Coming Apart

  When Min turned onto Aiken Avenue a few minutes later, she said, “Would you like me to come inside with you?”

  “No. Thank you. I need to do this on my own.”

  And Mr. Pennington walked into his empty house.

  On Monday afternoon, Flora found herself alone. Ordinarily, she walked home from school with Olivia and occasionally with Nikki, if Nikki had permission to stay in town for a couple of hours. But today Flora was on her own. And when she reached home she was still on her own, since Ruby was attending a rehearsal of the Children’s Chorus.

  “Hi, King. Hi, Daisy,” said Flora when the cat and dog greeted her at the door. “I guess it’s just us this afternoon.” Flora let Daisy out into the backyard. She thought about Janie. She fixed herself a piece of toast. She thought about Janie some more. She glanced at her homework assignments and did a bit of calculating in her head. She figured she could finish the assignments by bedtime if she started them the second dinner was over.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed aloud.

  Flora let Daisy back inside. “Change of plans,” she announced. “Sorry, but you and King are on your own after all. I’m going to go to Aunt Allie’s.” She picked up the phone and dialed Needle and Thread. “Min?” she said. “I decided to go to Aunt Allie’s, so that’s where I’ll be this afternoon.”

  “That’s fine. Did you ask Allie if it’s all right with her?”

  “No, but I know she needs me. She said she has to catch up with her work.”

  “Okay. Be home by six.”

  Flora hopped on her bicycle and pedaled down Aiken Avenue. On either side of her, the trees seemed to rush by, bare branches reaching into the sunshine. She flew past withered ivy vines and empty garden plots and didn’t know whether to wish that winter would finally arrive or that spring would hurry up and make an early appearance.

  When Flora turned into Aunt Allie’s driveway, she was grateful to see that the car was in the garage. She left her bike on its side by the front walk and rang the doorbell.

  “Flora!” said Allie a few moments later. “I wasn’t expecting you this afternoon.” Allie was holding a squirming Janie in one arm and a notebook in the other.

  “I thought you might like some help.”

  There was just the briefest pause before Allie said, “Thank you. I could use a hand this afternoon.”

  “Great. That’s what I’m here for.” Flora stepped inside and took the baby from her aunt. “Hi, Janie. Hi, Janie,” she cooed. “Okay, Aunt Allie, you just go on and get some work done.”

  Allie disappeared into her study, and Flora sat on the couch in the living room with Janie. She stroked her soft curls and touched the tip of her nose. “You are so, so, so, so, so cute,” she whispered. “Let’s see. Do you need your diaper changed? Yes! You do. Let’s go upstairs.”

  Flora and Ruby and Min had helped Allie to decorate Janie’s nursery, and now Flora looked around it with satisfaction. She had made several of the things in the room — a pink cushion for the rocking chair and, with Min, curtains and a matching crib set. Soon Flora would finish the quilt.

  “Then I think I’ll start on some more rompers for you,” she told her cousin.

  She changed Janie’s diaper, marveling at her own expertise. “And now let’s find you a new outfit.” Janie was wearing a purple jumper and a white T-shirt, both of which were clean, but Flora felt the need to change the outfit anyway. “Here we go,” she said as she guided Janie’s arms through the sleeves of a striped onesie. “Perfect.”

  To Flora’s delight, Janie was wide-awake and happy, so she carried her downstairs and laid her on a blanket on the living room floor. “Look at all your toys. And your books! Here. I’ll read to you.”

  Janie lay on her back and waved her arms in the air while Flora read The Snowy Day to her. “One day you’ll see snow for yourself,” Flora said. “Of course, we need cold weather for that, but we’ll get some eventually.”

  Flora was telling Janie about snowstorms and snow days when she realized that her cousin had fallen asleep. With a sigh she carried her back upstairs and laid her in the crib. She tiptoed out of the room and down to Allie’s study, where she peeked around the door. Her aunt was sitting in front of her laptop, typing furiously.

  “Aunt Allie?” said Flora, and Allie jumped. “Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

  “You startled me. But I’m awfully grateful to be able to get some work done. This is wonderful, Flora. Thank you. What are you and Janie up to?”

  “She just went down for a nap,” Flora reported. “So I was wondering what you wanted me to do now.”

  Allie sat back in her desk chair. “Let me see. I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want me to take care of Janie’s laundry again?”

  “Do you really want to? You could go home if you like. I’ll probably have close to an hour of writing time before she wakes up.”

  “No, no, I’ll stay!” Flora insisted.

  “Well …”

  Aunt Allie glanced surreptitiously at her watch, and Flora caught the small motion.

  “I know, I know,” said Flora. “You have limited time. That’s why I’m going to stay to help. Won’t it be nice if I get things done for you now, and then you won’t have to worry about them later?”

  “Yes,” replied Allie, but she let a small sigh escape.

  Flora clapped her hands together briskly, the way Min sometimes did. “Okay. So, what needs doing? Should I organize Janie’s books? I noticed that they’re a little out of order.”

  “Really?” murmured Aunt Allie, whose eyes were on the computer screen. She turned back to Flora. “Sorry. What did you say? Janie’s books are out of order?”

  “Yes. I mean, they’re all just tossed randomly into her bookcase. I could straighten them out — and put them in alphabetical order.”

  “If you really want to, okay. But do you think you can do that without waking Janie?”

  “Yes. And if I can’t, I’ll come back downstairs and see what else needs to be done.”

  “Mmm,” said Allie, who was once again gazing at the screen.

  Flora tiptoed back up to Janie’s room. She eased the door open and settled herself in front of the bookcase. The case was low, with just two shelves, and on the top sat a lamp and several toys. Flora placed the toys in Janie’s toy basket and then kneeled on the floor in front of the books. Gingerly, she slid a stack of books into her lap, immediately checking to see whether this had wakened Janie. It hadn’t. She was slumbering peacefully. Flora silently emptied both shelves, divided Janie’s reading material into picture books and board books, then put the books into alphabetical order according to the author’s last name, and finally slid each one tidily back onto the shelves.

  There. A good job well done.

  And Janie’s nap was in full swing.

  Flora slipped back into Allie’s study. “Finished!” she announced.

  Allie turned slowly from the screen. “What?” she said. “I mean, excuse me?”

  “I guess you’re in the middle of something, aren’t you?”

  Allie nodded vaguely.

  “Well, the books are done. And Janie’s still asleep.”

  “Flora, really, you’ve been a huge help this afternoon, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. But why don’t you go home now? I hate to think of you hanging around here when things are so quiet. I don’t —”

  Flora cocked her head. “Did you hear that?”

  Allie switched on the baby monitor that sat atop a filing cabinet. A whimper, rather cranky sounding, filled the study.

  “She’s up!” exclaimed Flora. “I’ll take care of her! You go back to work, Allie. I have everything under control.”

  Flora dashed upstairs again and made a beeline for Janie’s crib. “There you are, sleepyhead!” she said softly. “Did you have a good nap? I’d better check your diaper again.”

  Flora spent the next few minutes once again changing Janie’s diaper and then unnecessarily changin
g her outfit, too.

  “You are the cutest, cutest, cutest girl in all of Camden Falls!” announced Flora, hoisting her cousin in the air. “Let me get you a bottle, and then maybe we can go for a walk outside, since it’s so warm.”

  After Janie had been fed (expertly, in Flora’s opinion), Flora poked her head into Allie’s study. “Here she is, all dressed and fed and ready to go outside. It’s pretty warm today. We could take a nice long walk.”

  “That’s a good idea,” replied Allie, and she helped Flora settle Janie in a nest of blankets in her fancy new stroller.

  “We’ll see you later,” called Flora as she wheeled Janie down the driveway to the sidewalk.

  Allie’s neighborhood was bustling. The streets here were lined not with the large and aging homes of Flora’s neighborhood but with smaller, newer houses, and in the yards of most of them were bicycles and tricycles and ride-on toys, basketball nets and skateboards and plastic slides. Flora saw kids playing and dogs being walked and a group of boys heading somewhere with a bat and ball.

  “Maybe,” said Flora to Janie, “there are other babies in these houses, and one day they’ll be your friends. You and your friends will grow up together and go to Camden Falls Elementary, just like Ruby and I did. And you —”

  Flora stopped talking when she heard someone call her name.

  “Flora? Is that you?”

  Flora had wheeled Janie two blocks in one direction, turned around and gone three blocks back in the other direction, and now had turned around a second time and was approaching Allie’s driveway. She looked over her shoulder.

  Climbing out of his car in the driveway of the house across the street was her English teacher, Mr. Barnes. He waved to her.

  Flora waved back. Then, feeling both proud and shy, she wheeled Janie up her teacher’s driveway. “Have you met my new cousin?” she asked.

  “Not officially,” replied Mr. Barnes. He set his briefcase at his feet.

  “This is Janie,” Flora told him. “Jane Marie Read. She’s named for my sister and me. Those are our middle names. My aunt adopted her last month. I mean, that’s when it became official. But Janie was born on Thanksgiving Day.”

  Mr. Barnes peeked into the stroller and Janie waved her arms at him. He smiled. Then he cleared his throat. “So … your aunt adopted her?”

  “All by herself,” said Flora proudly.

  Mr. Barnes glanced thoughtfully across the street. “That was very brave of her.”

  “She really, really wanted a baby. And,” Flora continued, inspired, “there was no —” She paused, searching for the right phrase. “There was no man on the horizon.”

  Mr. Barnes reddened. And in a flash, Flora saw it all: Her teacher had a crush on her aunt. He had barely spoken two words to her since he’d moved in at the beginning of the school year, but he was in luv with Aunt Allie.

  What if, Flora wondered with a rush of excitement, Mr. Barnes and Aunt Allie got married? It would be perfect. The English teacher married to the writer. Aunt Allie would get a husband, Janie would get a father, and Mr. Barnes would get a whole family.

  Ruby stood outside the window of Heaven, the jewelry store. Well, the old jewelry store, thought Ruby. A newer and much fancier one had opened in Camden Falls recently, but Ruby was desperately hoping that she might find a replacement owl here at Heaven, where things were cheaper. Heaven was where Ruby had bought plastic rings and rubber bracelets, sparkly hair combs and once a silver seagull, a birthday present for Min. Except that it wasn’t silver, as it had turned out. It was pewter, which Flora said Ruby should have known by the price: $11.49. And also by the fact that the tag was stuck to the bottom of the gull. A silver gull of that size would have been hideously expensive, according to know-it-all Flora, and would never have had anything stuck to its bottom. The tag would have been tastefully arranged (facedown) next to the gull. Ruby had never spent more than the $11.49 on any one item at Heaven. So she was keeping her fingers crossed that in the display in the window or in one of the cases inside the store she might find an owl that looked like the one she had broken. Even a glass owl would be fine. Ruby didn’t care. Glass, crystal. Would Min really know the difference?

  Ruby blew on her bare hands as she scanned the earrings and necklaces and watches in the window. She realized her hands were freezing and felt in her pockets for mittens. But her pockets were bare. The winter had been so warm that Ruby had rarely needed either mittens or a hat. She found herself wishing for both now.

  Ruby saw nothing resembling a crystal owl in the window, so she stepped inside and began a careful examination of each display case. It was while she was standing in front of a rack of silver (well, pewter) earrings and wondering if she might have enough money for an owl and a pair of earrings in the shape of ballet slippers that she became aware of the radio playing somewhere in the store. And then she realized what single word had just captured her attention: blizzard.

  “What?” said Ruby aloud. She stepped back and stood in the aisle, listening intently.

  “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer was saying, and Ruby detected a hint of excitement in his usually calm voice. “A blizzard. All of our computer models are predicting that it will arrive late Friday afternoon. We’re expecting high winds, temperatures well below freezing, and — good news for the kiddies — more than two feet of snow. Yup, twenty-four to thirty inches of the white stuff. This could be the worst storm in forty years.”

  Now, ordinarily if Ruby had heard such an announcement, particularly in a winter that so far had yielded a scant flurry here and there, she might have jumped up and down and cheered, even in the middle of Heaven. But at the moment, all she could think was: Friday. The weather guy said the storm is supposed to come on Friday. Friday afternoon, no less. There was no way they would get a snow day out of the blizzard, even the worst one in forty years, if it began late on Friday afternoon.

  “Ruby? What’s wrong?”

  Ruby jumped and returned her attention to the jewelry case, where, she now saw, Margaret Malone was standing. She had forgotten that Margaret worked at Heaven. She’d started her new job after the holidays in order to earn money for college.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Ruby.

  “Hear what?”

  “What the weatherman just said. A blizzard is coming on Friday. Friday. We won’t get a snow day. All that snow, and what good will it do?”

  Margaret laughed. “Well, it should be exciting. And fun. Aren’t you excited, even a little?”

  “I guess,” replied Ruby. She scanned the display cases again.

  “Are you looking for anything special?”

  “Well …” Ruby hesitated. Should she mention the owl to Margaret? She didn’t want Min to hear that she was going around town looking for a crystal owl. On the other hand, if she could find a cheap owl here, it would make things much easier. “I don’t suppose you have any owls,” said Ruby finally.

  “Any owls?”

  “I’m looking for a crystal owl. It’s, um, a present for someone.”

  Margaret shook her head. “We don’t have anything like that.”

  “A glass owl would do.”

  But Margaret shook her head again. “Sorry.”

  “Well, okay. Thanks anyway,” said Ruby.

  Outside, she stuffed her hands in her pockets. Only Tuesday afternoon and already she could feel a change in the weather. The sun was shining and the storm was still three days away, but the air was certainly colder. Ruby blew out her breath and watched with satisfaction as it puffed in front of her.

  She paused and looked up and down Main Street. Okay. Where else might she find an owl for Min? Ruby looked in Bubble Gum, where she found a tiny china owl, and in Stuff ’n’ Nonsense, where she found another china owl, and in two other stores, where she didn’t find any owls at all. That left Whitworth Jewelers, the new jewelry store — which was also the expensive jewelry store.

  “Rats,” said Ruby as she stepped inside. br />
  “May I help you?” someone asked her before she even had time to close the door all the way.

  “Me?” said Ruby.

  A man was standing behind the longest of three counters in the store. He was wearing a suit and tie, and he was peering at her over a pair of reading glasses. Something in his voice made Ruby suspect that he might be foreign, possibly British. Now he glanced around the store, which was empty except for another salesperson, as if to say, “Do you see anyone else who needs help?” But he said nothing, simply steepled his fingers and continued to stare at her.

  “Well,” said Ruby, taking in the immaculate store, the thick carpet, the jewelry arranged on pillows of black velvet, “I’m looking for a … a crystal owl.” She had almost said “glass owl” but caught herself in time. Nothing in Whitworth Jewelers would be created from something as lowly as glass.

  “All of our crystal is in this case,” said the man, and he walked to the back of the store. “We have several crystal animals, and we do in fact have an owl.”

  “You do?! You have an owl?” Ruby clapped her hands together. “That’s great.”

  “There it is,” said the man, pointing.

  Ruby saw a crystal owl that was beautiful, but not exactly like the one she’d broken. It was larger, and its wings were in a different position.

  “Is — is that the only one you have?”

  The man cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  Ruby paused. “How much is it?” she dared to ask.

  The man told her the price and Ruby swallowed hard. She would have to work for months in order to earn enough money to buy it. She was about to ask if she could buy the owl on time, or if it could be set aside and put on hold for her for until April, but the man was still glaring at her, and Ruby’s mouth suddenly felt dry. At last she said, “Well, thank you. It’s really nice, but I guess I won’t buy it right now.”

  She turned and fled from the store. Outside, she stood in the sunshine and drew in a few deep breaths. Okay. She couldn’t afford the owl just yet, but at least she knew where to find an owl that looked reasonably like the one she’d broken, and she knew how much money she’d need to earn as the Doer of Unpleasant Jobs in order to buy it. It was a beginning. Ruby had a goal.