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Authors: Jennifer Allison

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BOOK: Gilda Joyce: The Bones of the Holy

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As she read over her letter, Gilda reached for the soda she had perched on the windowsill and accidentally knocked over a stack of books. Reaching down to retrieve the books, she spied something she hadn't seen in yearsâan oversize plastic ring she had purchased from a gum-ball machine when she was about ten years old. It looked like a giant, fake amethyst, and it flipped open to reveal a gameâa tiny maze containing little metal balls. Wendy had a similar ring, and they used to hide secret notes passed to one another during the school day inside the rings. Gilda had assumed the ring had been lost or tossed out years ago and, now, here it was. She felt as if she had just received a letter sent from a simpler time when she and Wendy had filled their days with silly gamesâa time when her dad was still alive.

Gilda put on the ring and felt slightly ridiculous as tears of nostalgia filled her eyes.

A moment later, she stood up very suddenly.

Stay focused, Gilda,
she reminded herself.
You have to figure out what actually happened to Mom in Florida.

Spy
Report
#2

ATTENTION: SPY MISSION

SUCCESSFULLY ACCOMPLISHED!!

Dear Dad:

As we both know, there are times when spying is necessary for expanding knowledge and protecting national security. True--there are also times when snooping is simply an invasion of privacy.

WHAT I JUST DISCOVERED IN MOM'S ROOM JUSTIFIES THE NEED FOR INVASIVE TACTICS.

Here's what happened: When Mom went to work, I tiptoed into her bedroom. I normally have little incentive to snoop in Mom's room because her only interesting secret is some occasional backsliding into her old cigarette-smoking habit. (She doesn't buy cigarettes for herself anymore, but I happen to know that she sometimes bums them off the other nurses after work. Nurses are supposed to know better, but they sure don't always practice what they preach.)

I wasn't sure exactly what I was searching for, but I knew I had to find whatever Mom has been hiding about her trip to Florida. So I put on my spy gloves (to avoid leaving fingerprints) and I started looking for clues.

INTELLIGENCE-GATHERING NOTES:

General observations: a) Mom's bedroom was messier than usual, and b) she hadn't unpacked her luggage. (By the way, I've noticed that Mom is very critical of my bedroom--and Stephen's, too--but if you ever go take a look at HER bedroom, you realize that she's no Mary Poppins, as you probably remember.)

I unzipped Mom's carry-on bag and found something VERY INTERESTING--a blue velvet jewelry box that looked elegant, but also old and worn. Brace yourself, Dad (and I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you):

THERE WAS A DIAMOND RING INSIDE THE BOX.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, I knew right away that this wasn't just a cocktail ring that Mom bought for herself on a whim, or a little romantic trinket to send a friendly message: “Hey, let's have coffee sometime!” Or, “Hey, can I sit on your couch all day while you make my car payments?” in the tradition of Mom's previous boyfriend. Clearly, this ring was a marriage proposal in a box.

I was so surprised, I sat down on the bed and just stared at that ring. No wonder Mom has been acting so weird, I thought. Some guy proposed to her out of the blue, and she's probably trying to decide whether to say yes or no!

On impulse, I decided to try on the ring. That's when something strange happened: Immediately, I got a very strong psychic signal--that tickle in my ear I get when I'm about to discover a clue to some deeper mystery. And get this, Dad: In my mind, I saw that same old, yellow house again--the spooky one with the big porch. It was very clear to me, almost like looking at a photograph.

I flipped over the box and found a label for a place called Charlotte's Attic in St. Augustine, Florida.

There was also a phone number, so I decided to go ahead and dial it. I figured that I could ask one of the employees at Charlotte's Attic if they remembered this ring, and anything about the guy who must have purchased it for Mom.

I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR WHAT HAPPENED AFTER I DIALED THE NUMBER.

The phone rang once, and a man's voice answered in the following manner: “WELL, HELL-O THERE, PATTY-CAKES! IS EVERYONE EXCITED ABOUT THE BIG NEWS??”

Uh-oh, I thought. He must have seen Mom's name and number on his caller ID. I was so surprised that I actually hung up the phone.

Of course I was mad at myself for slamming down the receiver so quickly and missing an opportunity to get more information. But as I was thinking about what to do next, the phone rang. My stomach tied itself in a double knot: The ID on the screen said CHARLOTTE'S ATTIC.

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided that I might as well answer the call. I mean--who was this “Charlotte's Attic” man--this strange person who refers to my mother as “Patty-Cakes”?

ME: Hello?

MYSTERY MAN: Patty? I think we got cut off a minute ago. I can't hear you very well; it's a bad connection here.

ME: Um, this is actually Gilda--the daughter of “Patty-Cakes.”

MYSTERY MAN: Oh! Gilda! I've heard so much about you. Are you excited to take a trip down to St. Augustine?

ME: Sure am. (TRIP?! WHAT TRIP?!)

MYSTERY MAN: Your mom and I are going to have us a real nice ceremony right out by Matanzas Bay. Cake, champagne--the whole thing. In fact, after I leave the shop today, I'm on my way to talk to a priest friend who said he'd be willing to do the ceremony for us at short notice.

ME: (Silence. Speechless at his comment about “doing the ceremony at short notice.” I'm thinking that I just can't believe it's true. There's NO WAY Mom could be planning a wedding WITHOUT EVEN TELLING US FIRST!!)

MYSTERY MAN: Your mother is a very special lady, you know that?

ME: She's certainly special.

MYSTERY MAN: When you meet THE ONE, you don't delay. No time for that.

ME: Gotta strike while the iron is hot. (What does this phrase really mean?)

MYSTERY MAN: (chuckling) I bet your mama's been showing off that ring to everybody in the neighborhood.

At this point, Dad, I felt very annoyed that I was talking to a man I had never even met about plans that, if they were real, would probably change my entire life--plans about which I knew exactly nothing. (Thank you, Dad, for noticing the lack of a dangling preposition in that last sentence.) It was impulsive of me, but I couldn't help it. I decided to give Mystery Man a piece of my mind.

ME: Actually, Charlotte--

MYSTERY MAN: Who's Charlotte? This is Eugene!

ME: I just assumed--

EUGENE: Charlotte's Attic is the name of my antiques business. But I guess your mother probably calls me Mr. Pook when she talks about me.

I barely managed to control a burst of immature giggles at the name “Mr. Pook.” I wondered if Mom would actually change her name to Patty Pook, which made me come really close to losing it. (Incidentally, Dad, if I ever get married, I will definitely NOT change my name from Joyce unless my husband's name is more compelling and unforgettable for a novelist and psychic investigator. Something along the lines of “Gilda Angelista-Flashbottom” might be worth the change.)

EUGENE: Say, Gilda, why don't you put Patty-Cakes on the phone?

ME: Actually, Mr. Pook--

EUGENE: Call me Eugene.

ME: Eugene, the truth is that my mom is at work right now, and to be honest, this is the first I've heard about the “big plans.” In fact, I just happened to find the ring you gave her in her bedroom. I was dusting under the radiator and there it was just lying there, so I figured I'd call the number on the box.

There was a silence at the other end of the phone that was so treacherous and loaded with significance that I actually started to feel scared.

ME: Um . . . Mr. Pook?

EUGENE (now speaking in an ominously quiet voice): I'm here.

ME: Um--I'm sorry. I was just kidding about finding the ring under the radiator.

EUGENE: (still silent)

ME (now feeling an urgent need to patch things up): The truth is that my mom wanted the wedding plans to be a big surprise for everyone, but then I kind of found out by accident.

EUGENE: (deep sigh, more silence)

ME: You won't tell her we talked on the phone about this, will you? She'll be so mad at me.

EUGENE (with an uneasy chuckle): Well, we don't want to ruin your mama's surprise, now. (This seemed to smooth things over for the moment.) I won't say nothing, Gilda. It will be our little secret for now.

I hung up the phone with a weird and not-too-pleasant feeling. I admit it: The feeling I had was something close to terror. I mean, I've been less scared in haunted houses. Why terror? I have no idea, except that something bothered me about this guy, Eugene Pook. Plus, this new development is a bit too close to home. It's one thing for Mom to have a new boyfriend--but a new fiancÃ©? A fiancÃ© I've never met? A fiancÃ© who lives hundreds of miles away?

When I feel scared, it sometimes helps me to stop and write down what I know about the situation, so that's what I did.

WHAT I KNOW:

Eugene Pook, owner of Charlotte's Attic in St. Augustine, proposed to Mom, and is under the impression that she is going to marry him at a wedding ceremony on Matanzas Bay.

WHAT I DON'T KNOW:

1. Does Mom WANT to marry him? Have they set a wedding date?

2. If they're getting married, does that mean we'll move to Florida? Or will he move in here with us??

3. WHY AM I LEARNING ABOUT THIS BY SPYING INSTEAD OF MOM SIMPLY TELLING ME?

Well, one thing's for sure: It's time to take off my spying gloves. Let ye olde interrogation process begin.

It's Not Going to Happen

G
ilda leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her brother, Stephen, as he prepared a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. “Did Mom tell you that she's planning to get married?”

“Is this one of your little games?”

“If you mean the âlittle games' where I figure out what's going on in the
real world
, then yes.”

“Okayâso who's she marrying?” He asked the question nonchalantly, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he spoke.

Gilda bristled. Ever since her older brother got accepted to the University of Michigan, he had a detached demeanor that suggested someone on his way out the doorâsomeone whose life was about to begin
somewhere else
.

“His name is Eugene Pook.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I'm
serious
.” Gilda opened the velvet jewelry box and showed Stephen the diamond ring inside. “I found
this
in Mom's carry-on bag.”

Stephen paused, staring at the ring. “You searched through Mom's luggage?”

“I had probable cause for suspicion.”

“I'm sure Mom would agree.”

“Why are you focusing on my snooping when I'm telling you that MOM IS GETTING MARRIED TO A MAN WE'VE NEVER MET?!”

“LookâMom didn't tell
me
she's getting married, so I'm not going to freak out about something that might not even be true. You don't know what that ring means. Maybe it's a friendship ring.”

“Stephen, I hope for your sake that you're never dumb enough to give a girl a diamond ring and then say, âOh, it's just a friendship ring.' Anyway, I'm planning to confront Mom about it when she gets home from work.”

“Sounds like a fun conversation that I definitely want to miss.” Stephen bit into his sandwich and a slice of tomato slid onto his plate.

“I can say one thing for you, Stephen: You keep your mind on what's really important. I mean, when times get tough, we can count on you to make sure the sandwiches get eaten.”

“Gotta feed the machine.”

“Aren't you even a little worried about this?!”

“Nope,” he said. “I'm done worrying. I'm going to college next year. What Mom does is Mom's business.”

“That is so inconsiderate.”

“Why âinconsiderate'?”

“Because you're leaving me here to deal with Mr. Pook all by myself.”

Stephen's demeanor softened, and he became more sympathetic. “Look. Even if you're right, consider the big picture. It's a nice diamond ring, right? Maybe Mom actually found someone with some money for a change.”

“That's so materialistic.”

“It's
practical
.”

“Well, if Mr. Pook makes my life miserable, be prepared to see me in Ann Arbor. I'll be standing outside your dorm room with my suitcase.”

Stephen sighed. “You know what? If this actually happens and things get that bad, you are welcome to come stay with me. I mean, for a few days.”

“Really?” The offer shocked Gilda. Stephen rarely even let her in his room at home, given her penchant for spying. “Thanks, Stephen.”

“No problem. And you know why I'm offering? Because it's not going to happen. Everything's going to be fine.”

The Confrontation

THE JOYCE FAMILY* APPLICATION

Applicant: Please answer the following questions as completely and truthfully as possible. (Watch out for trick questions!)

Date of birth:____________________

Hometown:_____________________

Annual “disposable” income (i.e. earnings available for use at shopping malls, movie theaters, and costume stores):_____________________________

Have you ever worn, or do you ever plan to wear, a thong bathing suit in public?

YES _______ NO ________

Do you believe in ghosts?

YES _______ NO ________

How smart do you think you are?

Genius_____

Have “street smarts”_____

Can't read the question_____

78______

How smart do OTHER people think you are?

Smartest guy they know_____

Don't have enough friends to ask_____

My mom thinks I'm a genius______

Why are you still single at your age? (List reasons below and please include embarrassing information where applicable.)

Have you ever attempted a magic trick that involved pulling a coin from a child's ear? (Explain circumstances for such behavior and how you felt about yourself at the time.)