“She is! Oh, Lydia!”
“ ‘Was it really a sheep that was sitting on the other side of the counter?’ ”
It definitely was really a sheep bumping her head against the book. Once, twice, she bumped her head. Alice whipped out her mother’s phone and photographed the scene.
“Switch!” said Lydia. “You read, and I’ll take a picture for Jack!”
They changed places so smoothly that Blossom didn’t notice—all her focus was on this book that miraculously contained not just Alice but an actual sheep.
“ ‘Rub as she would,’ ” read Alice, “ ‘she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little dark shop, leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her was an old Sheep—’ ”
“Got it!” crowed Lydia, and just in time, too. Blossom’s concentration was waning.
Alice sent the photo to Jack, along with a message—This is Blossom not Big Papi and she’s my sheep now. Love, Alice—and the girls celebrated with another dance, more vigorous than the first, and including wild calls of victory. Bothered by the noise level, Blossom began her long trip to re-join her friends on the other side of the field.
The girls toned down their shouts, hoping that Blossom would be less disturbed and more grateful for the introduction to the cultural arts. She did look back at them once, but by then they were paying more attention to someone in the distance, calling for Lydia. She didn’t recognize the voice. It definitely wasn’t either of her sisters.
“It’s Mrs. Tifton,” said Alice. “She’s here again.”
“But Jeffrey told her to stay away.”
“Lydia, Lydia!”
“She didn’t listen to him,” said Alice. “Mostly she doesn’t listen to anybody.”
“Why would she be looking for me?”
“Maybe because she’s sure you don’t want to marry Jeffrey. I’ll come with you. She knows I don’t want to marry him, either.”
“Nobody does,” said Lydia. She could almost feel sorry for Jeffrey for how little any of them wanted to marry him.
The girls followed the voice out of the sheep field, toward the hedge, and through the tunnel. Lydia didn’t know the polite way to handle this situation. As in, how to act with the woman who the day before had scolded, threatened, and enraged Jane enough that she almost drowned herself in the bathroom sink. Lydia decided it would be best to follow Mrs. Tifton’s lead.
Mrs. Tifton seemed to be pretending yesterday hadn’t happened.
“I’ve been calling for you,” she said. “Natalie said you were out here but didn’t know where.”
“We were visiting my sheep,” said Alice. “Blossom, who used to be Big Papi.”
“We have a picture, if you want to see her, Mrs. Tifton,” added Lydia.
“No. Do you know where Jeffrey is? He’s not answering his phone.”
“He told us he’s seeing you this afternoon,” said Alice.
“I know about this afternoon, Alice.”
The last time Lydia had seen Jeffrey, he was still asleep on the music room couch, having crashed there after his music marathon with Batty.
“He might be asleep,” she said. “That would explain why he’s not answering his phone.”
“He shouldn’t be asleep. It’s almost eleven.”
“Mom says he has jet lag,” said Alice. “He flew in yesterday from—”
“Alice, please.” Mrs. Tifton already knew that, too. “I’d look for him myself, except that he’s asked me not to barge in on your sisters again. I thought ‘barge’ was a bit of an exaggeration.”
Lydia spoke up before Alice could start arguing about Mrs. Tifton’s method of entering Penderwick-occupied territory. “We’d be happy to go look for him.”
“Thank you. I’ll wait on the terrace. Tell him I have good news about Marlene.”
Marlene. That was Mrs. Robinette’s daughter, the one who was theoretically marrying Jeffrey. Lydia longed to know what the good news was but didn’t want to risk setting off Mrs. Tifton’s pickle levels, which so far today had been pretty low. She took Alice’s hand, and off they ran.
The search for Jeffrey led Lydia farther into the mansion than she’d yet been, or than she would have gone if it had been night and she’d been alone. And when they couldn’t find him anywhere on the first floor, nor on the second floor, Alice urged her up and up until they got to Jeffrey’s old bedroom, on the third floor.
He was out in the hall waiting for them.
“Good morning, rhinos,” he said. “I heard you coming from miles away.”
“Your mother’s waiting for you on the terrace,” said Lydia. “She has news for you about Marlene.”
“Good news,” added Alice. “What could it be?”
Jeffrey clutched his head. “I have no idea. Batty, Jane!”
They popped out of his room. Jane was in the middle of unfolding a sheet, and Batty, of stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase.
“Trouble?” asked Jane. “Jeffrey, stop doing that. You’ll tear your hair out.”
“My mother’s outside, with some nonsense about Marlene.”
“Your lovely betrothed,” said Batty.
That didn’t do Jeffrey’s hair any good. “Just keep the dogs up here until I tell you she’s gone.”
“What about me and Lydia?” asked Alice. “Do you want us to go with you for moral support?”
“That’s kind of you, Alice, but I can do this.”
The four of them watched him walk away, his reluctance showing in every dragging step.
“Poor guy,” said Jane.
“Yes,” said Alice. “He suffers. Jack thinks Jeffrey might marry Marlene one of these days just to get his mom to stop bugging him about it.”
Batty shook her head. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Come in, Lyds and Alice,” said Jane. “We’re helping Jeffrey settle.”
Jeffrey’s old bedroom was the first place in the mansion where Lydia felt comfortable. It was normal-sized, for one thing, and the furniture was functional instead of fancy. There was a piano, but it was a battered old upright Lydia wouldn’t worry about banging on. And there were no ghosts—she was definite about this. If ghosts did happen to exist, they wouldn’t come in here. The atmosphere was too friendly.
Jane stood by one of the windows, pointing out to a massive tree. “Behold! The legendary tree Skye and I once used for a perilous escape.”
“You climbed down that?” Lydia had heard this story—about her sisters climbing out the window and down that tree, all to avoid detection by Mrs. Tifton—but she’d never imagined the scope of their adventure. Just looking down at the ground from here made her dizzy.
“It was Skye’s idea,” said Jane.
Alice was greatly impressed. “I’d like to try.”
“No!” cried Batty from the other side of the room—she was making up the small bed with clean sheets. “You’d be killed.”
“Skye and Jane weren’t,” said Alice.
“Which was a miracle,” said Jane. “And we did get stuck halfway down. Your father had to get a ladder to rescue us.”
Lydia pulled Alice into the middle of the room, away from the temptation of the window. Now they were closer to the closet, which was open and, going by the amount of noise emanating from it, inhabited.
“Feldspar’s in there, hunting,” said Batty.
“Maybe we should—” said Jane.
“Right.” Batty went into the closet and reemerged, Feldspar in tow. He was carrying a new token of his hunting prowess, a crumpled bundle of wispy black-and-orange fabric. A scarf? A kite? Lydia leaned in for a closer look. It had wires meant to hold the shape, but they’d been bent, making it impossible to know what that shape had been. In several places, the fabric had been torn, then carefully mended
.
Before anyone could identify this whatever-it-was, Jeffrey returned. He was no longer clutching his head, but he did look weary.
“My mother is gone. Apologies, everyone.”
“What was the news about Marlene?” asked Lydia.
“She’s coming home next week to visit her mother. According to my mother, this will give me the opportunity to properly woo her.”
“So it will,” said Batty, plumping the pillow on the bed.
“Batty, please.” He clutched his head again, then noticed Feldspar’s newfound object. “Did you find that in the closet, buddy?”
“What is it?” asked Lydia.
“Batty should know. Batty, you don’t remember?”
But Beethoven’s Eroica was playing somewhere in the room, and Batty was searching for her phone. Lydia found it on a bookcase and tossed it to her.
“Hello?” said Batty.
Somehow—this was impossible—her phone was still playing the Eroica. But, wait, no, Alice had just found another phone, this one on the piano bench. Jeffrey claimed it, and she handed it over.
“Hello?” said Jeffrey.
It’s difficult to listen to two simultaneous one-sided conversations. If Lydia and Alice had decided who would pay attention to which, they might have understood more. As it was, they got only that Batty was explaining to someone that she was Batty, not Jane, and why had this person called Batty if she was looking for Jeffrey— She was talking to Mrs. Tifton! That was strange.
And Jeffrey seemed to be talking to Wesley—Wesley! Why?—explaining that he was Batty’s honorary older brother, and—
“Holy cow!” said Jane. “They’ve switched phones. Lyds, Alice, help me!”
Each girl snatched a phone and gave it to the correct owner, then went back to trying to decipher the new but still simultaneous phone conversations. Now Jeffrey was explaining to his mother about identical ringtones—no, they hadn’t known—and declining an invitation for dinner with her and Mrs. Robinette. And Batty was telling Wesley that she hadn’t mentioned Jeffrey would be at Arundel so soon because she hadn’t known he would be, and she hoped Hitch was having a good trip, but no, please don’t say hello to him for her.
“Who’s Wesley?” Alice asked Lydia.
“He’s Batty’s ex-boy—”
Lydia was interrupted by the sound of banging on an old-fashioned typewriter.
“Jane’s phone,” she said.
“This is extraordinarily exciting.” Alice started taking photos of everyone.
If two simultaneous conversations are confusing, three are Babel. Lydia got that Jane was talking to Skye and that Jane knew without a doubt—she said it three times—that Skye was kidding. And then Jane went into the closet and shut the door, and Lydia couldn’t hear her anymore. That left only two conversations, and then, after Jeffrey had also refused an invitation for cocktails and firmly told his mother good-bye, only one: Batty’s with Wesley.
“You didn’t tell me you were…No, it’s sweet of you, but…I guess so, if you could leave it at the entrance to Arundel…No, I don’t want to know when you’ll be here. Just let me know when you’re gone again….Yes, he’s the one who taught me music when I was little—I’ve told you about him….No!…Yes…Bye.”
“He sounds like a nice guy,” said Jeffrey when she hung up. “And when did you steal my ringtone?”
“Maybe you stole mine.”
“Is Wesley coming here?” asked Lydia. This was vitally important, and ringtones weren’t. Because if Wesley was coming, Hitch was coming, and Lydia might be able, after all, to give him a final farewell kiss on the nose. Oh, she did hope so.
“Sort of,” said Batty. “He’s going to stop here on his way out west, to drop off a wedding gift he’s made for Rosalind. ‘Drop off’ as in ‘leave it at the entrance and go on his way.’ ”
“Who’s Wesley?” asked Alice again.
“Batty’s ex-boyfriend,” said Lydia. “They just broke up, and he has this amazing dog—”
“Lydia, please,” said Batty.
“Sorry,” said Lydia, then whispered to Alice. “I’ll explain later.”
Batty had turned her attention back to Feldspar, still proudly in possession of his crumpled black-and-orange treasure.
“Jeffrey, you think I should know what this is?” She leaned in closer. “Let it go, Feldspar. That’s right. I’m sure this isn’t as good as your red shoe.”
To everyone’s surprise, he did let go, and watched while Batty untangled the mess, straightening bent wires, gently smoothing fabric.
“You must remember,” said Jeffrey.
“You’re sure? Oh!” Her face lit up. “My wings! Lydia, remember the stories about my butterfly wings?”
Lydia did remember the stories—of how Rosalind would mend the wings whenever Batty ripped them, and how Skye would go nuts whenever the wires poked her. And there were many pictures, too, not just the gum-in-the-hair one, in which little Batty stared into the camera, a shy but determined butterfly.
“But, Jeffrey, why did you have them? Wait—did I give them to you when we were leaving Arundel? I think so, and you said— What did you say?”
“Good-bye for now.”
“Yes. Good-bye for now. And it was good-bye for just then, wasn’t it? How wise you were.”
Alice was once again trying to ask questions—and who could blame her?—but now Feldspar was barking at the closet, wanting to get inside to retrieve his red shoe. He barked and whined, and Sonata, who’d been asleep under the piano bench, woke up and barked with him. Lydia tried to reach the door to open it, which Feldspar himself kept from happening by blocking her way.
And then the door swung open by itself. No, no—Jane had opened it from the inside. In all the excitement over Hitch and butterfly wings, Lydia had forgotten about Jane’s conversation with Skye.
Jane looked first at Jeffrey. “Skye says she and Rosy have talked to you about this and you don’t mind the added chaos.”
“It’s not that much more chaos, and I’m delighted for her, and we’ll have fun,” he said. “Come on, Batty, let’s see if these wings still fit.”
Batty stuck out her arms. “What chaos?”
“Jane will tell you.” He slipped the wings on her. “Yes, they fit.”
“What chaos, Jane?”
“I’m still trying to take it in. It seems that Dušek and Rosy have been pushing this for a while, and Skye finally decided that since she’d never want to arrange one for herself, she should take advantage of this one, especially since Dušek’s family was already planning to be here. So she said yes.”
Batty flapped her wings in frustration. “Yes to what?”
“A double wedding.”
LYDIA AND ALICE NEEDED a long conversation before Alice was caught up on the history of Skye and Dušek, who were now getting married, and of Batty and Wesley, who were separated for good. Lydia began with Batty and Wesley—about Wesley being an artist, and being as wonderful as he was irritating, and about how he and Hitch had come together. When Hitch was a puppy, he was called Bruno by a terrible and irresponsible owner, who first let him get hit by a car, then decided to discard him because one of his front legs was ruined. That was when Wesley had stepped in, paid to have the bad leg removed, and given Hitch his new name to go along with his new and better life. Alice said she hoped she could meet them when Wesley dropped off Rosalind’s gift. Lydia hoped that, too, but knew they’d have to be lucky to catch Wesley. He’d have no reason to linger at Arundel, not with Batty unwilling to see him.
The Skye and Dušek story was less complicated, even the part about this abrupt marriage. It was typical of Skye, Lydia told Alice, to be as casual about social occasions as she was serious about science, and gave the example of Skye’s high school prom, which she decided to attend only at the
last minute, then went dressed in a lab coat from chemistry class.
“It’s strange, though, suddenly to be having two sisters getting married,” she added. But Lydia was already getting used to the double-wedding plan. Once she could accept the idea of Skye getting married at all—outmoded social constructs, et cetera—it didn’t matter much when it happened.
“I don’t think I’d want to have a double wedding with Jack,” said Alice.
“Unless you liked the person he was marrying.”
“What kind of loser would marry Jack?”
* * *
—
Of everyone who had to adjust to this new, double-wedding reality, Lydia and Alice were the least affected. Back in Cameron, Rosalind and Iantha had to add calming down the father of the brides to their already long lists of tasks. In California, certainly Skye had some organizing to do, though it was hard to figure out what that would be, since the real work was being done here in Massachusetts. And here at Arundel, Jane frantically ordered fabric for Skye’s wedding gown—the one she had a mere week to produce—and Natalie moved her own sewing machine into the carriage house to help Jane. Cagney had to increase his output of benches and tables for the ceremony, to accommodate newly invited, extra guests. Ben was recruited to help him. As was Batty, whenever Jeffrey had to abandon music to placate his mother—and to keep her from dropping in again—which was more often than he or anyone else would have wished. The rest of the time, he and Batty settled down to serious preparation for the wedding music. No more goofing around with old Kinks songs.
Lydia and Alice did try to aid in the efforts. They performed inspirational dances for Batty and Jeffrey, throwing out what they thought were excellent song suggestions, until even Feldspar was sick of them and whined at them to leave. They helped with the dress-making at the carriage house until Natalie caught them matching a bodice to the wrong skirt and suggested they please move along. The girls’ last attempt was at carpentry, but Cagney sent them away from the tables and benches, too, when Lydia almost drove a nail through her thumb. After which they went blithely back to doing whatever they wanted. Especially now that Lydia was sleeping in Alice’s room—on the bottom bunk—and they could be together all the time.