I sat up on the bed. “What about Uncle Max?”
She shook her head. “He says he knew nothing about it, and I believe him. The disappointment in his eyes . . .” Mom crossed to sit on the edge of my bed. “It’s easy to see when you feel the same.”
She might as well have punched me in the stomach and body slammed me into the floor.
“Ouch,” I said. “You mean me.”
Mom gave a soft laugh and shrugged. “Is there anyone else here whose opinion matters?”
I ducked my head. “I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah, and you said that at the edge of the forest,” said Mom, picking at the quilt on my bed. “Then later you told everyone I couldn’t do it.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Tori, I haven’t done many amazing things, but there are two that I can say I’m proud of: my dress shop and my daughter.” She sniffled, and I looked up to see her eyes filling with tears. “And right now it feels like I’ve failed both of them.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the only sound I could produce was a squeak as my eyes welled up too. A single tear spilled over Mom’s lashes and onto her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.
“You should get to sleep,” she said, sniffing again. “It’s been a long night.”
“Mom.” I took her hand. “I thought about it, and I do believe in you. I swear it. You are a superwoman who does so many things. You heal me when I’m sick and cheer me up when I’m sad and put food on the table, and I’ve never once ever wished for a different mother, because nothing could be better than you.” I paused. “Except you with a million dollars.”
Mom laughed and rubbed at her eyes again. “I’d love to believe that you truly feel that way, Tori. But I can still see the worried look in your eyes.” She stroked my cheek, which brought all the tears forth.
“I’m worried,” I stumbled through the tears, “because . . . I let you down! I’m . . . a . . . bad . . . daughter!” I broke down completely, and Mom pulled me to her so I could cry on her shoulder.
“Shhh,” she said, rocking me from side to side. “This has been a tough experience for both of us. You’re not a bad daughter. You’re . . . you.”
I froze and looked up at her. “That still feels like an insult.”
Mom chuckled softly. “I’m grateful for who you are. It’s what keeps me balanced and makes me notice ways I can change.”
“You don’t need to improve,” I said. “If you were any different, we wouldn’t have bathtub sundaes and graveyard hide-and-seek and Velcro Wars.”
She smirked. “It is important for every girl to know how many stuffed animals she can stick to her body while still running an obstacle course.”
There was another knock at the door, and Mom got up to answer it.
“Hello, Eli,” she said.
“As you know, Dylan has been disqualified,” he said. “As you don’t know, Muriel has grown tired of this contest. Therefore, there will be one final event tomorrow morning to determine the overall winner.”
“What?” I scooted to the edge of the bed. “But it hasn’t been two weeks! The contest is two weeks.”
He shrugged. “The contest is also hers. She can amend the rules as she pleases. Only the three families with the most points will compete. The others have been asked to leave.”
Mom asked him the question that was pounding its way from my brain all the way to my chest.
“Who are the three families?”
Eli counted them off on his fingers. “Deke and Zoe Baker, Max Archibald, and Jill Porter.”
“Jill Porter,” I mumbled to myself, and then gave a gleeful shriek. “Mom, that’s you!”
She turned to me, jaw hanging open and arms thrown wide. I jumped into them, and we hopped around the room.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” she said, kissing my forehead.
“Congratulations,” Eli said solemnly. “And best of luck in the final challenge.”
He closed the door, and Mom and I beamed at each other.
“You’re going to do great,” I told her, and I really meant it.
“I wonder what kind of challenge it’ll be,” she said. “Physical or mental or . . .” She started pacing my room, and I stopped her.
“Mom. Now isn’t the time to worry. It’s the time to rest.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I should get some sleep.” She smiled at me. “Thank you for our talk tonight.”
I bit my lip. “So . . . are we okay?”
She kissed my forehead. “I could never stay mad at you. Even if you shaved off your eyebrows again and I had to make you another pair of tiny eyebrow wigs.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What did you make them out of, exactly?”
Mom cleared her throat and stretched. “Well, I should hit the hay. Night!”
She hurried toward the door.
“Wait! What were my eyebrow wigs made of?” I pressed.
“Caleb seems like a nice boy. I hope you two had fun tonight!” She grabbed the doorknob and closed it behind her.
I stared at it and laughed to myself.
Definitely wouldn’t trade my mom for anyone else in the world.
Chapter Fifteen
I’m guessing they wish I was still lost in the woods,” I whispered to Mom over breakfast.
The families who hadn’t made the final cut were trudging downstairs to catch the shuttle back to the airport. They were all wearing their normal street clothes and massive frowns. Directed at me.
“Well, it is kind of your fault they have to leave,” said Mom.
“Hey!” I scowled at her.
“Sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “It’s not all your fault. Your cousins should equally share the blame.”
I sighed. “That’s . . . better.” Because, honestly, I couldn’t argue with her. If the three of us hadn’t frustrated Great-Aunt Muriel to her wits’ end, the contest wouldn’t be ending early, and the others might still stand a chance.
But now it was down to Mom, Uncle Max, and Uncle Deke and Aunt Zoe. Mom had said she couldn’t see anything related to the challenge from her bedroom window, so we’d been spending the early-morning hours trying to figure out what it might be.
“Maybe it’s a quiz about colonial history,” I said. “Do you know any?”
Mom shrugged. “I know the big topics, like the Salem witch trials and Jamestown and the first Thanksgiving. If it’s multiple choice, I should do okay.”
I nodded. “Probably better than Uncle Max. But Uncle Deke and Aunt Zoe might have more combined knowledge. Let’s go to the library and brush up on your history.” I got up from the table and waited for her to follow.
“Great-Aunt Muriel wants maximum entertainment,” said Mom. “She won’t get any enjoyment out of watching four people take a quiz.”
“Maybe if you guys get a finger chopped off for every wrong answer?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “It won’t be a quiz. It’ll be something exciting and something where every team has an equal opportunity of winning. She might be mean, but she’s fair.”
“Thank you for that character reference,” said a voice behind us.
Mom winced, and we both turned around to face Great-Aunt Muriel.
“Sor—” Mom began.
“Stow your apologies,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. “You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”
Mom blushed. “Actually, I was going to say ‘Sorry you had to hear that.’ ”
Great-Aunt Muriel’s laugh was hoarse and rusty, as if she hadn’t been amused for at least two decades.
“Victoria, would you like to join myself and your cousins to view the final competition?”
I looked to Mom, who smiled and nodded.
“Go for it.”
I bent and hugged her. “Win this thing quick so we can go home.”
Great-Aunt Muriel watched our exchange with the emotion of someone watching a fly smash into a windshield. Wh
en I straightened and stepped away from the table, she beckoned for me to follow.
She led me around the servants’ quarters to the edge of the peach trees, where four high-backed leather chairs had been positioned facing a twenty-five-foot wooden pole. Another pole had been attached horizontally to the top, like the start of a game of hangman, and from the end of that one hung a large brass bell. On the ground beneath the bell sat a huge mattress.
It wasn’t too hard to guess what the final challenge would be.
As Great-Aunt Muriel and I stepped closer, I could see the tops of two heads above the seats on either end. Dylan and Angel were already waiting for the games to begin. Great-Aunt Muriel coughed, and they both peered around the side of the chairs to look at us. Angel smiled. Dylan scowled.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. She took the empty seat next to Dylan, and I took the one next to Angel.
“Popcorn?” Angel offered, holding out a bowl.
“You’re kidding,” I said, but it smelled so good that I grabbed a handful.
“I really hope your mom wins,” she said.
I stopped midcrunch. “You do?”
She nodded. “Now that I’ve told my parents the truth and I don’t have to keep them off my back, I realize you were right. We don’t need the money, and neither does Dylan’s dad.”
“Like heck we don’t!” Dylan leaned over and frowned. “My dad promised me a new four-wheeler if we won.”
“Yeah, but Tori’s mom could lose her shop!” said Angel.
He shrugged. “Her mom should’ve handled her money better instead of being a typical chick and—” He froze when he remembered who was sitting beside him.
“Go on,” said Great-Aunt Muriel, turning to face him. “I’m curious to know what the typical self-absorbed, ignorant lay-about thinks of a typical ‘chick.’ ”
Dylan’s face darkened, but he simply leaned back in his seat without a word.
“Anyway,” Angel said, touching my arm, “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re my friend and my family, and I should have been thinking of ways to help you instead of hurt you. Can we be friends again? I’ll even share my honey hair spray with you.”
I smiled. “That’s definitely not necessary, but yes, we can be friends. I haven’t been my best self here either,” I said.
Angel squealed and threw her arms around me, spilling the remaining popcorn from my hand on the ground.
“Wonderful,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. “Soon we’ll be assaulted by geese.” She reached into the folds of her shawl and pulled out a pocket watch. “Your parents should be appearing any moment now.”
Dylan, Angel, and I all twisted in our seats to look behind us. Sure enough, Mom was trudging down the hill next to Eli, with my uncles and aunt not far behind. They were all staring up at the bell connected to the beam. Aunt Zoe leaned over to whisper something to Uncle Deke.
Eli marched the parents in front of Great-Aunt Muriel’s chair, and she studied them for a moment.
“Your final challenge,” she finally said, “is to ring that bell. Throughout history, it has been the quickest way to announce a threat to the populace. There are, however, three rules.” She nodded to Eli.
“Rule One,” he said. “You cannot touch any part of the vertical support pole. Rule Two, you must complete your work where it can be seen by all, to rule out foul play. And Rule Three, the bell must be rung by hand.”
“Any violation of the rules will result in instant disqualification, and the winner shall be the first person to ring the bell,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. “Simple enough?”
All four parents nodded, and she clapped her hands together.
“Then let the final challenge . . . begin.”
Immediately, Uncle Max broke into a run and sprinted for the barn.
“Go, Dad!” cheered Dylan.
Uncle Deke and Aunt Zoe conferred for a moment, looking from the pole to each other before darting toward the stables.
“Go, Mom and Dad!” cheered Angel.
Mom stayed at the pole the longest, as if willing it to speak the solution. Then she sprinted for the house.
“Go . . . back outside!” I said, twisting in my chair to watch as the door closed behind her.
“Disconcerting, isn’t it?” asked Great-Aunt Muriel. “To wonder if she’s already let you down.”
“No, I’m sure she’s coming up with something clever,” I declared.
There was a terrible splintering, groaning sound, and all eyes went first to the pole, which remained still and calm. Then Uncle Max appeared with a long board wobbling on his shoulder.
Great-Aunt Muriel narrowed her eyes. “Is that from the side of my barn?”
Uncle Max dropped the board on the ground, and I could see the nails poking through.
“To be fair, it wasn’t in the rules,” I said as Uncle Max ran away again.
Great-Aunt Muriel was not amused.
Something rumbled from inside the stables, and then the front end of a wooden cart emerged, pushed by Uncle Deke and Aunt Zoe.
“What . . .” I looked at Angel and she shrugged.
Then we both jumped as a massive white object fluttered past us and dropped onto the ground by the bell pole. A second later, Mom’s head popped out of the center.
“Ha!” said Dylan. “What is she gonna do, put on a ghost costume and hope to fly?”
If Great-Aunt Muriel hadn’t been between us, I would’ve smacked him.
It took a minute of Mom spreading out the white object for me to realize it was two bedsheets.
Great-Aunt Muriel narrowed her eyes. “Are those from one of my bedrooms?” She pointed a finger at me. “Say nothing.”
I hid a smile.
Mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a needle and spool of thread. In ten seconds, she had the needle threaded and was working it in and out of the two sheets, joining the bottom of one to the top of the other. Her fingers flew along the fabric, completely undisturbed as Uncle Max threw a second board down beside the first.
“Maybe she’s making a really long cape,” said Dylan with a snicker.
“Maybe it’s a gag to put in your huge mouth so she can think in peace!” I shot back.
“I am curious what she intends to do,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. “Aren’t you?”
“Of course,” I said. “But I know it’s nothing stupid like turning into a ghost or Superman. My mom’s too smart for . . . OW!”
Angel was digging her fingernails into my arm. “Oh no.”
I looked at her parents and jumped in my seat. “Oh no,” I repeated.
Uncle Deke had climbed into the wagon and crouched so that Aunt Zoe could get on his shoulders.
“Did they use to be in the circus together?” I asked. “ ’Cuz that’s the only way this’ll end well.”
Angel shook her head and bit her lip. “I can’t watch.” She covered her face with both hands. “Have they fallen yet?”
“No,” I said. “I’m pretty sure you’d hear the crunch of broken bone.”
Angel shifted her hands to glare at me.
“There they go!” I said as Uncle Deke slowly straightened with Aunt Zoe on his shoulders.
“Ack!” cried Angel.
“Fall! Fall! Fall!” cried Dylan.
Next to me, Great-Aunt Muriel watched with eyes alight.
Mom continued to ignore everyone around her. Every so often she’d stop sewing and tug at the seams. Uncle Max had disappeared again, but I could tell what he was doing.
I wasn’t the only one.
“It shouldn’t take him long to assemble that ladder,” Great-Aunt Muriel mumbled to me. “Why don’t you let me cut you a deal?”
Now it was my turn to block out all the sounds around us. My vision telescoped until it was just Great-Aunt Muriel and my reflection in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She clucked her tongue. “At the pace she’s going, your mother won’t wi
n this contest, which is a pity because I was rooting for you two the most. Therefore, let me offer you a consolation prize. I will pay your bills in full so you don’t have to close your dress shop.”
I stared at her. “In exchange for what?”
“You simply drop out of the competition and let one of the other two teams win.” She spread her hands open. “It’s bound to happen anyway.”
“No, thank you,” I said, frowning. “I think we can still win this.”
I turned away from her and tuned back in to the action. Uncle Max was now hammering smaller pieces of wood between the two longer ones, and Aunt Zoe was straining to reach the bell with one hand while pulling out Uncle Deke’s hair with the other.
“We just need a few more feet!” she told him.
Angel was peeking through her fingers. “What are they going to do now?”
Mom continued her sewing.
“Hey.” Dylan leaned across Great-Aunt Muriel and poked me. “Don’t forget that side bet we’ve got going on.”
Great-Aunt Muriel raised an eyebrow. “What side bet?”
I groaned. “I have to do his homework for a month if I lose, and he has to wear a dress if he loses.”
Great-Aunt Muriel stroked her chin. “Ah. So that is why you won’t forfeit.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t forfeit because I think we can win.”
“I think you’re about to be proved wrong,” she said, pointing.
Uncle Max was propping his ladder against the beam.
“I can add five thousand dollars to my original offer,” said Great-Aunt Muriel. “That’s enough to pay someone else so you don’t have to lift a finger helping your cousin.”
“No!” I said, covering my ears.
Uncle Max put his foot on the bottom rung and tested it for security. Satisfied, he moved on to the next one.
“Tori,” Great-Aunt Muriel’s voice sounded close to my ear. “Why don’t—”
“Shut up!” I screamed, jumping out of my chair. “I don’t care how rich and important you are, just shut up!”
Great-Aunt Muriel gaped at me, wide-eyed, lower jaw shaking.
“I promised my mom that I’d believe in her.” I pointed a trembling hand. “And that’s what I’m going to do. You could offer me a million dollars, and I would still never give up on her.” Tears started streaming down my face, and I turned to Mom. Panic stricken, she dropped the sheet and moved as if to come to me.
Colonial Madness Page 14
