Main Street #1: Welcome to Camden Falls (16 page)

“Let’s look at them together,” said Min.

Min sliced open the envelopes with a pair of scissors, while Ruby, Olivia, Nikki, and Flora peered over her shoulder. “Let’s see,” said Min. “Ruby, it looks as though you’ll be in Mr. Lundy’s class, and Flora, you’ll be in Mrs. Mandel’s class.”

“Ooh, you’re lucky, Flora!” exclaimed Olivia. “Mrs. Mandel is the best teacher in the whole school. Everyone hopes to get her for sixth grade. I’m going to call Dad and see if my room assignment came, too.”

Olivia grabbed the phone by the cash register, called her father, and then let out a whoop. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I have Mrs. Mandel! Flora, we’re going to be in the same class!”

“Maybe I should call home,” said Nikki shyly. “Could I use your phone? I think Tobias is there.” (Nikki’s mother had headed for the welfare office that afternoon, Mae in hand. She said having Mae along was good luck because people always took pity on her.) “Tobias could check the mail.”

Olivia, Flora, and Ruby crowded around Nikki while she made her phone call. When they heard her say, “You’re kidding!I have Mrs. Mandel?” they cheered. (Ruby cheered more softly than the others, though, feeling left out of the Mrs. Mandel Club.)

Nikki stayed until closing time that afternoon, then said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, now that I have wheels!“ and she hopped on her bicycle and headed down Main Street, with Olivia, Ruby, and Flora waving to her as she pedaled away.

Flora recalled Augusts that were hot and steamy, day and night, with barely a breeze to stir the air. But here in Camden Falls, the end of August seemed to usher autumn in weeks before the calendar did. The days were warm enough for shorts and T-shirts, but by nightfall, cool air crept into the Row Houses and Min would say as she stood up from the table after dinner, “Land sakes, I believe I need a sweater.”

It was on one of these cool evenings, with Min wearing her sweater and Flora and Ruby wearing sweatshirts over their nightgowns, that Flora’s thoughts turned to the box hidden under her bed. She said good night to Min and her sister, kissed Daisy Dear on the nose, and hauled King Comma upstairs and into her room, where she shut the door. She retrieved the box, blowing dust bunnies off it, and climbed into bed. She had crawled under the covers with her teddy bear, and King was now purring in the tent under Flora’s knees, when she also remembered her mother’s diary. “Sorry, King Comma,” said Flora. “I have to disturb you. I’ll be right back.” At last, settled in bed with both the box and the diary, Flora once again inched backward through the years. She turned first to the diary.

October 22
^nd
— THE WEEKEND AT LAST!! Wendy and I are working on our Halloween costumes. We’re going to be Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, except that neither of us wants to be Raggedy Andy. Allie says she’s coming trick-or-treating with us, but excuse me, did we invite her?

Flora smiled, then shut the diary. She laid it aside and opened the box, deciding to reach in with her eyes closed and see what she pulled out. Her fingers closed over what turned out to be a packet of letters, all written in a precise, tidy hand in faded blue ink, and all from someone named Martha to someone named Sophie.

Flora frowned. Martha. That was the name of Min’s mother. And Sophie — was she Martha’s sister, Min’s aunt? Flora wondered how all these letters that had been written to Sophie had wound up back in Min’s house. Oh, well. It didn’t matter. Here they were, and Flora was eager to read them. Most of the letters were dated 1929 and 1930. Flora smoothed one out and rested it against her knees.

Oh, Sophie, this is terrible,
the letter began.
Lyman has left his job. All those people — his clients, our
friends
— have lost their fortunes. They blame Lyman, and this morning he told me he felt he couldn’t continue to work. I didn’t want to say his decision seems cowardly, but …

What? What had happened? Flora placed the letters in chronological order and began to read. Very quickly, she pieced together a story about Min’s parents from a time before Min was born — a story Flora had never heard. It seemed that Lyman Davis, Flora’s great-grandfather, had been a stockbroker at a prestigious company in Camden Falls. Although still young, he had been one of the most trusted men in town in the 1920s and, Flora realized, probably one of the wealthiest. By investing people’s money, he had made small (and sometimes large) fortunes for them and an enormous fortune for himself. He was highly sought after and had a long list of clients, which included many of the Davises’ friends and a few family members as well.

Then, in October of 1929, the stock market crashed, and — overnight — all across the country people lost their entire savings. The United States was plunged into the Great Depression. In Camden Falls, many of Lyman’s clients blamed him for their misfortune.

Was this true? wondered Flora.
Was
he partly to blame, even if the crash wasn’t his fault?

Flora turned back to the letters. She learned that two weeks after the crash, unable to bear the strain, Lyman left his job and never returned to work. From what Flora could understand, this didn’t affect his family much. Because of an inheritance of Martha’s, they still had plenty of money to live on. Perhaps they didn’t live quite as lavishly as before, but their lives changed only a little. The lives of many of Lyman’s clients, however, changed dramatically.

Flora’s eyes were growing heavy, and she set aside the letters. She reached into the box once more and this time pulled out a manila envelope. It was full of loose photos that appeared more recent than some of the other items in the box. Flora sifted through them, then came awake with a start when she realized she was looking at photos of two young girls who she thought were her mother and Olivia’s mother. She turned one of them over. Sure enough, written on the back was
Frannie and Wendy, July 1976.
Flora smiled. She’d have to show these photos to Olivia.

“King Comma,” said Flora, now fully awake, “I’m very sorry, but I have to disturb you again. I just thought of something.” Flora slid out of her bed and opened the drawer of her desk in which she had put the picture frame given to her by the Fongs. She remembered that Mrs. Fong had said the frame was for an old photo Flora already had or for a new one not yet taken. But, Flora thought as she inserted one of the photos of her mother and Wendy into the frame, sometimes an old photo could also be a new one. Flora had a feeling she might see something new in this old picture every time she looked at it — and that she was forging the next link in the chain that connected her to her mother and to Camden Falls.

Flora set the frame on the desk. Then she returned to her bed. She was making a pile of photos to show Olivia, when she found a small photo, slightly older than the others, of her mother at about age four posing with a familiar-looking woman. Flora checked the back of the photo. It was labeled
Frannie and Mary — 1970.
So this was her mother at age four, but who was Mary? Min’s sister, Mary Elizabeth? Probably. Mary Elizabeth would have been her mother’s aunt.

Flora’s eyes were closing again. She gathered up the papers and photos on her bed, set aside the pictures of Wendy, and returned the other things to the box. She was about to slide the box under her bed when she retrieved the photo of her mother and Mary. There was something about the photo, something … what was it? It nagged at Flora. She studied her mother and the woman again, checked the writing on the back again. Nothing came to her, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

At last, Flora slipped the photo into the drawer of her bedside table and turned out her light. Her dreams that night were unsettled.

If you were to walk the country roads west of Main Street in Camden Falls, Massachusetts, on a rainy evening in early September, you might eventually come to an isolated house off the main road. The drive leading to this house is rutted, and the ruts are filling with chilly rain. The drive seems long, especially in the growing dark, and the only noises to be heard are outdoor, nighttime noises — a few brave crickets calling, the sudden barking of dogs, an early owl out hunting, twigs snapping under your feet as you trudge along. At the end of this drive is a sad-looking house, small and drooping, but with signs of care, too. Flowers have been planted by the front stoop, the steps have been swept clean, and a wreath of dried roses has been hung on the door.

Now take a peek through the windows. There is Nikki Sherman reading
James and the Giant Peach
to Mae. The sisters are snuggled together on a couch that’s full of holes, but they don’t mind because they have traveled to another land and their thoughts are with James and the peach. The house is quiet for once, and Nikki is grateful. Her father is out (Nikki doesn’t care where, as long as he’s out), Tobias is in one of the sheds working on a car, and Mrs. Sherman is in the kitchen. She’s humming, which means she’s happy, which means Nikki and Mae are happy, too. Nikki is also happy because for the first time in her life she has friends. Three of them.

Turn away from the Shermans now, travel back to Main Street, and soon you’ll find yourself on Aiken Avenue. There are the Row Houses with mist twining around the corners and rooftops, a few damp maple leaves squishing beneath your feet. You’ll see that most of the windows have been closed to keep out the damp, and since it isn’t too late, lights are on in many of those windows. Through one of the open windows, music can be heard.

Take a peek inside the house at the north end of the row. There are the Fongs, sitting together on one kitchen chair, both trying to talk on the phone at the same time. They have just found out wonderful news, and they are calling all their relatives to pass it along.

“Dad!” exclaims Barbara Fong. “Marcus and I are going to have a baby!”

Marcus leans into the phone and adds, “You’re going to be a grandfather!”

When they finish their call, they dial another number right away.

At the other end of the Row Houses, the Morris children are trying on last year’s school clothes. The twins’ outgrown clothes are being passed down to the smaller children. “I’ll never get anything but hand-me-downs!” wails Travis. “Because I’ll always be smaller than Mathias.” Alyssa adds, “Only Lacey and Mathias get new clothes. No fair!” And their mother says, “For heaven’s sakes, you’re all going to get new shoes tomorrow.”

In the Malones’ house, Lydia has closed herself in her room and is playing music at top volume. She’s lying on her bed, totaling up the money she has earned so far by baby-sitting for Robby. She has already returned as many of the stolen items as possible, and she has begun to repay the shopkeepers for the things she can’t return, but she has a long way to go. Lydia sighs. She thinks about Robby. Baby-sitting for him hasn’t been as bad as she thought it would be. In fact, she admits (but only to herself) that she really likes Robby. He was a sweet kid, and now he’s a sweet teenager. Lydia pictures Brandi imitating Robby, and she cringes. Then she thinks about school. She hasn’t seen Brandi since she began her sitting job, and that’s been fine. But what will happen when school starts? She can’t avoid Brandi forever.

Next door at the Willets’, Mr. Willet is having another evening tussle with his wife. He has been talking to her for almost an hour now about brushing her teeth. And Mrs. Willet doesn’t want to do it. Not because she doesn’t want clean teeth, but because she isn’t sure who this man is. He’s a stranger in her house, and he wants her to brush her teeth, and this does not seem right. If only she could find her husband.

Three doors down, Olivia Walter is in bed, leafing through a book about snails, her bright fabric butterfly hanging on the wall above her bed. Her brothers are in their beds, also reading. Downstairs, her parents sit at the kitchen table, papers and bank statements spread before them. Mrs. Walter takes off her glasses, rubs her eyes, then rests her head in her hands.

Robby Edwards and his parents are also sitting in their kitchen, but their table is strewn with Robby’s new school supplies. “You always have to have a pencil case,” Robby is saying. “This one is perfect. And I have two erasers, five pencils, a three-ring notebook, the paper with the holes on the sides, and a ruler. Uh-oh! Where’s my calculator? I need a calculator this year.”