R My Name Is Rachel (13 page)

Because coming toward us, wearing her best Sunday dress and the blue cloche that matches her eyes, is Miss Mitzi Madden.

“I told her we were in despair over food,” Cassie says. “I didn’t mention the rent. One problem is enough.”

Despair!

Imagine Cassie using such a word.

Miss Mitzi holds out her arms, and somehow there’s room enough for the three of us. And Miss Mitzi is talking, talking.… “I had to get someone to take care of the store. And when that didn’t work out, I stamped my feet, locked the door, and wrote to Cassie to say, ‘Hold your horses, I’m on my way.’ ” She grins at us. “And here I am.”

By this time she’s out of breath, so we hug again, all of us laughing.

It’s the first day of summer. We’ve dragged Miss Mitzi from one end of the farm to the other. She loves it, all of it, even Xenia, who tried to eat the hem of her skirt.

We’ve had wonderful meals. Miss Mitzi pulled tons of food from her suitcase, and then we walked to the store, and she bought more. Cassie cooks and cooks.

“This place is truly lovely,” Miss Mitzi keeps saying. “Look at all you’ve done by yourselves. Rachel’s garden, Cassie’s painting, Joey’s rooster.”

There’s a syrupy feeling in my chest. Miss Mitzi always knows the perfect things to say.

Cassie found an old dress for her in the closet, a work dress. Today we go over to Anton’s to help as Mrs. Freeman shows us how to send the ferns down to New York.

Miss Mitzi loves the ferns. “Maybe you’ll sell me a few to take back to my flower shop,” she says.

As if we wouldn’t give her everything we have!

But what we try to do is keep her with us. We try everything.

Joey spends the afternoons fishing; Miss Mitzi says they’re the best fish she’s ever tasted. She even likes the tomatoes and beans that Cassie throws in with Miss Mitzi’s vegetables.

“And we have plenty of beans,” Cassie says, grinning.

Cassie with a sense of humor! Now that Miss Mitzi is here, she’s not as orange as she used to be.

Cassie has given her gold room to Miss Mitzi. “You can stay here forever,” she says.

But Miss Mitzi shakes her head a little and puts her hand on Cassie’s shoulder.

One day, in my garden, Miss Mitzi bends down and crumbles the rich earth in her fingers. “Gorgeous.”

She waves at Clarence, who is sitting on a rock at the stream. Clarence pretends that he doesn’t see her, or any of us.

I keep telling her how much we want her here. “We’ll eat from the garden all summer. We’ll splash in the stream.” I don’t mention rent. Miss Mitzi would give us all her money; I know that. But I can’t let her do that. I’m sure she doesn’t have much.

Her sky-blue eyes are so sad I have to look away. But my words tumble out. “Xenia will give us milk someday. We’ll have a rooster, and the chickens will give us eggs.”

Still she doesn’t answer.

I put my arms around her. “You love your shop? You can’t bear to leave it?”

Her face is fierce. “Do you think I’d care about that shop for one minute if I could have all of you?”

“Well, then.”

“Your father …” She almost breathes it.

“He cares about you, Miss Mitzi, I know he does.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know it. Not one bit. He’s never really said …”

“But if he had said …”

“Ah, Rachel. Wouldn’t it be heaven to be here? To look up every morning and see Joey’s golden rooster? To gather ferns?”

I’m hardly listening. I keep hearing her say
He’s never really said
.

“Wait,” I say. “Just wait.”

Inside, I take the stairs two at a time and open Pop’s door. It’s been weeks since I’ve been in there, but it’s still the same: Miss Mitzi’s picture on the dresser, Pop’s letter to her under the doily.

I close my eyes. What might happen, what could happen, what will happen next?

Then I take the picture and the letter downstairs to show Miss Mitzi.

When Miss Mitzi takes the train back to the city, we wave until we can’t see her blue cloche in the window anymore.

By the time we get back to the house, it’s late afternoon. In the mailbox are two letters. One is from Bensen’s Florists, Park Avenue, New York City. It has the fern money, not enough to pay every bit of the rent and the interest, but much more than half. They write that they want more ferns to use in their arrangements.

We’re getting there. Somehow, the real estate man will just have to give us a few more days. I may have to beg.

But, ah, the next letter is from Pop. Dollar bills with their large gold seals fall out of the envelope, enough for Mr. Grimm! And the greatest news. Pop will be home in days.
Watch for me
, he writes.
You’ll see me coming up over the hill
.

Cassie and I dance around Joey, laughing and crying
at the same time. Through my blurred eyes, I see tears on Joey’s cheeks. “We’ve done it,” I say.

“With a little help,” Cassie says.

“The house is ours,” I say. “This beautiful falling-apart house. We’ll pay Mr. Grimm on time.” And we begin to laugh again and the three of us are holding hands.

“But isn’t Pop in trouble?” Cassie says with glee in her voice.

That was the biggest surprise of Miss Mitzi’s visit. “Hmmpf,” she said when she read the letter. She narrowed her eyes. “He could have saved me all this sadness. Wouldn’t you think he’d have told me that he wanted me to come? Wouldn’t you think he would have let me decide whether I wanted to take a chance on this old place?”

She smiled at us. “You know what I would have said.”

The next day, she threw her clothes into her suitcase. She jammed her blue cloche over her dark curls.

“You’re leaving?” we asked, the three of us at once.

“Don’t go back to the city!” I said.

“Please …,” Cassie said.

“Don’t worry,” said Miss Mitzi. “I’m just going to close up the shop and pack my things. Business has been terrible, anyway. I’ll be back here by the time your father gets home, to give him a piece of my mind.”

The three of us let out our breath.

“And …” She holds up one finger and gives us her light-up-the-world smile. “If all else fails, I can always sleep in the barn with Xenia.”

* * *

We’ve eaten our way through the jars of green beans. There’s only one left. We hear someone whistle.

“Is that—” Joey jumps up.

“Pop.” Cassie picks up the last jar and tosses it out the back door. “I will never eat beans again.”

Pop!

I’m out the door ahead of the other two, around the side of the house to the front. Pop is coming up the front path. He looks worn and tired, much thinner than when he left, but his smile is huge.

We meet halfway, all of us with our arms out.

“Home,” he says, holding us.

Inside, we talk, one louder than the other. Everyone has something to say.

And then we get to the Miss Mitzi part. We tell Pop what we think, what Miss Mitzi thinks.

And he says he thinks exactly the way we all do.

PATRICIA REILLY GIFF
is the author of many beloved books for children, including the Kids of the Polk Street School books, the Friends and Amigos books, and the Polka Dot Private Eye books. Several of her novels for older readers have been chosen as ALA-ALSC Notable Children’s Books and ALA-YALSA Best Books for Young Adults. They include
The Gift of the Pirate Queen; All the Way Home; Water Street; Nory Ryan’s Song
, a Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators Golden Kite Honor Book for Fiction; and the Newbery Honor Books
Lily’s Crossing
and
Pictures of Hollis Woods. Lily’s Crossing
was also chosen as a
Boston Globe–Horn Book
Honor Book. Her books for younger readers in the Zigzag Kids series are
Number One Kid, Big Whopper, Flying Feet
, and
Star Time
. Her most recent books for older readers include
Storyteller, Wild Girl
, and
Eleven
. Patricia Reilly Giff lives in Connecticut.

Visit her on the Web at
PatriciaReillyGiff.com
.