can either wait here until the park opens or…”
“Or what?”
“I don’t know…eat a donut?”
Grace rubbed her hand. It hurt from its brief contact with the prickly hedge. “Stupid Heather. Stupid prince.”
“I know! Let’s find the dwarfs! I bet they’ll know how to find the prince.”
“But I don’t know how to find the dwarfs. They’ve always found me.”
“Maybe Brock or Cordelia knows.”
Grace swallowed. Kelly’s suggestion made sense, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She pulled the Oldsmobile’s key from her pocket. “I have to return my grandparents’ car before they know it’s missing.” She would have also liked to have returned Heather before anyone knew that she too was missing, but Grace didn’t know how to make that happen. And how was she going to explain the dog?
Twenty miles and fifteen minutes later, they arrived at her grandparents’ house. The windows blinds and curtains were all drawn, making it impossible to tell if anyone was awake yet. The garage door was still open, as they’d left it, but that didn’t tell Grace anything. After she parked, Grace handed Kelly the keys. “Put these back on the rack.”
“I’ll go check on Hans,” Kelly said. “Are you going to—?” She pointed her chin at Brock’ house.
Grace nodded
#
Nerves rolled in Grace’s belly as she stood on the front porch of the fairy-tale house, waiting for Brock to answer.
Next door, Mrs. Robertson’s Yorkies barked in chorus. Because of her tour of his house last night, Grace knew Brock slept in the downstairs bedroom. She made her way through the side gate and followed the path to his window.
She rapped on the window. Nothing. She knocked harder, making the doggy chorus sing louder.
Brock pushed back the shutters and opened the window. A red line, probably from his pillow, ran down his cheek, and his hair looked as if he’d stuck his head out of a moving train. He focused his drowsy eyes on Grace.
“My sister’s missing.” Grace bounced on her toes, trying to stay warm.
He raised his eyebrows, which she took to mean, Why the heck would I care about your sister?
“I last saw her with Prince Charming. She looked dazed, or spellbound, or transfixed. I don’t know who else to talk to. I need to find the dwarfs.”
“I don’t—”
Grace cut him off. “Maybe your mom knows how to find them.”
Brock heaved a sigh before disappearing into the room for a moment. He returned with his phone pressed against his ear.
They waited.
“She’s not answering,” he told her. He typed out a quick text. “My mom’s not the best at answering her phone.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Switzerland. She found a book full of chocolate recipes.”
It was Grace’s turn to raise her eyebrows.
“Some people think chocolate is magical.”
Grace thought about this. “True,” she said. “Any idea how we can find the dwarfs?”
Brock rubbed his nose and twisted his lips, something she’d seen him do in Spanish class during a quiz. “I have an idea,” he said, “but it’s not a very good one. Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you out front in five.”
Kelly and Hans were waiting with her when Brock slammed out his front door a few minutes later. He ruffled Hans’ fur. “He seems real enough,” he said.
“I know, right?” Kelly gazed down at the dog, wonder and adoration glistening in her eyes.
“Are you going to keep him?” Brock asked.
“I have to,” Kelly said. “I feel like I sort of created him.”
“I wonder how it works,” Gr
ace said.
“Right now, there are too many things to wonder about,” Brock said.
“The most important one is where Heather is,” Grace said, shoving her hands into her hoodie’s pockets.
“Has your family noticed yet?” Brock asked.
“They’re all still asleep, fortunately. I think maybe they won’t worry as much if they wake up and all three of us are gone.”
“What’s your idea?” Kelly asked Brock.
“I know this guy…and he seems to know everything about everyone. We can ask him if he knows how to find the dwarfs.”
“That’s it?” Kelly asked. “A guy who knows a guy? What about your mom the fairy-tale collector?”
Brock bristled and straightened his shoulders. “I tried her, okay? She didn’t answer.”
His tone made her feel bad. She tried to imagine a mom who left for days at a time without checking in on her every five minutes, and couldn’t. It hurt to think of her mom being any other way than she was. Sure, Jeanie made mistakes. She let people—namely Grace’s grandparents and dad—take advantage of her, but Grace absolutely knew that her mom loved her. Jeanie was just as likely to leave Grace alone while she went on a trip to Switzerland as she was to book a flight to Mars. Grace knew for proof positive that on Jeanie’s list of priorities, Grace was in a dead even tie for first with Heather and Toby. She didn’t know all the things on Cordelia’s priority list, but she wasn’t so sure where Brock fell.
“Do you want to come or not?” Brock asked.
“Of course,” Grace said, meeting Kelly’s gaze.
A few minutes later they were in the BMW heading down the parkway toward Saddlehorn Mountain.
“Who’s this guy we’re going to see?” Kelly asked. She and Hans sat in the back while Grace was in the passenger seat beside Brock.
“Jax Tuttle. He owns the Jax Junction.”
“The biker bar?” Grace asked.
Brock adjusted his seatbelt and bit his lip. “He’s this big guy, but he’s like a little old lady who loves gossip.”
“How do you know him?”
“He’s Amy and Oliver’s uncle. I first met him when a pack of coyotes were picking off the Clarks’ chickens. Mr. Clark—a straitlaced attorney—tried animal control first, and when that didn’t work, he called his brother. Jax showed up five minutes later and set up camp with his rifle. We started talking. I seriously think he runs the biker bar for the thrill of being in the canyon’s down-low.”