Desdemona glared at him from behind her shades. “Do you remember what happened the last time Problims were in this town, Mayor?”
“Now, Desdemona . . .”
“I agree with Desdemona!” shouted a blond lady. “They’re probably thieves trying to swindle us. And if they are Problims . . . that’s even worse! This neighborhood has been blessedly Problim-free for years. I won’t stand for it. They can’t stay.”
“Agreed,” someone shouted.
“Me too!” came the voice of a burly man in the back of the crowd.
“Let’s vote on it!” yelled Carley-Rue.
Sundae and her siblings looked thoroughly confused.
Thea’s heart felt cold. Wendell shivered at the chill. How could people hate you who barely even knew you? And what could they possibly hate?
Thea looked at her siblings—her marvelous, wonderful, wild-fun siblings. Midge Lodestar said that sometimes it was hard to make friends because people are shy. But it never occurred to Thea that people wouldn’t want to be her friend just because of her family.
The mayor held up his hands again. “People! That’s enough. These are kids here, see? I believe these are Frank Problim’s grandkids. And we shouldn’t hold them responsible for the grief their grandpa caused this town.”
“I remember the day he nearly made Stan O’Pinion walk the plank up there.” Dorothy pointed to the roof of House Number Five. She shivered. “That feud started out funny, but it turned into something . . . terrible.”
“Enough,” the mayor pleaded. “Please. Now, Miss Sundae, I’m obliged to let you stay in this place—” The crowd grumbled angrily.
“PROVIDED,” the mayor said more loudly to quiet them down, “that you bring me proof that you are the Problim children. I’m talking birth certificates. Or your parents showing up. You’ve got twenty-one days to show me some identification, okay? That’s the law too, you see.”
Thea’s heart shivered at the number. Twenty-one days. Three sevens. She glanced at her twin. Sweat already beaded on Wendell’s forehead. The sevens were still piling up, and that meant trouble was still headed their way.
The mayor handed Sundae a large skeleton key, and he glared at the Society for the Protection of Unwanted Children. “We won’t be needing your services today.”
Sundae cleared her throat, looking around at the quiet, stunned crowd and giving them her widest, brightest smile. “We’re so looking forward to being your neighbors.”
Then she motioned for her siblings to follow her. None of the neighbors moved. None except Desdemona—who sauntered catlike beside the children all the way to the gate, in the perfect position to glare at Sundae Problim as the girl pushed the key into the lock.
Sundae lifted her chin proudly and smiled.
Sundae wasn’t distrusting in general. But she certainly didn’t trust the spider woman. And she wanted her to know that she was not afraid of her. Not for a second.
The squirrel pounced up into the tallest tree to get a good look at the house next door—House Number Five.
The house of Desdemona O’Pinion.
This house was lived in, but you wouldn’t know it. Rooms were mostly dark. Thick curtains stayed drawn to keep the paintings on the walls from fading. Dust motes floated through the occasional beam of sunlight that snuck in through the draperies. And the light did find a way in that day.
Because one person who lived in a secluded suite in that lonesome old house was very interested in the commotion next door. He’d pulled back the curtain to watch the show. But he’d never planned on such a spectacle.
His hand, old and bent, covered by age spots and bubbled by blue veins, trembled with happiness as it held back the dusty curtain. A strange feeling—between fear and excitement—filled this man’s heart when he saw the children disappear behind the old gate of Number Seven.
“Until the seven do return,” he whispered with a smile in his voice. He chuckled softly and closed the curtain.
Sir Frank’s Marvelous Mansion
The sound of the rusty key clicking inside the lock gave Thea’s heart a happy thrill. She’d liked keys and locks since she was a baby, the same way some kids like rattles and teddy bears. She used to chain up Wendell just to see what she could use to pick the lock: pins, sticks, even a toothpick would work. Locks were easy.
“Oh, just let me do it!” Thea said anxiously. “We need to get inside. Maybe Grandpa has copies of our birth certificates or pictures of us—something!”
“But locked doors are fun!” Sundae said.
“Here’s what’s not fun,” Sal offered. “The weirdos in this town. What kind of town forms a society for unwanted children?”
Wendell nodded. “And did you h-hear that one lady ask about the f-feud? What’s that?”
Thump, bump. “And magic,” Thea said softly. “Did you hear them say our family was magic?” Most of the children, plus the pig, all nodded.
“Grandpa wasn’t magic,” Sal said. “He lost his mind. Exhibit A: he told Sundae to bury a stick and a key in the yard. Exhibit B: that funny little porch on the roof up there. Look at that thing! It could fall down at any minute. I hereby name it the Porch of Certain Death.” Sal grinned. “I bet if we got a rope around those gargoyles on either side, we could climb it! Let’s race to the top!”
Thea scowled. “Before or after the Society for the Protection of Unwanted Children rounds us up and sends us to seven different continents? That woman wasn’t joking, Sal. She meant what she said. Here, let me try the lock . . .”
Thea barely jiggled the key, and it opened with a long, slow squeak.
Together, the Problim children ran through the front door and into the darkness of Frank’s old Victorian. The air inside the house was humid and musty.
“As soon as we can see,” Sundae said as she staggered around, bumping into her siblings, “we’re looking for birth certificates, pictures, proof—Problim proof!”
“The s-smell reminds me of the library in the bungalow,” Wendell said.
Thea liked that thought. Maybe this house was full of dusty dreams and old stories too. If a place was full of books and family and animals, Thea knew she could feel home there. If they got to stay there. If they didn’t get sent away.
Sal pulled a flashlight from his tool belt, but Mona pushed past him before he could turn it on.
“I can see perfectly well in the dark, thank you very much. Let me lead the way.” (Mona’s night vision was legendary in the Problim family. It was part of what made her such a formidable foe.)
“Nope.” Sal shoved his way to the front. “If you lead, we’ll end up locked in the basement. I will lead.”
“Terrible idea,” Mona said softly.
And then came the gentle, rancid odor of a #165.11
Thea reached down, pulling Toot into her arms. “He’s pointing to those tall windows. If we could get those boards off, think of how much light we’d have!”
The windows framed the front door, and both were covered in boards. Only slats of light managed to creep through. Sal pulled a crowbar from his left sleeve and worked the low board loose. Then the next one. Thea gasped as the room was illuminated. The foyer reminded her of a cathedral she’d seen in one of Wendell’s books. Wendell was remembering the same picture as he squinted, his gaze drifting higher and higher.
As the sun passed over the house, the Problim children noticed a large, circular, stained-glass window near the ceiling. The window was partially boarded too. But it looked to be patterned like pie pieces, each piece with a colorful symbol.
“I’ll have to get the rappelling gear to move those,” Sal said.
“I’ll h-help you.” Wendell couldn’t wait to see the pattern hidden there. Looking up at the window was like being inside a kaleidoscope, as it filtered down pieces of rainbow light all over their faces. Wendell lifted his arms and imagined the light like water. Running, dripping, shining through his hands.
“Here’s the staircase!” Thea jogged up
a few steps. “Look how it swirls! It spirals all the way to the top of the house!”
“And hopscotch floors!” Frida shouted as she jumped crisscross over the black-and-white checkered marble.
“Square to square
and covered in dust!
Adventure we shall!
Adventure we mu—”
Frida slid in the dust and knocked against the statue of a silver-armored soldier at the base of the stairs, which fell into a clattery heap on the floor. (Frida was a tiny Problim, but she had all the force of a bowling ball.) Toot scrambled down from Wendell’s arms and waddled over to pick up the knight. Sundae assisted him.
“You’d think our parents would have told us about this place . . . ,” Thea said in awe, stepping over the soldier. “Or that Grandpa would have brought us here to visit.”
“Stay on task!” Sundae declared. “Let’s search for Problim proof!”
The Problim children scrambled. The house would take a long time to search, because it was bigger than the Problims were used to. Thea and Wendell explored the downstairs rooms, which all had soft-purple walls.
“Grandpa loved the color p-purple,” Wendell said as he rummaged through an old trunk. “He wore that old purple velvet jacket all the time. He looked like a grand old magician when he came to visit. Do you r-remember?”
“Yes.” Thea breathed as she pulled a pale-purple blanket from the drawer of an antique dresser. And then she remembered the swoosh of the purple squirrel they’d seen scampering around the swamp that morning. “Wendell, do you think the robo-squirrel was a—”
“A s-sign?” Wendell finished excitedly.
“Maybe?”
“Maybe!”
Thump, bump.
Thea believed in signs. Wendell believed in wonders. He’d always felt sorry for people who didn’t believe in miracles. How could anybody live in such a weirdly wonderful world and not see magic tangled inside it?
Maybe sevens were a good thing.
Maybe, just maybe, the Problims were in Lost Cove for a reason.
And yet, after hours of searching, the Problim children found no proof.
Downstairs, they discovered a sitting room full of furniture covered in sheets, a kitchen (which wasn’t functional yet), and a dining room with a long table, which was painted with a map of the world. They also found a library.
As the board came loose from the library window, light flooded the room—reaching immediately for the spines of hundreds of books shelved on the far wall.
“This . . .” Wendell sighed as he looked over the shelves. “Th-this is the most b-beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
“And look here,” Thea said as she walked closer to the statue of a girl holding a lantern. “She looks so brave, doesn’t she? Hello, Statue. Can you tell me where to find proof of my relation to Frank Problim?”
The statue was only as tall as Sundae, and caked in dust. Thea wiped the dirt from the statue’s face. Then she dusted the lantern the girl was holding. The lantern was made of mirror pieces, and as Thea wiped off the grime, the sunlight sparkled against the glass, making a rainbow path across the room. Frida turned a cartwheel, landed on the rainbow path, and began to tiptoe across it as if it were a balance beam.
A brass nameplate was attached to the base of the statue:
THEODORA PROBLIM
She was never afraid of Far-to-Go
“Sal!” Thea gasped. “She had to be a relative. Do you think she was a Thursday, like me?”
“Maybe,” Sal said, shielding his eyes from the rainbow beam of light. “Could you push Theodora Problim in the corner, though? These rainbows are giving me a happiness headache.”
A large clock on the library wall made a drumbeat ticking sound as the Problims explored the room. But it didn’t tick menacingly, like some clocks do:
Time’s up.
Time’s up.
Time’s up.
No, this clock had a sweeter sound, Thea thought. More like a steady heartbeat.
Time is short.
Time is sweet.
Live it well.
“Look here,” Sundae said as she pulled a sheet from the painting on one of the library walls.
Grandpa Problim riding a unicorn.
Another painting showed Grandma Problim sliding down a rainbow.
And then—a painting of seven children. They had mud-smudged faces and bright eyes. The girls wore braids. The boys wore hats and bandannas and sideways grins.
“That littlest one might be Grandpa Problim,” Sundae said, pointing to the smallest boy in the group. “Dad said Grandpa was born with white hair, like he was always meant to be a wise old soul. And he was one of seven—like all of us.”
“Really?” Thea exclaimed, running closer to the painting. “I’ll bet Theodora Problim was his sister! I never knew he was a seven!”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Sal mumbled.
Sundae cleared her throat. “Sal just means that sevens run in our family, I think. Every other generation or so . . . seems to have a group of seven . . .”
“What’s that Grandpa is holding?” Sal asked. He climbed on Wendell’s shoulders so he could see more closely.
Thea squinted at the object in Grandpa’s hand. Was it some kind of scepter? Or fishing rod? Or . . .
“Wait a sec . . .” Sal stepped closer. “That stick looks like a really big version of the bone-stick he gave us. Look! It has the gold rings all the way down.”
Thea’s wild heart thundered. “Grandpa wanted us to be here,” Thea said. “I know it. Maybe there’s a bigger version of this stick somewhere! Maybe he wanted us to do something with it!”
“With a stick?” Sal said, climbing down from his brother’s shoulders. “Some treasure.”
“You guys! Come quick!” Frida trilled:
“Come look and see!
The stairs become a slide!
Pull the lever, take a leap!
And hang on for the ride!”
Wendell ran out into the hall in time to see Frida slide down onto the floor, screaming happily. Ichabod was up next. He waddled to the top of the slide and jumped, gliding down on his tummy. Ork-ork-ork! He slid onto the floor and bounced around, wiggling his curly tail. For a while, they took turns zooming down.
After several slides, plus some upstairs exploration, the Problims came to two conclusions.
One: Grandpa’s house was awesome.
Two: there was absolutely no proof whatsoever that they were related to him.
“We’ll f-figure something out,” Wendell assured Thea. “It can’t be that h-hard to prove. Maybe we could buy a little time, though . . . if we kn-knew why people were so afraid of us . . .”
Thea continued, “And why they don’t want us in their town . . .”
“Or what in the world they were t-talking about—the feud, the magic, all that s-stuff . . .”
“Then they might let us stay until Mom and Dad come home,” Thea said. “Even if we don’t have proof.” She tried to swallow down the fear stuck in her throat. But all she could imagine were those sleek SUVs, all seven of them, waiting to carry her away from her siblings.
“I know!” Wendell shouted. “We need circus s-spiders! They could help.”
Thea’s eyes twinkled. “Of course they could!”
Wendell beamed. “I’ll tell Mona to go get them. Creepy creatures love Mona.”
Thump, bump. Twins for the win!
That night, Sal turned on the power.
(“Electricity is easy,” he said.)
And Wendell configured all the water pipes. (“Water is easy,” he said.) Wendell had just wiped layers of dust off the counters and pulled together enough ingredients to make pancakes when his twin sister called for him.
“Wendell!”
He found her standing in front of the library bookshelf, with a wide-eyed, startled look on her face. The bookshelf had moved a few feet away from the wall to reveal a tunnel. “There’s a squirrel statue o
n the shelf,” she told him. “Like the robo-squirrel in the woods. So I reached to touch it and the whole shelf moved!”
“A s-secret passage!”
The tunnel surged upward, full of stairs that were easy to trip over. Eventually the passage narrowed, and Wendell felt around the wall until his hand passed over another lever. With a pull, a door popped open. They ran through at the same time, into a round room full of painted stars. A large window looked out over the town. The walls around that window were sky blue, rising to a navy-colored ceiling freckled by shining wonders. Stars sparkled. Comets soared. Someone had painted a fizzy-bright Milky Way and a rocket rising into the abyss.
Wendell wandered to the window and looked out over the neighborhood. Main Street was full of homes, but he could see plenty of houses beyond that too. “Come look, Th-Thea.”
“I’m afraid of heights,” she reminded him. “Most of all. More than anything.” She’d had a zillion nightmares about falling. That was another reason she slept on the ground, which he should have known. “I think I’m allergic to gravity.”
“Just stand close, then. Look, there’s Ponce de Léon. And you can see so many houses . . . Can you imagine how many f-friends we could make here?”
“If they don’t send us to seven different continents.” Thea moved carefully toward the window. She didn’t get as close as Wendell. But she was tall enough to be able to see the view, even from a distance. “Midge Lodestar says there’s nothing in the world like a true-blue friend. Plus, friends eat free on Taco Tuesday. Whatever that means.”
“But they didn’t act very f-friendly earlier. They acted afraid of us.”
Thea gulped. “I was afraid of them, too.”
“Never fear! The fox is here!” came a sweet voice from the tunnel.
“Whoa!” Sal’s voice echoed. “They found a secret passage!”
But before their siblings could join them in the room of stars, Toot puffed a #2.12
Frida bounced into the room:
“The baby flatulates,
The fox translates:
Refuse to feed the baby, and lo
The Problim Children Page 4