Saturday morning arrives. I’m nervous and excited all at once, because I want the girls to see how awesome Mrs. Hallovich is. I spend hours trying to decide what to wear. I feel ridiculous about it. I’m not usually such a fashionista, but I want everything to be perfect. Eventually, I settle on my best dress. The top of it is dark green and the skirt has white and dark green stripes - very sophisticated.
Daleni arrives at my house at noon. I open the front door to find her standing there in a white dress with a pattern of yellow and pink flowers.
“You look beautiful!” we say to each other at the same time.
The invitation says tea is at 2:30, but we want to go to Willow House early to see if Mrs. H. needs any help. Also, I wanted Daleni to come over early because there’s a few gaps between what I told her happened last week and what really happened. I fill her in as best as I can, including the fact that I’m not so sure I believe all of Trudy’s explanations.
“Oh, Ella,” she says. “I wish you had told me everything that was really going on. You didn’t have to go through all that by yourself.”
“I didn’t lie.” I try to defend myself.
“But you didn’t tell me the whole truth. It’s kind of the same.”
I promise her I’ll tell her everything from now on. Life is so much better when you have a best friend to help you deal with stuff.
A bit later, Mom drops the two of us, along with Tommy, off at the curb in front of Willow House and tells us to have a great time.
“This sure doesn’t look like a gaping mouth that wants to eat us,” Daleni says as we walk up to the porch.
“Not anymore,” I reply.
All the shrubbery has been either cut back or replaced with new. The porch is bright and sunny with hanging baskets and pots of flowers.
Trudy meets us at the front door before I have a chance to demonstrate to Daleni the neat, old-fashioned doorbell (which, by the way, is now very shiny and brassy).
“Aunt Winnie is in the kitchen. I’ll take Tommy around back.” She brushes past me and motions for Tommy to follow her. I take Tommy’s hand and help him back down the front porch steps. I lean down to kiss his sweet, little face that smells a lot like a strawberry pop-tart.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” I call to his back as he toddles away behind Trudy. How can she take care of him if she won’t even hold his hand? I’m not sure what to make of everything I’m feeling.
I climb back up the porch steps and open the front door for Daleni. I spread my arms like Mrs. H. did that very first day. “Welcome to Willow House!” I say. But then my arms drop to my sides and my mouth falls open. This is hardly the same house I entered just two weeks ago. On the landing, the stained-glass window glows. The huge weeping willow’s emerald and amber, glass leaves catch the rays of the sun and weep them all down the deep, red carpet on the stairs. The wood and all the spindles of the banister gleam. The chandelier has apparently been sandblasted, and the crystals on the edges of the iron leaves throw tiny prisms of rainbows up the walls and across the floor. Mrs. Hallovich has outdone herself.
I try to play it off like I’m not surprised by all this glorious-ness but Daleni has seen my reaction. Then, I remember that I told her everything, and I don’t have to hide my feelings. “Unbelievable,” is all I can think to say.
“I didn’t see what you saw the first day, but this is amazing.”
I nod and point. “The kitchen is this way.”
When we enter, Mrs. H. is standing at the counter. The black cauldron is beside her and red goo is splashed over the counter and across her apron. I have to tell you, it looks like she’s cooking a kid. My eyes fly to Daleni, but she doesn’t look bothered.
“Well hello, girls! You’re early.”
“We thought we’d see if you needed any help,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Oh fiddle, Dear! No reason to be sorry.” She comes around the counter, wiping more of the red goo onto an apron that’s protecting a very pretty summer dress. Seeing this makes me really glad I spent so much time in the mirror this morning. “You must be Daleni!” she says, holding out her hand.
Daleni shakes it, then smiles at the red smear that has been transferred to her palm.
“Goodness! I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Hallovich scoots Daleni over to the sink. “I’ve been making strawberry jam. I was hoping to send you each home with a little jar as a token of appreciation for spending one of your precious summer Saturdays with an old woman.” She laughs. She seems a little nervous. “It’s so nice that we can finally meet. Ella has told me so much about you.”
Daleni rinses her hands and wipes them on the tea towel Mrs. H. offers her. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.” She says it like she’s heard only good stuff and Mrs. H. gives me a wink.
“Ella, why don’t you two go up to the playroom while I get things finished down here. I didn’t have time to look for that trunk of doll clothes, but I pulled down the attic steps in case you’d like to look for them yourselves.”
Daleni and I give each other a look. She knows what happened to me in the playroom and her face looks terrified. I’m not too keen on going up to the playroom myself, but I have been wanting to peek in the attic.
I’m not sure what to do, but Mrs. Hallovich saves the moment. “Or you can wait for the others down here. Maybe you’d like to go into the dining room and see if everything is in order for our tea.”
Oh no! I just figured we’d be having tea under the willow tree. I promised the girls we would be outside all day. I’m trying to figure out how to suggest moving the party out there, until we actually enter the dining room. Holy crumpets! Daleni and I both gasp! It’s like Mrs. H. took everything in the house that sparkled and set it on the table. There’s fancy crystal glasses, and china plates and cups. There’s shining silverware, and a gigantic crystal vase in the center with fresh flowers, in all colors, bursting out of the top. Mrs. H. has gone to so much trouble and made this so spectacular, how can I suggest moving it?
“Wow,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“Wow,.” Daleni whispers back. She turns her head to look at me. “Don’t worry, Ella. Mandy and Melanie are gonna love this. We’ll go outside after tea.”
She always knows what I’m thinking. Apparently, I’m just everyone’s open book, and since I’m standing here with words clogged up in my throat again, she continues.
“Maybe if we go upstairs now, we can bring stuff down, and we won’t have to take the M&Ms up later.”
“Are you sure you want to go up there?”
“I don’t want to at all, but let’s get it over with.”
She will be my best friend forever.
The attic steps have been pulled down just like Mrs. H. said. Daleni and I give each other a nod of encouragement. I go up first.
There’s no need to flip a light switch. Plenty of sunshine pours in the windows. It is and isn’t what I imagined. Just like you would expect, there are boxes, and trunks, and old furniture, and things leaning up against the walls. But it’s all clean and bright, not dusty, and no cobwebs or bat poop that I can see. It’s also bigger than I imagined, with a lot of empty floor space. This would be a super cool place to hang out.
“What is it again that we’re looking for?” Daleni asks.
“There’s supposed to be a trunk of clothes for that teenage doll I told you about.”
She nods her head. “Cool!”
“You look over there,” I say, pointing to a pile of small trunks and suitcases, “and I”ll look through these.” I kneel down to a stack of wooden crates. “Let me know if you find anything else interesting!” I call over to her.
It’s only a minute until I make an incredible discovery: a stack of postcards from all kinds of exotic places: Peru, Ecuador, Scotland, New Orleans. I turn them over one by one and look at the signature. They’re all from Sam! I knew Mrs. H. wasn’t making the story up, but having a piece of it in my hands is different. It’s like Lep just came to life in front of me.
“Ella!” Daleni calls to me. “What’s this portrait of your dad doing up here?”
I look up quickly. What’s she talking about? She’s holding up a painting.
“That’s not my dad. It’s Great Grandpa Frank when he was young.”
Daleni is staring at me. I’m about to ask her if I have a booger on my face, when it sinks in. What the heck is a portrait of my great-grandpa doing in Willow House? I rush over to look at it closer. I take it into my hands. There’s a brass nameplate on the frame. Henry Francis Hallovich it says. I’m processing this. He dropped his first name, shortened Francis to Frank and Hallovich to . . . Hall. My great grandpa was Frank Hall! That means . . . But, before I can finish that thought . . .
“Uh . . . Ella.”
“Yeah?”
She doesn’t respond, so I look to where she’s pointing. The portrait of Grandpa Frank had been leaning in front of another one.
“Isn’t that Trudy?”
It’s her alright. That isn’t just a family resemblance. That’s Trudy. The brass nameplate reads Gertrude Elizabeth Hallovich.
Daleni and I look into each other’s frightened eyes, and we have the exact same thought at the exact same time.
“Tommy!” we both scream.
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