The Glass Castle (16 page)

The Envelope

As afternoon gave way to evening and the kids began retiring, Avery rolled up her sleeves and, together with Kate, made a hundred trips between the storage room and the great room where the kids had held their chess tournaments on happier days.

She was determined to bring enthusiasm back to the space.

The two girls lugged boxes of treasures and heavy pieces of furniture, propped beautiful paintings against the walls, and hung jewelry from brass candle stands. They filled tables with the treasures of the castle and collected crates full of glass marbles.

Avery set up the room to look as much like her father’s shop as she could remember, and it made her happier than she thought possible.

When she and Kate were done, they stared wide-eyed at the transformation. The room had become a chamber worthy of a castle.

When the kids saw it the next morning after breakfast—at Tuck’s insistence—Avery watched their expressions transform from weariness to shock.

Whispers rose like the smoke from a thousand chimneys.

Avery waited until they had all assembled in a giant circle before she called for their attention. She realized something as she looked out over the crowd of faces—

Weeks of living in hiding without sun or fresh air had taken their toll.

The kids look pale and tired.

She knew that they, like she, would love to feel the wind on their faces and the grass beneath their feet. Autumn would soon give way to winter if Avery had calculated the days correctly, and she hoped they would all be long gone before the first real snow, but she had no reason to believe that would happen.

Her hope, like theirs she guessed, had been replaced by grim resignation.

She clapped until a hush fell over the crowd, and when she caught sight of Tuck smiling at her from the back, she pressed forward with renewed confidence.

“I was reminded Sunday that whether we are scrubbing floors or wearing a crown, we are responsible to do our work well before God.”

No one looked impressed.

“I also believe we should be rewarded for the work we do.”

That got their attention.

“So beginning today, you will be paid for your effort.”

The kids began to whisper.

How long had it been—if ever—since these kids had been paid for their labor? Many had lived off the village scraps before being brought to the castle. For some, their sole job had been survival. Payment had been going to sleep with a full stomach.

Kate and her circle of seamstresses appeared suddenly, carrying baskets of tiny velvet pouches they had sewn, and they distributed one to each teen. The kids opened them and dumped the contents into their hands.

“Marbles?” someone asked, clearly irritated.

“What are we supposed to do with these?” another called out. “Is this some sort of joke?”

The room erupted.

As quickly as Avery had climbed in their favor, she fell.

Avery tried to call over the rumble to no avail. She picked up the bucket Tuck had used on the night he was made king and turned it over. She stood on it and called over the noise.

“Give me your attention!” she bellowed.

The room stilled.

“What is money but an idea? Money is only copper or paper used to trade for desired goods. What you hold in your hand is just like money. Look around. Kate and I have set up shop. We can pay you in treasures, and there are plenty more where these came from. The scouts have agreed to watch for items downstairs as well. You can exchange marbles for anything you see in this room. All prices can be bartered.”

“And it’s ours to keep?”

“For as long as we’re here.”

She explained how many marbles the kids would earn for each task and how much each item cost, but the kids had stopped listening and were already walking around admiring the merchandise.

A light had returned in the darkness.

That night—exhausted after bartering all day over every imaginable trinket—Avery was excited to see how much better the bunk room looked. Rich furniture had replaced the drab wardrobes, and elaborate pillows and colorful blankets decorated the beds. Girls sat comparing purchases and making trades, and it reminded Avery of the days she used to spend at Godfrey’s.

For years she had watched her father order items, display them in his smudge-free picture window, barter with his customers, and eventually wrap the items and send them off. He had always taken pride in his work, even when Avery had been embarrassed that he was
only a shopkeeper.

Avery liked to imagine he would have been pleased with what she had done today.

Though, no doubt, he would have offered suggestions for improvement.

And, no doubt, she would have been agitated that he was right.

She took off her slippers and changed into her nightgown.

She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and wanted desperately to stretch out on her mattress and close her eyes. She pulled back the blanket and crawled inside.

As she did every night, she checked her pillow on the remote chance that whoever had stolen her necklace might have returned it.

There was no necklace.

But something else.

In the spot beneath her pillow was a carefully folded parcel. It looked like any of the countless letters Kendrick sorted each afternoon in the dining room. Sometimes he opened them using the flame of a candle to soften the seal so he could reseal the letter before delivering it to the king. It was always folded in thirds like this one.

Avery turned it over.
Red wax.

Kendrick always uses red wax when sealing letters he has written on behalf of the king.

She was about to lift the letter to get a better look at the center of the seal, where an emblem had been stamped, when a voice behind her said—

“Bed already? You’re usually a night owl.”

Avery dropped her pillow and turned to Kate. “I’m just tired.”

“Long day,” Kate said, smiling. “Everyone seemed happy. Today was a win for you.”

Avery nodded. “A win for
us.
We start again tomorrow!”

She lay back on her pillow wanting nothing more than to tear open the letter.
Kate enjoys a surprise as much as I do.
But something compelled her to keep the letter a secret. And so she avoided the subject.

“Do you think we’ll be able to maintain the shop?” Avery asked.

“With Angelina’s shifting tastes, we should be in business a long time.”

At least an hour passed before the room finally quieted and the fire in the hearth died away.

Avery thought she might explode if she had to wait another minute. When she was sure she was the only one awake, she slipped out of bed, letter in hand, and tiptoed barefoot in the dark, feeling her way down the hall to the washroom with the copper tub.

Thankful to find a lone match in the box, she lit a candle and sat on the floor, using Kendrick’s technique to soften the seal and open the parcel.

She unfolded the page and smoothed it against her lap, finding one neat, careful line of penmanship:

It was unsigned.

Who could it be from?

Chapter 26

Holiday Hope

On Christmas Day the king and queen held an extravagant holiday banquet in the hall where they were married.

All the kids—even those who didn’t normally attend—participated in a chapel service upstairs. Packed like sardines in the tiny space, they lit tall white candles and sang half a dozen songs, including:

Avery expected the chaplain to read from Luke 2 about the birth of Christ, but the boy instead referred to Ephesians 4.

“We are commanded to be kind, tender of heart, and forgiving toward each other. These are the gifts we can give each other throughout the year when the holiday has passed. We are instructed to forgive in the same way Jesus Christ has forgiven us—not halfheartedly or self-righteously, but entirely. Forgiveness is the greatest gift God has given us. We forgive because He forgave.”

Avery could see Ilsa from where she sat. She couldn’t imagine ever being able to forgive her. Not only had she been unkind from day one, but she knew something about the missing necklace, and she had laid claim to Tuck’s heart.

Avery was certain of it.

The kids who were not needed to help with the banquet downstairs spent the afternoon enjoying arm wrestling and chess matches while the kitchen workers brought in silver trays loaded with scraps from the banquet. Only on holidays were the doors to the castle open and the public welcome inside. Rumor had it three hundred people were dining with the king and queen, so they were oblivious to any extra noise the kids were making.

It was a good thing, because the kids were in a festive mood.

Tuck gathered a group in an empty gallery that had a black-and-white checkered floor, chose up sides, and assigned each person a role as a chess piece: two kings, two queens, four rooks, four bishops, four knights, and sixteen pawns.

Then they began a game of human chess.

Tuck was the king of his team with Avery as queen, while Kendrick led the other with Kate as his queen. The kings called out strategic moves and taunted each other when pieces were lost. Friendly insults were tossed back and forth, and strategizing was kicked into high gear.

Several booted pawns stalked off to their bunk rooms.

“If you are my queen, we should make it official, don’t you think?” Tuck asked Avery in the heat of the game.

Avery looked at him, unsure what he meant.

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

Confused, Avery did as she was told.

Tuck dropped something small and shiny into it.

Avery looked down to see a small gold ring, shaped like a crown, with small pointed spikes.

Is this just for the length of the game?

“Merry Christmas!” he said, before making fun of Kendrick for a lousy decision involving his bishop.

“You, too?” she asked as an afterthought. She slipped the ring onto her right hand and suppressed a smile, telling herself,
It’s Christmas. He is just being kind. He is my friend, after all. Friends give each other Christmas gifts.

Avery couldn’t remember when she had had so much fun, and it didn’t escape her that Tuck kept smiling at her. Kendrick watched her, too.

Then the old woman appeared. “Avery, you ’ave been summoned to the organ.”

She wasn’t halfway to the door before Ilsa replaced her as queen in the chess game.

And another good thing came screeching to a halt.