“We’ll be back!” Angie called; then she and Oliver walked two buildings down. Angie let them into the building with her key. “Let’s start at the top and work our way to the bottom.”
Oliver was huffing by the time they made it up to the fifth floor in the walk-up building. Angie knocked on Apartment 5A, but there was no answer. In 5B, old Mr. Sayed bought Oliver’s copy of Gulliver’s Travels for a dollar after picking up and scrutinizing every item in the box for ten minutes. No answers in 5C or 5D, but in 5E Miss Monique bought three headbands for her three-year-old daughter, Natasha, who promptly put them all on at the same time. In 5F, Mrs. Guerrero bought Oliver’s fancy clothes for her eight-year-old grandson, Emilio.
Angie and Oliver were feeling proud of their sales, but just as they raised their hands to knock on 5G, the door to 5H across the hallway banged open. A woman with blindingly white hair sticking out in all directions filled the doorway. She shook her walking stick at them in fury.
“Hooligans!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Get behind me,” Angie ordered Oliver.
Oliver obeyed instantly. “Should we make a run for it?” he whispered.
Angie turned her head slightly and said, “I’ve got this.” She turned back to the lady and raised her hands in innocence. “Mrs. Archer, it’s me, Angie. The super’s daughter.”
“Hooligans!” she shouted again, waving her stick. “I’m callin’ the police, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Mrs. Archer, it’s okay. We’re just selling some things to raise money for a garden—”
“I’M CALLIN’ THE POLICE!” Mrs. Archer screeched, grabbing her cell phone from the pocket of her housedress.
“You’re right, let’s run!” Angie said to Oliver, bolting for the stairs before he could even register what was happening.
Oliver, who was burdened with the box of sale items, couldn’t move as fast and got a smack on his calf from Mrs. Archer’s walking stick before he escaped.
Around floor three, Angie got the giggles, and Oliver started laughing too. When they finally burst out the back doors to the courtyard, they collapsed on the ground, laughing hysterically.
“Oh no,” Angie said between gasps. “Did she get you with her walking stick?”
“Yes, she did, and thanks for abandoning me!” Oliver said, rubbing his calf. “Man, she’s brutal! I’ll probably get a bruise.”
“She’s super protective of the building. She’s lived here for over fifty years.”
Oliver shook his head. “No kidding! Also—just a suggestion—I don’t think we should go door-to-door anymore.”
“Okay.” Angie got up and held a hand out to Oliver. She pulled him to his feet, then froze.
“What’s up?” Oliver asked.
“You need soil, right?”
“Right.”
Angie pointed to a corner of the courtyard. Stacked along the side on pallets were bags and bags of garden soil.
Sixteen
The sidewalk sale was not going well, but Jessie forgot all about the money they weren’t making the second she saw what was piled on a hand truck that Angie and Oliver were pulling behind them.
“We have soil!” Angie announced. “You’re very welcome.”
“Where did you get that?” Jessie asked, suspicious.
“In the courtyard of our building,” Angie said. “And there are eighty more bags back there.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “Are we allowed to use it?”
Angie beamed a brilliant smile. “Why not? It’s been sitting outside for six months. The building manager wanted to put in a garden border around the courtyard, but then the company that was going to break up the concrete went bankrupt and the building owner couldn’t find a more affordable quote. Better not to let the soil go to waste, right?”
Jessie bit her lip. “Don’t you think we should ask your dad if we can use it?”
“Oh, he won’t even notice,” Angie answered. “Plus, he’s in a special training today for trash-compactor maintenance, and he said only to call with emergencies with a capital E. My neighbor Señora Alvas is my responsible adult while he’s gone, but she takes a nap from ten to twelve every day.”
Jessie relented. “All right, if you’re sure he’ll be okay with it. Now, how are we going to get all this soil down the street to the garden?”
“Hey y’all!” a voice called out. Jessie whipped around, and there was Orlando.
“Orlando!” Oliver, Angie, and Hyacinth yelled. Laney was too young to have known Orlando, but since everyone else was excited about him, she was too.
“What’s up with all the soil?” he asked.
The Vanderbeekers and Angie looked at one another and held a silent conversation. A few eyebrow raises later, a decision was made.
“Can you keep a secret?” Jessie asked.
* * *
Oliver and Angie were put in charge of transporting soil using the hand truck. Hyacinth brought out their red Radio Flyer wagon, and Orlando loaded it up with bags. Laney wanted to ride on the wagon on top of the soil, but no one thought that was a good idea. It was agreed that Jessie would pull the wagon and Hyacinth and Laney would push. As a concession, Jessie said that after they dropped the first load of soil off at the garden, Laney could ride the empty wagon back down the street to pick up more. Orlando carried two soil bags at a time, one under each arm, which amazed everyone.
Thankfully, no one really paid much attention to a bunch of kids lugging bags of soil down 141st Street. This was New York City, and people were used to stranger things happening.
On the last transport of soil, right when Oliver, Angie, and Jessie were developing blisters from pulling the hand truck and the wagon, Benjamin came around the corner of 141st Street, whistling and carrying a huge bag with “Castleman’s Bakery” stamped on it.
“Please tell me you have cheese croissants, and that they’re for us!” Oliver yelled. His hands were killing him.
“I have cheese croissants, and they’re for you guys!” Benjamin called back.
“I love you, Benny!” Laney said.
A small mountain of soil now sat piled up by the fence.
“What’s this?” Benjamin asked.
The Vanderbeekers exchanged glances.
“Can you keep a secret?” Oliver asked.
“Of course,” Benjamin said.
“Help us get this soil inside first, so we don’t attract any more attention.”
“Inside where?” Benjamin began, but then Oliver clicked open the lock and pushed in the gate.
“Whoa,” Benjamin, Angie, and Orlando said in unison.
“It’s like a fairy garden,” Angie said. “Or an enchanted forest.”
“What’s with the bathtub and the toilet?” Benjamin asked.
“These weeds are epic,” Orlando noted.
They dragged the soil through the gate and piled it up along the inside of the fence. It turned out the bags made excellent seats, and they all settled down and ripped open the bakery bag. The smell of croissants and cinnamon rolls and turnovers spilled out, and everyone made a grab for their favorite pastry.
For five minutes, there was only the sound of mmms and yums. Then, just as everyone had expected, Benjamin asked about Isa.
“She’s fine, and no, she hasn’t met another guy at orchestra camp,” Jessie replied around a mouthful of cheese croissant.
Benjamin flushed, grabbed another apple turnover, and changed the subject. “So what’s the plan with this place?”
“We’re going to make it into a garden paradise,” Laney said.
“We’ve already cleaned out two huge bags of trash,” Oliver added.
“It’s going to be awesome,” Jessie said.
Laney stood up on the soil mountain and stretched her fingers to the sky. “It’s going to be the garden of Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie’s dreams!”
Seventeen
After they polished off all the pastries, Benjamin went back to work at
the bakery for the afternoon, Angie went home to check in with Señora Alvas and to work on her math homework, and Orlando ran some errands for his mom. They each promised to return the next day, Saturday, to help distribute the soil. The Vanderbeekers headed home to eat a real lunch and to see if Mama had any Mr. Jeet news.
When they arrived, they were surprised to find Papa lying on the couch, groaning.
“I pulled my back carrying ten years’ worth of Mr. Beiderman’s old electronics out of his apartment,” Papa explained.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Hyacinth asked, leaning down and kissing his cheek.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Don’t baby him!” Mama called from the kitchen. “He’s fine!”
“I need to go to the emergency room,” Papa called, but he winked at Hyacinth while he said it.
Mama had lunch spread out for them, and the kids descended on the food while Franz snuffled the floor for scraps and George Washington hopped on the table and tried to swipe a slice of cheese.
“How’s Mr. Jeet?” Oliver asked before biting into his super-duper deli sandwich.
“He’s fine! Just fine!” she said in her fake-happy voice.
The Vanderbeeker kids exchanged looks. Oliver sighed and went to the chalkboard.
* * *
After lunch, they got ready to leave again.
“Where are you disappearing to all day?” Mama asked as she pulled a load of laundry from the dryer. She had been washing Miss Josie’s laundry for her and bringing fresh clothes to the hospital every day.
“The park, the playground . . . you know,” Jessie said vaguely.
Mama eyed Papa. “You should go with them and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful day.”
The Vanderbeeker kids froze. If Papa came with them, they would actually have to go to the playground instead of their garden.
“I’m injured!” Papa reminded her. He didn’t budge from his spot on the couch.
“He needs rest and ibuprofen,” Hyacinth suggested. She ran to the bathroom to get the medicine and was back in five seconds.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Papa said. “I’m glad someone understands my pain.”
Hyacinth leashed Franz, his tail at 150 wags per minute, or wpm, and then she and her siblings went out the door. Orlando was already on the stoop having a conversation with Mr. Beiderman, who was hanging out one of the third-floor windows.
“Where are you going?” Mr. Beiderman was yelling down to Orlando.
“Just for a walk, sir!” Orlando yelled up at him.
“Hi, Mr. Beiderman!” Hyacinth yelled.
“I don’t want to see any more skinned knees, you hear?” Mr. Beiderman said. “And take these gloves with you, just in case!” Before anyone could register what was happening, gardening gloves—really nice ones with rubber grips and elastic around the wrist—rained down around them. Mr. Beiderman had thrown them from the third floor.
“Wow! Thanks, Mr. B!” the kids chorused, casting puzzled looks at one another. Was this just coincidence? Hyacinth wanted to ask how Mr. Beiderman knew they were gardening, but he had already disappeared from sight and she heard the window slam. She shrugged at her siblings, and they went down the street toward the church.
“When do you want the garden to be ready?” Orlando asked.
Jessie shrugged. “In time for Isa to get home in two weeks. But now I’m not sure Mr. Jeet will be back by then.”
“He’ll be back,” Oliver said with certainty. “He has to be.”
“I think we can get the main part done,” Orlando said. “It’ll be a lot of work, though.”
“I can’t wait to plant Tilia of the Eternal Spring,” Hyacinth said.
“And Paganini food,” Laney chimed in, bouncing from foot to foot.
“We’ve got to get rid of all the weeds first,” Jessie said. “Then we can talk about what we should plant.”
Oliver let them inside the gate and they got to work. Hyacinth noticed that it was a lot easier to pull weeds and pick up trash with the nice gardening gloves on. How had Mr. Beiderman known they needed them?
Hyacinth was working near the fence line with Laney, ripping out a particularly stubborn weed, when she heard the telltale clicks of fancy shoes.
She froze.
“What’s wrong?” Laney asked as she sifted through the dirt to look for pretty rocks for her collection.
Hyacinth put her finger to her lips. Laney shrugged and continued her search. Hyacinth looked around for her siblings, but they were working on the far side of the lot and she didn’t want to shout for them. The fancy-shoe taps were joined by more footsteps, which sounded like thuds.
Mr. Huxley’s voice drifted through the fence. He sounded like the high string of Isa’s violin when it was tightened too much. “As you can see, this area would be perfect for a multiple-family housing development.”
Hyacinth took a breath, channeled Hyacinth the Brave, and moved her ear closer to the fence line.
“It’s definitely a good-sized lot for a condominium complex.” This voice was low and gruff. “I looked up the zoning. It all checks out. I already spoke to our lawyers, and they want to settle the closing on July sixteenth. That work for you?”
Hyacinth puffed out her cheeks. That was two days after the Garden Extravaganza!
Another voice—this man sounded like the rich banker in Mary Poppins—spoke. “Condos are hot property right now. We could do it up, make it really luxury, then sell it for four, five million. If we get an early buyer, we can even design it to their specifications, which means more cash.”
Mr. Huxley cleared his throat. “Let’s go to my office and discuss the details.”
The three men’s voices and footsteps faded away, and Hyacinth didn’t dare move until she couldn’t hear their voices anymore.
Laney was holding a rock two inches from her face, staring at it intently. Then she asked, “Why do they want to sell our garden?”
* * *
Hyacinth was too upset to talk, but Laney was more than willing to share what they had just overheard.
“There were three guys, and one of them was Mr. Huxley. I could tell because he has that really squeaky voice. The other two guys I didn’t get to see because they were on the other side of the fence.” Laney made her voice go down as far as it would go. “But they had deep voices like this.”
“Can you get to the point?” Oliver interjected.
“And all three of them said they could build a house on top of our garden and it would sell for forty-five billion dollars!”
“Holy smokes,” Jessie said at the same time that Orlando whistled.
“Four or five million, not forty-five billion,” Hyacinth said through her tears. “They want to sell it on July sixteenth.
“Triple J wouldn’t have let us have this land if they were selling it,” Jessie said. “He said we could use it.”
“Mr. Huxley said it,” Hyacinth wailed. “What will happen to Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s garden?”
Oliver picked up a rock and threw it at the vine-covered fence across the lot. “There’s only one way to find out. We’ve got to ask Triple J.”
Jessie pulled out her phone and dialed Triple J. “It’s ringing,” she told everyone, then, “It’s going to voice mail.” There was a pause, and Jessie said into the phone, “Hi, Triple J. I’m sorry to bother you, but we just overheard Mr. Huxley say he was going to sell the land next to the church. Is that true? Because you said we could use it to make a community garden, and we’ve already started on it . . . Anyways, can you call us back?”
Jessie clicked the phone off and looked at Orlando and her siblings.
Now what?
* * *
That night after dinner, the Vanderbeekers sat upstairs in Jessie and Isa’s room. Triple J had not called them back.
“I know which building Herman lives in,” Oliver said. “He’s right by the school. We could visit Mr. Huxley and interrogate him.” He imagined pulling Mr. Huxley into
a dimly lit room and sitting him down on a solitary chair with a naked lightbulb hanging overhead while the Vanderbeekers conducted a cross-examination.
“Triple J wouldn’t let him sell the land without telling us,” Hyacinth said. “Or would he?”
“He just told us the garden was a good idea,” Jessie said. “Why would he say that if it was going to be destroyed?”
“That’s true,” Oliver said. “There’s no way they’re selling it.”
The Vanderbeekers looked around at one another, uncertain.
“Isa will know what to do,” Jessie finally decided. She took out her phone and dialed, putting it on speaker. When Isa answered, Jessie explained everything.
“Sounds like it’s just speculation,” Isa said after she had heard the whole story. “How could Mr. Huxley sell the land without Triple J around? That doesn’t make sense. Personally, I think the faster you can get the garden beautiful, the better. Not only will it be ready for Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie, but only a heartless grub would put a building on top of a community garden.”
“Thanks, Isa,” Jessie said.
Isa’s voice filled the speakerphone. “I’ve got to go. There’s a bonfire tonight, and I want to get there before the marshmallows and chocolate are all gone!”
Jessie hung up and looked out at her siblings. “We need to make this garden so gorgeous that Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie will love it and no one will tear it down. We have two weeks. Ideas, anyone?”
Eighteen
The next morning, the Vanderbeekers trooped back over to the garden. It was a peaceful Saturday morning on 141st Street. Oliver liked it when the neighborhood was quiet, as though they were the only ones awake in Harlem. They took their time going down the street, stopping to point at flowers that might look good in the garden and waving at dogs that sat with their noses pressed to the windows, their tails wagging.
The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden Page 8