We stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do.
“Go on. Sit your butts down,” Walter said, and chose an overstuffed chair for himself.
I went straight for the wooden stool under the window where I’d spotted the amber.
It was gone. The only thing left was a ring of dust.
“Mighty interested in that window ledge, are ya?”
“Uh, I just thought I’d check on Leroy.”
Before he’d let us in the house, Walter had made us tie Leroy up outside.
“Your mutt’s in front, not out back. And I know what you’re after, so don’t try pullin’ the wool over my eyes.”
Busted. My stomach tied up in a hard knot. My eyes flicked around like one of those cat clocks with a wagging tail. It’s what always happens when I lie, which is hardly ever. I’d thought maybe this situation had qualified as a special circumstance, when being dishonest would be OK, but I was wrong.
So, as usual, the truth was best. I moved the stool next to Violet and Noah, and sat in front of Walter Brinker, face-to-face. “Mr. Brinker, I know you have the piece of amber with the frog in it. I need it. It’s a matter of life or death.”
Walter squinted at me, cold and hard.
“Are you sure that lil’ old hippie lady from the Wildflower didn’t send you to sniff me out?” Walter tapped one of his wrinkled leather cowboy boots on the brown-speckled linoleum floor.
“She didn’t send us exactly,” I said. “She told us it was possible you had the frog amber and we asked her where you lived.”
“We insisted,” said Noah.
“Begged, actually,” added Violet.
“Well, sorry to stomp on your campfire, Missy, but that little piece of rock ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“Great!” Violet said. “I guess that means you don’t really need it.”
“I didn’t say that, now did I?” Walter growled. “It’s the only thing that makes my pouch here worth a dime. Which is about all it’s worth most days. Blasted thing barely works.”
“How long have you had it?” I couldn’t imagine why the magic in his fanny pack was so weak.
“Goin’ on seven years. Got it from the witchy lady. A buddy of mine had brought her out to my place when I was so drunk I could hardly see straight. She unzipped her pouch that was kinda like this one and pulled out all sorts of potions that fixed me right up. After that I was hungry as a baby bear. I kept goin’ on about wantin’ a big juicy burger. I’ll be jigger-swiggered if that woman didn’t open her pouch and pull out a giant wad of tinfoil. Inside was the biggest, juiciest darn green chili cheeseburger you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and it was still hot as blazes. I reckoned it was her bewitched pouch, so I got to thinkin’. If it could deliver up burgers, what couldn’t it do?”
“You sure you weren’t just seeing things after all that drinking?” asked Violet.
“Nope. It was real, all right. And then I had me an idea that got me feelin’ smarter than a tree full of owls. I’ve always had a hankerin’ to win the Texas State Lottery. I figured if I had myself a pouch, it could just as easily cough up the winnin’ ticket as it did a burger. I went on down to that hippie place and bought myself one, except the witchy woman wouldn’t let me leave with it.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Said she had to charge it up overnight with that piece of froggy amber. Told me to come back the next day. I couldn’t hardly sleep a wink, imaginin’ what folks would say when ol’ Walter Brinker won the Texas State Lottery Million Dollar Grand Prize.”
Violet quickly glanced around Walter’s dinky trailer. “So, uh no offense, judging by your place here, it looks like that didn’t work out so well.”
“Cheeky little gal, ain’t ya? Well, first day I did find myself a genuine Texas Lottery ticket. Scratched off the silver paint with my lucky nickel and won 250 bucks. I couldn’t believe my good luck. But the next day I only found me a ten-buck ticket. Day after that it was five. By day three my pouch was empty as a tin cup. It got me wonderin’ whether that lady had pulled a fast one. I took the dang thing back three times. Every time she made me leave it overnight so she could charge it up.”
Walter shifted in his chair and stared at his boots. “Not that I’m proud of it, but the last time I picked up my pouch, I swiped the amber. Had to or it would have been as useless as a bump on a pickle. Still gotta recharge that thing every dang night. Never again found a 250 buck ticket. In fact, it never coughs up more than five or ten bucks a day, and sometimes it’s as empty as a dried up old creek bed. Considerin’ I have to drive a hundred miles down to the Texas border to cash ‘em in, I wait for the winnin’ tickets to pile up before I head down there. Otherwise it would be costin’ me too much in gasoline. However, one of these days? I’m gonna unzip this and find the million-dollar big boy.”
Looks like Walter had hoped to buy the goose that laid the golden egg and wound up with one that laid the plastic kind instead.
“Mr. Brinker?” I said. “I know the secret to keeping the fanny pack charged for a super long time.”
I swear I saw his hands jitter. “Well, spit it out girl.”
“I have a friend who has one just like it. It stayed charged for thirty years because mostly she uses it to help other people. Hardly ever for herself. That’s what keeps the magic working.”
Walter snorted. “Well that won’t do me a lick of good. Why would I do somethin’ like that? I got nobody to help anyway.”
“There’s always someone to help,” I said.
“Let me get somethin’ straight. I invited you anklebiters in here ’cause I thought you could tell me the secret to gettin’ my pack to pay off like it should. Now you’re speakin’ nonsense. What good does it do to help someone else out when I’m the one needin’ help? Dumbest dang thing I’ve heard. I think you half-pints best hit the road. You’re wastin’ my time.”
Walter stood and shoved open the front door.
“You don’t get it,” Violet blurted out. “Madison’s Grandma Florida could die if we don’t recharge our fanny pack. You have to give us the amber.”
Walter snapped the door shut and stared at us, scratching his head.
“Florida ain’t a grandma any more than I’m a Pinto pony. And she ain’t sick. I saw her a couple days back at the Davis-Fleck Drugstore havin’ it out in front of everybody with that daughter of hers.”
“Uh, not that Florida,” I lied and stared down at my Keds so Walter wouldn’t see my eyes flicking.
“Girl, you’re a lousy fibber. Who are you kids anyway?”
Should I level with him? Would it be worth the risk to save my grandmother?
“Look, we can’t tell you everything,” Noah said just as I was about to spill the beans. “But we need that amber and we’ll do almost anything to get it back.”
Walter returned to his chair and leaned so close to me I could practically count every pore in his face. “Maybe I don’t care who you are just so long as we make a deal. I’ll hand over the amber …”
“Which you stole in the first place,” Violet pointed out.
“Makes no never mind. Like I said, I’ll hand it over if you get something for me first. I’m guessin’ that if you know Florida, then you know Jack.”
As in my Grandpa Jack?
“Years ago Jack Brown and I used to play poker over at Rocky’s Lounge. I lost one too many games to him and didn’t have the dough to cough up my debt. I was hopin’ I could pay him off in homebrew whiskey, except Jack didn’t want none of that.”
Knowing my grandpa, he probably wanted Walter to live up to his word, fair and square.
“So he made me hand over the key to my storage locker. The scum-bucket who owns The Big Lock-Up Storage Shed was one of our poker buddies. He refuses to let me get my stuff until Jack comes off his high horse and gives me back my key. My whole life’s in there, or it is if that scoundrel hasn’t raked it clean to pay off my debt. So here’s the deal. I’ll loan you the amb
er if you get that key back from Jack. It’s a little silver one with my initials—W.B.—painted on it in red.”
Walter glanced over at a clock on the bookshelf.
“Now I’m pretty sure your ten minutes is up. Don’t bother showin’ your faces again without my key.”
And with that he pushed us out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hatching a Plan
Since I only had Costa Rican colones in my pocket, we couldn’t use the pay phone to call Mike. Instead, we walked the two miles back to town, past acres of endless dirt and skittering tumbleweeds. Leroy sniffed every single clump of dry grass like he was a doggie Geiger counter. I figured he must have been hoping for more jackrabbits. I kept thinking about Florida and wondered how she was holding up. Plus, I couldn’t get Walter Brinker off my mind. What in the world had made that man so crabby?
“Well, at least he didn’t shoot us. That’s a plus,” Violet said.
“I think he was bluffing,” Noah said. “More bark than bite.”
“I hope you’re right. And that he was telling the truth about loaning us the amber.” After what Mike told us about Walter being only fifty percent honest, I didn’t trust the guy.
“Any idea how we’re going to get that key?” Noah asked.
“I’m thinking,” I said.
Violet clutched her stomach. “Yeah, me too. But what I’m thinking about is dinner. I’m so hungry I could eat a whale!”
When we walked into Grandma Daisy’s kitchen, she’d just finished grilling a tower of cheddar cheese sandwiches on crusty homemade bread. It was as if she’d known we’d be back any second. She set a platter of them on the kitchen table along with a big bowl of cold fruit salad mixed with honey yogurt. We thanked her and eagerly dug in.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Sort of,” I said and then took a giant bite. I wiped a thread of warm cheese from my chin.
Violet chimed in after helping herself to two sandwiches. “Walter Brinker’s a dirty stinking rat. He stole the frog amber to keep his fanny pack charged so it would cough up lottery tickets and make him rich.”
Grandma Daisy sighed. “The man didn’t read the instructions that came with the pouch. That won’t work well at all.”
“It definitely hasn’t.” Noah piled a mountain of fruit next to his grilled cheese.
I told Grandma Daisy all about the deal Walter had offered us, and how we had to get the key from Grandpa Jack if we were going to be able to recharge the fanny pack.
She tapped her knobby fingers on the table. “I think Angela could turn out to be a big help. If you don’t mind, let me talk to her. We’ll have to be delicate about how much we say.”
After dinner, Grandma Daisy warmed up one of her famous blueberry pies. It was exactly like the one Rosalie Claire made for us a few days ago, and the same kind my mom used to make before she died. One bite and my head and heart filled with a swirl of happy memories.
“Knock, knock. Guess who?” My mom pushed open the back door and my heart fluttered fast.
“Homework tonight. Thought I’d do it over here.” She dropped her backpack on the floor by the kitchen table.
As Grandma Daisy cut her a slice of pie, my mom unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out a book.
“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I have to write an essay. Have you read this?” she asked, holding it up.
Only about a zillion times.
“It’s my favorite,” I said. “The first time my mom read it to me I was five. She loved that book.” How freaky did it feel to be telling my kid-mom about her grown-up self?
“Wow, that’s crazy! This is my favorite book, too. I’m obsessed. How cool would it be to just walk through a wardrobe into a whole different world?”
“Pretty cool,” I said, thinking that a magic TV wasn’t too bad either.
My mom took a bite of her pie. “You know what I wish? I wish I had a wardrobe like that. Then I’d leave Truth or Consequences and go someplace magical. Once I got to the other side I’d lock the wardrobe door and throw away the key so no one could come find me. Except for you, Daisy. You’d have your own key.”
“Thank you, Angela. I appreciate that. And funny you should mention a key.” Grandma Daisy joined us at the table, scooting her chair close to my mom.
“You know, Angie, I’ve always been honest with you and I’m not one for beating around the bush.”
My mom stopped chewing and set down her fork.
“The kids came here because they’re looking for something important for Rosalie Claire. In order to get it, they need a key your dad may have that once belonged to someone else.”
My mom’s eyes opened wide. “Did he steal it?”
“No, no. Nothing like that,” said Grandma Daisy.
“He won it in a card game,” I told her. “It’s silver. And has the initials W.B. painted on it in red.”
She shrugged. “Never seen it.”
“Maybe your dad knows where it is. Or your mom,” Violet said. “You could ask one of them.”
“Yeah? Well, my mother and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now so that won’t be happening. I could hunt around in my dad’s dresser sometime when my parents are out.”
“The thing is, Angie, you can’t just take it. There’s a little bit of magic wrapped up in all of this and you know the rule. Your dad has to give it up willingly,” Grandma Daisy said.
My mom grinned. “Magic? Ooh, my favorite subject. Tell me more.”
Grandma Daisy clasped a hand over one of my mom’s. “I wish I could, but this time I just can’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
“I always trust you, Daisy.” She sighed and I could tell she wasn’t too happy to be left out of the loop.
“So how are we going to get this thing?” Violet’s eyes glinted with mischief.
Noah scraped the last bit of pie from his plate. “If you asked your dad, do you think he’d just give it to you?”
“No way. He’d be on to me.”
We sat in silence as my brain clicked with schemes. Most were totally dumb, until finally I hit on something that just might work.
“I have the perfect plan. Let’s do a scavenger hunt.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Scavenger Hunt
“A scavenger hunt? That’s genius!” My mom pulled out a piece of blue-striped notebook paper from her backpack and we got to work.
“OK, you can’t just ask for the key. That would be too obvious. We need a bunch of stuff on the list so it doesn’t look suspicious,” she said.
“And a few really strange things that are hard to get. You always need something like that,” added Violet.
This was our list:
Green dill pickle with a bite out of it
Red heart-shaped cookie cutter
Purple hairnet
Midnight blue crayon
White toothpaste cap
Yellow rubber band
Orange wind-up toy
Pink sponge
Key with red paint on it
Brown empty toilet paper roll
Noah had suggested that we write a list of things with specific colors so Florida and Grandpa Jack wouldn’t think it was odd to ask for a key with red paint.
It was time for Operation Scavenger Hunt. My mom headed home to wait for us to ring the doorbell.
Grandma Daisy handed us an old pillowcase. She’d already dropped in a red heart cookie cutter, a white toothpaste cap, and a brown toilet paper roll. That way it would look as if we’d made progress on our hunt.
We checked them off our list.
“Ready?” asked Violet.
“I guess so.” I swallowed hard. My stomach instantly came down with a case of butterflies that felt more like a flock of hyperactive pigeons. Soon I would be face-to-face with my grandparents for the first time since we’d zapped into the past.
“You’ll do fine,” Grandma Daisy assured us. “Best of luck.”
/> “Thanks, we’re going to need it,” I said.
Even though we agreed it might be better for Leroy to stay back with Grandma Daisy, he snuck out the door and followed us anyway. I considered taking him back, although Leroy was usually pretty good at sit-stay, except when there was a jackrabbit around. I figured I’d make him wait for us by the front door.
It was weird walking up to the red brick house where my dog and I would both be living so many years in the future. Mostly it looked the same. Even the black iron cowboy cutout was nailed to the garage door, big as life. But Florida’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway. Maybe it was in the garage since she probably hadn’t started filling it up with all of her purchases from the shopping shows. And apparently she’d taken up gardening. Wilted red geraniums were lined up like soldiers against the front wall in a crusty dry flowerbed. Leroy sniffed them and lifted his leg.
“Bet those flowers are happy they’re finally getting watered. Maybe they think Leroy’s the new garden hose,” Violet joked, and we all cracked up.
After Leroy kicked a pile of dirt to cover the wet, I screwed up my courage and rang the bell.
Ding-dong.
“Someone’s at the door,” I heard Florida shout.
“I’ll get it!” yelled my mom.
“Ooh, look who’s talking to me now.” I could tell that Florida’s voice dripped with scorn.
When my mom opened the door, I made my pitch, exactly as I’d rehearsed it.
“Hi! My name is Madison and we’re on a scavenger hunt.” My voice was super-cheerful and I’m sure it sounded really fake.
We handed my mom the list.
“I bet we have some of this stuff. Come on in.” She sounded just as fake as me.
We followed her into the entryway. I told Leroy to sit and stay outside on the front porch. He plopped down on his butt and sat still as a stone.
Hello There, Do You Still Know Me? Page 9