Under the photo it said: “Elena and Roberto Montoya proudly announce the engagement of their daughter, Betty, to her high school sweetheart and Hot Springs High School star-quarterback, Walter Brinker.”
What the heck? They’d been engaged? Did they ever get married? Were they divorced, or did Betty die? Could that have been her engagement ring in the little leather box?
I carefully tore out the article, folded it over, and slid it into my jeans pocket.
When Mike handed me another customer’s handful of treasures to wrap, I knew I had to come clean.
“Mike, I’m so sorry. I’d like to keep helping, but I can’t. My, uh, Angela is missing. I think she might be up in the attic.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, Madison? No worries. I can take it from here.”
I thanked Mike and pushed my way back through the beaded curtain. I ran to the ladder and began to climb, counting the rungs one-by-one.
One. Two. Three. I could feel my face flush and my forehead get sweaty.
Four. Five. Six. Was I afraid of not finding her?
Seven. Eight. Nine. Or was I more afraid that if I did find her I wouldn’t know what to say?
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
I reached up and popped open the trapdoor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Finding Mom
Through the crack of the lifted trapdoor I saw the light of a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. My mom sat cross-legged on the floor beneath it, reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The rest of the room was empty, just wide-planked wooden floors covered with a thick coat of dust.
I hoisted myself up through the opening. Startled, she sprang to her feet, banging her head on the low wood ceiling.
“Ow!” she moaned, rubbing away the sting. “You scared the bejesus out of me. How did you know I was up here?”
I shrugged. “A good guess?”
“Well, if my mother talked you into finding me, then I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell her where I am.”
“Never in a zillion years,” I promised.
My mom eyed me in a curious way, as if she was trying to figure me out. Then she settled back onto the floor and held up her book.
“It’s the third time I’ve read this. Unfortunately, this attic is the closest thing I’ll ever have to my own magic cupboard. It’s the farthest place I can go to escape my mother and this boring old town. Which is so pathetic.”
“You won’t live in Truth or Consequences forever.”
My mom gave me a look like I was half-crazy.
“What are you, a fortune teller or something?”
Oops, maybe I should have said that she didn’t have to live here forever. I needed to be more careful.
“In a few years, you could move anywhere.” Except with me down to Costa Rica. I squeezed the thought from my mind so I wouldn’t turn into a crybaby.
“Easy for you to say. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to go to college up in Albuquerque. The problem is, most people who grow up here never leave. Everybody just hangs around and dries out in the desert. It’s like a town filled with dead carcasses. Except for Rosalie Claire. She got away.”
“You could be like her. Go someplace new. Start over.”
“I don’t know.” She twisted a strand of her stick-straight, nut-brown hair that looked so much like mine.
But I knew. She had to leave. If she stayed here forever, I wouldn’t be born.
“Have you ever thought about moving to, say, San Francisco?” I knew that’s exactly where my mom had lived for six years, and it was the city where I’d been born.
“Never. That would be like living in some alternate universe. People like me don’t get to do that kind of thing.”
Wow. It broke my heart to see my mom be so hard on herself. To have so little hope and imagination for the future.
“What would I even do there? I mean, other than finally getting to breathe because I’d be far enough away from mother.”
It was weird to hear my mom talk that way about Florida, although I understood. She’d had fourteen years of her mother trying to make her into someone she wasn’t. I’d only had a year and a half of it. And except for when she started to get sick a few months back, Florida had mellowed some.
But I knew exactly what my mom could do because she’d already done it. In the future, that is.
“Well, uh, since you like to make videos, you could go to college for that. Someone’s mom I know went to film school at San Francisco State. Afterward, she got a job making documentaries. She loved it.”
Of course that “someone” I knew was me, and my mom had been a filmmaker until a few years after I was born. Was I directing her future? What if I’d said nothing? How would she have known to move to San Francisco after high school? Did I make that happen or was I just making it easier for her to follow her destiny?
“Wow. San Francisco. That would be awesome beyond words.” Her eyes lit up with the possibilities.
But she quickly dropped her head in her hands. “Until then I’m stuck with My-Mother-the-Dictator.”
“At least it’s only four more years.”
“Four years of torture.” She wiped away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek.
“Want my opinion?” I asked.
“Why not?” she sighed.
“Sometimes it’s easier to give in on some of the small stuff so you can keep the peace. Be the stronger person.”
It’s what my mom had taught me, so I was just returning the advice.
“You sound like my dad. He always says that.”
I shrugged. “He might be right.”
“Not this time. Do you know why I ran off? My mother is not only insisting that I ride on their float wearing that gross pink monstrosity, she made a big glittery sign she wants me to hold that says, Hot Pink Chicky Boom-Booms. How humiliating is that? Everyone I know is going to be watching the parade.”
“OK, that’s pretty bad,” I admitted.
“You see? I just can’t do it. I’m not the “chicky” girly-girl she wants me to be.”
“What if you made a deal with her? Tell her you’ll wear the costume if you don’t have to carry the sign. And, I don’t know, maybe pull some shorts over the bottom of the costume. Tell her you need to do it your way, but you still really want to ride in the parade with her.”
“No way, because I really don’t. That would be lying.” Even at fourteen my mom was reminding me to tell the truth.
“I guess you’re right. Then just say you know it’s important to her and that’s why you’re willing to do it. Or part of it, anyway.”
“I suppose I could do that. Ugh! I can’t believe I’m going to give in!”
“Nah. Don’t look at it that way. You’re just keeping the peace. Then after the parade, you can put a t-shirt over that gross pink sparkly thing, shoot your video, and hang out with your friends.”
“How did you get to be so smart? What are you, like, eleven?”
“I turned twelve in April,” I said. “I don’t know. I guess I learned a lot from my mom.”
“You’re so lucky. Your mom must be amazing.”
“She is. The best in the world.”
My mother looked straight into my eyes. It felt odd because even though she was only fourteen, they were still her eyes, gold flecks on brown. The ones that had always beamed straight into my heart every time she’d tuck me in at night and every time she’d told me that she loved me.
“OK, this may sound ultra-strange. I met you like, what? Three days ago? But it’s as if I’ve known you forever. Like we’re sisters or something. And one thing my mom might be right about is that we almost do look as if we could be sisters. Weird, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, super weird. I feel like I’ve known you forever too.” My heart raced so fast I thought it might burst from my chest. If only I could tell her who I really was.
“Madison, you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You
, Grandma Daisy, and Rosalie Claire.”
It made me happy to be in such good company.
“You know, I love the name Madison. If I have a kid someday, maybe I’ll name her that. Then if I’m lucky, she’ll turn out to be as awesome as you.”
“Thanks. Maybe she will,” I said.
We heard the shuffling of footsteps below.
“Madison? Angela?” It was Grandma Daisy.
“Time to go face the rest of my life.” My mom took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Then she hugged me. I wanted to stay wrapped in her embrace forever, my mom’s heart beating so close to mine. Finally, she pulled away and smiled. Then together we lifted the trapdoor and, rung by rung, climbed down the ladder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Violet
“Look who you found, Madison! Angie, you worried the daylights out of me.” Grandma Daisy opened her arms.
“Sorry, Daisy,” my mom said as they hugged.
“Well done.” Noah’s mouth curved in a crooked smile. “When you didn’t come back, we thought you might be here.”
Violet didn’t say anything. Her lips were closed tight and she wouldn’t even look at me.
We went back out into the store. It still swarmed with tourists. Grandma Daisy pushed up her sleeves and got to work, helping customers choose herbs from jars.
“Ooh, Madison, check it out!” My mom peered through one of the glass-topped counters.
She pointed to a pair of iridescent white beaded moonstone bracelets, speckled with electric blue. Beside them a handwritten card said: “Moonstones bring the wearer what they really need in life. These stones symbolize new beginnings.”
“We totally need these bracelets. Or at least I do. And if we each have one, we can always remember each other.”
“Wow, they’re beautiful!” I wished I could tell her why I’d remember her always even if we didn’t have matching bracelets. But still, the thought of having one made my heart sing. “They’re kind of expensive. Twenty-five dollars each.” Besides, I only had Costa Rican colones and a few quarters left over from Mike.
My mom dug twenty dollars out of her jeans pocket and smiled. “Daisy always gives me a discount.”
Grandma Daisy pulled the bracelets from the display case. “You girls couldn’t have made a better choice. Although I’m not surprised. This is also the stone of intuition.”
Grandma Daisy took the twenty-dollar bill and called it even. We rolled the moonstone bracelets onto our wrists and compared them side-by-side.
“Hey, now we really match. And you have almost as many freckles on your arm as I do,” my mom said.
“Yep, enough to play connect-the-dots.”
She giggled. “Good one. I’ll have to try that sometime.”
“Thank you. I love my new bracelet,” I said, and then I hugged her again.
Mike must have put Noah to work because he was busy wrapping up purchases. But Violet? The whole time she’d been standing by herself at the far end of the counter. It bugged me that was she still angry. She didn’t get mad at me often, probably because I almost always let her have her way. This time I knew I’d absolutely positively made the right choice. Although maybe I didn’t exactly handle it in the best way. I owed her an apology.
I told my mom I’d be right back.
“Violet, we need to talk,” I said.
She turned away and stared down into the display case.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Sometimes when you only want to do things your way it’s kind of frustrating. I had to do this by myself so I could spend time alone with my mom. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and I shouldn’t have run away from you like that. I was rude. I apologize.”
Violet traced her finger along the edge of the glass counter. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I was being a brat,” she confessed. “I just get really excited sometimes and maybe I don’t always think stuff through. And you’re right. I guess I do want to do things my way a lot. Of course you needed to spend time alone with her. Holy schnikies, she’s your mom.”
“It’s OK,” I said. “We’re still best friends, right?”
“Always and forever. You had a hunch where to find her, didn’t you, Madison?”
I nodded.
“That’s so cool. It seems like that’s the kind of magic you’re pretty good at.”
Were hunches a kind of magic too? She might be right about that. I threw my arms around her. I knew right then I would never have a better friend than Violet.
When Noah finished wrapping up amulets, stones, and crystal balls, we told Grandma Daisy we were going to continue our search for Walter Brinker. I was itching to get the pouch back, safe and sound.
“Still looking for whatever it is you need for Rosalie Claire?” my mom asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I told her.
My mom offered to come with me. I wanted nothing more than to spend every spare second I could with her, although if we found Walter when my mom was with us, there would be too much explaining to do.
“I wish you could, but like Grandma Daisy said, it has to do with some magic stuff we can’t talk about. Sorry.”
“No biggie. Really. I should go home and face my mother. You’re coming to the parade tomorrow, right? I mean everybody in town will be there. Including me, if I’m not grounded.”
“You better not be grounded because we plan to cheer you on in your spangly suit.”
My mom groaned. Then she caught my eye and smiled.
Violet, Noah, and I left the Wildflower and we walked through town, two miles to the Shell station. There was no sign of Walter or his copper van.
“Walter Brinker scores one. The Mighty Trio? Zero,” Violet sighed.
“We’re not giving up,” Noah said. “And we’re not letting him win this thing.”
“Remember when my mom said everyone in town shows up for Fiesta? If that’s true, maybe Walter will be there too.”
“Let’s cross our fingers on that one,” Violet said.
Then the three of us did exactly that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Walter Brinker
It was parade day. We grabbed our backpacks and headed into town. My moonstone bracelet glinted in the morning sun. The sky was blue, and white puffy clouds floated overhead. Leroy trotted along on his rope leash, happy to be part of our pack again. He grinned and his tail wagged at warp speed.
The whole time we kept an eagle-eye lookout for Walter. Today had to be the day we’d find him. I could practically feel it in the air.
We’d made a plan to meet Grandma Daisy after the parade at the Wildflower where she and Mike were working all day selling trinkets and treasures to the tourists.
Alongside us, crowds of people hustled into town carting folding chairs and coolers. Parents trailed behind their kids who bounced up and down at the promise of cotton candy and carnival games.
When we turned the corner onto Broadway, Noah nudged me. “Look who’s doing his grocery shopping.”
Walter’s copper-colored van was parked in front of the Bullock’s Shur-Sav.
“I’ll wait outside with Leroy,” Noah offered. “Hurry before he gets away!”
Double-speed, Violet and I dashed into the market.
Walter stood in the checkout line with a small basket of groceries. Strapped around his waist was his black fanny pack.
Where was Rosalie Claire’s?
I ignored my jitters and cleared the nervousness from my throat.
“Going to the parade?” I asked.
Walter froze.
“The parade?” I repeated. “Are you going?”
When he snapped out of his spell, he looked at anything and everything except for us. “Nope. I’m gettin’ as far away from this brouhaha as I can.”
“Before you leave, you owe us something,” I told him.
“What’s that?” he asked, pretending to be all innocent.
“Don’t play dumb.” Violet stared at h
im without a blink.
“Here’s the deal, rugrats. I recharged your pack and at first it just coughed up a big ol’ wad of lint. Next I found an old shoelace. But this morning there was a twenty-five-buck winning ticket. How ‘bout I keep it just a few more days? I could use the dough.”
“I need it for my grandmother now. That fanny pack will wear out just the way yours did, because, like I told you, it works best when you use it to help other people. Why won’t you believe me?” I stared him straight in the eye, same as Violet.
We were interrupted by a commotion at the checkout counter. A lady with a baby in a carrier on her back had a plastic shopping basket filled with milk and baby food. The checker told her that her debit card didn’t work because there wasn’t enough money in her bank account.
“I’m sorry. I have a little cash, but I’m short twenty dollars,” she told the clerk. Her voice was panicky.
“Excuse me.” I reached over and tapped her on the shoulder. “This man can help you.”
I pointed to Walter.
Walter looked at me as if I were a three-headed alien.
“Oh, could you, sir? I’d be so thankful. It’s been a hard month. I’ll repay you. Honest.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“I have no idea what this little gal is talkin’ about,” he said, meaning me.
“Unzip your pouch, Walter. You might have twenty dollars in there.” I crossed my fingers I was right.
“You know I only got lottery tickets.”
“Then prove it,” Violet said.
Walter grumbled and yanked open the zipper.
His look of surprise could have made the angels sing. Even if he tried, I don’t think he could have stopped the grin from spreading across his face.
Walter pulled out a brand-spanking new twenty-dollar bill.
“Well, I’ll be swigger-jiggered.” He scratched his head.
“Go on, give it to her.” Violet pointed to the lady with the baby.
Walter hesitated. He wasn’t used to sharing good fortune.
“You can do it. It won’t hurt you,” I told him. “Might even make you feel good.”
Walter’s hand was wigglier than a loose tooth when he handed the lady the money.
Hello There, Do You Still Know Me? Page 13