The Secret Cellar (26 page)

“I’m so glad you like them,” Elizabeth says, accepting hugs from all four of us.

“We have a little something for you two,” says Margaret. “From all of us. Sophie?”

After a rather lengthy archaeological expedition in my book bag, I produce a small envelope, which I hand to Elizabeth.

Before she opens it, she scolds us. “Girls, you should be saving your money instead of spending it on us.” She slides a letter opener under the flap and removes the card.

“Well?” says Malcolm. “What is it?”

“A gift certificate to my dad’s restaurant,” I say. “For a very special dinner for two. Dad says there’s only one rule: you have to give him a day’s warning so he can put together the most amazing meal ever.”

“This is too much,” Elizabeth says, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve eaten at your father’s restaurant; I know how expensive it is. We can’t possibly—”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We have that under control.
We’re trading Dad some labor for food. We—all of us—have a couple of Sundays of cleaning and polishing ahead.”

“Promise us that you guys will use it,” Margaret says.

“We promise,” says Malcolm. “And thank you.”

Following the individual and group hugs, we move to the dining room for “the feast of the beast” as Malcolm calls it, and over plates heaped with roast beef, mashed potatoes, assorted vegetables, gravy, and rolls, we share the story of our latest case.

Malcolm is especially intrigued by Mr. Winterbottom’s involvement, laughing out loud when I described him on his hands and knees, chasing the “rat” around the antiques shop.

“I may have to reach out to Gordon after New Year’s,” he says. “Perhaps we’ve judged him too harshly in the past.”

“So, Elizabeth,” I say, “you mentioned remembering something about Winnie.…”

“Oh, of course!” she says. “I almost forgot. It all came back to me. When she started with me, almost twenty years ago, she told me about how she and Gordon had met. She was working at that German restaurant up on Second Avenue—”

“The Heidelberg?” Margaret asks. “That’s where she’s working now!”

“Yes, that’s the place. She said she knew that Gordon had a crush on her—”

“Did she really say that?” Becca asks. “A crush? On Winnie. There are two words I never thought I’d hear in the same sentence.”

Elizabeth smiles. “That was the word she used—I’m certain of it. He would go there almost every day, sometimes twice a day, and he always sat at one of her tables. She said he gained about twenty pounds! Well, they would talk and talk, and one day she told him about growing up out in the country in Germany, and how beautiful the stars were. Of all the things she missed because she lived in New York, it was the stars she longed for the most.

“The very next day, he finally worked up the courage to ask her out—it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, she said, and after a nice lunch, they went for a walk in the park, and then … I just love this part … he told her he had a surprise. He took her to the planetarium at the Museum of Natural History.”

“To see the stars,” Leigh Ann say. “Oh my gosh. That is
so
romantic.”

“Well, she certainly thought so,” Elizabeth replies. “They were engaged a month later.”

I rub my new pendant between my fingers. “St. Veronica. The stars,” I mumble.

“What are you babbling about now?” Becca asks.

“I know what I have to do.”

I’m forbidden to leave the apartment on Saturday until I prove to Mom that I am one hundred percent packed and ready to leave for France on Sunday morning. She has given me a list, and I take her through the piles of clothing on my bed, checking items off one by one. I can’t help grinning at the sight of Dad’s pen, wrapped in shiny red paper and tied up with silver ribbon, resting on top of my favorite denim jacket. He is going to love it!

“What’s this?” she asks, pointing to a stack of five books, including a paperback of
The Count of Monte Cristo
that I’ve borrowed from Margaret—all fourteen hundred pages of it.

“Those are the books I’m taking.”

“All of them? That’s crazy. We’re only going to be gone ten days. Even
you
cannot possibly need all these.” She picks up a tattered copy of an old favorite,
Little Women
. “Sophie, you’ve read this ten times, I’ll bet. Are you really going to read it again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes I just need a little reminder of how important family is.” I bat my eyelashes at her.

Unconvinced, she says, “Pick two.”

I bite my lip, considering. “Four.”

“Three.”

“Okay,” I say, returning the March sisters and a new, unread mystery to my bookshelves.

“Much more reasonable,” says Mom, satisfied with our compromise. “I need you to run a few little errands for me, and then you’re free for the rest of the day. Just stay out of jail, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

As soon as she’s out of sight, I take
Little Women
off the shelf again and shove it into the bottom of my suitcase.

“Welcome back, Jo. You’re finally going to see Paris.”

At four o’clock, I arrive at the Hayden Planetarium, deep in the heart of that mysterious wilderness, the Upper West Side. One of the natives, a hopelessly-cute-but-apparently-clueless boy named Raf, waits for me outside the main entrance.

“It’s about time,” he says when I approach.

“Sorry. Slow bus. Really slow bus. Why don’t you guys just move back over to the East Side? Think how much easier your life would be.”

“That is not going to happen,” he says. “Every day, my mom talks about how happy she is that she doesn’t have to ride the six train anymore.”

“Hey, we’re going to have another subway—someday.”

“Yeah, in, like, ten years. So, what’s the big mystery? Why are we meeting here?”

“We’re buying two tickets to the show inside the planetarium.”

“Really? Cool. Believe it or not, I’ve never seen it.”

“Um, yeah, you’re still not going to, because the tickets aren’t for us. Remember? We’re supposed to meet Margaret and everybody at Perkatory at five o’clock. Do you listen to me at all?”

“Who?”

“Who? Who what? What are you talking about?”

“Who are the tickets for?”

“Oh. You’ll see. Wait here—I’ll just be a second.” I leave him shivering in the quickly fading afternoon light as I go inside to the ticket window.

“Two adult tickets, please,” I say, sliding my money across the counter.

I collect my change and start to head out the doors. I stop when I catch sight of Raf standing there, hands in his pockets, long hair blowing in the wind, knee-weakeningly cute.

“What is wrong with you, Sophie?” I say out loud,
feeling around my neck until I find my St. Veronica pendant. I squeeze it between my index finger and thumb and return to the ticket window.

“Hi, um, about children’s tickets—that’s for twelve and under, right?”

The woman blows a huge bubble with her gum. “Uh-huh.”

After digging through my pockets, I throw every cent I have, change and all, on the counter, and add it up. I am thirty-five cents short. I glance back at Raf, who is looking at me and almost certainly wondering why the heck it is taking me so long to buy two tickets.

“That’s all you got?” says the woman, who follows up her question with another bubble.

I nod. “Yeah, but I can—”

“I got it,” she says, pushing the two tickets into my hand. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks!” I say. “Merry Christmas to you, too!” Suddenly filled with enthusiasm, I skip out the door to Raf.

“Where were you?” he asks. “And how long are we gonna have to wait?”

“Not much longer,” I say cheerfully.

Out on the street, a taxi stops and Gordon Winterbottom climbs out. He stands at the curb for a moment, reluctant to let the driver leave until he’s sure that I’m really waiting for him at the entrance.

I can’t help showing my surprise at the Gordon
Winterbottom who strolls down the sidewalk toward me with a definite spring in his step. He looks ten years younger than the guy who tormented me not so long ago. And somehow, in the three hours since Margaret and I told him the plan, he has bought a new navy-blue suit. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him in something that actually fits, and in a color other than drab brown.

“Wow, Mr. Winterbottom. You look great,” I remark, straightening his tasteful red silk tie.

“Really? It looks all right? Not too … young?”

“Trust me. It is
so
much better,” I say, sticking two of the tickets in his coat pocket. “Here you go.”

He smiles nervously. “I hope this works.”

I show him my crossed fingers.

Gordon taps Raf on the shoulder. “Young man, this one is a keeper,” he says, pointing at me. “Whatever you do, don’t let her get away.”

Raf and I find ourselves in a blushing contest, and for once, I’m losing. His face is as red as Mr. Winterbottom’s tie.

We’re saved from further embarrassment when another taxi pulls up in front of the museum.

“There they are,” I say. “Right on time.”

“They?” Gordon inquires.

“Winnie and Elizabeth Harriman,” I say. “That’s how we got her out. She thinks she’s going to tea with Elizabeth.”

“You mean she doesn’t know …?”

Winnie steps out of the cab, followed by Elizabeth, who nudges her gently in our direction.

“She knows now,” says Raf.

“Good luck,” I say, taking Raf by the hand and leading him toward Elizabeth, who is holding her taxi.

The three of us watch from the curb as Winnie approaches Gordon. We can’t hear what they’re saying, but their body language tells us everything we need to know. After a few minutes of pleasant chatter, Gordon turns, tips an imaginary hat in our direction, and, with a hand placed at the small of Winnie’s back, guides her into the planetarium.

“I can’t believe it!” I cry. “It actually worked. Thank you, Elizabeth!”

“My pleasure,” she says. “I love playing Cupid. Now, how about you two? Can I offer you a ride anywhere?”

Raf, who never turns down a free ride, is already halfway into the taxi when I pull him back by the arm.

“Thanks, Elizabeth, but we have … plans, here on the West Side.”

“We do?” Raf asks, baffled. “I thought we were going to Perkatory.”

“Slight change of plans,” I say, winking at Elizabeth. “Don’t worry, Raf. I’ll let them know where we are. Eventually.”

“Well, enjoy yourselves,” she says, sliding into the backseat of the taxi. “And merry Christmas!”

The cab pulls away, leaving Raf and me standing there staring at each other.

“So … what are these mysterious plans?” he finally asks.

Grinning, I hold up the other two tickets. “You said you’d never been inside,” I say. “No time like right now. C’mon.”

We find two seats far away from Gordon and Winnie, who are too preoccupied with each other to see us come in, and wait for the “sunset” in the planetarium.

Raf squeezes my hand. “This was a really good idea.”

“I know. I thought of it,” I say.

“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“For ten days,” I say as the dome turns purple, and then black, leaving our faces illuminated by a zillion stars sparkling above us.

I turn to see the expression on his face, but he’s not looking at the stars.

He’s looking at me.

We stay like that for a few seconds, and then he proves to me that maybe he’s not so clueless, after all. He slips an arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward him. And then, right there in Hayden Planetarium, under Betelgeuse and Polaris, and Sirius and Arcturus, I finally get the kiss I’ve been waiting weeks for. It’s the good-night kiss I didn’t get, a Christmas kiss, and my New Year’s kiss all rolled into one.

As we sit there, lips still just inches apart, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Margaret:

I text back:

Twenty-four hours later, I’m in the window seat on the flight to Paris with Jane Austen’s
Emma
on my lap and still thinking about those stars. As I start to nod off, though, my mind runs through the events of the past few months. Way back in September, I didn’t even know Leigh Ann, and now she’s like a sister, along with Margaret and Becca. Livvy, soon to be the newest member of the Blazers, was anything but a friend. I’d never heard of Malcolm Chance or Elizabeth Harriman, or Gordon Winterbottom, and Raf and I were … well, just friends. Okay, technically, as far as my parents are concerned, that hasn’t changed, but, well … you know.