by Angie Kelly
"You're here at last!" the woman said, in a heavy French accent. She swooped me up in a big hug and lightly grazed both of my cheeks with her own in the type of air kiss I had only seen on TV. She smelled like soap and yeast. I took an instinctive step backwards, feeling overwhelmed by this stranger's affection. I'd never in my life met a French person.
"Mia, this is Madeline Tarpley, your new foster mother."
"Hi," I said, unable to take my eyes off Mrs. Tarpley. This wasn't what I was expecting at all, and I couldn't help wondering what the catch was, because there was always a catch.
"You'll have to excuse the way I look. I've been baking and the time got away from me. Please come in." Mrs. Tarpley gently took my hand and led me into the house.
We walked into a large open foyer located directly in front of a double staircase. The foyer had a high ceiling, shiny hardwood floors, and a large round marble table with a glass vase full of wildflowers sitting on it. The walls were covered in framed travel posters of faraway places — Egypt, Morocco, Greece, and China — as well as a multitude of African and Chinese masks. There was an Egyptian death mask, just like in the pictures I'd seen of King Tut's tomb, sitting on a stand between the two staircases. And I must have been nervous, because I could have sworn its eyes followed me as I walked past. The combination of baking bread from the kitchen and the strong scent of the wildflowers made the house smell wonderful.
"I can't stay long, I'm afraid, Mrs. Tarpley," said Ms. Jarvis, who'd come in behind us.
"Not even for my pains au chocolat? They're fresh from the oven," Mrs. Tarpley said, with her head cocked slightly to one side.
"Oh, well, maybe just for a little while to make sure Mia gets settled in okay," Ms. Jarvis said, obviously not needing her arm twisted further. She followed Mrs. Tarpley into the kitchen.
"What's pains au chocolat?" I said aloud.
"Idiot!" said a deep, rumbling, heavily accented voice. But when I whirled around I saw the girl who'd been in the window, and I couldn't imagine such a deep voice had come from her.
"Did you say something?" I asked, confused. She laughed.
"I said it's French for bread with chocolate." She wore a denim miniskirt, pink and black tank top with a skull emblazoned on the front, and white ankle socks with black lace fringe. Her shiny black hair was cut short except for the bangs, which had been combed to one side and fell over her right eye like a glossy raven's wing. "There's chocolate baked inside. You do like chocolate, don't you?" she asked, like I'd be loony to say no.
"Uh, yeah, sure." I stared at the small, reddish, star tattoos encircling her left wrist like a bracelet. She saw me looking and laughed.
"It's not permanent. It's henna. A real tattoo would be so bad for my commitment issues. I'm Tomiko Sato. But everyone just calls me Tomi. You must be Mia."
"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling totally awkward.
"You don't say much, do you?" Tomi said after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
I just stared at her and shrugged, wondering what it was I was supposed to say. Then Tomi glanced down at my sandaled feet and back at the front door where several pairs of shoes were lined up neatly just inside the door, including the Birkenstocks Mrs. Tarpley had been wearing.
"Sorry." My face burned with embarrassment and I quickly slipped out of my sandals and set them next to the others.
"No biggie. Come on." Tomi grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the swinging double doors of the kitchen.
Ms. Jarvis was seated at a large island in the middle of a big, airy kitchen devouring a plate of glistening brown rolls sitting in front of her. Overhead was a rack of shiny copper pots and pans. The walls of the kitchen were a pale yellow, and sheer white curtains hung in the large window overlooking a huge ornamental garden in the backyard.
I sat down on a stool across from Ms. Jarvis, and my new foster mother set a plate of bread in front of me as well as a large glass of milk. Tomi didn't bother with a stool. She grabbed some bread and hopped up on a nearby counter.
"I see you've met Tomi," Mrs. Tarpley commented with a smile. "Where are the others?" she asked, turning to Tomi.
"I think Devon went into town and Lily rode her bike to the nursing home to see her grandpa. I don't have a clue where Alex is," she replied, around a mouth full of bread. Devon, Lily, Tomi, and Alex? Ms. Jarvis said there were three foster daughters.
I bit into the warm bread and it melted in my mouth. There was a thin strip of gooey chocolate inside. I'd never tasted anything like it.
"It's good, huh?" Tomi was so obviously eager for me to say yes I couldn't help but smile.
Before I could answer, laughter coming from the foyer announced the arrival of two more girls who came bursting into the kitchen. The one closest to me had long, wavy, light brown hair and a small mole over her upper lip. She was wearing padded, black biker shorts and a silver mesh tank top. She smiled at me but didn't speak. Instead, she glanced apprehensively at the girl she came in with.
The other girl had a golden tan and a long blonde ponytail. I recognized her instantly. It was the snotty chick who'd turned up her nose at me when we first arrived in town. I knew there had to be a catch, and it had long blonde hair.
"Lily, Devon, you're just in time to meet Mia Cornell," said Mrs. Tarpley, but she was looking directly at the blonde girl as if trying to gauge her reaction.
"Hi. I'm Lily Flores," the brown-haired girl said softly, holding out her hand for me to shake.
"And this is Devon Sharp," said Mrs. Tarpley when the blonde just stood there glaring and refusing to say a word. "Devon, don't be so rude. Say bonjour to Mia," she said, sounding slightly exasperated. I got the impression everyone knew I was coming, except this Devon chick.
Devon wasn't having it. She shot me another dirty look and stormed out of the kitchen. Mrs. Tarpley was hot on her heels. They started arguing out in the foyer, but I could still hear most of what they were saying, despite Ms. Jarvis's attempt to make small talk with Lily and Tomi to try and drown them out.
"Insolence!" roared a weird deep voice. It was the same one I'd heard when I first came in. Who was it? I peered through the kitchen's swinging double doors out into the foyer and saw Devon glaring at the Egyptian mask. Suddenly, Tomi started coughing and nudged Lily who went and leaned against the door jamb blocking my view.
"You just couldn't wait to replace her, could you?" I heard Devon spat out at Mrs. Tarpley. "She's barely been gone a month! How could you! We're all supposed to be in this together! We can't get someone new without everyone's consent!"
"Enough!" Mrs. Tarpley's voice, so soothing and sweet only moments before, cracked like a whip. Devon shut up immediately. "I'm the one you're angry with, Devon. Don't take it out on Mia!"
"She's not going with us next weekend, is she? It's too dangerous! She'll just mess everything up!"
"Of course not. It's much too soon. But we have to give her a chance sooner or later. She belongs here with us. We're her family now. It will be just fine. You'll see," Mrs. Tarpley said in a much softer voice obviously trying to soothe the girl. Devon said something else I didn't catch. Then there was silence and Mrs. Tarpley returned to the kitchen full of apologies for Devon's behavior.
I sighed and took another bite of my pain au chocolate and realized I'd better enjoy it while I could because I had a sinking sense of déjà vu. My days at the Tarpley Estate were most definitely numbered. But what I wanted to know was, who was I replacing, and where was the dangerous place they were going next weekend?
Chapter Two
Ms. Jarvis stayed a bit longer to make sure I was going to be okay. After she left, I was shown to my new room. It was a dream come true with hardwood floors, white walls, and a queen-size bed with a brass headboard and thick burgundy bedspread. Twirling slowly above was an ancient ceiling fan with a white porcelain light fixture. Built-in drawers, bookcases, and a roll top desk took up most of the wall space. But the best thing of all was the large bay window with a cushioned w
indow seat. After putting away my clothes, art supplies, and books, I set a picture next to the bed and went over and sat in the window seat and gasped.
My room had a view of the ornamental garden, and while I'd had a glimpse of the garden already from the kitchen, I had no idea how big it was. It was ginormous and must have taken up at least an acre or more. I could also see something else. The garden was a hedge maze, so huge I couldn't see the center of it from my window. The walls of the maze must have been at least six feet high, maybe higher.
"Do you like your room, Mia?" said a voice from the doorway. It was Mrs. Tarpley.
"It's nice, thanks," I said, truly meaning it. Even when my grandma was alive I hadn't had a room this cool, and in all of my other foster homes I'd had to share a room.
"Is this your grandmere?" asked Mrs. Tarpley, picking up the picture on the bedside table. I nodded and waited for the comment I knew was coming next. "You look a lot like her."
Everybody thought so. I'd seen pictures of my grandma when she'd been my age — we could have been twins. We'd had the same chocolate brown skin, thick, dark brown hair, the same mouth with a slightly fuller bottom lip, and the exact same deep dimples. Mrs. Tarpley set the picture down and squeezed my arm.
"We can go shopping this week for a new spread and some curtains if you want. There's a music store downtown the girls like. They have lots of posters."
"No, it's okay. This is just fine." I wanted to say I doubted I'd be around long enough to care how the room was decorated.
"Oh, I forgot. Ms. Jarvis told me you're an artist. You probably want to decorate your room with your own artwork, right?"
"Yeah, that'd be cool." I wondered what else Ms. Jarvis had told her.
"Well, we'll have to get you some more art supplies then, won't we? But right now, why don't you take a nap before lunch? You look a little tired." She turned to go, but I stopped her.
"Mrs. Tarpley?"
"Please call me Mrs. T. It's what the girls call me."
"I overheard Devon say I was replacing someone. Who am I replacing?"
"Try not to let her bother you. She's just upset right now. One of my other foster daughters left recently, and she and Devon were close."
"Why'd she leave?"
"She was eighteen. It was her choice. No one is a prisoner here," she said, shrugging nonchalantly.
"If you all have someplace to go next weekend, I can stay here. You don't have to worry about me. It's okay."
Mrs. Tarpley laughed. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"I heard Devon ask if I was going with you next weekend."
"Uh," she said, sounding slightly flustered. "Um, the girls like to go rock climbing. It's no big deal. Now, you get some rest. Lunch is at twelve-thirty."
I watched her go and got the strangest feeling she'd just lied to me. Then again, I hadn't slept well the night before and was tired. It may have just been my imagination playing tricks on me, because why would Mrs. Tarpley lie about something so stupid? I stretched out across the bed then realized there was something else I'd meant to ask about. But I was too tired to remember what it was.
****
I woke with a start, feeling panicked and not knowing where I was. I'd been dreaming about running through the garden maze trying to catch up with Lily, Tomi, and Devon. But the closer I got to them, the farther away they'd be. I sat up on the bed and groggily looked around for a few minutes before I finally remembered where I was. The clock on the bedside table read 3:25. I'd slept right through lunch and my stomach growled loudly. I got up, ran a comb through my hair, and headed downstairs.
On my way past the bedroom next to mine, I saw the door was half open, and Tomi was sitting on the bed painting her toenails. This must be her room and it was painted a deep midnight blue with a full moon and stars painted on her ceiling. Her bedspread was white; instead of a headboard, there was a beautiful silk kimono with pink, green, and silver flowers hanging from a rod mounted half way up the wall. Her floor was covered in thick, white carpet with large multi-colored throw pillows strewn all over it. I could see a black writing desk underneath one window with a computer sitting on it. Lily was also in the room, sitting on one of the large pillows on the floor. Both of them sat with their backs to the door. I heard my name and paused near the door to listen.
"Do you ever stop worrying? If Mrs. T. says Mia will work out, I believe her," said Tomi, concentrating on painting her toenails.
"Yeah, I guess." Lily sounded unconvinced. "She's so quiet, though, don't you think? It would suck if she gets freaked out easily, especially when we're out on a job."
"Are you serious?" Tomi laughed. "The girl's been in foster care. I bet she's got nerves of steel."
"Oh, don't even go there, Tomi. You don't know anything about being in foster care. Your parents left you to Mrs. T. in their will."
"They named her as my legal guardian in the event of their deaths. You make me sound like a rug she inherited," Tomi said. Lily giggled.
"There." Tomi held out one skinny foot and wiggled her toes. Her toenails were painted a dull green.
"Why is this stuff called magic magenta?" Lily squinted at the bottle of nail polish. "It looks more like pea soup to me."
"Check it out." Tomi clapped her hands a couple of times. The lights in her room went off. Her toes were a brilliant glow-in-the-dark magenta.
Once the lights went out, I hurried past the door and down the steps before they caught me spying on them. I passed the Egyptian mask and again heard a strange deep voice.
"Late!" it said, stopping me dead in my tracks. But there was no one around.
Maybe a TV or a radio was on in one of the rooms off the foyer. I listened and didn't hear anything else. The house was quiet and the kitchen was empty. The morning rain had finally stopped, and the sun had come out, flooding the kitchen with sunlight. I opened the fridge and saw a thick turkey sandwich on a plate covered in plastic wrap with my name on it. There was also a cup of tomato soup. I was so hungry I devoured the sandwich and chugged the soup in five minutes, washing it all down with a cold can of cherry soda.
As I ate, I thought about what I just overheard. So Tomi's parents had known Mrs. Tarpley. I wondered about Lily and Devon's backgrounds and how they came to be with Mrs. Tarpley. What job had Lily been talking about? Why was she afraid I'd freak out? And where was the other foster kid, Alex? I turned around and almost jumped out of my skin. Leaning against the counter was a man wearing shorts and a white tank top. He must have been in his twenties. He had thick curly black hair and was almost six feet tall.
"Hey, you must be Mia, right?" He had an English accent. His smile was warm and his nose was a little crooked, as though it had been broken. I was so flustered all I could do was nod and look at my feet. It felt like turkey sandwich was stuck in my throat.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Alex Duncan, Mrs. T.'s assistant, driver, handyman, and anything else needs doin' 'round here. I live in the cottage out back of the estate." He stuck out his hand and I shook it.
So this was Alex?
"Have you been out in the garden? I saw you looking." I noticed his w's sounded like r's and his h's were missing in action, making have sound like 'ave and here like 'ere. Too adorable.
"Not yet," I said, finally finding my voice. "I've only been here a few hours."
"Then a grand tour is in short order." He handed me a napkin. "You might want to wipe your mouth first."
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the stainless steel fridge and saw a thick tomato soup mustache. I could have just died. Fortunately, Alex was headed out the back door, and I didn't have time to be too embarrassed. I quickly wiped my mouth and followed him.
With the exception of some stone benches doubling as planters and a separate vegetable garden, the rest of the backyard seemed to consist of the hedge maze. I suddenly felt anxious and didn't know why. I'd been in a maze before and managed to find my way out. This was different. I chalked it up to the sheer siz
e of it. Alex made a beeline straight for the maze and didn't turn around until he got to the entrance. He saw my hesitation and was amused.
"Mazes kind of creep me out." I laughed and tried to play off my nervousness.
"Ah, well," he said, stepping aside so I could go in first. "You're in luck, cause this ain't a maze. It's a labyrinth."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is mazes are designed to confuse. They're like a sort of puzzle you've got to figure out. Labyrinths, on the other hand, have a clear path to the center. You can't get lost. Might take you a while to get there. But there's nothing to figure out."
I was so wrapped up in what he was saying I didn't even realize we were already inside. As we turned corner after corner, I noticed how cool it was inside the labyrinth, how neatly trimmed the high hedges were, and how precisely it was designed. Nothing was overgrown, and not a single weed dared show itself among the unrelenting greenery. There were also lots of small benches and statues of Greek gods and goddesses nestled into almost every corner.
"Who takes care of this thing, you?"
Alex laughed. "Don't be daft," he said, screwing up his face like he'd just smelled something bad. "Do I look like the type of bloke who gardens?"
I laughed even though I had no idea what a bloke was.
"Nah, we used to have a full-time horticulturalist, Dr. Hector Flores. But, he's outta commission. Alzheimer's." Alex shook his head and frowned.
"Flores? Is he related to Lily?"
"Yeah, her granddad. He created this labyrinth. He used to work at the university with Mrs. T.'s husband, Dr. Tarpley. He'd been around forever before he got ill. Mrs. T. don't trust anyone else to maintain it. Does it all by herself, now."
"So Lily lives here because of her grandfather?"
"Yep. Besides her granddad, she ain't got no one else but us. Same thing with Tomi. Her mum and dad were archaeology grad students of Dr. Tarpley's. Got killed in a plane crash on the way home from a dig in Greece."
