Mona gazed back at the tree. All the lanterns were out—at least on the left. But maybe some were still lit on the other side. She had no chance to find out, for at that very moment, the wolves slunk into the clearing.
“I thought I saw something,” said one. It was the wolf wearing the badge around his neck—Gnarl. He looked up, at the dark side of the tree, and shook his head.
“Well, you didn’t,” said another. “It was just your imagination.” He growled in frustration. “And now you’re making me imagine things, too. I swear I can smell ’em!”
Another wolf sniffed.
“I can, too! I can, too! Over there.” The wolf pointed with his nose in the very direction of the bushes where they were hidden. He sniffed deeply. “This isn’t imagination. I smell meat! I smell fur! I smell food!”
Mona’s heart raced. Mr. Heartwood and Tilly were pressed up against her. She could feel Mr. Heartwood trembling and the pounding of Tilly’s heart.
The sound of sniffing filled the air. Any second now, the wolves would find them.
The wind was only a whisper now, but strong enough to carry their scent to the wolves’ noses. Strong enough to sway the branches of the big tree…and reveal a flicker of light. A lantern! It had to be! The lanterns were still lit on the other side of the tree. But the wolves would never see them now, not unless Mona did something.
And so she did.
She burst out of the bushes, before Tilly or Mr. Heartwood could stop her.
The wolves saw her at once.
“HEY!” cried one. “That meat is mine!”
“No, it’s mine!” cried another.
Mona scurried faster than she ever had before, as fast as a jackrabbit. The wolves were right behind her. She hopped over the roots, tumbled over a fallen twig, regained her footing, and ran to the other side of Brumble’s tree.
The lanterns were still lit on this side—but Mona did not stop to admire them. Not at all. She flung herself into the opening, landing with a thud against the bear’s great furry side. She had made it! Her breathing was sharp and quick, and her heart was pounding.
Brumble’s eyes flickered open. He had fallen asleep again! “Mona…” he started.
“Hush,” said Mona. “The wolves,” she whispered, gesturing to the opening.
“Ah,” said Brumble, nodding knowingly. And they both pricked their ears to hear….
“The lights are here! It is the tree!” said one of the wolves.
“Isn’t as fancy as I figured,” said another. “It isn’t as big as I thought either.”
“Big enough, Wince. Stop your complaining. No wonder we smelled all those tasty treats. We’re here! We found it! The Heartwood at last.”
“Hush, hush. Not too loud now, or we’ll alert them. We’ve got to be sneaky.”
“What’re you? Stupid? That mouse’ll alert them right away! Come on!”
“I can’t smell any animals, only…peppermint,” griped Wince.
“Minty meat, yum!” said another.
“Forget it. It’s the lights that matter.”
“Yeah,” said another. “And look—the door is open! Come on, you and me, Wince. We’ll go first.”
Mona pressed herself against the side of the tree, holding her breath, peering through a small knothole, watching as the two wolves began to creep their way in. Brumble’s fur bristled, and then…
“ROAR!”
Brumble’s growl shook the tree from top to bottom.
“YIP, YIP, YIP!” cried the two wolves as they flew backward, tumbling over each other. Their eyes were wide with fright.
“What is it? What’s going on?” cried the others.
But the two wolves had no time to respond, for out came Brumble: no longer slow or bumbling but huge and ferocious, standing on his hind legs and roaring. The wolves cowered.
Brumble growled and swatted at the air. The pack of wolves, too stunned to fight back, whimpered, turned tail, and…fled.
Fled into the forest. Fled across the stream. Fled and were gone, into the darkness.
Brumble snorted and dropped down to all fours. With a satisfied grunt, he lumbered back into his den. He gave a big yawn.
“Ha! That should teach ’em.”
“Thank you,” said Mona. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”
But Brumble didn’t respond. He was already asleep.
Mona smiled—and suddenly felt very tired herself. Tired, but happy. The plan—her plan—had worked.
All night long the party raged at the real Heartwood Hotel. Honey flowed, salted acorns steamed, and the hearth glowed with a crackling fire. Mr. Heartwood sent Tony to check and make sure the wolves were really gone before he lit it, and they were. But even so, the animals were extra careful about the smoke; two crows sat on watch above the chimney, fanning it away.
Those who were there and had seen the wolves flee described the spectacle over and over, but the story never grew old. Some even wrote about it in the guest book. The lanterns had done their job. They would have to collect them later, but not right now. Right now it was time to celebrate.
Cybele sang. Ms. Prickles danced. Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Higgins were sharing seedcakes. At last Mrs. Higgins seemed to be over her cold, though she still seemed tired—ready for hibernation, perhaps, and a true rest. Mona spied Tilly near the buffet and went over to talk. She wanted to find out exactly why the squirrel had stuck up for her at breakfast.
But before she had a chance, Mr. Heartwood took her aside. “Miss Mona, if you please.”
“What is it, Mr. Heartwood?” she asked.
His eyes crinkled. “The heart and spirit you showed today—now I know. It’s the same spirit I saw in a mouse pair long ago.”
“What do you mean?” Mona’s heart began to race.
Mr. Heartwood’s eyes were soft. “It was long ago, when the hotel was simply known as the Fernwood. Few frequented our doors, and I was beginning to doubt whether we could make a go of it. There was a storm, much like the one that you arrived in. Two mice knocked on the hotel door. They were drenched and had no money. All they had was a suitcase with a heart on it. I took them in and let them stay in a small room, the same one that Cybele stayed in when she first came here. Mrs. Madeline loved Ms. Prickles’s seedcakes, and Mr. Timothy was quite the carver. Through the wind and the snow, they stayed. When spring came and it was time to go, they were so thankful, so full of heart, that Mr. Timothy carved—”
“The heart in the room? And the one on the door?” burst Mona.
“Yes,” said Mr. Heartwood. “Yes, indeed.”
“You think…you think they were my parents? Madeline and Timothy?”
“Of that, I can’t be sure. But I have a feeling, in the heart right here.” He patted his chest. “It was they who convinced me to change the name. I was reluctant to name it after myself, but they insisted I should, that it was a way to show everyone there is true heart in the Heartwood.”
Mona gasped. She was so proud. Not only had her parents stayed there—they had helped give the hotel its name! She couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around the badger in a hug.
“There, there, little one,” he said, patting her head. “That was just for you. But the next piece of news, for you as well, I’d like the whole house to hear me tell.” Mr. Heartwood took the stage, with Mrs. Higgins beside him, as Mona’s thoughts swirled.
So her family had stayed at the Heartwood…and her suitcase…the heart on it—it was the very same heart as the ones here. But just as she had that thought, she remembered: her suitcase…She had lost her suitcase. She must have dropped it on her rush back.
Her thoughts were broken by Mr. Heartwood’s voice. “I have an announcement to make,” he declared, straightening his tie. “Miss Mona, would you please step forth?”
Mona didn’t know what was going on. She looked at Tilly, but Tilly shrugged. Clearly she didn’t know either.
Even after all the fear and excitement of the day, and the new
s of her family, Mona’s heart quickened as she walked up on the stage.
“Mrs. Higgins, if you please,” said Mr. Heartwood.
And from her pocket, Mrs. Higgins produced none other than a Heartwood Hotel key. The hedgehog passed it to the badger, who placed it around Mona’s neck with a big, toothless grin. His voice was gruff but choked with emotion as he said, “Mona the mouse, this key is for you. You’re one of the Heartwood, loyal and true.”
The key was made of wood, with a heart-shaped top. Like the heart on her suitcase. She’d had that suitcase for as long as she could remember. But as she touched the key around her neck and everyone clapped and cheered, she realized she didn’t need it anymore.
After all, she wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe someone else would find it. Maybe it would take them somewhere special, like it had taken her. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain—the heart on her suitcase had been a sign. Especially if her parents had stayed here, too. Home is where the heart is, thought Mona. And the Heartwood Hotel was a very fine home, indeed.
And then, when the clapping and cheering began to fade, Ms. J, who was standing on a table with a tiny cup of honey, raised her glass and said, “Well, this is a first. I didn’t think so at the beginning, but after this, I must say, this hotel will be getting a five-acorn review in the Pinecone Press.”
Now that caused a kerfuffle! Ms. J was the reviewer for the Pinecone Press! Mr. Heartwood was astounded. Everyone was astounded.
“B-but bugs are…” Gilles stammered.
“…welcome at the Heartwood Hotel, of course,” reminded Mr. Heartwood. “Guests big or small, we welcome all. I believe we are in need of some renovations at the Heartwood, for bug-size rooms. Perhaps, Ms. J, you would be so kind as to offer your consultation?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she said.
“Now, Cybele, if you please,” said Mr. Heartwood, and the swallow took the stage again and a new song filled the air.
That’s when Mona noticed Tilly wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the dining hall or the lobby either. Where had she gone? It wasn’t like Tilly to leave the action. Mona scampered downstairs, but Tilly wasn’t in the kitchen or the bedroom either. And then Mona thought of the place she’d go if she wanted to be alone, and she began at once up the stairs.
Up, up, up…all the way to the stargazing balcony.
It was crisp outside, the moon full and bright in the sky. One animal sat alone on the balcony, staring up at it. Tilly. Her big tail was wrapped around her. She was shivering…or maybe…Was she crying?
Mona stepped tentatively toward her. “Tilly? Are you okay?”
Tilly looked at Mona. Her fur was wet around her eyes. She sniffled. “Con—congratulations. On your key, I mean.”
“Thanks,” said Mona, taking a seat beside her, not knowing what Tilly might say next.
“I remember when I first got mine. I was so sad….”
“Sad?” Mona was surprised. “What do you mean?”
“My family…I lost them coming here. We were all planning a visit to the hotel, but on the way we were attacked by a coyote. Only I escaped.” Tilly gulped back a sob. At last, Mona knew. So that was Tilly’s hurt. It was a big one.
Tilly continued, “When I found the hotel, Mr. Heartwood took pity on me and offered me a job. He saved me from going back out there. Finally I felt safe. And then you came. I was afraid—afraid you might take my place and I would lose my new home.”
Mona couldn’t believe it. All this time she thought Tilly didn’t like her, but that wasn’t the case at all. “But Mr. Heartwood never said—”
“I know,” said Tilly. “It’s just that I’ve been afraid for a long time. Ever since I lost my family. I never used to be so grumpy, you know….”
“I can’t even remember my family,” said Mona softly. “But I know you. And I know the hotel. This is my family now. I’ve realized that.” She rested her paw on Tilly’s.
“Really?” said Tilly. “After everything I’ve done?”
Mona smiled. “Everyone knows squirrels can be trouble. Wasn’t it you who told me that?”
Tilly laughed. And Mona did, too. And then, Mona felt something cold tingle on her nose. She looked up—
Stars were falling. No—not stars, of course. It was snow. Tiny twinkling snowflakes falling from the sky.
It was the First Snow at the Heartwood Hotel. And Mona was certain it wouldn’t be her last.
It took a big extended family of people to help me with this book, and for that I am forever grateful. Thank you to my mom and dad, my brother and Marie, and my grandparents, who watch over me. Thank you to my friends, in particular my amazing writing group, the Inkslingers (Tanya Lloyd Kyi, Rachelle Delaney, Christy Goerzen, Shannon Ozirny, Lori Sherritt, Maryn Quarless), Lee Edward Fodi, Sara Gillingham, and my writing soul mate, Vikki Vansickle. Thank you to my wonderful, thoughtful, and thorough editors, Rotem Moscovich and Hadley Dyer, and Suzanne Sutherland—and to the incredible teams at Disney-Hyperion and HarperCollins Canada. I am so blessed to work with Stephanie Graegin, who brings Heartwood to life. Thank you to the best agent ever, Emily van Beek, and the best husband ever, Luke Spence Byrd, who is building me my very own Heartwood. And most of all my heart goes to Tiffany Stone and her family. I am forever, forever grateful. (Thank goodness we didn’t have to work by messenger jay!)
Also by Kallie George
Heartwood Hotel, Book 2: The Greatest Gift
The Magical Animal Adoption Agency, Book 1: Clover’s Luck
The Magical Animal Adoption Agency, Book 2: The Enchanted Egg
The Magical Animal Adoption Agency, Book 3: The Missing Magic
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Mona’s next adventure at the Heartwood Hotel!
Snow fell softly outside the Heartwood Hotel. It was sleepy snow, the kind that took its time to reach the ground. Mona the mouse watched through a small window in the ballroom, leaning against the handle of her dandelion broom. It was so quiet she could almost hear the flakes touch down.
St. Slumber’s Supper was finally over. The food was eaten, the music was sung, and gifts were given out by Mr. Heartwood: little sweet-smelling pillows filled with herbs and lavender, to help the hibernating guests sleep soundly until spring.
And now they had all gone to bed—the ground-hog, some toads, turtles, and ladybugs, and so many chipmunks no one could keep track of them.
Even the Higginses, who were hedgehogs, were hibernating. Mr. Higgins was the gardener and Mrs. Higgins was the housekeeper. They weren’t needed since only a few non-hibernating guests were booked for the winter months. Most animals in Fernwood Forest, whether they slept through the winter or not, stayed at home.
The Heartwood Hotel was Mona’s home now, and she loved it, from the heart carved on the front door to the stargazing balcony on the topmost branches to all of her new friends, like Tilly, the red squirrel maid, and Cybele, the swallow songstress.
Tilly said that the winter season was always really boring, but Mona didn’t mind. She had been a maid at the Heartwood only a few months since arriving, wet and afraid, in the fall. But already she had helped save the hotel from wolves and earn it a top review in the Pinecone Press. As proud as she was of that, it would be nice to finally rest and roast acorns in the fireplace this winter.
Mona could smell roasted acorns now, their delicious aroma floating up from the kitchen downstairs. The staff were having their own little feast later, and she could hardly wait.
Her stomach grumbled, but she turned her attention back to the task at hand and made a final sweep with her broom, putting the last bits of twine, left over from the gift-giving, in the dust basket. The twine could be used again, so it would need to be taken to the storage room. But the basket was too full for Mona to lift. She’d have to ask Tilly for help.
Mona was just leaving the ballroom to find the squirrel when she heard a voice in the hallway.
“Ah, shadow, what’s that you say? A toast to you? Yes,
of course! A toast.” There was a pause….
KALLIE GEORGE is the author of the Magical Animal Adoption Agency series. She works as an author and speaker in Vancouver, Canada, and she holds a master’s degree in children’s literature from the University of British Columbia. In addition to writing books for young readers, she leads workshops for aspiring writers. She happened across the Heartwood Hotel on a hike with her husband and wishes she were a mouse like Mona so she could stay there, too. Visit Kallie online at kalliegeorge.com.
Born during a blizzard on Groundhog Day in Chicago, Illinois, STEPHANIE GRAEGIN spent her childhood drawing and collecting fauna in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and Houston, Texas. She received her BFA in fine arts from the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, Maryland. She later attended Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, obtaining an MFA in printmaking. Stephanie now lives in Brooklyn, is still drawing, and has managed to keep her collection down to one orange cat. Find out more at graegin.com.
A True Home Page 7
