Willow House Chapter 26

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 The Tea Party

    

      Daleni and I are sitting in the parlor waiting for the M&Ms, who should be here any minute. Tommy is napping in the study, across the entry, where I can see him. Mrs. H. went upstairs to change out of her wet clothes and “put herself back together”. She didn’t say much when we were walking back to the house. I let her carry Tommy because she looked like she needed that. She also kind of looked like my mom does when she has a migraine coming on.

     Daleni and I aren’t saying much either. I can’t believe the things that have happened since this morning, when my biggest issue was deciding which shoes to wear with my sophisticated, green and white dress. At least I’ve gotten a little used to the crazy events at Willow House. Daleni is probably freaking out. I look over at her. She looks at me. She looks okay. She doesn’t look like she just saw a ghost, which is actually what probably just happened.

     She’s the first one to speak, “Ella, are you okay?”

     “Yeah. Are you?”

     “Yeah.”

     The jangle of an old-fashioned telephone, interrupts us. It’s that brass doorbell. Daleni and I both stand to answer it. Mrs. H. calls down from upstairs, “I’ll be down in a minute, girls. You can escort your friends to the dining room.”

     I open the front door and I’m happy to see that Mandy and Melanie have also put effort into their fashion choices of the day. Mandy has on a bright yellow sun dress and Melanie’s is bright orange. They look like very pretty M&Ms. The four of us spend a few seconds complimenting each other on our dresses, but then the beautiful entryway snags their attention. I step out of the way so that they can have a better look.

     “This is amazing,” Mandy whispers like she’s in church.

     Melanie is nodding her head. “This is really beautiful, Ella.”

     “Thanks,” I say. I’m thinking thoughts I’m not quite ready to say out loud. They have to do with a new feeling that I belong here. This house belongs to my family. Great-Grandpa Frank is Mrs. Hallovich’s son - Henry.

     The girls follow Daleni and me into the dining room. Their eyes grow big and they gasp, and I know I won’t have any trouble convincing them to have the tea party inside. I’m about to offer them a seat when Mrs. H. enters. She’s dry and looks fresh as a daisy.

     “Welcome to Willow House, girls!”

     I make all of the appropriate introductions. Mrs. H. is putting on a brave face like nothing happened, and I can see that the M&Ms are comfortable. In fact, they seem excited to be here. Mrs. H. tells us all to have a seat while she gets a few more things from the kitchen. 

     We’re barely settled in our chairs when she returns with a china, tea service: a fancy teapot, sugar bowl, and cream pitcher, all with a beautiful weeping willow design. They match the five cups and saucers that are already sitting at our places. 

     I’m a little worried because I’ve never really liked tea. I’m going to drink it though, because that’s the polite thing to do. Mrs. H. goes around the table filling each of our cups then sits at the head of the table.

     “Go ahead, girls. It’s not too hot.”

     We all pick up our cups. I notice we all extend our pinky. It must be an instinct from prehistoric times. We take a small sip. It’s delicious! 

     Our faces all light up. I think maybe the other girls were afraid they weren’t going to like it either.

     Mrs. H. is nodding. “It’s my mother’s recipe. It’s made with oranges and lemons straight out of the greenhouse. This was the only tea I could stand the taste of when I was young.”

     After that, it’s a real party: a well controlled and polite free-for-all with our pinkies extended. I’m not sure you’re supposed to stuff yourself at a tea party, but there’s no way to stop eating all the yummy things she made for us. There are finger sandwiches, and fancy breads, and fruits, and vegetables, and dips, and pastries, and of course, potato chips. Most of the platters, as well as our plates, are empty when she says, “I have one last thing for you girls.”

     When she leaves the room we all groan and complain and laugh. How can we squeeze in one more bite?

     Mrs. H. returns in a couple of minutes with a pile of pink boxes. Each one of us receives two; a smaller box on top of a bigger one, tied together with a pale yellow ribbon. 

     “Go ahead and open them,” she says.

     Inside the top box is a beautiful, little jar of the strawberry jam she had been working on when Daleni and I arrived. Inside the bottom box. . . a fancy cake that looks like a beautiful girl in a ball gown. The doll part is stuck down into the vanilla cake part and each of the dolls has on a different colored dress with ruffles of icing and candy pearls.

     “I thought you girls might be too full to eat them, so I made them to take home.”

     “Eat them?!” I say. “How can we eat these?”

     “They are so beautiful, Mrs. Hallovich!” says Melanie.

     “Thank you!” says Mandy

     “I can’t wait to show my mom!” says Daleni.

     “Enjoy them!” Mrs. Hallovich says. “But please do eat them! I don’t want to hear about my cakes growing any green, fuzzy stuff.” She laughs.

Not Mrs. Hallovich's pattern, but a teacup nonetheless.

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Willow House Chapter 25

To begin at chapter one click here

Like Dominoes

     

     We run as fast as we can back down to the kitchen. Mrs. H. is about to carry a silver tray to the dining room. She turns so quickly that dainty, rose-shaped, butter cookies nearly slide to the floor.

     “Whatever is the matter, girls?” 

     “Trudy has Tommy!” I yell.

     Mrs. Hallovich’s laser green eyes pop out. (Not clear out, but you know what I mean). “How do you know Trudy?” she asks, and then “What do you mean she has Tommy?” She takes a calming breath and kneels in front of me. “Ella, please tell me what is going on.”

     “Trudy has been babysitting us this week. She met us at the door when we got here. She took Tommy around back to play.” I’m speaking as calmly as I can. I know panicking won’t get us anywhere and so does Mrs. Hallovich.

     She stands. “Follow me, girls!”

     We speed out through the back door and around the fountain. This may seem like a weird time to mention this, but I notice how beautiful the fountain is. The swan is spewing water high up into the air from its beak, and the sunlight is making it all sparkle like magic. I’m telling you because it reminds me of the fairytale scene in front of the greenhouse. Right before things got really bad.  

     Sure enough, a cold wind begins to blow as we scramble into the clearing. A cloud passes over the sun. Mrs. H. hustles us toward the pond. As we reach the line of willows, they begin their terrifying dance. I grip Daleni’s hand. Mrs. H.  tries to hold back the thrashing branches and keep the worst of it from striking us. 

     “Cover your faces, girls!” she cries.

     It’s like the trees themselves are trying to keep us away from the pond. All we can do is squint down at our feet and power on.

     When we emerge on the other side it isn’t like the last time. Things don’t calm down. We have to scramble closer to the churning water to get out of reach of the willow branches that are trying to grab us and pull us back.

     “There they are!” Mrs. H. shouts.

     Out on the choppy water is a small rowboat carrying two people: a girl with long dark hair and my baby brother.

     “Tommy!” I scream. 

     I feel Daleni’s hand still clutching mine. I shake it off and tear at my sandals. I’ve got to go get my brother! I don’t know how to swim, but that’s not an issue. I can do it.

     “Stop! Ella, stop!” Daleni yells. 

     I look over my shoulder to her. She’s pointing out into the pond. How the heck did Mrs. H. get out there so fast? I see a head, arms frantically splashing through the water, nearly to the boat! Then, I see a second person. (Mrs Hallovich?!) not quite half-way out, swimming like she’s being chased by a shark. There are two people in the water! Who the heck is the other person? The first person reaches the little rowboat. It’s a man. He pulls himself up out of the water and climbs into the boat. From here, it looks like my dad, but how is that possible? The man takes control of the oars and rows toward Mrs. Hallovich. The water calms.

     I can’t believe this is happening. It looks like Tommy is going to be okay, and I’m so relieved that I plop down on the sandy shoreline and pull my knees up to my chin. Daleni sits beside me. I can feel her hand on my shoulder. All we can do is watch the drama on the pond play out. I won’t feel all the way better until I have Tommy in my arms.

     Within seconds, the man helps Mrs. H. aboard the little rowboat that’s barely big enough to hold all four of them. She pulls Tommy onto her lap and gathers Trudy to her as well. The man turns the four of them back toward Daleni and me, and we stand to wait by the water’s edge.

     When the boat reaches the shore, Mrs. Hallovich helps Tommy out and sets him on the sand. He runs into my arms. I never want to let go. I get a better look at the man. It’s not my dad. He looks a little like him though, only younger.

     “Thank you.” I say to him. How can those words ever mean enough?

     He gives me a small salute. His eyes are the color of honey. I salute him back.

     “I’ll be with you girls in a minute.” Mrs. H. says.

     We step away. She wants a bit of privacy.

     She stands close to the boat, talking to Trudy and the man. There seems to be a bit of an argument going on. Eventually, Trudy climbs out of the boat and steps toward her mother. Since Trudy doesn’t let anyone touch her, I’m surprised when she takes one more step into Mrs. Hallovich’s arms. They stand there holding each other for a minute until the man calls Trudy back.

     Trudy and Mrs. Hallovich watch each other as the boat sails away from shore. Mrs. Hallovich turns and walks up the beach toward us.

     “I’m so sorry, Ella.”

     I nod, but I’m sorry for her too. She’s been crying. Her nose is red and swollen like mine when I cry. My mind is spinning with questions, but I know that this isn’t the time.

     We watch the boat as it slips away across the pond. You’re going to have trouble believing this next part, but I’m not lying. Trudy and the man have just reached the other side when it starts. The whole earth starts trembling. The wind kicks up so much that Mrs. H. puts her arms around all of us to keep us from being blown away. The water churns, and the willows around the pond start crashing down like dominoes. Then, they’re sucked down into the water, like a giant hand is pulling them in by their roots. It’s over as fast as it started. The trees are gone. The boat is gone. Even Trudy has disappeared. 

     The man, who I’m thinking is Sam, stands alone. He gives us another small salute and turns toward the barn. The pond is naked and smooth as a mirror, reflecting only the sky.

     The four of us stand on the shore. No one makes a peep until Tommy, in Mrs. Hallovich’s arms, looks up into her face and asks, “today?”

     Mrs. H. and I look at each other. So that’s what he’s been trying to say.

     “Yes, Tommy. That was Trudy. Everything’s going to be okay.”

     After a long time, Mrs. Hallovich puts her hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. Looking out at the naked pond she says, “Who’s ready for tea?” 

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Willow House Chapter 24

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 Discoveries Come Easier With a Best Friend

     

     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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Willow House Chapter 23

 

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Girls’ Meeting

      It's Wednesday afternoon. Tommy is napping, and Daleni and the M&Ms are at my kitchen table with Trudy and me. Trudy is okay. I like her, but she doesn’t do much. I’ve been changing Tommy’s diapers and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day. I refuse to cook a grilled cheese while Trudy’s getting paid for it. At least I’m not fixing lunch for her. She doesn’t eat. She just sits around and listens to music on the classical radio station. I know she’s Mrs. Hallovich’s great-niece, but . . . she’s a little strange.  

     I haven’t told my parents any of that, because I’m so happy she’s talking to my friends. She’s telling them everything she told me and then some. Nothing weird is going on at Willow House. She’s been going there all her life, and she’s never seen a ghost, or had anything happen that couldn’t be explained. She also talks really nice about Mrs. Hallovich. She obviously loves her great aunt, and that makes me like her enough to let her keep the paycheck that should be mine.  

     Melanie reaches for an Oreo cookie from a plate that sits in the middle of the table. It’s a plate of snacks I prepared while Trudy listened to classical music.  

     “How do you explain the rocker on the front porch that always rocks with no one in it?” asks Melanie.

      “That has been a family joke for years,” she responds. “The porch slopes a tiny bit right there and it only takes the slightest breeze to set if off.”

      None of us know how to argue with that.

      Mandy pipes in with her own question. “The thing that creeped me out the most was the dollhouse curtains blowing and that sister-doll thing.”

     “Old houses are drafty. As for the sister-doll, I think Ella simply forgot where she had placed it, and her imagination got the best of her.” Trudy challenges me with her eyes to say anything more.

     The four of them look at me, and all I can do is shrug my shoulders. It’s not like I can argue with Trudy when she’s helping me convince them to come. I know what I saw, I know what I heard, I know what I felt. She’s making me second guess everything. If this is going to work, though, I have to play along. 

     “She’s probably right. I guess it was my imagination.” 

     That didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth. It kind of felt like a lie. 

     Everyone is still looking at me; Trudy with satisfaction, Melanie with disgust, Mandy with disappointment, and Daleni with sympathy.

     “So . . . ” Trudy says. “Are you girls in? Will you go to the tea party?”

     “I’m in,” Mandy is quick to respond. “I was going to go anyway, but . . . thanks, Trudy. You made me feel better about it.”

     “I’ll come too,” Melanie says. That’s all Melanie says.

     “Good! That’s settled.” Trudy starts to stand then adds, “and Ella, don’t forget to bring Tommy. I can keep an eye on him while you girls enjoy yourselves.”

     “Sure.” I say, but for some reason the idea of Trudy alone with Tommy makes my insides tighten up a little.

     The next two days go by well enough. Trudy isn’t kidding when she says she’s not a touchy person. Tommy adores her even though she never picks him up or cuddles him like Mrs. Hallovich did. She plays board games with me in the afternoons while Tommy naps, but doesn’t even accept a handshake when I let her win.

    Trudy did me a big favor by talking to the girls, but I’m still uncomfortable about her. She didn’t explain everything, and some of the things she did explain just don’t seem like the complete truth. There seems to be a lot of half-truths going around this summer.

     I have to come clean with Daleni. She has a good head on her shoulders, and I’m hoping that, between the two of us, we can get things figured out.

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Willow House Chapter 22

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 Trudy

      It’s Monday morning. I’ve been awake since the telephone rang at 6:30. For over an hour I’ve been lying here listening to my parents run up and down the stairs. Doors open and close, and one of them gets in the car and leaves. Something is going on, but I don’t even care. I’m grieving the loss of Mrs. Hallovich’s scones.

     At 8:00 my mom peeks in my door, still wearing her bathrobe.

     “Good morning, Sweetheart,” she says.

     “Morning, Mom.”

     She comes over to kiss my forehead and sits next to me on the bed.

     “There’s been a small change of plans.”

     Could it be . . . ? I think hopefully to myself. I hold my breath.

     “Heather called this morning and she seems to have come down with a bad, summer cold and doesn’t want to make you guys sick.”

      “So we’re going to Willow House?!” This is fantastic! I’m already out of bed and getting dressed before she can answer.

     “Well . . . no.”

     I stop dressing.

     “Dad went over there this morning to see if Mrs. Hallovich would mind keeping the two of you for another week, but her great-niece met him at the door and offered to come here.”

     I’m confused. “What great-niece?”

     “Her name is Trudy. She looks like she’s about Heather’s age. She must be the daughter of that nephew who’s helping fix up Willow House.”

      I’m nodding my head, trying to process it all. She’s the daughter of the nephew I’ve never seen.

     “When will she be here?” I ask.

     “She’s downstairs with Tommy now. You can get dressed and join them. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

     I find them both in the kitchen. Tommy is in his highchair with a pile of dry, but soggy, Corn Pops and a sippy cup full of milk. He’s babbling away to Mrs. Hallovich’s great-niece who’s sitting in the seat beside him. She smiles up at me and says, “Hi, Ella. I’m Trudy.”

     “Hi.” I grab a clean bowl and spoon, plop myself on the other side of Tommy, and reach for the cereal box. “I’m missing Mrs. Hallovich’s baking this morning,” I say, to start some conversation.

     Trudy smiles and nods. “She’s an excellent cook.”

     “How are you this morning?” I say to Tommy.

     “Today!” he says. 

     “You can help yourself to the cereal,” I say to Trudy.

     “No thanks, I ate before I came over.”

      Probably scones, I think with a stab of jealousy. “How come I haven’t seen you at Willow House?”

     “I go over with my dad sometimes in the evening to help out. I’m usually not there during the day.”

     “How many people are working over there?” I ask. I’m still trying to solve the mysteries.

     “Enough,” is all she says. She leans toward Tommy. “I can’t get over how much he looks like my aunt’s son Henry.”

     “I thought so too.”

     Her eyes flash to me. “How do you know what Henry looks like?”

     “There’s a photo in Mrs. Hallovich’s locket and one by her bed.”

     “So, you’ve seen Gertrude as well?”

     “Yes. She was really cute too.”

     Trudy gives me a big smile and nods. “I was named after her.”

     I must look confused because she explains, “Trudy is short for Gertrude.”

     “Oh! Like Frank is short for Francis!”

     “Exactly!” she says.

     Mom comes downstairs all dressed and ready for work. She spends a few minutes going over things with Trudy and tells her to make herself at home. She gives Tommy and me a kiss and then, she’s gone, and it’s just the three of us. 

     “So, how was your week at Willow House?” Trudy’s eyes are green and intense and trying to look into my deepest thoughts. It reminds me of someone else we all know.

     I start talking and feel like I can’t stop. I end up telling her about the girl in the boat.

     “Did you get a good look at her?”

     “Not really. She was a little too far away.”

     Trudy nods. “I bet that was Sarah McGlinchey. Her family lives on the other side of the pond. “Aunt Winnie lets them take their family boat out on it.”

     “Aunt Winnie?”

     “Yeah. Her real name is Gwendolyn but the family has always called her Winnie.”

     I’m staring back, wondering why Mrs. Hallovich didn’t tell me her name was also Winnie, when I told her my grandma’s name. Trudy must think I don’t understand because she continues, “like Gertrude and Trudy, Francis and Frank.”

     That annoys me. “I get it,” I say kind of rudely. But, I don’t want to offend Trudy. She might be able to clear up some of the mysteries.

     I tell her about that weird piano lesson I heard.     

     “Oh! That was me! I wasn’t sure where Aunt Winnie was, and there was Tommy all alone in the big house. I played with him a while until I heard you guys come in and I knew he was safe.” 

     I tell her about the footsteps I heard over my head when I was in the kitchen that first day. 

     “Yeah. That was probably me too. I don’t think Aunt Winnie knew I was there.”

     Maybe I do have an overactive imagination. But, didn’t she just tell me that she wasn’t usually there during the day? Are the mysteries in the house so easily explainable; just coincidences. But . . . that would mean . . . there’s nothing that my friends have to be afraid of!

      I tell Trudy about the invitations to the tea party and the pickle I’ve gotten myself into.

     “Do you think I could help convince them to go?” she asks.

     “You would do that for me?!”

     “Sure I would. Invite them over. I’ll talk to them.”

     I’m so happy, I could explode! “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

     “No problem. They will love the party, and there’s really no need at all for them to feel uncomfortable in Willow House.”

     “You’re the best!” I jump up to give her a hug, but she puts up her hands.

     “No offense, Ella. But, I’m not a touchy person.”

     My feelings are a little hurt, but I get it. There’s a kid in my class who doesn’t like to be touched either. He’s a nice guy though, and we all respect his space.

     I act casual. “That’s cool,” I say.

     She gives me a big smile. “If you don’t mind, I think Tommy needs his diaper changed. I’ll be in the living room.”

      What? Since when do babysitter’s not change diapers? This is not okay. If I end up making grilled cheese or calling 9-1-1, I’ll be really mad.

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