Midsummer's Mayhem

by Rajani LaRocca

  a Live Bake-Off!

  Grand Prize: Spend three days in New York City baking

  with Guest of Honor and Judge,

  World-Famous Pastry Chef Puffy Fay!*

  *Also, a Mandatory Internship at the While Away!

  I shivered in excitement. Not only could I win a baking weekend with Puffy Fay, but also an internship at the While Away! I wasn’t sure why they had to make the internship “mandatory”—who wouldn’t want to work there? I folded up the flyer and tucked it in my pocket.

  Next, for Dad’s review. I didn’t know what to expect. Would he trash the While Away? Would Mrs. T hate me forever as the girl whose father ruined her reputation? Or would it be a glowing review that helped launch the While Away as a Comity institution? I flipped to the back of the small newspaper and found it in the features section:

  A WHILE REVIEW

  By Paul Mackson

  The While Away Café and Bakery, an enchanting addition to our lovely town, is located on Main Street, bridging the area between the town center and the woods. And what a welcome addition it is!

  They make a lot of food! Most of it comes out of the ovens! I’ve eaten a lot of scrumptious things there this summer, and you should, too!

  They have cakes, pies, cookies, and lots of other things that are baked! And did I mention that they are scrumptious?

  The waitstaff is sometimes cranky, but that shouldn’t dissuade you from going. The owner, Mrs. T, is as lovely and gracious as can be.

  Oh, and there’s going to be a contest for kids on June 23—my daughter, Mimi Mouse, is hoping to win, so let’s all go cheer her on!

  I’m sure all the food at the contest will be scrumptious!

  Stay tuned—next week I’ll review that scrumptious-looking snack shop, the Salt Shaker!

  The paper fell from my numb fingers. Something was seriously wrong with Dad. That had to be the worst review I’d ever read. What kind of reviewer says, “They make a lot of food! Most of it comes out of the ovens!” How many times could someone use the word “scrumptious”? And of course, he snuck in a bit about the Salt Shaker, the While Away’s chief competition. Mrs. T was going to be furious! And why did he mention me? He called me Mimi Mouse! I’d never live that down. I folded the paper back up and stuck it under the pile of mail to hide it from Mom, who had strolled into the kitchen. She scooped tea leaves into a small teapot and put the kettle on to boil.

  The phone rang, and Mom answered it.

  “Hello . . . Oh, yes, Charlie, how are you? . . . No, he’s not home right now, but he should be back soon. . . . Is everything okay? . . . I will. . . . All right, thanks. Bye.”

  Dad came in the back door, breathing hard from his afternoon run.

  “Paul,” said Mom, “Charlie just called sounding upset. He wants you to call him as soon as possible.”

  Dad waved her off. “Oh, he can wait.” He opened the fridge and started pulling out containers.

  “Well, since he’s your boss, maybe you shouldn’t make him wait too long,” she said.

  “I know what it’s about. I left him a message this morning saying I quit.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “You what?” Mom slammed down her teacup. “Why on earth did you quit?”

  “I’m tired of that job, Sangita. I’m sick of traveling and writing what other people tell me to write about. I want to . . . I want to . . . well, I want to eat this, for starters.” He held up a takeout container and poised his fork.

  “But you didn’t even discuss it with me!” said Mom. She glanced at me, then back at Dad. “We’ve got a lot of bills coming up,” she said quietly.

  Dad started scarfing lo mein. “Oh, it’ll all work out, don’t worry,” he said between slurps.

  “Don’t worry?! I can’t believe you’re being this nonchalant!” Mom cried. “How could you do this to us?”

  I chewed on a strand of hair. I wished I could say something, anything to make things better. But I couldn’t.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Dad said.

  “This is our family we’re talking about,” said Mom. She looked close to tears. “I’ve been working so hard, and I can’t believe you . . . you . . .”

  The kettle whistled. Mom turned off the burner but made no move to fill the teapot.

  “What’s going on?” said Henry, walking through the back door with Jules and Riya. “Why’s everyone yelling?”

  “I’m not yelling,” said Dad, “but your mom’s—”

  “I’m furious, and I have every right to be!”

  “Now, Sangita, calm down . . .”

  “I will not calm down! Not until you explain yourself!”

  I looked back and forth between my parents. They had their arguments from time to time, but I couldn’t remember the last time they had actually yelled at each other. This was scarier than the cobra, and worse than Emma moving to the other side of the world.

  I fished the boarding pass out of my pocket and threw it on the counter in front of Dad.

  “Dad, why’d you go to Chicago?” I asked.

  No one said anything. Dad stared like he was surprised to see me but kept slurping from the container. He rapidly finished the noodles and started on a slice of cold pizza.

  Mom picked up the crumpled boarding pass. She looked pale, and her voice shook. “Well, Paul? What’s your explanation?”

  My worst fear was coming true. Dad held his finger up as he finished swallowing a huge bite. I was petrified of what he might say, but I also needed to know.

  “It was just a connection,” Dad said, turning the slice around and starting on the crust. “I wanted an earlier flight out of Houston, so I had to connect through Chicago instead of flying direct. I can show you my flight confirmation if you want.” He chuckled and turned to me. “Where’d you get that, Mimi? Have you been fishing through my stuff?”

  The guilt must have shown on my face.

  “Oh, Mimi,” said Mom. “Really?”

  “He’s been acting so weird!” I said, raising my voice. “All he does is run and eat!” I blinked my stinging eyes.

  Everyone gaped in stunned silence while Dad finished the pizza and dug something out of his pocket—one of Mrs. T’s chocolates from the While Away. He popped it in his mouth and immediately started to unwrap another.

  “But what I really want to know,” said Mom, “is why you quit your job.”

  “I . . .” Dad finished the chocolate and took out a third.

  “Wait, Dad quit his job?” Henry asked.

  “I’m waiting, Paul, and so are your children.” Mom put her hands on her hips.

  “I . . .”

  “Dad, are you all right?” Riya asked. “Mom, don’t you think his face looks flushed?”

  “Is he choking again?” asked Jules, sounding terrified.

  “I’m fine.” Dad unwrapped a fourth chocolate and chomped on it as his eyes flashed purple.

  “Didn’t anyone else see that?” I cried.

  “See what?” asked Henry.

  “Your cheeks do look red,” said Mom. “Do you have a sunburn?” Mom put her hand on Dad’s face and snatched it away like he was a hot stove. “You’re burning up!”

  “I said I’m fine.” Dad reached for another chocolate.

  Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed on the floor.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE LULLABY

  “So how is he? . . . Uh-huh, okay. That’s good. . . . They think what?” Henry said. It was hours later when Mom finally called with an update from the emergency room.

  I jumped up and down.

  Henry held up a finger. “That’s great. Should we come now? What? Oh, okay.” He paused. “We’re all fine. Yes, we ate. Don’t worry. Love you, too. Bye.”

  “Can we go now?” Riya asked.

  “Mom said not to bother. They’re going to keep Dad overnight to make sure, but the doctors say he’s going to be fine. Mom’s coming home soon.”

  “
Do they know what’s wrong with him?” I asked.

  “Lyme disease. At least that’s what they think, given how much time Dad spends running in the woods.”

  “Can Lyme make someone that sick?” Jules asked.

  “I guess so,” Henry said.

  “Does Lyme disease make your eyes turn purple?” I asked.

  Henry did a double take. “What?”

  “Never mind.” Apparently no one else had noticed.

  “Can they cure him?” Riya asked.

  Henry nodded and ran a hand through his curly hair. “Yeah. They’re giving him antibiotics now, and he’s already improved.”

  “I’m going to call Cole and let him know what’s going on,” Jules said. She bounded upstairs.

  “I’m going to jump in the shower,” Henry said. “What a night!”

  “I’m going upstairs, too. I’ll be back soon.” Riya put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  Now that I was alone, I let out a long breath that I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. Although it was scary to have Dad in the hospital, I was relieved that everyone else could finally see there was something seriously wrong with him. I wondered, though, whether Lyme could really explain everything. Emma had Lyme two years ago, and her eyes and appetite had stayed normal—all she’d had was a rash. And Cole, Fletcher, and Henry had purple in their eyes, too, and they didn’t seem to have Lyme.

  I wandered into the living room and found myself at the table next to the piano. My clarinet gleamed in the waning light.

  I picked it up and sat on the edge of the sofa, looking out the window at the woods. It was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and the sun had only just dipped below the horizon. I brought the mouthpiece to my lips and began to play Vik’s song. I closed my eyes and could feel the summer sunlight shining on me, wavering through a canopy of trees. I heard birdsong. Come with me, the song said. I played it over and over; I got lost in the music.

  I opened my eyes to the sound of a guitar. Henry was in an armchair across from me, damp hair shining, smelling of shampoo and strumming away. He played the chords flawlessly, as if he already knew the song. He caught my eye and nodded at me.

  For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel embarrassed making music with my brother. Surprising myself, I sang:

  “Come with me

  And watch the sun rise

  In our place

  Watch it paint the world in gold and pink

  For you and I once met each other

  Under the banyan tree

  You and I can stay forever

  Won’t you come with me?”

  Jules came into the room and started tapping on the coffee table in a syncopated rhythm. The heavy top of the table made a deep, dull thud, but the sides sounded lighter and more hollow. I went back to the clarinet, feeling the rhythm of Jules’s drumming in my bones. Then I heard Henry take up the song:

  “Come with me

  And feel the noon sun

  In our place

  Feel the world grow strong

  For you and I once played together

  Under the banyan tree

  You and I can stay forever

  Won’t you come with me?”

  My heart leaped. I was astonished at Henry’s ability to come up with lyrics that felt so right. But then Jules started to sing:

  “Come with me

  And smell the evening

  In our place

  Smell the dim, purple scent

  For you and I once loved each other

  Under the banyan tree

  You and I can stay forever

  Won’t you come with me?”

  My skin tingled, and the clarinet trembled in my hands. How did she do that? I gaped at Jules, who winked and put extra enthusiasm into her drumming. Then the thought came to me: there was a fourth verse. Who was going to sing it?

  I heard a woman’s lovely voice, meandering through the air like a vine. I thought briefly of Mrs. T, but then I realized who was singing.

  “Come with me

  And hear the starlight sing

  In our place

  Hear the world grow sleepy

  For you and I once rested there

  Under the banyan tree

  You and I can stay forever

  Won’t you come with me?

  Won’t you come with me?

  Won’t you come with me?”

  Riya faced the window as she finished singing. There was a moment of complete silence.

  “How do you all know that song?” I whispered. I felt like the four of us were trapped in a bubble that wasn’t letting in enough air.

  “Same way you know it,” Henry said, smiling. “Mom used to sing it to us every night when we were little. Don’t you remember?”

  “She said her mom used to sing it to her. I bet it goes back generations,” said Riya.

  “It’s fun to make music with you,” said Jules. “You’ve never stayed to play before.”

  And then I remembered: rocking in Mom’s lap, her soft voice in my ear, her arms holding me close as I fell asleep to that melody. “She only hummed the song to me. She didn’t sing the words,” I said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, that’s the family song,” said Henry, ruffling my hair. “An oldie but a goodie.”

  “Vik taught me that song,” I said.

  “How could he know it?” Jules asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s how I found him—he was playing it in the woods,” I said. “He has an old wooden pipe.” Vik said this was a song from his family—I wondered how we were related!

  “So you’re still spending all your time in the woods,” said Riya. She looked at me curiously. “I thought that would end once Emma left.”

  “I love the woods,” I said. “It’s where I feel most like myself.”

  “But now that Dad’s got Lyme disease, shouldn’t we all stay away?” Jules asked.

  I shook my head. “I always use bug spray and check for ticks. I’m fine, and I’m going back.”

  “But Mimi—”

  “Leave her alone, Jules. Let her be happy,” Riya said.

  I was more than mildly surprised at hearing Riya stick up for me. “Thanks,” I said. “The woods are a part of me, and I can’t let go of them. I just have to be careful.”

  “What does that mean? Of ticks? Poison ivy?” asked Henry.

  “No,” I said, blushing furiously and trying to drive away thoughts of boars and cobras and delicious but dangerous honeysuckle.

  “What are you hiding?” Riya’s eyes bored into me like she could see into my brain.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Mimi, are you okay?” Jules asked.

  “Is there anything you want to tell us?” Henry asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Come on, Mimi,” Jules said. “We want to help.”

  I scrambled for something to say. “I’m just . . . I’m just nervous about the baking contest.” Which was true. Partly.

  “So,” said Riya. “Are you prepared? Have you planned out all the steps?”

  I blinked. “Well, I’ve been so worried about Dad—”

  “What’s on your menu?” Henry asked.

  “I’ve almost finished—”

  “You need to know exactly what you’re making, and how long it will take,” said Jules. She tapped her foot. “The contest is the day after tomorrow, right? Cole is coming with us to cheer you on.”

  “That’s nice of him. I don’t know exactly what I’m making, but—”

  “Kids! Where are you?” came Mom’s voice.

  “In the living room,” called Henry.

  Mom’s hair curled crazily around her shoulders. She looked relieved, though, and wrapped us all in a hug.

  “Oh, kids,” she said. “He’s going to be okay.”

  If only I could feel so sure.

  CHAPTER 20

  THE GOODBYE

  Cream puffs. If I did a good enough job, Puffy Fa
y would love them. I felt confident about my choux pastry—after all, it was based on Puffy Fay’s recipe. With a little patience, the puffs came out perfect every time. I combined water, sugar, salt, and butter in a saucepan and brought them to a boil. I added flour to the butter mixture, then stirred and cooked for several minutes until it was no longer raw. I moved the dough to my mixer, let it cool for a bit, then mixed in four eggs, one at a time. I piped the dough onto my baking sheet and slid it into the oven. Soon I had perfect little puffs, dry and hollow in the center to hold my filling.

  This was the last day I had to prepare for the contest, and I was determined to use it wisely. I spent all morning making different fillings and trying them out on Mom. There are lots of root vegetables, but not all of them translated well into pastry cream.

  “Nice, but heavy,” Mom said when she’d tasted my sweet potato cream. “Also, kind of one-note?”

  “I’m sorry, but ick,” she said after trying a tiny taste of green garlic cream.

  She tried a spoonful of beet cream. “It’s gorgeous-looking, but . . . a little muddy-tasting? Keep trying.”

  “Now that’s delicious,” she said of my carrot pastry cream. “Sweet and carroty . . . and so unusual!” I’d decided to add some cinnamon, “for prosperity,” according to The Book. I finally had a winner.

  Vik’s song floated through the open kitchen window as I finished my final shopping list.

  I ran upstairs and handed the list to Mom, who was making a quick grocery run before getting back to work. After spending all morning taste testing with me, she’d brought Dad home from the hospital. He was exhausted but seemed fine otherwise and was fast asleep in bed. Lying next to him was a basket of get-well chocolates sent by the While Away, and he’d only eaten one. That reassured me that he’d truly recovered from whatever had made him act so weird. And that Mrs. T didn’t hate him for mentioning the Salt Shaker in his review.

  “Thanks for getting these ingredients for me. Are you sure you have time? I could ride my bike into town.”

  “It’s no problem.” Mom smiled. “Do you need more help preparing?”

  I shook my head. “You already helped me a ton by being my taste tester. Sorry I distracted you from work.”