Cowper looked up for the first time. “I have to practice this afternoon,” he said flatly.
“But you practice all the time!” Erin exclaimed. “You practice for hours and hours and—”
“Cowper’s concerned about being at his best for the audition,” Mr. Lindsay explained. “He wants to go to the zoo as much as you do, Erin, but—”
“Oh no, he doesn’t!” Suddenly, Erin was angrier than she’d ever been in her life. “He doesn’t care anything about the zoo. And he doesn’t care about how much I want to go. Mom wants to go, too. And she has the lunch all packed. He doesn’t care about anything but himself!”
Cowper took a startled step backward, and Mrs. Lindsay put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “There has to be some way we can work this out,” Mrs. Lindsay said. “Maybe we can have our picnic lunch here, and then we’ll take you back to the conservatory for an hour or so, Cowper, and then …” Her voice trailed off as Mr. Lindsay shook his head.
“The zoo’s way on the other side of town,” he said. “There’s no point in going there if we’re just going to have part of an afternoon to look around. Better to save it for another day when we’ll all have lots of time.”
“That’s not fair!” Erin cried. She turned on her foster brother furiously. “You’re doing this on purpose. You know I want to go, so you’ve decided to spoil it. And you’re going to let him,” she shouted at her parents. “No matter what he wants, it’s fine with you!”
“Erin, stop!” Mrs. Lindsay looked stunned. “You know that isn’t true. We love you both, and we try to do what’s right for both of you. In this case”—she looked anxiously at Cowper—“if you’re certain you need extra practice before the audition, Cowper, then of course you must do it. You can’t pass up this opportunity. We can go to the zoo another day, and we will.”
“Sure we will,” Mr. Lindsay said heartily. “Just think how proud you’ll be if Cowper’s invited to play at a university concert, Erin. How many nine-year-olds does that ever happen to? There’ll be pictures in the paper—the works! Who knows what might happen next?”
If he’d been trying, he couldn’t have made Erin feel worse. Leaving Clinton for the whole summer had been bad enough; still, Erin had been trying to make the best of it. But if Cowbird became famous now, every summer would probably be like this one. They’d wander all over the country, from one concert to another. Erin would never have a chance to do what she wanted to do.
A hard knot formed in her throat. “I know what’ll happen next!” she cried. “And I know I’m not going to like it!”
Sobbing, she ran to the door and out into the hall.
Chapter Eight
The elevator door clanked open at the fourth floor. Erin turned away from the people standing there, certain that her eyes were red and puffy. There was no place to hide.
“By golly, here she is now!” It was Mr. Barnhart, the doughnut maker. “It’s the girl I was tellin’ you about. Walked right into my place while I was sound asleep. Never would have known she was there if Sailor hadn’t spoke up.”
He talked as if Erin were an especially sneaky burglar. “I didn’t—” she began, but then she saw that Mr. Barnhart was smiling broadly. So were the two elderly women who were with him.
“You’re a brave girl,” one of the women said. “I wouldn’t have known what to do, I’m sure. But then,” she sniffed, “I would never put a pan full of oil on the stove and then fall asleep.”
Mr. Barnhart seemed unbothered by the criticism. He peered at Erin. “Been cryin’, haven’t you? Any fool can see that. Bet you’re goin’ to see our Molly.”
“I—I was going for a walk,” Erin said, but she stepped out into the hallway. Mr. Barnhart waved his friends into the elevator and seized Erin’s arm. “You see Molly,” he said firmly. “She’ll be good for what ails you.”
He walked with Erin to the door of Molly’s apartment and waited while she knocked. “Just had a session here myself,” he said. “I’m not going to make doughnuts any more. Seems my wife meant salads and frozen dinners—easy stuff like that—when she said I should try to do more cookin’ for myself. I s’pose she’s right.” He grinned. “Always had the last word before she died, and she’s still havin’ it.”
He shuffled back down the hall toward his own apartment, chuckling under his breath. Erin watched him, still not sure this was what she wanted to do. But when he turned back and waved, she knocked again on Molly Panca’s door.
“Come in.” The voice sounded thin and far away, with only a trace of the lilt Erin recalled. “I’m afraid I can’t come to the door.”
Erin turned the knob and stepped inside. The little living room was dark, its only light coming from a floor lamp draped in pink cheesecloth. Shades covered the window, and the air was heavy with incense.
“You’ve come back! Oh, I’m glad.”
Molly Panca lay on the flowered couch under a pink sheet. “I’ve had a busy morning, and it’s left me a bit tired,” she said. “But I’m delighted to see you again, dear. Sit down in that chair and we’ll chat.”
Erin did as she was told, but she wished she hadn’t let Mr. Barnhart talk her into this. If his friends hadn’t stopped the elevator at the fourth floor, she would have gone all the way downstairs and outside. After that—well, she didn’t know where she would have gone after that. But at least she wouldn’t have had to chat.
“I saw Mr. Barnhart in the hall,” she said shyly. “He said it would be all right if I came to see you. But I can’t stay long.”
“All right! My dear, of course it’s all right. Would you like a peach? Or an almond cookie? My children love my almond cookies.”
Erin said, “No, thank you.” As her eyes became used to the dim light, she saw that Molly’s face was almost as white as her crown of curls.
“I do apologize for lying down”—one thin hand stretched toward Erin and then fell back on the sheet—“but our session this morning was quite exhausting. The Brown sisters wanted to get in touch with their mother, as usual, and Mr. Barnhart frightened me half to death with his story about the doughnuts. Are you the young lady who saved us all from going up in smoke?”
Erin nodded. “I guess so. Mr. Barnhart was sleeping, and his parrot called for help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have—”
“He told us all about it. He’s such a good man, but he does need all the help he can get. He doesn’t eat properly, he forgets to change his shirt—oh my!” She smiled, the glowing smile Erin remembered. “That’s why I’m so glad I can keep him in touch with his wife.”
“You mean—in a seance? You had a seance today?” For a moment Erin forgot her unhappiness.
“That’s right. And I do think it was very worthwhile. Mr. Barnhart has promised to try simpler dishes in the future, and Miss Cora Brown is going to see her doctor for a complete checkup right away. Her mother insists on it.”
Erin cleared her throat. “You mean—Miss Brown’s mother is dead?”
“Of course she’s dead, dear,” Molly Panca replied. “If she were alive, Miss Brown wouldn’t need me, would she?” She rubbed her forehead. “I just wish I didn’t tire so easily. And I’m very sorry about your little brother. Was he terribly disappointed?”
“My brother?” Erin wondered if she’d heard correctly. “Do you mean Cowper?”
Molly Panca sat up. “Didn’t you know he came to see me? Then I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to mention it. You won’t tell him, will you, Erin dear? I felt so sorry for the poor little tyke.”
“He’s not my real brother,” Erin said. “He’s adopted—sort of. Why did he come to see you?”
“He said you showed him my card, and he wants to talk with someone who has passed away. He asked if I’d help him, and I said I’d be glad to if his mother and father said it was all right. I couldn’t let a child attend a seance without his parents’ permission,” she added primly.
Erin tried to remember what Cowper had said when she told her family about meeting Molly
Panca. You’d have to be crazy to think you could talk to dead people, wouldn’t you? You’d have to be off the wall. But he hadn’t meant it. He must have started planning right then to visit Molly himself!
“He said he was sure that if he asked, your parents would say no. And then he left.” Molly Panca pushed back the sheet and dropped her feet to the rug. She was wearing the poodle skirt again, with a ruffled lavender blouse. Her furry pink slippers had glass eyes and laid-back rabbit ears on the toes.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it,” Molly Panca said worriedly. “The child seemed so miserable. I wouldn’t want to make him feel worse.”
Miserable? Cowper? Erin began to wonder if they were talking about the same person. She could believe her foster brother might worry about doing well in the master class, but he certainly wasn’t miserable.
“I don’t know what he wanted,” Erin told Molly, who was watching her anxiously. “Maybe he wants to talk to his real mother and father. Or maybe”—she had an inspiration—“maybe he wants to talk to Beethoven or Mozart. Music is all he cares about.”
Molly Panca looked relieved. “Well, that would be exciting for all of us,” she said with a chuckle. Then she changed the subject abruptly. “What are you doing for excitement while you’re in Milwaukee, Erin?”
Excitement? That was a joke, Erin thought. “We almost went to the zoo today,” she said crossly. “But then he—Cowper—decided he had to practice the piano, so we couldn’t go. He’s the reason we’re in Milwaukee,” she went on when Molly looked puzzled. “He’s taking a special piano class at the conservatory, and we all had to come with him.…”
“I see.” Molly’s steady blue gaze suggested she saw a great deal. It was eerie, but she seemed to hear what Erin was saying and what she was not saying as well.
“Of course, I’m glad he’s a genius and everything.” Erin tried again to be Sara Crewe but failed. “I just don’t see why he has to spoil everyone else’s fun.”
Molly looked as if she were thinking hard. She’s probably going to tell me how mean and jealous I am, Erin thought. But surprisingly, when her hostess spoke it was to change the subject again.
“As long as you’re here, dear, I want you to meet my family. They never get out, and they do love company.”
Erin blinked. Was this some kind of joke? She wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
“In there,” Molly pointed at the bedroom door. “Go right in. Don’t be shy. They’ve been looking out the window all morning, bless their hearts.”
Erin went to the door and looked in. Molly Panca’s bedroom was as unusual as her living room. There were ruffles everywhere—puffy layers of them around the dressing table and deep flounces on the curtains that framed the windows. The bed was covered with a flowered pink spread, and there were clusters of artificial roses and iris attached to the tall bedposts. Pink netting hung from the ceiling to the floor at the head of the bed. Pictures of flowers dotted the walls, and a pair of plaster bluebirds dangled above a chest of drawers.
It was the window that made Erin feel she must be dreaming. A cluster of figures stood on a shelf just below the sill, faces pressed against the glass. There were at least a dozen tiny women, none more than two feet tall, in elegant silk and velvet dresses. The lone man wore a black suit and top hat; he looked out of place in that mass of color. The way the little people stood, intent on the view outside, made them startlingly real.
Molly Panca joined Erin at the doorway. “This is Erin Lindsay, my dears. She lives upstairs. Mind your manners and say hello.”
There was a whisper of soft “hellos” from the window.
Erin gasped. “But they’re dolls!” she protested. “They can’t talk!”
“Of course they talk,” Molly Panca said crisply. “Now let me see if Margaret Mary is awake.” She tiptoed to the bed and peered down at the scattering of pink, blue, and lavender pillows. For the first time Erin saw a doll figure lying among them.
“We have company, Margaret Mary. Erin Lindsay has come to meet you.” Molly lifted the doll tenderly and propped her among the pillows, smoothing the full white skirt and adjusting the white sunbonnet. The strap of a tiny white leather suitcase was wrapped around her wrist.
“Margaret Mary usually prefers the living room window,” Molly said. “Don’t you, dear? But I do think she should join the others at the window today. There’s a bulldozer clearing the lot next door, and it’s a marvelous sight.”
“Well, I’m not going to push and shove to get a place,” Margaret Mary snapped. “If the earl wants me there, he can tell the others to make room for me. Otherwise, I’d rather catch up on my sleep.”
If Molly saw Erin’s stunned expression, she pretended not to notice. “That’s the earl of Kirby she’s talking about,” she whispered and pointed at the man doll. “I’m afraid Margaret Mary is just a teeny bit jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” Margaret Mary retorted. “I just want someone to think about me for a change. Please go away and leave me alone.”
Molly sighed and retreated to the living room, drawing Erin behind her. “I’m sorry the children aren’t more sociable,” she said. “Ordinarily, they’d be thrilled to have a visitor, but that bulldozer … And I’ve never known Margaret Mary to be so rude. She spoils her own good times, poor child.”
Erin slumped into the armchair. “How do you do that?” she asked. “How do you make them talk?”
Molly seemed puzzled by the question. “I don’t make them talk,” she protested. “But if they want to talk, I don’t stop them. And I am truly sorry about Margaret Mary. One shouldn’t have favorites, but I can’t help it. Usually she’s very good company, but today she’s missing the fun, and it has put her in a bad temper. Especially since it’s her own fault she’s left out. She wants all of the earl’s attention, or she’s unhappy. Jealousy is a dreadful thing, don’t you agree?”
Erin looked at Molly Panca suspiciously. If there was a hidden message in this conversation, the sweet, pale face gave no sign of it.
“Well, I’m sorry for Margaret Mary,” Erin said defiantly. “It isn’t her fault she feels bad. She knows no one’s worried about her feelings. She has a right to be grumpy.”
Molly Panca smiled her glowing, innocent smile. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” she said gently. “Margaret Mary is the one who’s missing the fun.”
I’m as weird as she is, Erin thought. We’re both talking as if Margaret Mary’s a real person.
“I just wish she’d let herself have a good time instead of sulking,” Molly continued. “It’s too late for some of us, but Margaret Mary is young and strong.…”
Erin went back to the bedroom door for one more look at Molly’s family. They were still crowded around the window—of course. They were dolls, and they stayed where they were put. Margaret Mary lay among the pink, blue, and lavender pillows. She was a doll, too.
“I do wish you’d go away, Erin Lindsay,” the doll on the bed said clearly. “If I want to feel sorry for myself, that’s my business.” And though her lips didn’t move, the pretty doll face wore a pouting expression.
Chapter Nine
“No big mystery there.” Mr. Lindsay helped himself to another slice of meat loaf. “The woman’s a ventriloquist—a pretty good one, I’d say, if she could give Erin the impression that a whole crowd of dolls was saying hello.”
“She’s not a ventriloquist!” Erin saw her mother’s warning look and softened her voice. “You don’t know Molly. If you did, you wouldn’t say that. She wouldn’t play a trick on me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t think of it as a trick,” Mrs. Lindsay said. “Your friend is probably very lonely. This building is full of lonely old people. And I’m sure the dolls are just like real people to Miss Panca. They are her family. If she’s a ventriloquist, it’s not surprising that she’d use her talent to make them more real. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Erin didn’t want to listen, even though she knew her parents
might be right. Molly Panca was an unusual person. She didn’t dress like anyone else, and her apartment was different. She talked to dead people. Maybe she was a ventriloquist, too.
“It’s a talent that would come in handy in a seance,” Mr. Lindsay said thoughtfully. “Think about it. Being able to throw your voice would be very good for business.”
“She doesn’t talk to spirits for money!” Erin exclaimed, angry all over again. “She does it to help her friends.”
“Still …” Mr. Lindsay patted his mouth with a paper napkin and leaned back in his chair. “Just don’t take it all too seriously, my queen,” he said. “I don’t mean Molly’s a bad person. But it does sound to me as if she has a few tricks up her sleeve and doesn’t mind using them.”
“The stone lion,” Cowper said suddenly. He’d been pushing his food around on his plate, hardly eating anything.
“What about the lion?” Erin demanded.
“Uncle Jack told me about the stone lion who talked. Molly Panca’s apartment is at the front of this building, right?”
As if you didn’t know. Erin narrowed her eyes at him. “So?”
“So her windows overlook the entrance. Maybe she saw you sitting down there next to the lion, looking bored, and she decided to surprise you.”
“Now you’re saying she played a trick on me,” Erin protested. “It’s not true! She isn’t like that. She’s a nice person. You—” She’d been about to say, “You’ve met her,” but caught herself in time. She’d promised Molly not to let Cowbird know that Molly had mentioned his visit.
Cowper shrugged as if it didn’t matter whether Erin believed him or not. “So she’s a nice person,” he said. “She’s a nice person who likes to help people. Whatever way she can.”
Later, after Cowper had gone down the hall to his bedroom and Erin was taking her turn with the dinner dishes, she heard her parents talking in the living room.
“Well, at least he spoke up at dinner tonight,” Mrs. Lindsay said in a low voice. “He’s been terribly quiet ever since he came home from his practice session this afternoon. Even quieter than usual.”
The Scariest Night Page 5