Lila looked at Nicki. “She’s psychic. Like me.”
Nicki smiled. “Does your uncle have his vase back yet?” she asked.
“Came and went,” said Lila.
“What?” asked Nicki.
T’ai explained. “My uncle never wanted the Ming for himself. He’s just glad it didn’t wind up in the wrong hands.” He took a drink of lemonade. “He’s donated it to the National Museum of Art in Beijing, as a gift from the descendants of the former royal family. That way, it will be enjoyed by everyone.”
“And maybe they’ll learn something about the Cultural Revolution,” added Lila. “It was no picnic for the family.”
Nicki nodded. “I hope he can find a way to return to China one day,” she said.
“Maybe that angel of his will help him,” declared Lila.
“Angel?” asked Nicki.
“He claims that when he was unconscious, nearly dead, a Chinese girl came to his rescue. The FBI insists there was no such girl, that she was a figment of his imagination. So he figures she must have been an angel.” T’ai laughed. “Crazy or what?”
The three of them spent the lunch hour sitting outside the store, watching people as they strolled by. When a group of tourists came along, Nicki left them so they could make some sales.
“See you soon!” said T’ai, heading inside with Lila.
Nicki watched them for a minute and wondered about her own grandparents. I must have a grandmother someplace. Maybe she’s like Lila.
“See you,” she said.
She looked up at the sign that said One-of-a-Kind Finds and smiled.
I hope so.
I really hope so.
Next she went to the deli. The supper crowd hadn’t arrived yet, so she had a chance to talk with Margo.
“You girls sit down for a while,” said Mrs. Bloom. “We can handle things.”
“Thanks, Mom,” said Margo. “So where have you been, Yin? I haven’t seen you all week!” She pulled napkins out of the dispenser and gave them each one. “There were a couple of women from the hotel here yesterday, and when I asked about you, they said you’d left!”
“Oh, Ellen and Dolores. How are they doing?”
“They both seemed very happy—celebrating something. I think they got a raise.”
“It’s hard work they do,” declared Nicki. “I’m going to try something else for a while.” She pulled in her chair. “How has business been here?”
“Not bad,” replied Margo. “But the really great news is that the Haddons have offered us a long lease.With no rent increases!” Her eyes lit up. “Did you hear about Mac?”
“T’ai told me he’s not going to have to spend any time in jail. So that’s good.”
“It sure is,” agreed Margo. “He has to go to Gamblers Anonymous meetings and talk to high school students about addictions, but he’ll be able to finish his studies.”
“Here you are, girls,” said Ira, his voice booming across the deli. “Cheesecake.” He clunked down a giant slab in front of each of them. “Coffee?”
“Fill it up!” said Nicki. “You’ve trained me to like this stuff, Margo.”
The girls laughed and talked, and Margo told Nicki all about what she’d been doing at the hospital, the new patients, and her plans for the school year.
“You really enjoy your work, don’t you?” Nicki asked.
“I do,” said Margo. “It feels good to know I’m making a difference. A small one, maybe, but at least it’s something.”
Before they knew it, it was almost four o’clock, and Margo had to start preparing meals.
“Guess I’d better get back there and help my folks,” she said.
Nicki waited for the kitchen door to swing shut behind Margo, then headed to the cash register. She checked to make sure the customers were engaged in their conversations and not watching what she was doing.
I love this place, she thought. I’m so glad they’re going to be able to stay.
Then she reached for the honeymoon jar. Inside it she put two first-class, round-trip tickets to Hawaii.
She was almost out the door when Margo called to her.
“Drop by soon!”
“I will, Margo,” said Nicki.
She went to leave, then turned around.
“Margo—”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
Epilogue
Nicki found her seat on flight 427 to Heathrow airport and waited for the other passengers to board. She rested her elbow on the edge of the window and watched as jetliners flew in and out of Pearson International Airport.
Her thoughts turned to David Kahana and the instructions he had given her. She was to board the plane and wait to be met by a British Secret Service agent, who would travel with her to London and let her know where she’d be staying after that.
It wasn’t until everyone had taken their places aboard the aircraft that she felt someone sit down next to her. Without shifting her gaze from the action on the tarmac, she greeted the person beside her.
“Hello, Fenwick,” she said.
There was silence for a moment.
“You knew?”
Nicki turned and smiled at him. “From the minute you let me sit in the front seat of the limo, I realized that you were no ordinary butler.”
“I see.”
“There’s one thing I’d like to know, though,” she asked him.
“What’s that, Nicki?”
“How did MI6 find out about me?”
“From watching you compete in Britain.” The butler fastened his seat belt.
“Where will I be living in London, Fenwick?” she asked. “Near the hotel?”
“Not in London, Nicki,” he replied. “You could be recognized. You’ll be staying in Milchester, with my sister Emma.”
“Milchester?”
The jet’s engines roared.
The plane was getting ready to take off.
Nicki looked out the window as the plane taxied across the tarmac and took its position on the strip. It moved faster, faster, faster down the runway.
She felt for her good luck charm and cupped it in her left hand.
“Weren’t you surprised when they told you I had consented to all of this?” asked Nicki.
“Not really,” said Fenwick. “I know why you accepted the position.”
She looked down at the charm.
“It’s because of them, isn’t it?” he asked.
The jet climbed into the cloudless sky, up and over the skyscrapers of Toronto. Within seconds, the city below became a checkerboard of colors—the cars and the people nothing but tiny specks on the face of a giant jigsaw puzzle.
“If it takes the rest of my life,” said Nicki, “I’m going to find my parents. Wherever they are.”
About the Author
Caroline Stellings is an award-winning author and illustrator. Her book The Contest, part of the Gutsy Girl series, won the 2009 ForeWord Book of the Year Award and was a finalist for the 2010/11 Hackmatack prize. Besides her many books for children and young adults, she is also the writer of The Nancy Drew Crookbook, a long running series in The Sleuth magazine. She lives in Waterdown, Ontario.
The Scratch on the Ming Vase Page 10
