Heartwood Hotel Book 3

by Kallie George

  GRRRR!

  “I’d better go,” said Brumble. “My stomach is bossy. It needs some berries.”

  After the big bear said his good-byes and bumbled on his way, Mona turned to Tilly and Henry.

  Henry wasn’t upset about his ball. He was excited. “I can’t believe you just talked to a bear! You just went right up there. You are so brave, Mona! And can you believe what he said? A new hotel! A splashy one! We have to tell someone!”

  “I don’t know,” said Mona. “Brumble’s got to be confused.”

  “But what if he isn’t?” said Tilly, matter-of-factly. “Henry’s right, we should let Gilles know. Besides, my stomach’s grumbling, too. It’s time for lunch.”

  Mona wasn’t hungry. She was too full of thoughts. She gazed up at the Heartwood Hotel, with its majestic limbs and the tiny pinpricks of lights shining from the rooms like little stars.

  She loved it so much. Was there really another hotel opening up in the forest? And if there was, what would that mean? She wasn’t sure.

  The hotel creaked as wind blew through its limbs, as though it wasn’t sure either.

  Mona and Tilly followed Henry downstairs into the kitchen, which was nestled between the Heartwood’s roots.

  The Heartwood Hotel had almost as many rooms below the earth as it did above. Mona loved them all, from the penthouse suite at the top, to the hibernation suites in the deep dirt. The kitchen was one of her favorite places.

  It was the gathering place for staff, which was no surprise, since the air was always filled with delicious smells like roasting acorns and gooey cheese crumble. Ms. Prickles was always there, too, bustling about, baking up batch after batch of her famous seedcakes. Although you couldn’t hug Ms. Prickles, she said she baked a hug into every one.

  There didn’t seem to be any hugs in the kitchen that lunchtime, though. Only crossed arms and tense tails.

  Gilles, the front-desk lizard, was sitting in Mr. Heartwood’s spot at the head of the table, wearing a badge with an M for manager on it.

  Beside Gilles were Mrs. Higgins and her husband, Mr. Higgins, the gardener. Tony was there, too.

  “Guess what? Guess what?” cried Henry.

  “No guessing required,” said Gilles, adjusting his bow tie. “We all know while Mr. Heartwood is away, I’m in charge.”

  “As you keep reminding us. Mr. Heartwood obviously needed a break,” said Mrs. Higgins. “His decision-making was clearly suffering.” She frowned at Gilles’s badge.

  “I’m good at taking breaks. Right, Tilly?” piped Henry.

  “There will be no time for breaks,” the lizard said excitedly. “Spring is usually a steady season, but we will make it bustle! We will show Mr. Heartwood that he can take a rest without worry. We are the most wonderful hotel in Fernwood Forest. The only hotel in Fernwood Forest.”

  “No, we’re not,” burst Henry. “There’s a new hotel in Fernwood!”

  Gilles’s tail twitched. “A new hotel? What do you mean?”

  “Brumble came by,” Mona hurried to explain. “He said there’s a new hotel opening up. A splashy one. He heard it from some birds.”

  Gilles’s tail twitched again, so hard this time that it knocked a platter of seedcakes from Ms. Prickles’s paws. The seedcakes fell to the floor with a crash.

  Mrs. Higgins sighed at the mess. “Are you sure?” she asked Mona.

  Mona shook her head. “Actually, no, ma’am. Brumble’s never had the best memory.”

  But then Tony said, “I heard the same news from a passing messenger jay. All he told me was there’s a new hotel still under construction, but supposedly it will change the flow of Fernwood. I thought he was trying to rile me up, but maybe not. Should someone go and find out more?”

  “You mean spy?” said Henry eagerly, grabbing a seedcake from the floor.

  “Henry…” scolded Tilly.

  Gilles interrupted, “We are not spies! We have standards. Standards we must not lower but raise.”

  “Should we send a message to Mr. Heartwood, Gilles?” asked Mona.

  Gilles shook his head. “Of course not. He’s only just left. We must take care of this ourselves. Splashy, indeed! We’ll show them splashy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve always told Mr. Heartwood that the spring needs more zing. The Heartwood Hop is too much like the Acorn Festival. It needs to be hoppier….”

  “I don’t know…the Heartwood Hop sounds like fun,” replied Mona.

  “If you like hopping,” said Henry, spitting out some seeds. “Hopping’s for rabbits. Games are fun.”

  “Henry, hush!” said Tilly. “And what did I tell you? Chew before chatting!”

  Gilles heard Henry, however, and his eyes gleamed. “Games! That’s it! Not just games. Competitions. Things the guests can really sink their paws into. A whole season of them. The snow-sculpting contest in the winter was a start, but there’s so much more we could do! And to end it all, we’ll make the biggest splash ever. A party to end all parties. A Spring Splash! We’ll show them. We’re the greatest hotel in Fernwood Forest, and that’s a fact.”

  Mrs. Higgins shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  But Gilles was turning a vibrant green. “Everyone, come on. Let’s get in the splashy spirit. I need ideas for competitions.”

  “I’ve got some! I do, Mr. Manager, sir!” said Henry, bouncing off his seat.

  Gilles glanced down at his badge and grinned. “Wonderful!” he cried.

  Henry beamed. “Told you I can be helpful, Tilly.”

  “Caused us extra work, more like,” grumped Tilly, but she rubbed his ears proudly.

  Mona felt a knot form in her stomach. Usually she was the one with ideas.

  As Henry hurried to help Gilles with his list, Tilly leaned over to Mona.

  “I’m glad to see Henry so excited,” said the squirrel. “This has all been a big change. At Hood’s Home for Orphaned Animals, there were lots of kits like him….Actually, that’s what I was going to tell you, Mona. I need you to switch rooms with Henry. Please?”

  The knot in Mona’s stomach tightened. “Why?”

  “Turns out Henry’s not quite ready for his own. Even though Mrs. Higgins did clear out her sewing room specially.”

  “But…”

  “There’s only space in our room for two. Just think, no more noisy squirrel snoring!” Tilly teased.

  “Your snoring’s not that bad,” replied Mona. “I mean, you do snore, but I was hoping to go through some of the old guest books with you tonight. I found them today, and I thought we could read them together, before bed. I’m hoping to find—”

  Mona didn’t even have a chance to finish before Tilly squeezed her paw. “Your parents! Maybe they wrote an entry! We’ll find time to go through them,” she said. “Even if we’re in different rooms.” Then she added, “As long as this whole Splash thing doesn’t get too batty. Did I ever tell you about the time we had the bat birthday party here? Everything was upside down. Actually upside down!” she huffed.

  Mona smiled and squeezed Tilly’s paw back. But Mr. Heartwood gone? A new room? A Spring Splash? Mona couldn’t help feeling that things were already turning upside down. It had nothing to do with bats, and everything to do with a certain little squirrel.

  The Spring Splash began as suddenly as the buds burst open on the trees.

  Mona had only just settled into her new room and hadn’t started reading the guest books with Tilly yet when the Squirrels’ Delivery Service arrived with flyers Gilles had ordered. Gilles proudly pinned the first one to the lobby mantel.

  It seemed silly to advertise for the Splash without the events decided on, but Gilles wanted to get started at once. Mona sat at the front desk, on top of a stack of books, staring at the flyer.

  She had been told to check in guests while Gilles, Tilly, and Henry put up more flyers around the forest. They were, after all, much bigger than she was—even Henry—and could cover more ground. Mona was sure she and T
illy could easily have done the job, but there was no arguing with Gilles, especially now that he was the manager.

  She tried not to let it bother her. Instead, she organized the desk and made sure the room keys were hung neatly on the pegs behind it.

  Realizing she had some free time, she was just about to fetch a guest book from upstairs to read when the front door swung open.

  Mona peeked over the desk to find, flying into the hotel, two very ruffled robins and an egg. It was the bluest egg she’d ever seen, tucked in the fluffiest nest. The nest had a handle made of twigs on either side, which the robins were holding in their claws.

  “Gently, dear! Gently!” cried the mother.

  “I AM carrying it gently,” said the father.

  “Here, set it down, here. Like this.”

  Both of the robins landed carefully in front of the desk and peered in at the egg. “Oh no, the shell has a scratch,” cried the mother, who was wearing an apple-seed necklace. “Was it from a sharp twig?!”

  “I knew the forest wasn’t safe enough,” said the father, who was wearing a red tie that exactly matched his chest feathers. He stroked the egg with his wing.

  “That far part of Fernwood has too many dangers,” said the mother. “We must protect Richard—”

  “Roger,” interrupted the father.

  “Rosemary?” questioned the mother.

  “I do like Rosemary,” mused the father.

  “Excuse me,” said Mona.

  The robins looked up at her.

  “It’s a mouse,” said the mother. “Do you work here?”

  “Yes. I’m Mona, a maid,” she replied.

  “But where is the badger?”

  “Gilles, the lizard who would usually be here to greet you, is currently taking over for Mr. Heartwood, who’s away. But I can check you in.” Mona opened the check-in book.

  “Mr. Heartwood isn’t here?” The father straightened his tie and looked unsure. “I don’t know. That was one of our reasons for coming here, to the Heartwood. A big badger to protect us and our egg. Our egg is very delicate, and there were far too many dangers in the forest for our liking. Foxes, weasels, eagles, hawks, owls…” He shuddered.

  Mona shuddered, too. And so did the egg. It rocked in the nest.

  “Oh, please, not so loud!” shushed the mother. “You know even mentioning them gives our dear egg nightmares.”

  “I can assure you the Heartwood is still the safest hotel in Fernwood Forest,” said Mona. “‘Sleep in safety, eat in earnest, and be happy at the Heartwood.’ That’s one of our mottos. We have lots.”

  She pointed to the signs that hung above the Heartwood fireplace: WE LIVE BY “PROTECT AND RESPECT,” NOT BY “TOOTH AND CLAW” and GUESTS BIG OR SMALL, WE WELCOME ALL. There hung the flyer for the Splash, too, which reminded her.

  “Not only are we the safest hotel, we’re the splashiest,” she added, sure that Gilles would want her to mention this. “Are you here for our big event?”

  To Mona’s surprise, however, the father shook his head.

  “There’s an event?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s a special springtime festival for the Heartwood Hotel, competitions and…Well, we actually don’t know all the events yet, but…”

  “Oh dear,” said the mother. “We were hoping for a quiet place for our egg, a safe place. We are first-time nesters, you see. The Robinsons. And we want nothing except the best for our dear Rupert.”

  “Rutabaga,” coughed Mr. Robinson.

  “Rutabaga? Definitely NOT Rutabaga.” Mrs. Robinson shook her head.

  “The Splash won’t bother you,” hurried Mona. “It’s just games and fun activities for guests…like…” She stared at their egg. What could an egg do?

  “Our egg would win any competition,” said Mr. Robinson stoutly. “It’s the sweetest.”

  “And the roundest,” said Mrs. Robinson.

  “And the cutest,” finished Mr. Robinson. “No egg is cuter than ours. Let’s stay. I’d love to see Rachel win her very first prize.”

  “Our egg, Ronald.”

  “Russell!”

  Over the arguing of names, Mona checked them in and handed them a key. She watched as they headed up the stairs, holding the handles of the nest carefully between them in their beaks. Mona had offered to help, but they insisted on carrying it themselves.

  Mona had never seen such particular parents. She wondered if they’d be disappointed when they found out the Splash had no contests for eggs. But it could. An idea hatched in her mind, a very splashy idea. The Cutest Egg Competition! Gilles will be thrilled, Mona thought with a smile.

  “I’m thrilled!” said Gilles. Mona told him her idea the moment he came back from flyering the forest. Tilly and Henry had gone straight for food, but Gilles wanted to resume his front-desk position, even though he was tired. He perked up immediately when Mona shared her idea. “Why not? Let’s encourage more birds to come with their eggs.”

  “Maybe they’ll bring news about the new hotel, too,” piped Mona, pleased.

  “Indeed!” Gilles’s color brightened. “I must get started on more flyers at once!”

  The flyers brought in a flock of flying guests, but no news of the new hotel. When the frogs arrived, they thought they might have heard a ripple of a rumor. They were more concerned, however, to find out whether all their eggs could be entered in the competition, or only one, since so many contestants had been signed up. Most families were booked in to stay all season, right to the Grand Finale.

  “Nesting guests are the best!” declared Gilles, each time another family decided to stay.

  Mona soon discovered they were also a lot of work. They needed the most room service, and since they never left their rooms, the only time to clean was during the competition, which meant she was stuck inside and didn’t get to enjoy it.

  “I tell you, speckles are the cutest!” chirped a swallow.

  “One solid color looks SO much cuter!” replied Mrs. Robinson.

  The birds’ arguing drifted all the way up from the courtyard into the Robinsons’ twig-floor suite, where Mona was cleaning. Swish, swish, swish, she swept with her dandelion broom, as quickly as she could. Maybe if she finished soon she could still watch some of the competition. If only Tilly were there to help. But since Mrs. Higgins wanted nothing to do with the Splash, Gilles had put Tilly, senior maid, in charge of event organization and judging, so Mona was alone.

  Well, almost alone…

  “Mona, where’s the chickadees’ room? They forgot their egg’s bonnet. The frilly one,” Henry said with a grimace, bursting in.

  “It’s next door,” said Mona. “Are you sure you—”

  “I’m fetching things!” he proclaimed proudly. Then paused. “Which next door?”

  “I better show you,” said Mona, setting down her broom with a sigh.

  The next time Henry came in, she was dusting the Robinsons’ pictures. They were hanging from the roosting pegs, perched in the nest—the room was full of them!

  Henry’s mouth was full, too, of berry cake, which Mona knew was meant for the guests. You weren’t supposed to eat guests’ food. But Henry didn’t seem to care. Or care about keeping his mouth closed either. “The froupm frgr…”

  A spray of crumbs splattered Mona.

  “Pardon?” asked Mona. “Henry, Tilly said chew before—”

  Henry gulped. “The frogs forgot their favorite lily pad.”

  “It’s in their bathtub,” Mona replied. “And you really shouldn’t eat…”

  Too late, he was gone. All that was left were crumbs on the floor and a grump starting to sprout in Mona.

  She was out on the balcony, refilling the Robinsons’ birdbath, being careful not to splash (because there were even pictures out here), when Henry burst in again. This time, he waved a soft bark cloth.

  “I have something for you, Mona. It’s the Robinsons’ egg shiner. They don’t need it anymore. Where are you? Oh, you’re outside. Here!” He held the
cloth over his head, ready to throw it.

  “Henry, not like that!” cried Mona.

  “Catch!” Henry whipped the cloth to her.

  It flew over her head and hit one of the Robinsons’ pictures, perched on the side of the tub, knocking it into the water. SPLASH!

  “Oh no!” cried Mona. She quickly fished for the picture, but it was already so soggy it fell apart in her paw.

  Henry’s face fell. “I…I didn’t mean to. You should’ve caught it! I’m a really good thrower.”

  Mona felt the grump in her grow. She stormed inside, clutching what was left of the picture. “Look,” she said, waving the soggy remains at Henry, “it’s ruined. You should’ve brought the cloth to me instead of throwing it. You’d better go tell the Robinsons.”

  “But…”

  Mona shook her head. “Now.”

  Henry left, and Mona put the picture in her dust basket, picked up her broom, and gave the room an extra-hard second sweeping. She knew the Robinsons would be mad. Henry really shouldn’t be helping out. He was too little. He wasn’t a maid—he was a kit.

  Suddenly Mona heard a shriek.

  She rushed out to the Robinsons’ balcony. Down below was a flurry of feathers, as the birds hopped around in a panic.

  Oh no, thought Mona. The Robinsons must REALLY not be happy. Maybe I shouldn’t have made Henry go down there alone. She hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

  “Oomph!” As Mona was passing through the lobby, she collided with a very plump porcupine. Luckily, she wasn’t poked by any of his quills.

  “Oh, excuse me!” said Mona.

  “No, no. Excuse me,” said the porcupine. His face was hidden by dark glasses and the extra-wide brim of a hat. A few of his quills, long and gray, stuck through the top of the hat. The porcupine waved a piece of curled-up birch bark. It was one of the flyers. “I am here for—”

  “HENRY!” Mrs. Robinson shouted from the garden.

  Mona’s paws itched to go outside, but she couldn’t be rude to a potential guest.

  “You’re here for our Splash? That’s great,” said Mona. “If you would wait here, please, I will be with you in a moment to check you in.”