But then things go downhill at lunch. “We’ve got Student Leadership after school,” Brianne reminds both of them. Lexi nods, licking the last smear of pudding off her spoon. Brianne looks at Maggie. “You’re coming, right?”
Maggie hesitates. She is really looking forward to going back to Brayside. She wants to know what happened with the puppy and is determined to get at least one box unpacked for Mrs. Fradette. “I can’t. Not today.”
“Why not?” Lexi’s question comes out more like an accusation. “It’s the election today. You have to vote for me for seventh-grade rep.”
Maggie fumbles for an answer. “I forgot and made plans.”
“Seriously, Maggie.” Irritation is plain in Lexi’s voice. Maggie tries not to let it get to her, but she can’t help wondering if this morning’s warm welcome was because they wanted her vote.
“Maybe you can talk to the teacher and vote before you leave?” Brianne suggests.
Maggie says nothing. The snarkier Lexi gets, the less inclined Maggie is to vote for her.
Lexi purses her lips. “Where are you going, anyway?” Maggie knows there is no explanation that will improve the situation, so she tells the truth. “Brayside.”
Lexi rolls her eyes. “You and your volunteer hours. It’s like an obsession.”
Maggie doesn’t know how to take Lexi’s comments. They sting and she isn’t sure if it’s what she says or the way she’s saying it. She doesn’t respond to Lexi, but she also doesn’t offer to change her plans. For Maggie, this small act of defiance matters.
Chapter 28
Austin
All I can think about is the puppy as I walk to Brayside after school on Monday. Mom shook her head when I told her the puppy would be ready for adoption in six weeks. “We can’t look after a dog right now,” she said. “I’m sorry, Austin. One day, maybe, but not now.”
Knowing a dog of my own was an impossibility didn’t stop me from going back to the alley on my way to Brayside after school. The dumpster was empty. The box the puppy had been in and all the other trash had been picked up. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Harvey hadn’t insisted we go down that alley.
“Hey, Austin,” Artie says from the front desk when I arrive. “Your grandpa had to step out for a while. But Mr. Kowalski just called. He says he’s got a screw loose.” Artie grins at his own joke. “Bathroom towel bar,” he explains. “Do you mind taking care of it?” Jobs like this one I can do without Grandpa’s supervision. “While you’re at it, Charlie left a note that he has some burned out light bulbs in his office.”
I head to Grandpa’s office in the basement. The fluorescent lights flicker to life. Tools are all over; hanging up on a pegboard, in coffee cans on the shelf, and in his big five-drawer tool chest. I search until I find the right screwdriver for a towel bar. I grab some light bulbs and a ladder for Charlie’s office. Grandpa keeps his keys on a hidden hook that only the two of us know about. I grab them and walk upstairs. With the jingling key ring, I feel like a pro.
I go to Charlie’s office first so I can ditch the ladder. Unlike Grandpa’s office, Charlie’s is super-organized. There’s not a paper out of place. File folders are stacked neatly in bins and his pens all have caps and are facing in the same direction in a ceramic pen pot that one of his kids must have made.
The light bulbs are an easy fix and I’m folding the ladder up when I notice something on Charlie’s desk that makes me pause. It’s lying right in plain sight, so I’m not snooping or anything. It’s a printed-out e-mail and it’s the first line that catches my eye: Position: Head Custodian of Brayside Retirement Villa.
That’s Grandpa’s job.
I pick up the paper and read the whole thing. It’s a job posting. The hair on my arms prickles. Is Charlie looking to replace Grandpa?
Warning bells go off in my head. All the meetings Grandpa’s had lately, were they about keeping his job? I put the paper back down exactly where I found it, turn off the lights, and close the door. But I know that for the rest of the evening it’s all I’ll be thinking about.
Chapter 29
Maggie
Through the glass doors, Maggie can see Artie at the front desk and Austin dusting. She’d left school as soon as the dismissal bell rang, not bothering to go to her locker in case Brianne and Lexi were waiting for her.
“What are you doing here?” Austin blurts when Maggie steps inside. “I mean, it’s Monday.”
Maggie shrugs. A blush creeps up her neck. “I wanted to know what happened with the puppy,” she admits. “And to help Mrs. Fradette. Or work in the library. If that’s okay?” She looks past Austin to Artie.
“No argument from me,” he says. “Hey, guess what Mrs. Fradette did earlier this afternoon?” He chuckles as he tells them. “Hijacked the bridge club and taught them Texas Hold’em!”
Maggie grins thinking about sweet Mrs. O’Brien scooping up poker chips from Mrs. Kowalski and Miss Lin.
“Who won?” Austin asks.
“Mrs. Kowalski. She made out like a bandit. Mrs. O’Brien is baking her muffins for a month!”
The phone at the front desk rings and Artie answers it, leaving Austin and Maggie alone.
“Any news about the puppy?” Maggie asks.
“The lady at the shelter said she was lucky Harvey found her when he did.”
Maggie leaves Austin to his dusting and heads to Mrs. Fradette’s suite. She knocks on the door. “It’s Maggie—Margaret,” she corrects herself.
“Come in,” Mrs. Fradette calls out. “It’s open.”
Mrs. Fradette is standing at the kitchen counter. “What good timing you have. I was just about to make some tea.” Without asking, she pulls a cup out for Maggie. “I hope you like orange pekoe. My daughter-in-law sends it from England.”
Mrs. Fradette brings the cup of tea to Maggie and sets it down on the kitchen table, which is covered with photos. “Still working on your collage?” Maggie asks.
“I haven’t gone through these photos in years,” Mrs. Fradette says, picking one up. “Remember I told you about my grandparents in Laurier? This is them.”
Maggie looks closer at the small black-and-white photo of two unsmiling old people. They are sitting on the veranda of a clapboard house.
“My grandma, Mémère we called her, struck the fear of God into all of us. She refused to speak English and had a wooden spoon hanging on a hook in the kitchen. We all knew what it was for. That spring in Laurier she used it a fair bit on Michel!” Mrs. Fradette grins. “Mémère thought Mom was too easy on us, I think. But Pépère was kind, very soft-spoken.” She sifts through the photos and finds one to show Maggie. “That’s him.”
Her grandpa was tall with a long face and dark hair. Mrs. Fradette looks at the photo for another moment and adds it to a small pile. “And here’s one of him with his car. It was a dark green 1942 Plymouth.” The car in the photo has a domed roof and curved wheel wells. It reminds Maggie of a larger version of a VW Beetle. “Ronny and I used to climb in and pretend to drive it. I think we flooded the engine a few times, but Pépère never got mad at us.”
“He didn’t use the wooden spoon?” Maggie asks, half joking.
Mrs. Fradette cackles. “Oh no! Not Pépère. He never even raised his voice. He was a mechanic. His shop was across the field from the house. It’s because of him my life took the turn that it did. Well, him and the flood, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?” Maggie asks. She takes a sip of her tea. It is bitter and strong, but Maggie kind of likes it.
Mrs. Fradette finds the photo of the garage again. “You see, this side”—she points to the side with the closed door— “was filled with old cars. There was a pickup truck with a Model T front and flat back. Oh, and there was another brown car I remember, from the 1930s. And a powder-blue Ford. Now that was a beauty. Everything smelled like dies
el fuel and rust and I loved it.”
Mrs. Fradette’s face glows as she talks about it. “I’d scramble around exploring, imagining what it would be like to bring the cars to life again. When I was younger and we visited in summer, he’d let me help him in the garage now and then. He called me his assistant.
“Over breakfast on our first morning of the evacuation, I asked Pépère if I could go with him to the garage. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck at home with Mémère and Mom. I’d be given chores, or worse, told to look after my little brother and sister.
“Pépère grinned and took a long sip of his coffee. ‘’Course you can,’ he said. Mom raised her eyebrows at him, but didn’t say anything. She knew I was looking for any excuse to get out of the house.
“When we got to the garage, Pépère set me up on a stool. I watched while he laid out his tools. My cousin Alphonse arrived for work at nine o’clock. Alphonse was sixteen and the oldest of Aunt Cecile and Uncle Joe’s boys. School was done for him and he’d chosen to work at the garage with Pépère. I’d never had much to do with Alphonse before. I remember he didn’t look too happy to see me hanging around. ‘What’s she doing here?’ he asked.
“‘She’s learning,’ Pépère answered.
“‘She’s not going to learn much, just sitting there,’ Alphonse muttered. He probably hoped I’d get bored and scamper away, but that garage had always fascinated me and now that we were in Laurier for a while, I wasn’t going to let him scare me off. Besides, I adored Pépère. When I was little, Mom called me his shadow because I was always following him around.
“Pépère stood up and scratched his head. ‘That’s a good point.’ Pépère walked over to me and put a wrench in my hand.
“I stared at it. I’d never even held a tool. It was heavy. ‘That’s a crescent wrench,’ he said. ‘Come here and I’ll show you how to use it.’ Poor Alphonse turned away muttering, curse words probably, but too low for Pépère to hear them. My clothes were covered in grease by the time lunch rolled around.
“Mom’s eyes turned to saucers when Pépère and I walked into the kitchen for lunch. ‘Josephine! What have you done?’ she said.” Mrs. Fradette breaks off with a laugh. She slaps her knee and cackles. “Oh! My poor mother! But Pépère didn’t miss a beat. ‘She’s helping in the garage.’ As if it was the most natural thing in the world. Pépère was a kind man, but he had a steel will too. There was no budging him when his mind was made up. Mom didn’t even argue. She just shook her head. ‘Go wash up, then.’ But under her breath she muttered, ‘Wait till your father hears about this.’”
“Did your dad find out?” Maggie asks.
“Oh, of course! He called every day to give us an update on the house. We still hadn’t flooded, but things hadn’t gotten any better. Ronny was staying over at Uncle Wilfred and Aunt Winnie’s, so Mom called them every other day to check in on him. He and some of the other Scouts had been taught to drive motorboats. They’d patrol the banks of the dikes looking for breaks, or help with evacuations if needed.
“The men were getting tired after weeks and weeks of working almost twenty-four hours a day. Dad had taken to sleeping on the couch in the living room with one arm dangling off the edge. He figured he’d wake up if he could feel the water.
“I guess I should have thanked the flood for preoccupying Dad. He was so busy trying to save our house that when he found out later that night that his daughter was working at a garage it didn’t bother him half as much as it should have.”
There’s another photo of Mrs. Fradette, standing beside an old truck. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she’s wearing overalls. She’s got her hands on her hips, head tilted like she’s asking the photographer a question. “I was so free up there,” she says. “It wasn’t like at home.” She looks at the photo wistfully. “I could just be me.”
Maggie is filled with a sudden longing. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but she’d like to know what “just being me” feels like.
When it’s time for Maggie to leave, she finds Austin is at the entrance. He’s moved on from dusting to washing the windows. No wonder he likes it when Harvey comes to visit. He does more chores in a week at Brayside than Maggie’s ever done at home. “How’s Mrs. Fradette?” he asks.
“Still working on her collage,” Maggie says. “It’s taking her forever, but I think she likes looking at all the photos.”
“Old people aren’t big on rushing. Except Mr. Singh, but that’s just because he has his Cobra GT4.”
Maggie smiles. “She still has things in boxes, but every time I go to help her, she starts telling me stories.” Maggie glances at the front window. Her dad had texted that he would be there in a few minutes.
“Mr. Pickering was like that too.”
Outside the dining room, Maggie notices a wreath of flowers, the kind you order for a funeral. “Is that for Mr. Stephens?” she asks.
Austin shakes his head. “No. He’s out of the hospital. It’s for a different lady. Someone from the third floor. I didn’t know her.”
Before Maggie came to Brayside, she imagined it as a place where death hung in the air like a bad smell. But it isn’t like that at all, at least not on the first floor. All the old people are so lively. Especially Mrs. Fradette. “I thought being around old people would make me sad.” Maggie gives the wreath a meaningful look. “But it doesn’t. At least it hasn’t so far.”
Austin nods. “I couldn’t come to Brayside for a while after Mr. Pickering died. But when I did, everyone here understood. They all missed him too. He was ready though, when he died. And it was because of Harvey.”
Maggie frowns, confused.
“Meeting Harvey reminded him of his dog, General. That’s why he started talking to me. I know I should have done more to find you. It was wrong to keep Harvey, but giving him back meant—”
“The end of talking with Mr. Pickering.”
For a year, Maggie has let her anger over Harvey’s disappearance fester. But she sees now, she had it wrong. Austin wasn’t trying to hurt her when he kept Harvey, he was trying to help an old man.
When her dad pulls up outside, Maggie is once again reluctant to leave. There’s something she needs to say to Austin. “I’m glad it was you who found Harvey,” she says.
Any remnants of guilt that had been hovering between them disappear. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” Austin asks.
Maggie thinks for a minute. Why not? “I’m going to try,” she says, and waves goodbye.
Chapter 30
Austin
“Is Grandpa happy at Brayside?” I ask my mom over dinner.
“I think so. Why?”
I focus on my food, worried I’ll give away what I’m really worried about. Is Grandpa going to lose his job? “How old is he now, anyway?”
“He’ll be sixty-three in December.”
He’s old, but not that old. “Do you think he’ll want to retire soon?”
Mom shakes her head. “I can’t imagine Grandpa retired. What would he do with himself?” Hearing Mom’s words does nothing to make me feel better.
After dinner, I’m supposed to be labeling the parts of a plant for science, but I can’t concentrate. Finding that job posting on Charlie’s desk has me all twisted up. On the one hand, I think I should tell Grandpa, warn him that his job is on the line.
But on the other hand, if I tell Grandpa what I found, Charlie will want to know how he found out. Grandpa could get in trouble for snooping. Or be mad at me because I was snooping. It doesn’t seem fair that Charlie would toss Grandpa out after seventeen years of working at Brayside. I can’t even imagine how Brayside would function without Grandpa there.
Which is what gives me an idea.
I have to make Charlie see how important Grandpa is to Brayside. But I can’t do it alone.
Chapter 31
Harvey
There is always a walk before Maggie calls Harvey upstairs and he curls up on her bed for her bedtime. This evening is no different. Maggie pulls Harvey away from the sliding doors, where he has kept watch for the last hour. She clips the leash to his harness and they go out the front door. They usually walk to the end of the street and back.
As soon as he is outside, Harvey takes deep sniffs of the sidewalk and grass. He detects nothing out of the ordinary. All the scents he picks up catalog neatly into his brain. Rosie, the Westie who lives a few doors down, has been out recently. The fire hydrant is sprinkled with her odor. He adds some of his own scent and in this way communicates that he has been here too.
Harvey walks with his ears pricked, rotating to capture sounds like an old-fashioned satellite dish. “Yoda ears,” Maggie’s dad calls them. They are useful in times like this, when danger might be nearby. Harvey hears car tires rotating on pavement and the hum of car engines. Dry leaves crunch under Maggie’s soft-soled shoes behind him. All noises Harvey expects on an evening walk. And then, there is a crash. Harvey freezes. Every hair stands on end. He gives a low, warning growl.
“It’s just a garbage can lid,” Maggie says.
Harvey won’t move. He listens intently. What is out there? “Come on, Harvey.” Maggie moves in front of him and yanks on the leash to get him moving. Unlike Harvey, she is not bothered by the noise, or by what might be out there. Harvey follows, but stays alert.
Before he goes inside the house, he pauses and surveils the front yard. It is his duty to protect his territory and his Maggie. If there is an intruder Harvey won’t rest until he sniffs it out and sends it away.
Harvey Holds His Own Page 6