The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse

by Nicholas Gannon

  ♦ AMAURY THE REGRETTABLE ♦

  When Archer opened his eyes again, they were parked outside Belmont Café. The delivery truck had been unloaded, and Adélaïde was standing in the snow before a desperately confused Amaury.

  “I don’t know why I let you . . . I know I’m overworked, but . . .” Amaury scratched his forehead. “I’m sorry, Adie. I don’t what got into me.”

  “I do,” Adélaïde replied, unable to look at him. “And I’m the one who must apologize.”

  The two stepped inside the café.

  “We’ll bring Amaury a box of pastries tomorrow,” Oliver said, staring droopy eyed over Archer’s shoulder. “Normal pastries.”

  “What was it like?” Archer asked. “Doxical Powder. Adélaïde said you ate it by mistake?”

  Oliver glanced at Kana to make sure she was still asleep. “I knew I’d eaten it,” he explained. “I planned it. Kana was right. I thought I’d be more help if I didn’t worry so much. But it was strange—like my normal self was stuck inside, watching my opposite self.”

  “What you did with Mr. Mullfort was brilliant.”

  Oliver grinned. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

  “I’m not sure Adélaïde liked your opposite.”

  Oliver’s grin widened. “Is that why she almost drove the delivery truck into the canal? I thought it might be the wind, but it looked intentional.”

  Archer gently nudged Kana when they reached her house. Kana’s eyes flickered open and she sat up, yawning.

  “I’m glad my wish is finally over,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The whole thing was beginning to feel like a curse. And I’m sorry, Archer.”

  Archer didn’t have to say anything. Kana understood.

  “I’ll see you at school,” Oliver said. “Well, you’ll probably see me first.”

  Kana giggled and was gone.

  The truck roared to Willow Street. Oliver thanked Cornelius and jumped down. Cornelius inspected Archer before letting him leave. “I haven’t gotten any grease on you, have I? Good. Don’t want your mother screaming again. That was a heck of an entrance, by the way, Archer. In the Grand Hall, I mean. Beatrice Lune and I were quietly cheering you. And I meant it before. Come to Rosewood Port. I’ll teach you how to sail.”

  “I’d like that, Cornelius,” Archer replied. “And thank you.”

  Cornelius sped off.

  “Maybe you should slip your mother a little Doxical Powder,” Oliver suggested, staring at the plywood now covering the hole in the front of Helmsley House. “It might make things a little easier.”

  After parting ways, Archer waited for Oliver to step inside the Glubs’ house before he entered his. The phone rang as he was taking his boots off, and he peeked around the corner. His parents were in the sitting room. His father answered the phone, his mother hovering nearby. She was covered in snow. Had she gotten lost in the blizzard searching for him?

  “It’s the Glubs,” Mr. Helmsley said. “Oliver just showed up.”

  “What about Archer? Is he there, too?”

  Archer took a breath and stepped into the room, braced for lots of shouting. And while Mrs. Helmsley did look ready to shout lots of things, to Archer’s surprise, she hugged him instead.

  “Now into the kitchen, Archer. We both need a hot drink.” She eyed his baggy Greenhorn uniform. “And a long talk.”

  “We all need a talk,” Mr. Helmsley agreed, and followed them in.

  ♦ DIGGING OUT OF THE STORM ♦

  The final days of the winter holiday were a whirlwind. Once Rosewood dug itself out from the storm, the restoration of Helmsley House began. Oliver and Adélaïde sat on Archer’s bed, amid the noise of drills and hammers, staring glumly at his scarlet trunk.

  “Do you know where you’re moving?” Adélaïde asked.

  “Hopefully it won’t be too far away,” Oliver sighed.

  Archer let their disappointment swell before a smile betrayed him.

  It had taken Mr. Helmsley multiple cups of coffee and many hours to coax Archer’s mother into the idea of remaining at Helmsley House. And while she was by no means thrilled, after hearing that the man behind the Helmsley Curse had been caught, she’d finally relented, consoled by the fact that Archer would return to the Button Factory and remain under Mr. Churnick’s guidance.

  “It’s a shame,” Mrs. Helmsley had mumbled, tossing a paper listing home options into the trash. “That small island sounded promising.”

  Archer and his father exchanged a glance. Neither smiled. But they wanted to.

  Now Oliver and Adélaïde’s glum expressions evaporated when Archer lifted the lid of his scarlet trunk and showed them that it was empty. They punched his arms and laughed as he explained.

  “We have to celebrate!” Oliver said, pulling his free-sweet-a-day card from his pocket.

  “I’ll join you later,” Adélaïde replied, following them to the bedroom door. “I’m helping Amaury train three new waiters. They’re hopeless with espresso machines. What time is your grandparents’ reinstatement?”

  “Cornelius is picking us up at six.”

  “Did you hear about the Chronicle?” Oliver asked as they went downstairs. “My father thinks they might collapse. But he’s been flooded with new subscribers. Hopefully this means we can fix my radiator.”

  The Rosewood Chronicle had been rather understated and unreliable about the whole situation.

  ROSEWOOD CHRONICLE

  SIZING UP AN ICEBERG IS DIFFICULT

  Mr. Glub had been far less subtle.

  THE DOLDRUMS PRESS

  EXPLORERS VINDICATED!

  ♦ SECRETS ♦

  That evening, on the other side of Rosewood, hidden deep in the warehouses of Barrow’s Bay, there was much hullabaloo going on at the Society. To the chagrin of every Rosewood hotel concierge, all of the Society members were still in the city.

  The Grand Hall was overflowing during Archer’s grandparents’ reinstatement. Cheers rang from the Order of Orion, but not many from anywhere else. The Order of Magellan was especially silent. Mr. Mullfort had shouted that he’d been paid to do Mr. Birthwhistle’s bidding, but everyone thought he was trying to dodge the blame. Even Captain Lemurn and his crew of five said they knew nothing of Mr. Birthwhistle’s involvement. They confessed to being paid and led by one single man: crooked Eustace Mullfort. All seven were roughly escorted from the hall. Mr. Birthwhistle was nowhere to be seen during the proceedings. And while no one knew who the next president would be, Archer heard one name whispered more frequently than any other.

  “If we do become Greenhorns,” Oliver said, poking a broiled elk tongue, “I’m going to talk to someone about this spread. My mother should be in charge of this.”

  Mr. Dalligold cleared his throat. The trio hadn’t noticed he was also scanning the banquet table. “Oh, fried grasshoppers!” He filled his plate and offered one to Oliver. Oliver politely declined.

  Mr. Dalligold stood beside them, crunching on grasshoppers and gazing around the hall.

  “I want to thank you three,” he said. “You’ve done more for our Society than you even realize. But tell me, Archer. Why do you keep staring at Benjamin?”

  Archer was silent a moment, his eyes fixed on his former roommate, who was seated with the other Greenhorns. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally said. “Benjamin thinks I lied. He won’t even look at me now.”

  Mr. Dalligold nodded thoughtfully, crunching away.

  “I’m sorry to say that, for the time being, there’s nothing you can do, Archer. Losing a friend is never easy. But it might help if you try to see Mr. Birthwhistle the same way Benjamin does. It’s only natural that Benjamin should trust his father. That’s not so difficult to understand, is it?”

  “But Mr. Birthwhistle did try to kill Archer’s grandparents,” Oliver said.

  “We know that,” Mr. Dalligold replied. “All Benjamin knows is that you tried to frame his father. It’s a difficult situation. But I don’t
believe Benjamin is your enemy, Archer. And while things do have a tendency to get worse before they get better, I hope you’ll remember that.”

  Archer rubbed his thumb against his palm and looked up at Mr. Dalligold. “My grandfather said Mr. Birthwhistle is keeping many secrets from the Society. Why? What does he want?”

  “Mr. Birthwhistle is a meticulous man. And a gifted explorer. He’s fond of the natural world because the natural world is just that—meticulous. People, on the other hand, are messy. Often times, irrational. Mr. Birthwhistle has never liked that. I can’t tell you what I don’t fully understand, Archer, but I suspect Mr. Birthwhistle would like to see our Society become something it must never be—a single-minded force, united under him, all members working for the Order of Magellan. Mr. Spinler’s work could’ve helped with that. I’m told you three had an interesting experience with Doxical Powder?”

  Oliver smiled. Adélaïde didn’t. “I turned someone into a monster,” she explained.

  Mr. Dalligold’s eyebrows went up. “Yes. Mr. Spinler’s work is powerful. Had Archer’s grandfather not revealed it, Mr. Birthwhistle could have manipulated any of us without anyone guessing what was happening.”

  “Is Mr. Spinler out there?” Oliver asked.

  Mr. Dalligold pointed to a funny little man, quite rotund and jolly, with a face like a cherry, perhaps from having drunk one pint too many.

  “He doesn’t look dangerous,” Oliver said.

  “That was the problem. Mr. Spinler wouldn’t step on an ant. You’ll see that for yourselves when you become Greenhorns. He’ll teach you fascinating things. I’m not sure how Mr. Birthwhistle convinced him to keep his work secret, but I imagine, being a man who wouldn’t step on an ant, Mr. Spinler didn’t think it would ever be used for harm.”

  “He must be the most famous Society member,” Adélaïde said, watching as Mr. Spinler, laughing loudly, nearly fell off his chair.

  Mr. Dalligold smiled in his odd way. “Wigstan Spinler is one member. The Society has many explorers and many wonders that are still unknown to the world. It’s not every day one receives an iceberg in the post, is it, Archer? It’s a funny thing about ice. It has a tendency to melt. Even in winter. And now that Mr. Birthwhistle’s attempt to banish your grandparents has failed, I suspect Rosewood’s peculiar snow accumulation will soon dissipate as well.”

  Mr. Dalligold turned to refill his plate. Archer, Oliver, and Adélaïde stared at one another, certain that couldn’t mean what it sounded like it meant.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Dalligold!” Darby called, rushing over and grabbing Archer’s arm. “My parents are thrilled you’re back. And if they’re right, you won’t be Mr. Dalligold for much longer.”

  Mr. Dalligold’s smile grew very warm. “It’s lovely to see you again, Darby. But would you mind taking charge of Archer and his friends? Show them a good time. Tonight’s a celebration. And they haven’t done much celebrating.”

  “Come sit with the Greenhorns! All of you! We’ll flick fried grasshoppers at Fledger!” Darby pointed to Adélaïde’s leg. “And remember, it was a crocodile.”

  ♦ LITTLE TIME TO LOAF ♦

  Archer, Oliver, and Adélaïde followed Grandma and Grandpa Helmsley up the steps to Helmsley House. His grandparents still hadn’t said anything about Archer becoming a Greenhorn, but he knew it was only a matter of time. He’d spotted his grandfather grinning and whistling while sneaking three trunks with Greenhorn emblems into the house. He’d also eavesdropped on a conversation, certain his grandparents stood no chance of convincing his mother, but there’d been a fifth voice in the discussion. A regal voice. And even Mrs. Helmsley respected Mr. Dalligold.

  “What happens now?” Archer asked as they hung coats on the caribou’s antlers.

  “You’re at the end of your beginning, Archer,” Grandpa Helmsley said. “Your grandmother and I are at the beginning of our end.”

  Grandma Helmsley smiled and put a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “Nearly twelve years ago, your grandfather and I realized our final adventure had begun. And while we’re not sure what it is just yet, we can say it has a nice ring to it.”

  “A very nice ring to it,” Grandpa Helmsley added.

  Oliver whispered in Archer’s ear. “Did you understand that?”

  Archer did, but didn’t say so. His grandparents thanked him once again with their eyes and stepped down the hall.

  “Let’s make a fire,” Archer said.

  He led Oliver and Adélaïde to the rooftop, where a fire was already crackling. And next to it sat Kana. She waved as Oliver and Adélaïde joined her. Archer went to the chimney and grabbed two gifts he’d hidden behind it.

  “I’ve had some loafing time,” Archer explained, handing them to Oliver and Adélaïde. “I know Christmas is over, but I wanted to thank you. For everything.”

  Archer sat down beside Kana. She smiled and stuck her hand into her pocket. Tucked inside was the gift she’d already received from Archer—a jade elephant house that had once belonged to him.

  Oliver wasted no time tearing open his gift. It was a book.

  Relvina Rummroll’s

  THE ART OF

  Making Chocolate

  “I promise it’s not secretly a vacuum cleaner,” Archer said.

  “I’m going to make my first batch tonight!” Oliver cracked the spine. “Thank you!”

  “I’m not the guinea pig,” Adélaïde said.

  “You were trickier,” Archer explained as she tore the wrappings off hers. “Kana and I went to every shop on Howling Bloom Street. We saw this in Trumm and Drumm.”

  “We had a good feeling about it,” Kana added.

  Chest of

  GAGS & PRANKS

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Adélaïde said, peeking inside the wooden chest.

  Archer and Kana bobbed their heads at Oliver. Torture him. A smile stretched across Adélaïde’s face. This was not lost on Oliver. He set aside his book and grabbed a mound of snow.

  “This will soon be a snowball,” he explained with a grin. “I suggest all of you make one as well.”

  “No faces,” Adélaïde warned, scooping up snow herself.

  Archer and Kana quickly did the same.

  With snowballs ready, the four stood up, waiting to see who would strike first. And in the flickering firelight, no one noticed Adélaïde concealing both hands behind her. Archer and Oliver ducked when she let a snowball fly. It whizzed over their heads. They took their eyes off her to smile at each other. Kana saw their mistake. Adélaïde had a secret. And it was no longer behind her back.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  NICHOLAS GANNON studied art and design and held a number of odd jobs before becoming a full-time author and illustrator. He has lived in Tennessee, Minnesota, and upstate New York. He now resides in Brooklyn, and he can sometimes be found eavesdropping on curious conversations at the Explorers Club.

  www.nicholasjgannon.com

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  CREDITS

  Cover art © 2017 by Nicholas Gannon

  Hand lettering by Erin Fitzsimmons

  Cover design by Paul Zakris

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  THE DOLDRUMS AND THE HELMSLEY CURSE. Text and illustrations copyright © 2017 by Nicholas Gannon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by a
ny means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  EPub Edition © October 2017 ISBN 9780062320995

  ISBN 978-0-06-232097-1 (hardcover)

  17 18 19 20 21 SCP 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  FIRST EDITION

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