A knock comes at the door and Butler Reginald answers it, ushering in Eloni; Tafko; Mr. Masako, the bank manager; and Alvios, Eloni’s grandfather.
I rise in my seat, completely surprised, not expecting any of them. My heart begins to thud.
After everyone says Nesor annim for “Good morning,” they begin taking seats. Butler Reginald serves juice and cookies, like we’re at a Garden Club party. I just want him to hurry up and read the will!
Finally, our butler/nanny finishes passing napkins and clasps his hands. “I’m sure you girls are wondering why I’ve invited Mr. Masako and Alvios here this morning.”
“You could say that,” Riley tells him.
“Mr. Masako and Tafko signed your grandmother’s new will as official notarized witnesses, so I thought it best to have them present this morning.”
Learning that bothers me. Maybe it’s because I don’t quite trust Tafko. The idea of a new will drawn up right before Grammy Claire died greatly bothers me, too.
Butler Reginald unseals an official-looking envelope, pulls out a sheaf of papers, and then shows the final page to Tafko and Mr. Masako. “You can verify that these are your signatures?”
The men look at the inked handwriting and nod in agreement.
“Let us dive right in so as not to take up your day — and so the girls can resume their vacation.”
I take a deep breath and grip the edges of my chair.
Butler Reginald clears his throat. “The Last Will and Testament of Claire Theriot Chaisson, resident of Bayou Bridge, Louisiana, and concurrent resident of the islands of Chuuk.
“I, Claire Theriot Chaisson, testify that I am of sound mind and body and do hereby bequeath my estate in the following manner:
“Number One: My home in Louisiana will go to Rebecca Chaisson Doucet and her daughters, Riley and Tara Doucet.
“Number Two: The residence and laboratory on Chuuk were rented to me for my research purposes as commissioned by the Chuuk government and will be returned to the State of Chuuk within thirty days of my death.”
There’s a tug at my chest when I hear this. The tree house never truly belonged to my grandmother — and would never belong to me and Riley, either. Not even for a vacation in the future.
“Number Three: My scientific research I am giving to the Institute of Research for Lepidoptera located in the Federated States of Micronesia. In conjunction with this decision, I declare that the rest of my estate, my savings and stock holdings, as well as the remains of my late husband’s estate will be used to run the Institute of Research for Lepidoptera for the next decade until further funding can be obtained.”
Riley sits up in her chair and frowns. “Say that again in English?”
Butler Reginald turns a shade of apologetic pink. “A year ago your grandmother commissioned me to set up a legal foundation for the continuing research and protection of the butterflies here in the Micronesian Islands. As her estate executor, I will be overseeing the Institute. I have also been commissioned to hire a new scientific staff to continue the research and harvest of the Chuukese lepidoptera species.”
I watch Riley chewing on her lips, and I know she’s annoyed. “What does that mean?” I say under my breath.
“It means that Grammy Claire willed her research work to Butler Dude — and whoever he wants to hire.”
“But you’re not a scientist, are you?” I ask Butler Reginald.
He shakes his head. “I’m not a PhD, but my undergraduate work was in biology before I received my law degree. I also have a master’s degree in lepidoptera research from Yale.” Butler Reginald clears his throat. “I know this is difficult, girls. You were hoping to receive the bulk of your grandmother’s estate — not only hers, but your grandfather’s that she frugally saved since his death. But her lepidoptera work here on Chuuk was more important than anything else.”
“More important than us?” My voice is wobbly and tears sting my eyes, but I quickly look at the floor, my hair swinging down so nobody can see my splotchy face. Especially Eloni.
Riley shoves back her chair, sputtering, “Grammy Claire knew we were about to lose the Doucet Mansion! That Mamma can’t work — she’s got no other skills besides flower arranging and giving parties! I don’t know much about houses, but I do know that Grammy Claire’s house on Bayou Teche is a wreck and will need thousands in repairs and updating to sell. So me and Tara owning it doesn’t help us at all! And Daddy —”
I cry out, willing her to stop before she says anything horrifyingly embarrassing. Eloni tries to catch my eye, but I can’t look at him.
Riley does stop, in the nick of time. She glances at me. “It’s our secret, right, Tara?”
“Thank you,” I whisper. We both have been pretending for months that Daddy is living as a rich movie director in Hollywood. And that it’s only a matter of time before we go live with him when he returns from filming “on location.” But in reality, Daddy’s a used car salesman and his new wife is a waitress trying to break into the movies. And they’re middle-aged! It’s embarrassing. It’s pathetic. I never want to live with them.
And now I’m sitting in a tree house on an island paradise watching my whole life crumble. Losing those two thousand dollars to Madame See hurts worse than ever. Riley and I have nothing but two old, falling-apart houses with mortgages. And a mamma who can’t even get out of bed and onto an airplane.
A sob chokes my throat as I rise to my feet. I’m not sure I can walk straight.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Riley and Miss Tara,” Butler Reginald says. His voice is so kind and gentle it only makes it harder to hold the tears back. It’s not his fault he can study butterflies and be a lawyer both. He just does the paperwork that his clients tell him to do. “Are these your certified signatures?” he asks Tafko and Mr. Masako once more, as if to assure me it’s all legal.
They both nod, giving me sympathetic looks, and I can’t take it anymore. Running across the room, I fling open the door and race down the open-air walkway to Grammy Claire’s bedroom.
I throw myself on the bed and cry into the mound of pillows. I cry so hard I think I’m gonna throw up. Not only are my parents useless, but my life is pathetic and miserable.
I cry so hard the pillowcase gets soaked. I can still smell Grammy Claire’s scent. Her hair spray and lemon-pound-cake smell. The memories, so sharp and real, only make me cry harder.
The next instant, Riley smacks the door open and slams it closed again.
I roll over, staring at her, my Pantene Princess hair sticking to my wet face. “What do you want?”
She limps to the bed and drapes herself across the un-rumpled side. “I want to get out of here and go see Brad back home. I want to tell Daddy to get lost. I want to yell at Mamma to get herself into a hospital. Grown-ups have messed up our lives, little sister. Even Grammy Claire.”
I cover my ears. I don’t want to hear what she’s saying! “It’s not true!” I shout at her. “She loved us. She loved me. It says so right here in her letters!” I pull them out from under the mattress and spread them across the bed. “See, see?”
Riley glances at the pages and shrugs. “It’s just a bunch of words. Actions speak louder than words.” I hate what she’s saying about Grammy Claire, and I’m about to tell her how much I hate her, too, when she suddenly reaches out and touches my hand. “I’m sorry the real world has crashed down on you today, Tara, but I always thought you put her on a pedestal.”
“She’s not a liar! I know it.” I say the words, but do I really know it? Grammy Claire never breathed a word about any of this. And we talked on the phone every Sunday! She was fine. Normal. Her letters were normal, wonderful, filled with love and concern. I’m so confused I don’t know what to think. Maybe she was getting dementia. Maybe she was just selfish and all she cared about were her nipwisipwis. After all, her letters were full of those butterflies! Maybe she loved them more than me. The thought is so devastating, tears start streaming all over again. I think I’m going to choke a
nd die right here.
“Okay, Tara, get a grip,” Riley says gruffly. “It’s not the end of the world.”
I glance at Grammy Claire’s pictures strewn along the shelves. The ones where she looks younger and younger each year. “But it is the end of the world. You get to leave because you already graduated high school, but Mamma’s useless. Daddy’s more than useless, and Grammy Claire is dead. I’ll end up in some foster family!”
The thought is a true nightmare and I flop backward, putting the pillow over my face. I start sobbing so hard I swear my heart is going to actually burst. There will soon be blood spilling everywhere and the closest ambulance is almost two hours away.
Riley kicks off her combat boots and lies down next to me, not speaking, just waiting for me to finish bawling and hiccupping. I take a good, long while, and I wonder if she’ll really stay until I’m done. A couple of times I peek out from under the pillow, but she’s peacefully gazing at the ceiling.
Finally, the tears and the hiccupping slow down. I lie there for another five minutes, listening through the window to the ocean roll in and out. Then I sit up. “Well. Someone is lying.”
Riley lifts her eyebrows. “You think so?” Sarcasm drips from her words. I love it.
“But who? Grammy Claire? Tafko and Mr. Masako? Eloni? The bank? Butler Reginald?”
Riley lets out a big sigh, and I think she actually doesn’t have any answers, either. “Oh, Tara, I want somebody to be lying, but probably nobody’s lying. Grammy Claire got so caught up in her research, living way out here, that she didn’t realize how bad things were at home. She probably thought giving us her house would help us. Grammy Claire was pretty great, but she wasn’t perfect. She left us for this island thousands of miles from civilization, for cryin’ out loud. Whose grandmother does that?”
“You’re not helping, Riley!” I feel like we’re back where we started. But if I’m honest with myself, I did think Grammy Claire was perfect. I wanted her to be perfect. I don’t want to think about her putting more importance on the nipwisipwis than me. But she did.
I glance at the row of framed photographs again. I think about Eloni’s grandfather. What’s the connection? Did Eloni’s grandfather and my grandmother have something going on together? Both of them were aging backward. Getting younger. What sort of experiments was my grandmother doing?
“Guess I can’t fault Grammy Claire for getting caught up,” I tell Riley. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, so spectacular in all my life.”
“What? You mean the butterflies? When did you see them?”
“The day before yesterday. With Eloni.”
“Where do they live?”
“Maybe three miles from here. It took an hour to walk back, but if you didn’t know they were there, you’d never realize that thousands of butterflies are hatching in the mangroves.”
Riley grunts, but I can tell I’ve impressed her.
I shoot up, blinking. “But Eloni knows the secret! I know he does — and there are secrets out here nobody wants to talk about. I’m pretty sure somebody besides Grammy Claire has been lying.”
“But we don’t know who, Tara. You can’t walk around calling people liars.”
“Well, maybe not lying, but they’re hiding something. Something big!” I clap my hand over my mouth. “And Madame See! Remember? She’s here, too. Sneaking around the island!”
Riley shoots up next to me. “That’s right, I forgot about that! Okay, I’m getting confused.”
I stare at the letters strewn across the bed, and remember that Grammy Claire told me to trust Riley, so I spend the next hour telling my sister everything, from the beginning. She gets a fresh ice pack for her ankle, sits in one of the wicker chairs on the balcony overlooking the beach, and reads every single letter from start to finish, even though she’d glanced through the first ones when we were back home.
I chew on my hair, watching her. When she finally finishes, she lays the last letter in her lap and says, “I’m impressed.”
“With what?”
“That you figured out all the clues and keys. And it’s really too bad the money is gone.”
I can only chew more hair and nod.
“Will you stop that, Tara? It’s disgusting.”
I drop my wet hair and sit, sulking. Below us the waves roll in gently, leaving big swaths of foam.
“So what do you think the last key unlocks?”
I shake my head. “Already tried it in every single door here.”
“And what was Key Number Nine again?”
“The safety deposit box at the bank. With the first will.”
“Which is obsolete now,” Riley mutters, leaning on the balcony ledge. “So what do you think Key Number Ten would open? What would it need to be?”
“I have no idea and the last letter doesn’t have a single hint! Every other letter had a clue tucked inside, which Grammy Claire told me to burn.” I lower my voice even though we’re far from the bedroom door. Peering through the slats of the balcony railing, I look down to see if anyone is hiding in the trees. “Seems like I just heard a rustling noise.”
“You’re going paranoid on me now.”
All of a sudden, Eloni appears from around the mangroves, coming from the direction of the laboratory. What’s he doing there? I narrow my eyes, studying him. He must sense someone is watching because he suddenly glances upward and sees me and Riley bending over the railing.
“Hi!” He waves, grinning as big as ever. “Come down. The party is today! My grandfather started roasting the pig last night and it’s ready to eat. You’re coming, right?”
Riley shakes her head. “Don’t think Butler Dude is going to want to drive us around.”
“My family has a village. Down the beach. It’s not too far. We can ride.”
“Guess that explains why Grammy Claire hired him if he’s close.” Riley calls down again. “Hey, what did you mean by riding on the beach? Does your family have horses or something?”
“No, I mean dune buggy! In Professor Claire’s shed.”
I stare at Riley. “Grammy Claire drove a dune buggy?”
Riley stares back at me. “Guess she couldn’t walk back and forth to the butterfly cove several times a day. Never thought about her having wheels. But it makes sense.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Key Number Ten! Do you think — ?”
“Shh! Don’t say that out loud!”
My head hums with a thousand sudden thoughts. I race back inside the bedroom.
“You’re coming, right?” I hear Eloni call up again. It makes me laugh. That boy is very impatient.
“Okay, we’ll come!” Riley calls down from the balcony.
“Go behind the laboratory. Follow the path,” Eloni tells her. “Mr. Butler Reginald says he will drive the car over later after he changes his clothes.”
I hear Riley give a laugh. “A beach party with a roasted pig isn’t exactly the place for a butler suit, I guess.”
I’m too busy snatching up Grammy Claire’s last letter. I scan the lines, searching for clues, searching for more. There has to be more! There wasn’t an extra note with a clue this time, which means she had to hide it carefully within the letter. I didn’t have to burn or swallow anything — because Key Number Ten is the most important key of all.
Slowing down, I read the entire thing again, not stopping so my brain won’t keep interrupting. Certain lines jump out at me in a whole new way.
You will notice that there are no Giant Pinks in the laboratory or in my home. There is a reason for this, which will be revealed later.
You should still have one more key, and it unlocks the most dangerous location of all. I cannot even give you any clues because I’m afraid of who is watching you. I’m afraid of what they already know, and that they might steal this letter from you….
You will have to rely on your wits, your brains, your courage, and most of all your good heart to find the final lock. You must do your best to save the ni
pwisipwis from those who will inflict experiments and certain death on them. My beautiful creatures are facing extinction. And if my research is stolen and there is free access to the nipwisipwis, no longer will the island’s butterflies fly free and help the native people as they have for centuries. They will be gone forever….
Don’t forget to enjoy the beauty of the island. I hope you brought lots of swimsuits and sunscreen!
And most of all, remember, my lovely Tara, I will be with you in the darkest hour. Always. I have not left you alone. Trust Riley. Show her this letter.
I had shown Riley the letter, and she couldn’t figure it out. I’d done everything Grammy Claire had told me to do.
Other laboratories were trying to get the nipwisipwis. Why would they inflict terrible experiments? Why kill them? How did the butterflies help the native people? So many questions still to unravel.
But an idea begins to form in my mind, nagging at me. Key Number Ten unlocks a dangerous place — which means that Grammy Claire is not referring to the dune buggy. “Aah!” I yelp softly. What is she talking about?
And then I see it. The clue. Plain as can be, right in front of my nose.
My heart thumps as I try to catch my breath.
Grammy Claire’s letter is set up like every other letter, where the clue always follows her information and warnings. Except this time the clue is so small and innocent, it seems completely insignificant. I hope you brought lots of swimsuits….
Such a casual reference thrown into the letter in between the warnings. I think my grandmother is trying to tell me that I need a swimsuit to find the dangerous location. A swimsuit to find the lock for Key Number Ten.
“Riley!” I scream. “We’re going to the party!”
The air is like a butterfly with frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks at the sky and sings….
~JOYCE KILMER~
Riley limps back inside and I signal to her to be quiet by putting a finger to my lips. We stand so close together that even if the room was bugged, nobody could hear us.
“Why are we going to the barbecue?” Riley asks, mouthing the words. “What about the dune buggy and the key?”
When the Butterflies Came Page 18
