Hilary spent most of the afternoon playing phone tag with Pittsburgh City Hall. She waited and waited while some secretary looked up records, only to claim that the records for that address were in the wrong place. Then she waited longer while they tried to find the paperwork, and she argued over not being there to sign the release. She finally told them that her lawyer Doug Thompson would sign the release.
She’d never been so grateful to hear Doug’s gentle, sensible voice when she called him. “Hilary, what’s going on here? Mackie called me last night before I got off work and told me everything. This sounds too much like one of those Gothic romances I know you read on the sly. Why does this…monster…want you?”
“I don’t know, Doug.” She pulled up a velvet-upholstered chair and settled down, the phone cradled in her arm. “But I’m going to find out. He pretty much screamed for me to eat with him tonight.”
“Hilary,” Doug gulped, “I really think that’s a bad idea. If this…thing…is the brute your father claims…”
“I don’t think he is.” Hilary switched the phone to her other arm. “There’s something about him. He yells and he blusters and he pushes that poor stupid Bear around, but underneath…I think he’s more angry and hurt than monstrous. I think it connects to everything else I’m feeling here.”
She could almost feel Doug’s raised eyebrow. “Bear? Are they running a zoo?”
“I’m starting to wonder.” Hilary leaned on the table where the phone was. “I was served breakfast by a fox with a mouth that’s far bigger than it should be for a servant. There’s an elderly white cat sweeping the floor not two steps from me, and that monster’s valet is a rabbit with a mustache. And that bear…”
She wrinkled her nose. “ He’s rather sweet, but incredibly stupid. Can’t get two sentences out. I suspect Betty’s right that someone damaged his mind…but who? That monster pushes him around, but I don’t think he’d do that. Oh, and the Eagle. Not unattractive, if you like feathers. Maple does, apparently, but he hasn't been seen at all this morning.”
Dough coughed. “Hilary…please, be careful. I don’t like this at all. This is something out of the Andrew Lang color fairy tale books, not real-life. Monsters don’t live in mansions. I swear, I will pull every string in Pittsburgh and find out who really owns that house.” The line crackled. “Hilary, is Betty there?”
“I think she’s in the library by now.” Hilary stood, picking a thread off her dress. “I could get her for you.”
The line was breaking up harder. “Could you…tell her…please…” It died all together before she could find out what he wanted to say.
She looked up at the clock. It wouldn’t hurt to dress for this all-important dinner the Troll was throwing a fit about and see what her sisters were up to. She didn’t like Betty being around that overgrown bear rug. She needed to focus on her work. And Maple could be absolutely terrifying if left to her own devices.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where Maple went. She stood in the hall, one ear pressed to the door Mr. Cat mentioned earlier. The other held a bag of nuts and was munching on peanuts. “Hey, Eagle, I got a snack! Wanna go out n’ play in the snow before it melts? We could sit in the garden an’ share the nuts.” The only response was an annoyed squawk.
“Maple.” Hilary sighed. “What are you doing?”
“Hilary!” Maple nearly fell into the door. “I’m just askin’ Eagle to lunch.”
“Did it ever occur to you that he has things to do?” Hilary put her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you go downstairs and help them with lunch?”
“Aww, Hilary, I ain’t no cook.” Maple knocked on the door. “Hey Eagle…ya know, I sorta think you’re, well, cute. I like you. When you flew off the banister like that…I ain’t never seen anything like it. I’m sure you’re doin’ something important, but…well, can’t I see it, too? Can’t I come in?”
There was a beat. Then a second. And then…the door opened a crack. A yellow beak poked out, followed by a wispy balding white and brown head and a pair of whiskey-brown eyes glittering with something between amusement and surprise. His squawk was much softer as he nodded, like he couldn’t believe Maple had stayed at his door for half the afternoon. He waved his wing, beckoning them in.
“Wow.” Maple gasped as she and Hilary looked around. “Would you get a load of this place?” The wide room was dominated by a polished wood desk and shelves upon shelves of books and papers. Any available wall space was covered by an avalanche of maps, all current ones of Europe and Asia. There might have been a blotter and a pen under the piles and piles of papers, all covered in writing and strange numbers and letters.
“Holy moly!” Maple grinned. “You’re a one-Eagle FBI! Was all this you?”
The Eagle nodded, his peach lips grim. He waved his wings at the paperwork and maps, trying to form something like words.
“I wish you could tell us what’s going on here.” Hilary admired one of the maps. “This one is Germany. I did hear about what was going on over there myself. Some people agree with it, but I think it’s chilling.”
Maple watched Eagle as his wings fluttered, trying to form sentences. “This is all real important to ya, ain’t it?” He nodded, his whiskey eyes troubled. She took his wing. “I’m kinda sorry ‘bout that. But what can you do about it holed up in here?”
“Wait.” Hilary frowned, pulling two enormous tin discs out from under the pile. “You’ve done recording? You don’t exactly look like Russ Columbo.”
“Too bad.” Maple leaned into him, grinning and fluttering her eyebrows. “I think you’d make a cute crooner.”
“Maple, please.” She sighed. “Eagle, I’m going to the library, and then will dress for dinner. I don’t suppose you have any idea of what your friend the Troll wants.”
Eagle frowned, his squawk soft but almost…reprimanding. Like Hilary was missing something. “Don’t you start on me, too! Your friend was abominable at breakfast. And you should have been there, instead of hiding, even if you do catch your own food.”
“Aw Hilary, leave the poor guy alone.” Maple made a face and patted his wing. “He was busy.” She grinned up at him. “Maybe you could show me the rest of this stuff?”
“Only until lunch.” Hilary sighed. “I’m going to the library to find Betty and see if I could learn anything about this house. Eagle, do you know who the owner is?”
Eagle frowned again, his squawk louder and angrier. He leaned out the door and waved a wing down the hall to the west wing of the house. “I assume your friend lives there.” She made a face. “Doug’s right, though. Trolls don’t own houses, and certainly not ones the size of movie palaces.” Eagle’s soft squawk sounded almost like a frustrated sigh.
“Hey,” Maple grabbed the Eagle’s wing and fluttered those long copper eyelashes again. “I ain’t never really understood all that politics junk. Maybe you could help me.” Hilary winced at the sweet look in those glittering whiskey eyes and the gentle squawk. For the first time, as she walked out, the thin peach lips turned up in a very small, very shy smile.
Hilary’s high heels glided on the soft blue rugs as she made her way down to the library. It took her nearly a half-hour to find it. Even with Mr. Cat’s earlier directions, the rooms in this place seemed to stretch on forever. She’d never seen so many doors, not even in that penthouse she shared with Jeff in New York.
The library was, indeed, at the very end of the house. She opened it up…and immediately gasped. It was beautiful. Rows and rows of polished shelves, holding more books than she’d ever seen in her life. Classics, leather-bound Shakespeare, books on gardening, books on the theater, cookbooks, collections of literature and fairy-tales, every theater and movie magazine existing. The books nearly stretched to the ceiling.
After she got over the shock of seeing so many books in one place outside of the Library of Congress, she was about to look for the research area when she heard her sister’s voice. Betty’s sweet, gentle voice, mingled with a bear’s slow, guttural growls.
She followed them to the very back of the library. Sunlight poured through a massive window overlooking the garden. It framed a circle of heavy dark chairs and couches covered in deep blue velvet and knitted blankets. One of those knitted blankets was covering Betty’s thin lap and Bear’s enormous one. He took up a good chunk of the couch, but she didn’t seem to mind. They were so caught up in the old blue fabric book in Betty’s lap, neither of them even noticed her.
Betty gently held his claws to the page, letting them follow along as she read. “The old Troll Queen flew into such a rage that she burst, and her ugly daughter and fellow trolls along with her. The Prince and the girl fled just as the castle fell to pieces. The winds returned them and all of the gold and silver they could carry home to his servants and her family, who awaited them with open arms, far from the land which lay East of the Sun and West of the Moon.”
“I like that.” Bear’s gentle smile was nearly as bright as the afternoon sunshine behind him. “Read it again?”
“We’ve already read it twice!” She laughed. “Don’t you want to hear something else? There’s so many other stories in this book.”
“I like story. Bear prince…” His smile was nearly as shy as his avian friend’s. “I prince? Like white bear?”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” Betty squeezed the big black paw that dwarfed hers twice over. “But you’ve been nothing but nice to us since we arrived. I don’t know why you let that awful Troll push you around. You’re bigger than him!”
Bear’s cheeky grin melted away as those amber pools turned down to the words on the page. “Master is friend. He’s not bad Master. He’s just sad. Sad and mad. He’s smart. Bear not smart. Not,” his eyes darkened again, “anymore.”
“Bear, look at me.” Betty cupped his fuzzy square chin and tugged those fading eyes to her bright chocolate ones. “You ARE smart…and more importantly, you’re things your Master seems to have forgotten how to be. You’re friendly and sweet. You’ve been nothing but nice to all of us since we arrived. You’ve tried your best to help. That’s not stupidity. That’s kindness. And that,” she rubbed his furry cheek, “is more important than all the brilliant conversation in the world.”
His cheeks somehow managed to turn red under the fur. “You think Bear…n…nice?”
She nodded, blushing herself. “Yes, I do. There’s just…something about you. It’s like…I knew you before.”
Bear gulped so hard, his pumpkin-sized Adam’s apple bobbed. “You did?”
“Uh-huh.” Betty’s soft voice trailed off at that point, their breathing hard and rough.
Hilary did not like this at all. She wanted a career and a good husband for Betty, not a throw rug. “AHEM!” She broke in just as Betty was about to kiss that fat furry cheek. “Betty, I thought you were finishing your play. And don’t you,” she glared at the trembling Bear, “have chores to do?”
“Hilary,” Betty threw her sister’s glare right back, “I’m done with my play. I put it in the mail more than an hour ago. I’ll work on letters to Father and C.J after dinner.”
Bear nodded so hard, that pumpkin on his neck bobbed. “I, uh, finish chores, miss. Betty...we had date. She read to me. She good reader. I like her story." He wistfully ran his big paw gently over that last drawing of the beautiful blond princess and the handsome dark-haired prince fleeing the crumbling castle.
“I’m afraid I’ll need the library until dinner. Betty, it’s well past lunch time. Tell that insolent fox they have working downstairs that I’ll take lunch here. Bear, make sure the firewood that you supposedly chopped is well-stocked.” She rubbed her arms around her shoulders. “This place is freezing! Don’t you even have heaters? I don’t want to turn into a snowwoman during that dinner your so-called Master insists on having with me.”
“Old house. Drafts…lots of drafts.” Bear got up too quickly and almost tripped over his paws. “I’ll get firewood. Yes, Miss Hilary! I’ll do that.” He knocked over two chairs and a stack of books in his haste to go. “I’ll get them. Right now.”
“Hilary!” Betty hissed. “That was completely unnecessary. You didn’t have to scare him like that!”
“I scared him?” Hilary made a face. “He was the one coming on to you! I know those looks, even in a bear.” She immediately turned on the charm that always calmed her little sister. “Anyway, I called Doug Thompson. He says he’s going to pull strings and find out who owns this house. I want to learn more about it. Maybe you should call him back. I know he misses you.”
“No, Hilary.” Betty took the book in her arms. “After lunch, I think I’ll do some reading. Make some phone calls of my own. I want to find out what’s going on here, too.” She sighed, piling the books that Bear had knocked over. “That poor creature. Who could have done this to him? He was so…when I read to him, Hilary, it was like…he knew the words, but something in that scrambled brain of his was holding it back.”
“Betty,” Hilary leaned over to help her with the books, “you know I want more for you than this. You have the makings of a great playwright. You deserve more than a clumsy dolt of a bear.”
“Hilary!” Betty nearly knocked over the books again. “Look, I know you mean well, but maybe I can make my own decisions. You’re my sister, not my mother.” She held The Blue Fairy Book tightly to her chest. “I’m going to lunch. I’ll see you later.” Hilary could only watch her brilliant, stubborn little sister as she hurried off to the kitchen.
No comments:
Post a Comment