The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street

by Karina Yan Glaser

  Ten minutes later, the Vanderbeekers rounded the corner onto their sleepy street. The church with the stained-glass windows was illuminated from the inside, which gave the building an ethereal look. All down the block trees were wrapped in twinkling white lights for the holidays. Christmas trees and menorahs were displayed in the windows of many apartments.

  The red brick brownstone welcomed them home with the warm glow of lamps in the ground floor, first floor, and second floor. The top floor was, as usual, hauntingly dark. Oliver opened the basement door just as Mama came down the stairs with a big box in her arms.

  “Home so soon?” Mama asked.

  “We got a winner,” Papa replied as he screwed the tree into the holder in the living room.

  Mama put down her box and inspected it. “I think you brought home the wrong tr—”

  Laney interrupted. “Isn’t it perfect, Mama?” she asked reverently.

  “—or not,” Mama finished. She crouched down next to Laney, who gazed rapturously at the bedraggled tree. Mama took a second look.

  “I think it’s lovely,” Mama said. “Did you choose it yourself?”

  “Yes, I did,” Laney declared.

  By this time Papa had unearthed the box of Christmas decorations from the depths of the hallway closet. The kids surrounded it, eager to see the contents that had been locked away for the past eleven months. Papa lifted the box flaps, and suddenly there were candy canes that were who knows how old, the nativity that was missing Joseph, the snowman nesting dolls, and the smooth wooden plane ornaments that had belonged to Papa as a child, which Oliver so treasured.

  It quickly became apparent that this tree offered unique decorating obstacles. The lack of boughs made it difficult to hang the ornaments evenly, so the kids had to hang ten or more ornaments per branch. Isa and Jessie supervised the decorating, moving ornaments around so the larger ones hung on the back of the boughs and the smaller ones hung from the tips. Mama set out cookies, and after an hour of arranging ornaments and eating cookies and singing and reminiscing about Christmases past, the tree trimming was complete. They held their breath as Papa flipped the switch for the tree lights.

  The tree was proud and majestic. The brownstone walls pulsed from the twinkling Christmas tree, making the walls look like they were breathing.

  Papa saw the tree and was reminded of the many Christmas trees he had dragged into the brownstone and set up in that exact spot. He couldn’t believe this would be the last Christmas they would spend here. Mama looked at the tree and remembered her children as toddlers, when they used to pull down ornaments. For many years they had only decorated the top half of the tree so the ornaments were out of reach.

  Oliver looked at the tree and then at the cookie platter, noticing that only one cookie was left. He snatched it before anyone else could beat him to it. Sure, he had already eaten four, but all was fair in love and cookies. Laney looked at the tree and thought how perfect it was, the most perfect tree in the world. Hyacinth looked at the tree but didn’t really see it; she was thinking about a complete stranger moving into the brownstone, into her bedroom! Isa gazed at the tree and thought about her new Beiderman idea, while Jessie looked at her sister, wondering when she should tell Isa about Benny.

  Eleven

  That night, when all the kids were in bed, Mama and Papa sat in the living room holding thick ceramic mugs filled with hot chocolate spiced with cayenne and cinnamon. They gazed at the twinkling tree and relaxed into the peace of the evening.

  “Remember when Oliver was four and woke up early on Christmas and came downstairs and unwrapped every present under the tree looking for a train set?” Papa asked.

  Mama laughed. “Jessie and Isa were so mad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jessie’s face that shade of red!”

  “They didn’t speak to him for a whole week! But I don’t even think Oliver noticed. He was too busy with those trains,” Papa said.

  Mama sipped her hot chocolate. “I always imagined living here forever. I thought Jessie and Isa would leave for prom from here. We would take a photo of them right there.” Mama pointed to a spot next to the large picture window by the front door.

  Papa frowned. “Our daughters aren’t allowed to date until after college, right?”

  Mama ignored him. “I always thought the kids would spend their entire childhoods here. You know, having the same type of childhood you had. Being supported by the neighborhood. Knowing everyone by name.”

  “Real estate is changing,” Papa said. “An apartment that holds all of us and has a position for a super doesn’t come up anymore.”

  “What about rentals without a super position? Can we afford that?” Mama asked.

  Papa shook his head. “I’ve been looking at our budget. I can’t make the numbers work. The discounted rent for my superintendent duties makes a huge difference.”

  “I could expand my business. Make more cakes and macarons . . . or something,” Mama said, her mind already working out how to manufacture more hours in her day.

  Papa shook his head. “Hon, we’re both working too much already.”

  Mama laid her head on Papa’s shoulder. “I hate to bring this up, but what about Ottenville? I’m sure my parents would be thrilled about that.”

  There was a long pause.

  “I don’t know,” Papa said miserably. “I’ve lived here all my life. Our jobs are here. What about Isa and Mr. Van Hooten? The kids and their school? Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie?” Papa stared into his mug. “It would be really hard to start all over.”

  “I know. But it might be our only option.”

  “Should we tell the kids what’s going on?”

  Mama hesitated before speaking. “Let’s wait. Let them have a few more days of peace before we break the news.” She caught herself. “If we have to break the news.”

  Mama and Papa were so engrossed in their own thoughts and conversation that they didn’t hear the two sets of footsteps pitter-patter down the upstairs hallway.

  “Oliver, wake up. NOW.”

  “Blurgh. Hrmph. Go away, whoever you are.”

  “It’s me, Hyacinth. You have to get up. Emergency meeting.”

  Oliver opened one eye. Hyacinth had climbed up onto his loft bed and and her face was two inches away from his. Laney was standing on the ground with her blanket in her hand and a thumb in her mouth. Before Oliver could fully wake up, he found himself being led from his warm bed and into Jessie and Isa’s room.

  “Isa, wake up!” Hyacinth pried open one of her sister’s eyelids.

  “What the . . .” Isa batted away Hyacinth’s hand and rolled toward the wall.

  Jessie shot up out of bed. “What’s going on? Is there a fire? Grab Isa’s violin!”

  “No fire, but Hyacinth says it’s an emergency,” Oliver said, collapsing onto the carpet and leaning against Jessie’s bed. His eyelids drifted closed.

  “This is so important,” said Hyacinth, walking to the window and yanking aside the heavy curtains so a beam of light from the street lamp fell right across Isa’s bed. “I was taking Laney to the bathroom, and we overheard Mama and Papa talking downstairs.”

  “Close the curtains, please,” moaned Jessie.

  “Wait a second.” Isa rolled back toward her siblings, squinting against the harsh lamplight. “Laney wakes you up in the middle of the night when she has to go to the bathroom?”

  “It’s ’cause the monsters,” Laney said matter-of-factly. “They have big mouths and sharp teeth and gobble me up if I go into the bathroom by myself.” Laney demonstrated by opening her mouth and chomping down.

  “Note to self,” Jessie murmured. “Put night-light in the bathroom.”

  “Night-lights don’t help,” Hyacinth informed her.

  Laney shook her head, her curls bouncing around her. “The not-nice monsters use night-lights to trick me.”

  “Note to self,” Jessie said. “Never share a room with Laney.”

  Oliver had since fallen back asleep, bu
t woke himself up when he toppled over sideways onto the rug.

  Hyacinth sighed loudly. “Does anyone want to know what Laney and I overheard?”

  Jessie looked at the two sisters. Laney was not known for being a reliable interpreter of conversations. Hyacinth was slightly better, but sometimes the facts still got jumbled.

  “Mama said something about prom,” Laney reported. “What’s a prom?”

  “Suspicions confirmed. Unreliable witness,” Jessie mumbled. “Prom is, like, a million years away.” She lay back down on her bed and pulled the comforter over her head.

  “Listen!” Hyacinth said, stomping her foot. “Mama and Papa are thinking about not staying in the neighborhood. We’re leaving Harlem!”

  Isa, Jessie, and Oliver suddenly looked more awake.

  “No way,” Oliver said obstinately. “Papa said we were going to stay in the neighborhood. I remember.”

  Hyacinth shook her head. “They said we have to move to Ottenville.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Ottenville? That’s, like, four hours away. By car. We don’t even have a car,” Jessie said.

  “Cars are ’spensive,” Laney notified them.

  “Papa said the apartments here cost too much,” Hyacinth added.

  Isa crossed her arms. “How would I get to my violin lessons with Mr. Van Hooten if we lived in Ottenville?”

  “You would need a new violin teacher. Someone who lives in Ottenville,” Jessie said.

  “Impossible,” said Isa. “I can’t have anyone teach me but Mr. Van Hooten.”

  “Will Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet come with us?” asked Laney.

  “Probably not,” Isa said. “They have family here in New York City. I don’t think they know anyone in Ottenville.”

  “They’ll know us,” Laney said, pouting. “We’re family.”

  “It could be worse,” said Isa. “We could be going to . . . I don’t know. Siberia or something.”

  “Jimmy L doesn’t live in Ottenville. Or Siberia,” Oliver said.

  “Franz hates Ottenville,” Hyacinth informed her siblings. “So many squirrels!”

  “Stupid Beiderman!” exclaimed Jessie.

  Oliver stood up. “We still have three days to convince him.”

  “That’s not that much,” Jessie said. “The probability of success went way down after I screwed up the last mission.”

  “No,” Hyacinth corrected her. “I screwed up the last mission.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Isa interjected. “We can still do this. I had a really great idea when we were walking to get the Christmas tree. Listen.”

  The kids leaned forward as Isa shared her idea. Then they stayed up for another hour, making plans late into the night while the radiators puffed warmth around them.

  Sunday, December 22

  Twelve

  “Help us save our home!”

  “Sign our petition! Only takes a minute!”

  “Mr. Johnson, please sign our petition!”

  “Hey, Miss Walker, did you hear about us having to leave our home? Want to sign our petition?”

  A cold front had entered New York City the night before, and temperatures had plunged into the thirties. The Vanderbeeker kids were bundled up in their heaviest winter coats, weighed down with scarves, hats, earmuffs, and multiple pairs of socks. Jessie had dressed Laney in so many layers that Isa feared if Laney fell down she wouldn’t be able to get up by herself. Together they canvassed the sidewalk outside their building on 141st Street, equipped with clipboards and pens. The night before, they had made multiple copies of the following petition:

  Since the Internet was disconnected, Mama and Papa had gone to the library to use the computer to look up apartment listings. They asked the kids to go to Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s place because the real estate broker was showing the apartment that morning. It gave the Vanderbeeker kids the perfect opportunity to collect signatures for their petition while their parents were gone. Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet sat on the brownstone stoop, a fleece blanket spread over their laps, keeping an eye on things.

  The kids were spaced out along the street, flagging down their neighbors and other pedestrians, explaining their plight. Each had his or her own unique approach.

  “If you sign this ’tition, I’ll give you a giant hug!” Laney said to anyone who passed by. (She was getting the most signatures.)

  Hyacinth was a hit among people walking their dogs. She had baked a fresh batch of peanut butter dog biscuits that morning and was handing them out like Halloween candy.

  Oliver had called Jimmy L earlier to round up his group of friends to support the petition. At the moment, Oliver was surrounded by his basketball buddies, who signed their own names and made up additional names and addresses to fill up the sheets.

  “I think Don Old Dock is a little too obvious,” Oliver said as he looked over Jimmy L’s shoulder.

  “Dang. I thought it was a good one.” Jimmy L’s voice was muffled by his scarf. He scratched out the fictitious name and wrote “Mike L. Jordan” instead.

  Isa was down at the corner talking to Mrs. Castleman.

  “We had no idea you were moving, dear,” Mrs. Castleman said, patting Isa’s shoulder with a gloved hand.

  “Benny knew,” Isa said, avoiding Mrs. Castleman’s eyes as she twisted the pen around the string that attached it to the clipboard. “Jessie told him yesterday.”

  “I wonder why he didn’t say anything about it,” Mrs. Castleman replied. “But he has seemed grouchy lately.” She leaned toward Isa confidentially. “You know how teenagers get. I’ll tell him to come by. You always make him feel better.”

  Isa reached out and grabbed Mrs. Castleman’s arm. “No! No, it’s . . . okay. I’ll stop by the bakery soon.” Isa’s strange visit with Benny the previous day was still bothering her. She handed Mrs. Castleman the clipboard. “Do you want to sign our petition? We’re trying to convince the Beiderman to let us stay.”

  Mrs. Castleman abruptly dropped the clipboard and it clattered to the street.

  Isa bent down to pick it up, and when she rose she saw that Mrs. Castleman’s face had turned pale. “Mrs. Castleman? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Sorry. I forgot Mr. Beiderman was your landlord,” Mrs. Castleman said, her hands trembling.

  “You know the Beiderman—I mean, Mr. Beiderman?”

  “No. Yes. Not well. I—” Mrs. Castleman pivoted and walked away from Isa.

  “Mrs. Castleman?” Isa called out, but Mrs. Castleman waved her arm as if she were shooing away a bad dream. Isa watched her disappear, then crossed the street to join Jessie.

  “Hey! Mr. Voulos!” Jessie called out. “Sign our petition! Hey, you! Guy in the black hat! I know you see me! What’s your name? Freddy?”

  When Jessie paused to blow into her hands and rub them together, Isa leaned in to her sister.

  “I just saw Mrs. Castleman, and I think she knows the Beiderman,” Isa whispered.

  “You know, she acted really weird yesterday when I mentioned his name!” Jessie said.

  Before Jessie and Isa could talk more, a new batch of neighbors came out and the twins got busy getting more signatures. When the Vanderbeeker kids had been out for about an hour, they convened back at the brownstone. Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet looked relieved to go inside.

  “My bones are chilled!” Miss Josie said as she led the way to the front door. “Come on, Laney dear, let’s go inside and warm up with a little visit from Paganini.”

  Laney put on her panda jacket, collected Paganini, and grabbed the small Christmas tree before heading to the second floor. Pausing before Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s door, she looked up at the third floor. It was very dark and very creepy up there. Laney set Paganini’s carrier on the doormat, then carried the little tree upstairs. The stairs felt unsteady, as if they would collapse. Was the brownstone trying to keep her from going upstairs? Laney held the tree tighter and went up three more steps. She knew the Beezleman needed a Christmas tree more than anyone.
She got up to the third floor, set the tree right in front on his doorstep, and hurried back down to the second floor and knocked on the door.

  It opened immediately. “My dear Panda-Laney!” said Miss Josie after glancing at her little friend wrapped in her panda attire.

  Panda-Laney stepped inside and said hi to Mr. Jeet while Miss Josie busied herself chopping carrots, pouring glasses of milk, and setting out a plate of raspberry jam cookies. Panda-Laney unzipped Paganini’s bag, and the little rabbit hopped out with a flourish, gazing around for something edible, nose twitching rhythmically. Finding nothing, he made his way over to the bookcase and attempted to dig a hole through the carpet.

  Mr. Jeet held a small piece of carrot in his hand. “Paganini—COME!” he commanded.

  Paganini, hearing the voice of the man who gave him delicious carrots, hopped over and was rewarded by a treat and a gentle ear rub. Panda-Laney took turns giving the command, Paganini responding regardless of where Laney went in the apartment. For his final test, Panda-Laney went into Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s bedroom, then called “Come!” Paganini zigzagged his way out of the living room, skidded on the wood floor, and found Panda-Laney with no problem.

  “He did it!” Panda-Laney cried, jumping up and down and almost knocking down a vase filled with wildflowers onto the carpet. Mr. Jeet laughed with a funny heh heh heh.

  Together Mr. Jeet and Panda-Laney worked with Paganini a few more minutes before ending their training session. After Panda-Laney said goodbye, she couldn’t help peeking upstairs at the door to the Beiderman’s apartment.

  The Christmas tree was gone.

  Thirteen

  Oliver was in a pickle. The Christmas tree already had a substantial pile of presents under it. Not that Oliver was checking out his gifts, but he did notice that many of the presents bore his name, while he had not contributed anything. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t it unfair that he had to give six presents for Christmas while Jimmy L—who did not have any brothers or sisters—only had to worry about two?