The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh

by Kaltman, Alice;

  “Mrs. Shelby will find someone else to help out,” her father said. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with it all once school began anyway.”

  “Mrs. S. and I talked about this already. I can go to her house before school and take Kitty out and go back after school. Mrs. S. is gonna get those puppy pads and put them in the kitchen during the day, and now that Nellie is doing better, Mrs. S. only has to make sure she doesn’t turn herself into a floating fatso when I’m not around.”

  “Sorry, Grace,” Walter said firmly, shaking his head. “Like it or not, we’re moving. You have two more weeks to be with Mrs. Shelby and her pets. That’s a good amount of time to get some closure.”

  “Closure? Hello, Dad. This is not therapy. This is my life we’re talking about. Gimme a break!” Grace stormed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, tears welling up in her eyes. Throwing herself down on her bed, Grace bawled uncontrollably.

  After a few minutes, she heard a knock, then her little brother’s muffled voice through the door. “Gracie, why are you crying?”

  “Stuey, you’ll leave me alone if you know what’s good for you!” Grace wailed between sobs.

  Stuey cracked the door open and stuck his head through the narrow space, staring at Grace, his stuffed bear grasped firmly beneath one plump arm. His green eyes regarded her thoughtfully, like little round marbles above pudgy cheeks, his blond hair in rumpled disarray. He was just too cute for Grace to stay mad at for very long.

  “I’m sorry you’re sad, Gracie,” Stuey whispered, thrusting his stuffed bear—named after Michael Banks from Stuey’s favorite movie—toward his sister. “You can hold Michael if you wanna. He makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Stuey.” Grace yanked her pillow over her head, adding, “Just go away, please.”

  Once Stuey left, Grace flopped onto her back with a heavy sigh. Not only would it be gut-wrenchingly hard to leave Mrs. Shelby, Nellie, and Kitty, but it would also be hard to leave Floral Park. It wasn’t the most interesting place on the planet, though Grace hadn’t spent much time anywhere else, aside from Cleveland (too dirty and noisy) or Kakawalah Lake (too many jerks like Steven Reedy). Still, the Minnaughs’ big mess of a house had been home to Grace for forever, and she was not a big fan of change. While Floral Park wasn’t the most fabulous place to live, it was the only place she knew. Maybe she could run away once they arrived in California and come back home? Or at least threaten to? Maybe she could go big-time rebellious and join a circus. But who was she kidding? There weren’t any jobs for eleven-year-old bookish fumble-fingers in a circus. Maybe she could move in with Mrs. Shelby? But there was barely enough space in Mrs. Shelby’s house for Mrs. Shelby, Nellie, and Kitty, what with all the purple paraphernalia. Plus, if Grace could barely stomach moving, how would she ever handle any of those rebellious maneuvers? Surely her parents knew she would never do those kind of things, so why bother with the empty threats? Besides, blackmail was not Grace’s style. It was too low a move even in such dire circumstances.

  Grace had lost. There was no way out. Like it or not, it was “California, here I come.” And Grace liked it not.

  Chapter Four: Westward Ho

  The dreaded moving day arrived way too soon, and it was a beautiful day—which seemed cruel to Grace. She wanted foul weather, to match her foul mood. Rain, clouds, wind at least. Maybe even some hail. Best of all would have been a freak snowstorm. But no, the weather was perfect—sunny and dry, and not too hot. Grace got up extra early and dashed out of the house, eager to spend as much time as possible with Nellie, Kitty, and Mrs. Shelby. The Minnaugh family’s flight to an airport close to La Toya—or the Final Circle of Hell, as Grace thought of it—departed at four p.m. She wanted to spend as much of the morning as she could with her newly found—only to be quickly lost—friends.

  Grace was very patient with slow and picky Kitty. Nellie got extra brine shrimp, and Grace insisted on making Mrs. Shelby her one and only culinary specialty—a grilled-cheese sandwich. When it came time for Grace to leave, however, the waterworks began.

  Grace blew her nose and kissed the sleeping Kitty goodbye on her smelly, scruffy head. “Kitty,” she sniffled. “You keep moving that tubby body of yours, okay? You stop, you drop. And don’t give the new dog walker a hard time. Do your business quickly and you’ll get your treats, okay?” Waking from her nap, the dog looked up at Grace forlornly with her one good eye. She gave one croaky bark, then proceeded to slobber Grace’s cheeks all over with stinky doggy kisses.

  After gently coaxing Kitty back to her doggie bed, Grace approached Nellie’s bowl. Nellie stopped circling and floated in place, watching Grace expectantly with her bulbous eyes.

  “Be good,” Grace blubbered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Eat all your food. Do your laps every day, and don’t forget me.”

  While Grace had been saying her goodbyes to the animals, Mrs. Shelby had been nervously fussing with purple knick-knacks lining a display case, arranging them one way, then another, then returning to the original arrangement.

  “Well, Mrs. S.,” Grace sighed. “It’s time for me to go.”

  Mrs. Shelby turned from the shelf. Grace could see that she, too, had tears streaming down her cheeks. “Well, well. So it is. So it is.” Mrs. Shelby walked slowly toward Grace with her arms open. “Come give us a hug.”

  “I wish I could just stay here with you guys,” Grace cried, running into Mrs. Shelby’s arms.

  “Oh, but that would be boring as all get-out, Grace,” Mrs. Shelby said with a sigh.

  “You’re just doing your Old Lady Cheery Act,” Grace mumbled into Mrs. Shelby’s fluffy lavender sweater. “I know you don’t want me to go.”

  Mrs. Shelby seized Grace’s face between her papery palms, holding her cheeks as she looked Grace squarely in the eyes. “Of course I don’t. But we can’t always get what we want, Grace dear. Plus I know, deep down in my old clogged arteries, that you are going to have the time of your life in sunny California. And remember, Nellie, Kitty, and I will be back here rooting for you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. S. You’re the best.”

  “Oh dear, I almost forgot!” Mrs. Shelby shuffled to the hallway table and opened the drawer. “I bought you a little going-away present.” She held out a flat parcel, wrapped in shiny purple paper and tied with a violet ribbon bow. Inside, Grace found a pad of lavender writing paper, matching envelopes, and a roll of postage stamps.

  “I hope you’ll write to me and keep me abreast of your shenanigans,” Mrs. Shelby said with a grin, winking mischievously.

  “If only my life were ever exciting enough to contain shenanigans,” Grace sighed. “But sure. I’ll write.”

  Grace and Mrs. Shelby hugged and sniffled for a few more minutes before Grace finally managed to pull herself away. She stumbled down Mrs. Shelby’s path, past the gnomes and flowers, thinking that this would be the last time she would see those odd little guys and those lovely blooms. As she passed the giant oak tree, she realized she’d never have to wait under its shady leaves while Kitty circled and circled until she finally pooped. Grace would never again get to scratch Kitty behind the ears as the old dog snuggled into her dog bed, or watch Nellie execute a perfect back dive, or dance around the living room with Mrs. Shelby. When Grace got home, she pounded up the stairs, slammed her bedroom door, and flung herself onto her bed, in the darkest mood she had ever known. She’d never felt more bereft in all her eleven years of life.

  Four hours later, Grace was on the plane traveling far away from Nellie, Kitty, and Mrs. Shelby. She buried her face in her book, Magic Tricks for Minors, hoping she could pick up a few tips on how she could hypnotize her parents into returning to Floral Park, Ohio. If that failed, maybe she could learn how to make herself disappear. But the book was a total waste, describing the secret tricks behind a bunch of corny card tricks and dumb scarf maneuvers. Ther
e was nothing about hypnotizing and nothing whatsoever about disappearing from airplanes at fifteen thousand feet. Tossing the book aside, Grace rummaged through her backpack in search of the lavender writing paper. Selecting a purple pen from her pencil pouch—a color Grace knew her friend would love—she began her first letter to Mrs. Shelby.

  Dear Mrs. S.

  I’m on the plane to California. So far nothing very exciting has happened. There are a few cool-looking clouds out my window. One of them looks a little like Kitty when she’s curled up in her bed. But Kitty is way cuter.

  Grace paused. She knew if she kept writing she’d just keep complaining, and that didn’t seem fair to Mrs. Shelby. Maybe once she arrived in La Toya, she’d at least have something different to write about. Maybe even a shenanigan to share. Grace slipped the writing paper back in her bag.

  The plane eventually landed, much to Grace’s dismay. The Minnaughs collected their bags at the carousel, piled into their rental car, and began the long drive down an endless highway, past precariously leaning palm trees that looked like giant scrub brushes and scruffy-looking hills that looked like mud piles. They pulled into their driveway at dusk. Even in the fading light, the house appeared the lamest excuse for a home that Grace had ever seen.

  “Voila!” her father cried. “We’re home!”

  “Can you please stop saying voila?” Grace grumbled. “We’re not French, and this isn’t France.”

  “Come on inside, Gracie,” her mother said softly. “We’ll find your new room together.”

  While her father unloaded their bags, Grace entered the house with her mom, who carried a sleeping Stuey slumped across her shoulder. With her free hand, Minerva flipped a light switch, revealing the main room of the house, which was covered in ugly wood paneling. The shag carpet was covered in mysterious stains, and gaudy, cheap curtains hung half off the windows. The previous owners had left behind a faux-leather couch, which was as ripped as if a grizzly bear had attacked it. Beige stuffing tufted out of the tears like gross pus.

  Minerva sighed deeply. “Well, I guess we have a bit of redecorating to do.”

  “I’ll say…” Grace muttered.

  Minerva walked through the dismal living room toward a long hallway. “This way, Gracie. Your dad said the perfect room for you is the one second from the left.” While both arms supported a very sleepy Stuey, Minerva pushed the door open with her hip and walked in. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “This is quite…something.”

  Grace lingered. Quite something didn’t sound too promising.

  “Come on in, sweetheart.”

  The room was definitely larger than her old one. It had a ginormous closet, four huge windows, and a cool built-in bookcase along one very long wall. But the louvered closet doors hung off the rails, two of the windows had cracks covered in duct tape, and most of the shelves on the bookcase were warped. And the same disgusting carpet that was in the living room ran throughout the house and into Grace’s room as well. Grace felt as if she were standing on the Abominable Snowman after he’d been stuck in a mudslide.

  “Yuck, yuck, triple yuck,” she said.

  Her mother sighed again. “Well, this is it, Grace. Unless you’d like Stuey’s room, which is about half the size, has a dinky closet, no bookcase, and no ocean view.”

  Was it the ocean that Grace heard through the cracked windows? It sounded like water sloshing around in a giant washing machine. Grace didn’t really care about views, but she did care about the other stuff.

  Stuey started to wiggle. “I’m going to lie down with your brother on the couch in the living room until our things are unloaded. We’re all exhausted by the travel and time change. Once your dad has the luggage inside, please help him blow up the air mattresses. You know what he’s like about reading instructions.”

  Begrudgingly, Grace did as she was told. She set up her own air mattress in her room as far from the windows as possible, but the sound of the ocean was difficult to ignore. At first she was annoyed. She wanted to mull in her bad mood without the watery swoosh and whoosh distracting her. But it was useless. The whole room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of waves. It was as if the ocean were talking to her, and even though she had no idea what it might be saying, she found the aquatic sounds unexpectedly intriguing. Before long, her body relaxed, and Grace drifted off to sleep, into a dreamscape that was deep blue and mesmerizing.

  

  The next morning Grace and Walter had a picnic breakfast on the kitchen floor, eating stale corn muffins and orange juice they’d picked up at a gas station convenience store the night before. Minerva stood by the large picture window, absentmindedly picking at the crumbly edges of a croissant and beaming at the ocean.

  “My, oh my,” said Minerva. “How spectacular.”

  Grace glanced up at her mother, who grinned at the rolling surf as if it were a delicious milkshake she could lap up in one gulp. Grace had to admit, it was nice to see her mother smiling again. But while this radical change of scenery might be good for her mother’s mood, it was doing nothing positive for Grace’s state of mind.

  “No offense, but I think this place is a dump inside and out,” Grace said. “Not only the messed-up stuff in my room, but this entire house smells like mildew, and there are brown spots all over the ceilings. Half the windows don’t open. And what about that broken door in the front? Are we ever gonna get that fixed?”

  “We only got here yesterday, Grace. Once I start getting my paycheck, we’ll start fixing up the house,” Walter said. “Our furniture, books, and other things will be arriving in a day or so. Once familiar things are in place, this will feel more like home. Besides, you’ve got to admit that that ocean view is something else! Incredibly soothing, don’t you think?”

  Grace rolled her eyes as she stuffed a huge piece of dry muffin in her mouth. She didn’t find staring at the Pacific incredibly soothing. She didn’t know how to feel about the ocean. While the sound of the waves had lulled her to sleep the night before, when she’d woken to that swoosh and whoosh sound it was like listening to voices in another room that she couldn’t quite understand but couldn’t quite ignore.

  Stuey arrived in the kitchen with a clatter, carrying brightly colored beach buckets, sandcastle molds, plastic shovels, and rakes Grace’s parents had purchased back in Floral Park knowing at least their younger child would want to hit the beach as soon as he could. Stuey’s new Hawaiian-print board shorts reached just below his knees and colored zinc sunscreen streaks lined his cheeks and forehead like war paint.

  He looks like a walking rainbow, Grace thought, brushing cornmeal crumbs from her lap.

  “I wanna go to the beach!” Stuey announced, looking hopefully from Walter to Minerva, and finally settling on Grace. “Please, Grace, take me to the beach.”

  Taking Stuey to the beach would be far from fun, but at least she could get away from her parents, who were so determined to be cheerful about everything.

  “Okay, Stuey,” Grace agreed. “On one condition. You play, I watch. I’m not building any cheesy sand castles.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after coating her pale skin with gobs of sunscreen, Grace sat on a beach towel while Stuey arranged his buckets, shovels, sieves, and rakes. From the beach, Grace surveyed their property and the surrounding landscape. Their new house was one of many in a sandy cove surrounded by towering cliffs that looked like giant crinkled paper bags. At the top, Grace could see enormous mansions perched like haughty eagles, looking down at the modest homes below. To the distant south was a long pier, where Grace could see people strolling, fishing, and walking their dogs.

  Grace straightened the beach towel beneath her. Sand. Ick, she thought. Luckily she’d kept her favorite Trail Blazer hiking boots on—extra protection against sand invasion. Sure, her feet were hot and sweaty, but at least they were grit free.

  While Stuey entertained himself, Grace looked out
at the water that stretched out to the horizon. What had her dad meant when he said the ocean was soothing? The ocean was massive, deep, and awfully cold, and likely fell away to who-knew-how-deep, just ten feet away from where little Stuey was playing in the sand! Grace shivered at the thought of it.

  Still, Grace’s eyes were drawn to the dark, sparkling surface. As she watched the surf advance and retreat over the sand, her muscles relaxed, and the thoughts skittering around her mind settled to a calm thrum. Was this what it felt like to be hypnotized?

  The sound of approaching voices pulled Grace out of her reverie and she turned to see two girls walking along the water’s edge, laughing hysterically. One girl had peachy skin and waist-long brown hair. She wore a tiny bikini top with matching board shorts, both the color of pink bubble gum. She held a take-out coffee cup in one hand and a fancy cellphone in the other. Her friend had a jet-black curly bob and caramel-colored skin. She wore a yellow halter dress that even fashion-challenged Grace could tell was very trendy and very expensive.

  “Check out those shoes,” the brunette whispered loudly as they passed Grace. “I mean, like, who wears hiking boots to the beach?”

  “I dunno.” The black-haired girl shrugged. “Maybe she has a reason.”

  Grace’s face flushed fire-engine red. She scowled and thrust her booted feet forward. “What are you staring at?” she yelled. “Haven’t you ever seen authentic Trail Blazers before? They’re the most popular hiking boots in Ohio, where normal people live!”

  Coming to a halt, one hand on her hip, the brunette rolled her eyes dramatically. “Geez. Get a grip. I was just making an observation.”

  “Well, in the future, please keep your observations to yourself,” Grace snapped.