Back on the Map

by Lisa Ann Scott

  “No problem,” Mr. Gaiser said with a nod.

  “Your car keys are under the order forms by the paint desk,” Parker told him.

  Mr. Gaiser dashed to look and he came back holding his keys. His eyebrows popped up sky-high. “Now how did you know that? I looked everywhere for them.”

  Parker shrugged.

  Mr. Gaiser shook his head, smiling. “Wish I had that kind of talent. You sure are something else.”

  Parker beamed.

  Mr. Gaiser snapped his fingers. “Oh, almost forgot. I’ve got a few cans of mistake-paint for you and some rusty bolts. It’d be real helpful if you could take them off my hands.” Mr. Gaiser shuffled off, adding them to our cart when he returned.

  “Thanks!” I was already imagining those bolts as arms and legs on critters.

  “Now we just need dinner,” I told Parker, as we left the hardware store and headed for the diner. I knew what the Carlsons would pick from my cart. They couldn’t resist my one-of-a-kind tin can creatures. Said it was half the reason people kept coming to their restaurant to eat.

  I pulled the wagon into the diner. Suppertime was still a ways off, so only a few people sat sipping coffee at the counter. The more people there were in the diner, the more color all the customers had, like the glow bounced between them, growing bigger and bigger. Today, with only a few, it was just shades of gray in there. Jenny would’ve fit right in.

  “Hello, Mr. Carlson,” I said when he looked up. “We were hoping to make a trade for three of your specials tonight.”

  Parker pushed his sunglasses onto his head for a better look at the pies in the rotating counter display. He licked his lips as the slices slowly spun around under the shiny glass dome. If Parker were a superhero, his weakness would be sweets.

  “Meatloaf tonight.” Mr. Carlson rubbed his hands together as he came over from behind the counter. His skin was dark and shiny, and his eyes always seemed to glow like he was full of excitement. “Betty, come on out, dear!” he called to his wife. “The kids are here with new tin can critters.”

  When I first created the critters, I put Levi Strauss on my family tree, because he invented something special, too. He moved out to California during the gold rush to sell supplies to the miners, and worked with a customer to invent durable pants—blue jeans. Levi’s. And people are still wearing them today. Maybe someday, my tin can critters will be just as famous. Would people call them Penny’s Critters? I smiled, thinking, I’m the descendant of a great inventor.

  Mrs. Carlson dusted flour off her hands, making a white cloud as she bustled out from the kitchen. “What did you bring me today?” A mist of flour settled in her curly, black hair, making it look gray.

  The Carlsons were never drained dry of color. They were always steady in the middle. But when Parker and I showed up? They blazed full color.

  I held up the little creature I’d constructed out of odds and ends. “It’s a dog.” His body was an old mint tin. Drawer handles underneath made his legs, and I had glued on a spring for his tail. His head was a small, round saltshaker, with washers for eyes and tiny keys for ears.

  Mrs. Carlson took him from me and examined him. “Will you look at that?”

  Mrs. Carlson’s eyes were shiny as she stared at me. She had a daughter, Mary, who’d died ten years ago. Right after The Great Disappointment. Mary had been our age when she passed. Mrs. Carlson had never told me much more than that. I figured we were the ones stirring up her tears. One slipped down her cheek, shining on her dark skin like a star in the night sky.

  Everyone was quiet for a moment until Mr. Carlson said, “You’re quite the artist, Penny.” He took the dog from Mrs. Carlson and looked it over. “Reminds me of our old dog, Charlie.”

  Mrs. Carlson blinked a few times, and the mistiness disappeared from her eyes. “You’re right. Loved that fella. I swear, in my forty-five years I’ve had dozens of pets, but none like that dog. We’ll name this critter Charlie.”

  “Perfect.” Mr. Carlson set it on one of the shelves he’d installed on the back wall facing the counter. It was right next to the old, framed newspaper article about the Carlsons being the first black business owners in the county, so I knew that shelf was special to him. Dozens of our critters were up there. Mr. Carlson told me people came in every day to look at them, sipping their coffee and buying an extra pastry to enjoy while browsing. “A good investment,” he called them.

  After he added the dog to his display, he looked in our cart again and picked up the last plant. “I’ve got just the spot for this, right over by that lonely window. What if I gave you three more dinners, your choice? Then you won’t need to worry about supper for tomorrow.”

  Parker smiled and nodded.

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Parker and I would like your lasagna, if you have it. I know Grauntie would like your chicken pot pie.”

  “And maybe a slice of apple pie?” Parker closed his eyes and smiled. He clearly didn’t mind the smells in the diner.

  “Certainly. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll have everything ready for you,” Mrs. Carlson said, heading behind the counter. “I’ve got some empty jars and cans I need to get rid of. And of course, loads of bottle caps.”

  “We can take them for you,” I said.

  Parker sat down, but I pulled him back up. “We have one more place to go.”

  He squinted at me, confused.

  “You’ll see,” I told him. “Be right back!” I shouted to the Carlsons.

  We walked down the street to the town hall. Parker cocked his head.

  “We’re not trading. We’re getting information. Stay here with the cart, okay?”

  He nodded and I went inside the cool, air-conditioned building and walked up to the desk. “I need to see the mayor, please.”

  “What is your name?” the lady sitting there asked. The metal nameplate on her desk said MRS. NANCY TUTTLE, SECRETARY.

  “Penny Porter,” I answered. “I have an invitation to stop by any time I have questions.” Miss Meriwether had visited our school last year, and I’d been the only one to ask questions, so she had told me to stop by her office if I had more. This was a perfect time to take her up on it.

  “Is she expecting you? She’s about to leave town for a conference.”

  “I just have a few quick questions.”

  Mrs. Tuttle pursed her lips. “One moment.” She picked up the phone and turned her back to me, murmuring into the receiver. When she hung up, she told me to go back to the mayor’s office.

  Miss Meriwether was the tallest woman I’d ever seen. She was sitting at her desk, but you’d swear she was standing behind it. “Come in,” she said when I rapped on her open door.

  Miss Meriwether usually had a bit of color to her, no matter how gloomy the day or her mood. But the corners of her mouth were always turned down, and I wasn’t sure if she could smile if she wanted to. She wore her long, brown hair pulled back in a clip, like she didn’t trust it not to fly around on its own.

  “Take a seat, Penny. What’s on your mind?” she asked.

  I cleared my throat. “It has come to my attention that New Hope is not on the North Carolina map.”

  Somehow the corners of her mouth turned down even more. “I’m aware of that. There’s no reason for people to come here in particular. So why would we be on the map?” She folded her long fingers in front of her.

  I bounced one leg up and down. “I was thinking maybe if it was on the map, people would stop by. People would stay.” Like me and Parker.

  “We haven’t been on the map since the year New Hope’s Finest was set to open. I don’t see us getting back on it.”

  I sat up straight. “Wait—we were on the map before?”

  She nodded. “Years ago, when the orphanage was still operating, we were on the map. We expected a lot of traffic when the Finest was getting shaped up. But, well, you know what happened.” Her color was draining.

  I pressed my lips together. “I don’t know all of it.”<
br />
  Miss Meriwether sighed. Then she was quiet. I thought maybe she wasn’t going to tell me anything, but then she began. “Right after the orphanage closed … well, there was a lot of sadness.” Her shoulders slumped. “Town officials thought it would be best to do something with that building. Make new memories. So we put out a call for proposals.”

  “That was a good idea.” I tried to sound encouraging.

  “We got a few suggestions, and the group we chose promised to open the most fantastic, glorious attraction. One that would bring people to New Hope from miles around. But they didn’t have enough cash to do it. So they asked the townspeople to pitch in and invest in the business. Everyone would get a share of the profits.”

  I gripped my seat. “I didn’t know that.”

  “They’d started some renovations, but then that”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“doom painting showed up.” She sighed, and started talking normally again. “The investors took off with all the money,” she said. “And that’s that.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows together, thinking. “What was it going to be? The most amazing attraction ever? New Hope’s Finest what?”

  The mayor looked out the window and her normally gruff voice softened. “It was going to be a magnificent ballroom for dancing.”

  I paused. That was not the answer I had been expecting. That wouldn’t even have been in my top one hundred guesses. “Really?”

  She nodded. “New Hope’s Finest Ballroom. People would come from across the state just to say they’d danced in North Carolina’s grandest ballroom. Oh, people in this town had plans. Back then Mr. Tyler’s gas station was open and ready for business. Mr. Carlson expanded the diner to accommodate all those hungry dancers. The five-and-dime loaded up on new stock. Mr. Kenney doubled the size of his market. Delores Owens converted her home into a bed-and-breakfast so travelers would have a place to stay. So many dreams were tied up in New Hope’s Finest. And when it died …”

  The town died, too, I thought. “Why didn’t someone else open it?”

  “No one had the money. And who’d want it now? People dump their trash behind the fence. It’s overgrown with weeds. It’s nothing now. Nothing but a waste.”

  “What if someone fixed it up?”

  She crossed her arms. “And who’s going to do that?”

  I shrugged. “I could try.”

  The mayor laughed. “What an idea! Yes, Penny. You fix it up, and call me when you have a buyer.”

  That idea rippled through my brain. Fix up New Hope’s Finest? Of course! That was the perfect way to get New Hope back on the map. The idea pounded my head and pulsed through my veins. “Thank you, ma’am!” I called, and I dashed out the door without looking back.

  CHAPTER 5

  Outside, I found Parker standing with the cart, holding a ten dollar bill. I looked in the cart. The forks and spoons were missing. “You sold the silverware?”

  He nodded.

  I twirled around. “Excellent! Because we’re going to fix up New Hope’s Finest, and someone will reopen it, and we’re going to get New Hope back on the map! That ten dollars will help buy something we’ll need for The Finest. Let’s get our food. Then we need to start working. I knew we’d find a way!”

  We hurried to the diner, where Mr. Carlson threw a bunch of dinner rolls and foil packets of butter in with our order.

  “You children need anything else?” Mrs. Carlson asked.

  “No, ma’am. We’re fine,” I said.

  She held her arms open and smiled. “Come here, you two.”

  I walked over with my hands at my sides, stiffening as she hugged me. I always did. Otherwise, I might let myself fall into one of her hugs forever, feeling her soft hands gently pat my back. Smelling the flavors of the day mingled in the collar of her dress, along with that flowery perfume she wore. She was a small lady, but her hugs were huge. If I fell into a hug like that, I’d never want to come out. And I’d miss it like heck if we had to leave New Hope. No, I couldn’t let one of her hugs into my heart. My heart lived inside one of those big wooden crates you’d need a crowbar to open. It was safe in there.

  I pulled away before she did.

  She looked at me for a moment, and her smile dimmed, then turned to Parker, who loved being hugged. When he finally let go of Mrs. Carlson, we waved goodbye and started lugging the cart back home. We said nothing as we walked, but Parker smiled the whole way, still soaking up all those cozy hug feelings. Later, that good feeling would be gone. I’d rather not have it at all than feel it slip away. The bad feeling of the missing-it part would outweigh the goodness of the having-it part. No, thanks.

  We parked our cart, grabbed our things, and trudged up the driveway. “We’re home!” I hollered as we walked in. Grauntie was right about the door; the screen bounced a few times when I slammed it behind me. I gave her the jars of jam, and Parker set out our dinners.

  “Good work, kids.” Grauntie nodded, her bottom lip jutting out like it usually did. She stood and smoothed her flowered housecoat. I wasn’t sure if she wore the same one every day, or if she had several of the same pattern in her closet. We weren’t allowed in her room. “It’s important to pull your share of the load around here. Things are getting tougher for me.”

  “We know,” I said.

  “Your Uncle Jake hasn’t been able to work for a while. Money’s tight,” Grauntie said.

  I didn’t remind her that Great-Uncle Jake hadn’t been working because he was dead. Tried that once, and it’d just upset her.

  We took our food onto the back porch and ate in silence. The Carlsons’ meatloaf was so good, I didn’t want to talk and distract myself from the flavors exploding in my mouth. The sun was still sleeping behind the clouds, getting ready to turn the show over to the moon in a few hours. The moon always looked especially big and lonely when you were gazing up at it in New Hope.

  When we finished eating, I didn’t run right off like usual. I had questions for Grauntie. “Did you know New Hope’s Finest was going to be a great big ballroom for dancing?” Grauntie wadded up her napkin and tossed it on the picnic table. “No, it was going to be an incredible snow globe display.”

  “That’s weird,” Parker said. “Who’d want to see that?”

  “Why, everyone would,” Grauntie said.

  I scrunched my eyebrows together, thinking that was even more unlikely than a ballroom. “Was it supposed to be both things? Snow globes and dancing? Seems like they’d get broken with all that twirling around.”

  “There was never going to be dancing. People from across North Carolina were going to come to the biggest display of snow globes in the state. No, in the country!” Grauntie’s color flushed as she talked about it.

  Even though we couldn’t go in her bedroom, when I passed by I could see that she had a big display case filled with snow globes.

  “New Hope’s Finest Snow Globe Emporium.” When she said it, she sounded fifty years younger. She sighed and rubbed at a splotch of gravy on her housecoat.

  I said nothing else, ’cause I didn’t want to ruin her good mood. I cleaned up our takeout boxes and wiped them out to add to our stash in the shed. Parker washed the glasses and silverware while I dried. Then we went outside to work.

  We saw Mr. Gaiser pull into the driveway and waved to him. He waved back and headed for the front door.

  I went inside the shed, meaning to clean it up, but my fingers started wiggling, tapping the workbench faster and faster. An idea was making its way down from my brain. I had no choice but to let my hands do their work. I’d always enjoyed making things, but ever since we’d moved to New Hope, ideas flowed out of me like a waterfall. That’s another reason I liked the town so much. It just felt like I belonged there. “Parker, I need your help.”

  “Critters?” he called from outside.

  “Yep.” I grabbed a bunch of tin cans we’d gotten at the diner and peeled off the labels. I snatched up the ones that seemed to be wiggling and wobbling. Sometimes th
e things I needed for my pieces hummed. I don’t know how they talked to me, but they did.

  Parker rummaged through the odds and ends box and pulled out all sorts of castoffs: screws and old springs, broken watches and rusty keys. He dumped everything on the workbench.

  Silently, we laid out the parts with the cans, looking for the best creature combinations. Parker found a few old spice tins that we mounted on the cans as heads.

  A pair of keys would make nice arms.

  “Look!” Parker set a napkin ring on one of the heads like a crown.

  I crossed my arms, stepping back to see the effect, and nodded. “Everybody’s going to want that one.”

  We used bottle caps and buttons for eyes, and an old metal scrub pad for hair. Soon, three critters were lined up and ready for glue. “You best get out of here, now. I’ll be up to the house soon.”

  Parker dashed out of the shed. He hated the smell of the glue. But it was the best thing to use. Waterproof, fireproof, weatherproof. Strong enough to keep everything together forever. Too bad more things weren’t like that. Too bad you couldn’t use it on families.

  Once everything was glued together, I shut off the light and stepped outside. It was dark, and the trees were rustling in the wind, telling secrets I longed to know. I stared up at the moon, just a bright smidge of light way up high. Something big and wonderful had to be waiting beyond that crack in the sky, if only I could crawl through. That must be where all the wonder in the universe was stored.

  I loved looking up at the moon so much, I was certain that somehow, some way, I was related to Neil Armstrong. He was the first man to walk on the moon. It was like a little part of me had been there once. Yep, he was on my family tree, too. I am the descendant of a space explorer.

  The idea made me so happy. But sometimes I felt so small, so unimportant, gazing up at it all. It was times like that I really wished I had a family. I’d feel a lot less helpless looking up at all those stars while sitting on my mama’s lap, with her arms tucked around me like a safety harness bolting me to the earth.