The Mysterious Messenger

by Gilbert Ford

  After a few minutes, Mr. Goldstein cleared his throat. “How long have you and your mother lived in your apartment?” he asked.

  Maria shrugged. “My whole life, I guess,” she mumbled.

  “I bet they got their place for a steal before the neighborhood blew up,” Mr. Goldstein told his wife. Sebastian’s dad looked burdened and serious, like he didn’t know the meaning of the word fun. Sebastian’s mom, on the other hand, looked like she’d invented the word. She dressed in colorful clothing that made her seem like a movie star.

  Mrs. Goldstein shook her head. “You know, I read my horoscopes, Maria, but I’ve never considered getting advice from a psychic. I’ve been meaning to consult with your mother, but I get spooked out by that stuff sometimes!” She laughed and took a sip of water. “I bet you get some interesting visitors!”

  Maria swallowed her food. “Mostly widows,” she said.

  “Where do you go to school?” asked Sebastian’s father.

  “She’s homeschooled, Dad!” Sebastian said before reaching for his milk.

  “Wow, your mother must be busy, then,” said Sebastian’s mom. “If she’s also a teacher, then she has her work cut out for her! It’s hard for me just to remember which keys I need to bring when I meet with my clients.”

  Maria’s leg bobbed up and down in her chair. Had she known that she was going to be bombarded with questions, she would never have stayed for dinner. Sebastian’s parents were like Ms. Madigan. Too many questions. And what was this stuff she was eating? It was hot, and the texture was soft and different from the beef jerky and chips her mother served her. It wasn’t bad, but it took some getting used to. She knew that she definitely did not belong here. This was a family where the mother cooked hot dinners with exotic ingredients. Their kid was an overachiever in school, and the dad wore a suit to work and talked about money. No fists banged on the table. None of them screamed at each other.

  “Maria, what are you and your mom studying right now?” asked Sebastian’s mother.

  Maria thought of the public records she read along with the obituaries and society pages in the newspaper. “Current affairs,” she said.

  “Really!” Sebastian’s mother exclaimed. “I can barely keep up with the news, let alone try to teach it.” Mrs. Goldstein laughed.

  “I got an A on the science quiz,” said Sebastian.

  “Very good,” said Mr. Goldstein. “But next time shoot for the stars. I want to see A pluses!” Mr. Goldstein winked at Sebastian.

  “Oh, Alex,” said Sebastian’s mom. “He’s doing just fine in school!” She turned to Sebastian. “I’m so proud of you!”

  “It’s a parent’s job to encourage, Shanya.” Mr. Goldstein pointed his fork at Sebastian. “If he shoots for the stars, he’ll get there!” Mr. Goldstein brought his vibrating phone up to the table. “It’s work,” he said, and grimaced.

  “Do you have to take it?” asked Mrs. Goldstein. “We’re having dinner, and we have a guest.”

  “It will just be a minute. I promise.” Mr. Goldstein leaned in to kiss his wife before he shot into the kitchen to answer his work call.

  Maria couldn’t believe it. Sebastian’s father just kissed his mother. She never saw Madame Destine kiss Mr. Fox.

  “Oh, Maria. We are usually not this rude.” Mrs. Goldstein sighed. “But Alex has been under a lot of stress with work. I hope you understand.”

  Maria fumbled with a cherry tomato that had rolled away from her salad. “We answer calls at the table all the time,” she mumbled. “And make them, too.”

  “Oh, really?” said Sebastian’s mom, and refilled her glass of water from the pitcher. “Your mom’s very busy!”

  Was her mom busy? Mostly she would lie around and let Maria do the work. Maria smiled nervously.

  “What’s for dessert, Mom?” Sebastian grinned at Maria. “IF you’re lucky, it will be Mom’s chocolate cake.”

  “It’s a surprise,” said his mom, her face beaming with pride. “Let’s wait until Maria finishes,” said Mrs. Goldstein, picking up her plate. “I whipped it up last week for my clients when we were closing on a three-bedroom. I thought I’d make it for us this week.”

  Maria tried to wrap the cheese around the fork, but as soon as she put it in her mouth, it was on her chin again. She wiped her face with her napkin and placed it carefully back in her lap, as Sebastian did. She felt like an alien visiting Earth for the first time.

  “I’m pretty full, but I could make some room for dessert,” Maria said.

  “Sweetie, you barely ate your lasagna. I don’t want your mother getting mad at me for only serving you junk food.”

  Maria was confused. She was definitely from another planet in this home. Just a few floors below, Maria’s family ate ice cream for dinner.

  She scooped a large forkful of pasta into her mouth and swallowed.

  “Whoa, there! You must really want dessert!” said Mrs. Goldstein. She hopped up from her chair and laughed. “And now, my two plate cleaners, I’ll be back with your surprise!” Sebastian’s mom swept up their plates and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I hope it’s crème brûlée!” said Sebastian.

  Crème brûlée? Maria had no idea what he was talking about, but the lasagna rested like a lump in her stomach.

  How could she keep sitting there making a fool of herself? Sebastian’s family seemed to have it all: money, happiness, a nice apartment. And Maria? She had nothing. Barely a family. Maria felt like a rat; sooner or later they’d realize she was not one of them and send her back down to the gutter.

  But she wanted so badly to stay.

  Maria felt her throat close up. Was it wrong to want Sebastian’s life?

  “Or maybe Mom has made a pie,” Sebastian said. “Blueberry is my favorite. What’s yours?”

  Maria’s eyes moistened. She had never had a real pie before, one that was home-cooked. Maria couldn’t understand why Madame Destine could con her way into hard cash but couldn’t fake her way into happiness. Maria wanted a mother who encouraged her to succeed at whatever she wished. She wanted a room with a window, freshly painted walls, family portraits—and a kiss on the cheek. Maria wanted a mother she felt close to.

  Then Maria knew what she was missing. She didn’t care if she was rich or if she ever found treasure. What she wanted more than anything was a home. A real home, with a family that cared about her and loved her.

  Sebastian’s mother entered the dining room with a large bowl of vanilla wafers peeking out from behind a fluffy cloud of yellow. “Voila!” she exclaimed. “Banana pudding!”

  But Maria had already jumped up and backed away from the table. She had to leave. It was as if she had gotten a taste of something that was too good for her, and she was afraid of it. She knew where she belonged: downstairs, hidden in the shadows with con artists and stale air.

  “Thank you for everything, but I have to go home,” Maria said before she turned around and fled down the bright hall. She descended the long flight of stairs and shot through the front door into the cold night.

  18

  Signs for the Searchers

  Maria woke to her mother’s voice outside the door of her closet. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. It would be so much easier to just lie there and shut out the world. There she could hide under heavy coats in her tiny room, the crack of light under the door the only reminder of life happening around her—the life she never wanted.

  She peeled herself from her mattress with great effort. Maria felt worse than a piece of taffy stuck to its wrapper. She cracked the door of the closet, just missing Madame Destine, who zipped past her into the kitchen. Maria took a deep breath and followed her.

  “You overslept.”

  Maria shrugged as she slid around her mother and filled up an empty Styrofoam cup with soda. It was infuriating that Mr. Fox had packed all their dinnerware in boxes already.

  “It’s time to start pulling your own weight around here,” he said, and jotted something down on
Maria’s paper with her pen.

  “What more can I do?”

  “I’m glad you asked!” Madame Destine said with a slap on Maria’s back. “While we drove the van back last night, John and I discussed how we should make our last con in New York City.” Madame Destine fed Houdini some bread crumbs from the table.

  “LAST CON!” echoed Houdini.

  “But seeing how the FBI is onto us, we must be extra careful.”

  Maria rolled her eyes. Now it was the FBI, no longer the police. Her mother was paranoid!

  “So Fox and I have a plan.”

  “Aye, we do, my dear,” joined in Mr. Fox, his grin a deep scar across his face.

  “You’ve been so helpful finding all of these widows, Maria, but we’ve decided to expand our audience AND play it safe this time.” Madame Destine pulled up a chair and pressed Maria down so that she landed in it with a thud. “People are so very gullible. Everyone feels pain. Everyone looks for answers. That’s all anybody wants: answers to ease their pain.”

  Maria opened a package of Twinkies and tried to scoop out the white cream from the yellow cake. If only it were a baguette from Mrs. Fisher’s apartment.

  “And that’s where we come in,” added Mr. Fox as he swiped a pair of scissors from the counter and sliced through the paper.

  “John is making flyers,” said Madame Destine. “Flyers for the lonely. Flyers for the lost. Flyers for those looking for answers as they roam the cold, hard streets in this godforsaken town!” Madame Destine threw up her arms, causing her parrot to fly about.

  “But, Mom,” Maria said, “how are random flyers going to land us enough money to leave?” She swallowed the yellow shell of the cake and washed it down with a swig of soda.

  “My sweet child. We may be down on our funds, but we’ve got your paper. We’ve got your pens. And we have a VAN.”

  “So?” asked Maria.

  “That’s all we need to spread the word!” sang Madame Destine. “We’re driving this van all over the city, and we’re posting our flyers on electrical poles and fences!”

  Maria only now took in the stack of paper cut into thin strips with Mr. Fox’s penmanship scrawled across them. She pulled one from the top of the stack and read the message:

  PSYCHIC

  FEELING LOST? LOOKING FOR ANSWERS?

  THE GREAT MADAME DESTINE HAS THEM 4 U!

  “But aren’t you afraid of attracting the FBI?” asked Maria. “I thought we were going for widows instead of having a bunch of strangers in our place.”

  “Too much research!” said Madame Destine with a wave of her hand. “Besides, we can tell them whatever we want.”

  “But how many people do you think will respond from a random flyer posted?” asked Maria.

  Mr. Fox growled, “Don’t question your mother!” He threw the scissors down and bent close to Madame Destine’s ear. “She’s cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

  Madame Destine shushed Mr. Fox and focused on her daughter. “No, no, Maria. I’m SO glad you asked.” She swooped her arm around her and continued in a gentle tone. “You see, YOU are not lost. Nor are you looking for answers. People pass flyers every day; that is true!” Madame Destine straightened her posture and snatched an ad from the stack. “It’s only when people are looking for something that they finally SEE something.” Madame Destine held the flyer in front of her before she nuzzled Houdini with a kiss. “And that’s where we come in. Only people who are searching will see our flyers. No one else will pay any mind. And they’re willing to pay good money to believe. We’re not doing ANYTHING wrong! It’s legal, and it’s called entertainment.”

  “Yeah,” said Mr. Fox. “For once we’re legit.”

  “Now what I need from you is to stay home and finish packing. But leave the parlor alone. We’ll be using that room until we hit the road.” Madame Destine rubbed her hands over Maria’s hair, flattening her curls. “If anyone shows up, don’t answer the door.” She gave Maria a stern look. “I don’t want snoops when I’m not around.”

  Mr. Fox swooped up the rest of Maria’s paper, now filled with advertisements. “I’m ready when you are, Destine.”

  “You got the tape?” asked Maria’s mother.

  “It’s in the van.”

  Madame Destine stomped to the front of the apartment. Maria heard Houdini’s cage door creak open and slam shut. “And, Maria,” said her mother, “do NOT fail me!”

  The front door crashed shut and echoed across the apartment, followed by the screeching of tires and the heavy moan of a van pulling away.

  Maria glanced around the apartment and made a mental list:

  1. Her mother’s bedroom needed to be packed.

  2. Her coats needed to be boxed and labeled.

  3. The bathroom needed to be organized to just the essentials.

  This would take her most of the day. Maria took several shallow breaths, feeling overwhelmed. She needed to see Mrs. Fisher to find out if her husband had been Edward’s teacher. If that was the case, they may very well be close to finding the treasure!

  If she didn’t find the treasure, she’d be failing Edward.

  And she’d also be leaving Sebastian.

  Maria longed to connect with her friends just once more before she left the only world she’d ever known. Soon she’d be in an even lonelier world of getaway vans, highways, and her mother’s delusion of being followed by the FBI.

  She opened the door to her mother’s closet and punched the heavy coats. The coats rocked back, causing one to fall from a hanger and land on Maria’s bed. She reached for the coat but stopped at the small lump in her mattress. She could call Sebastian! Of course!

  For once she would ask someone for help.

  19

  Message Received

  Maria screamed into her walkie-talkie, “Sebastian! Can you hear me?” She turned up the volume. “Are you there, Sebastian?” She waited, staring into the face of the plastic T. rex. Maria bolted out of her bedroom, brushing past her mother’s newspaper clippings. Her palm sweated while holding the walkie-talkie as she took inventory of the boxes in the kitchen.

  “I read you,” replied the dinosaur underneath a blanket of static.

  Maria felt a smile stretch from ear to ear. “Sebastian! I need your help. Can you come downstairs?” She waited long enough to watch a fly land on the empty fruit bowl.

  “I’ll be right there,” replied the fuzzy voice from the toy.

  Maria carefully turned off her walkie-talkie and hid it back under her mattress. Then she sprinted down the hallway, sliding in her socks until she reached the front door. The door slammed from the apartment upstairs, and Sebastian descended the stone stairs.

  Before he could knock, Maria swung open the door. “Come in,” she said, pulling him inside.

  Sebastian entered with some hesitation, taking in his surroundings as if he were entering a haunted house.

  “I need you to help me pack,” said Maria. “And don’t ask questions!”

  Sebastian’s mouth fell open. “Are you moving?”

  “There’s no time. I’ll explain later.” Maria handed Sebastian a box. His large, unblinking eyes took everything in.

  “Follow me,” Maria ordered. She dragged him into the kitchen and pulled open the pantry and cupboards. “Clear all this out into the box.”

  “But—”

  “Later! There isn’t time.”

  Sebastian grabbed Maria’s arm. “You have a lot of explaining to do!”

  “EXPLAINING!” squawked a voice in the other room.

  Sebastian let go and jumped. “Was that your mother?”

  “It’s just her parrot,” replied Maria, before she swooped her arm through the pantry, knocking junk food into a box already full of beef jerky, chips, and cookies. But a slight smile appeared that she couldn’t suppress. She was relieved that even Sebastian thought that parrot was creepy.

  Sebastian turned his hat around and began to work, taping up a box. But then he stopped. “Why are we
packing junk food?”

  Maria shrugged before she shut the box and labeled it FOOD in black Sharpie.

  After they were done in the kitchen, Maria handed Sebastian another box and dragged him into her mother’s bedroom. She flung open the closet door and pointed at her mother’s collection of coats. “Fill the boxes with these furs,” she ordered.

  Sebastian dropped the box to the floor and pointed at Maria’s bed. “Someone sleeps here?”

  Maria carefully ignored him and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with a trash bag. Then she ripped each and every obituary from the wall of her mother’s bedroom.

  The wall was white under the clippings, not a dull mustard like the rest of the apartment.

  Sebastian sneezed in the closet. There was a harsh screech of hangers across the bar. “I’m allergic to dust mites,” he said.

  Maria crumpled the obituary clippings and wiped the dust off her fingers. She glanced at the benevolent face of her grandmother on the faded poster and carefully pried off the tacks holding it in place. The poster smelled old, like Mrs. Fisher’s home. She shut her eyes and took in the scent of Mrs. Fisher. She knew if they hurried, they could make it there and back before her mother and Mr. Fox returned. Sebastian might even cut her time in half, if he did what he was told and didn’t ask questions.

  Maria taped the rolled-up poster to keep it in place. Then she swung around to find Sebastian lugging the heavy box of coats from the closet.

  “What do you want me to do with the mattress and blanket in the closet?”

  “Leave it for now,” replied Maria as she took the box from Sebastian and brought it into the kitchen.

  “Maria?” Sebastian asked in a timid voice, following her into the kitchen. “Maria, where is your bedroom?”

  Maria ignored him and filled a Styrofoam cup with water. Then she took a swig to buy herself some time before answering. She knew better than to tell him the truth about where she slept. After she’d seen his room, it would make him uncomfortable to see how she lived. Maria had to change the subject. “We have to get everything packed so I can take you to the treasure. You still want to find it, don’t you?”