HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 2

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  The husband and wife silently watched his apparent fascination with the room. “How many were you expecting, son?” coolly asked the man who had to be Master Gracey.

  Peter turned from the clock and the amused smile on his face slowly faded as he came face to face with the man he had just seen in the hallway portraits—or as a ghostly skeleton the last time he had ridden a Doom Buggy.

  Constance decided to overlook the boy’s rude stare at her husband. He acted more and more peculiar as time went on, but she knew it wasn’t her place to instruct him in proper manners. She might have a word with his mother, though, once she was found. “My dear?” She attempted to distract her husband. As he turned, the look in his cold blue eyes didn’t alter as his attention focused on his wife. “This is our young visitor, a Master Peter Brentwood. Master Peter, this is my husband, Master Gracey.”

  “This is so cool!” Peter seemed much more enthusiastic to meet the master of the house than he had the mistress. With an outstretched hand Peter rushed forward, unaware of the icy stare being given him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!”

  Edward Gracey looked out of the corner of his eye at Constance before taking the boy’s offered hand. She gave him a ‘I-don’t-know-what-to-make-of-him’ shrug before putting a pleasant smile back on her face. “Er, thank you, boy.” Peter’s hand was immediately dropped. “You say your name is Brentwood? Can’t say I know any Brentwoods in these here parts.” The thin smile on his lips was not quite genuine or welcoming.

  It didn’t take much worldly knowledge to sense the man’s displeasure. Peter took a step back and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not sure if he was about to be evicted from the house. He sincerely hoped not as he wanted to explore the mansion some more and try to find more similarities. He frowned when his left hand closed over something metallic in his pocket.

  “Is something wrong, lad?” Constance noticed the expression on his face had changed. “Oh, my dear husband, I know what’s wrong. He misses his family and we just reminded him of them! He says he was separated from them in the river. Somehow.” Confused, she broke off. Peter never had explained why they were in the river in the first place. With his odd clothing of dungarees and cloth shirt, he looked like he might be a miner’s son. But his speech—odd as it was—was too refined for him to be the child of a laborer. “Is that it, Master Peter?”

  Peter’s eyes jerked up from his pocket as his fingers gripped what was hidden within. Not yet able to trust either of them, he didn’t want to pull it out to show the Graceys or alert them of its presence. It had been taken it from his mom’s hiding place so he could try it out at Disneyland, but he hadn’t had the chance before he jumped in the river to follow Wolf. Now another thought crossed his active mind: If it worked on every door at Disneyland, would it work here?

  To test this theory, he realized he needed to be allowed to stay in the Mansion. His search for Wolf would have to wait a while longer. Aware that his attitude toward the couple—especially Constance—had to change, he dropped his head and managed to look sad. “Yes, ma’am. I miss them terribly. I was hoping you and Master Gracey would let me stay here until I can find them.”

  “Of course you can stay!” Constance assurance was instant before her husband could speak. “And Master Gracey will be more than happy to help you. Won’t you, dear?”

  As he eyed the odd boy standing in front of him, he wasn’t sure at all he wanted to get involved. “Steps will be taken, my dear. I can assure you steps will be taken.”

  Peter gave them the same charming smile his father had used on many occasions. As his mind whirled, he tried to figure out which part of the house he wanted to explore first. His fingers tightened around the item that was supposed to open any door:

  The Key to Disneyland.

  Flashback to Burbank – 1953

  “Why is it so difficult to decide what the organ should look like, Harper?”

  “I don’t know, Walt. I just don’t know. I am working on it, though.”

  His boss looked around at the drawings for the set of the movie 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea that covered just about every flat surface in the designer’s office. Walt liked everything he saw—which is why he had chosen Harper in the first place. “You designed the entire submarine, but you don’t have an organ yet! Did you try the prop houses?”

  “Yes, all of them. But, nothing they had looked right.” The frustrated Harper tapped a pencil on his desktop. “They were all too, I don’t know, churchy and plain.” He indicated a particular drawing of Captain Nemo’s salon that showed where the organ would sit. “This needs something very grand. A lot more Victorian than anything I’ve found so far.”

  “Well, time’s running out,” Walt reminded him as his eyes came up from the artwork to the designer’s face. He knew his staff and he knew Harper would come through for him. Still, it never hurt to instill a sense of urgency into the situation.

  “Yeah, Walt, I know. You’ll have your organ,” he promised.

  “I know I will.” Walt Disney gave a smile as he waved a goodbye and headed for another office.

  As he sat at his desk, Harper silently studied the salon drawing. It was a fine room filled with red velvet seating and brass-edged bookcases built into the walls. A fragile-looking, yet deceptively strong circular metal staircase wound its way to an upper deck. Even with the velvet seating, it was a man’s room built for a determined, strong-willed man. No plain organ would do. It had to be grand.

  As he fingered through his names of prop houses again, he was frustrated by his lack of success. With no other course to follow, as a last resort he picked up one of the local newspapers and looked through the classified ads with the desperate hope to find a lead. It was a long shot, but he kept at it.

  Unable to believe his eyes, there was an ad for a pipe organ and the seller was willing to let it go for a reasonable price. Harper made a quick call and headed for the nearby neighborhood as he told himself not to get his hopes up too high.

  He was delighted when he saw the organ. It was quite a handsome piece and it had all the keys and stops intact. The pipes were gone, but the console itself would be perfect. All he had to do was get a new set of elaborate fiberglass pipes made, install the fancy ‘N’ shield on the upper pipes, build a tufted bench, and Walt would have his organ.

  The owner shook his head in disbelief when Harper made arrangements for the organ to be picked up and hauled away. Imagine that, he thought to himself with a pleased smile on his face, some idiot paid me $50 for a worthless organ that didn’t even work!

  Flashback to Disneyland – 1967

  The demolition crew still worked behind the wooden barricades in Tomorrowland. The 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea walk-through exhibit had closed in August of the previous year and they were still at work to tear it down. They had been instructed to be extra careful with the award-winning sets. A lot of the props were found to be beyond saving and had already been hauled off. But some of the items—like the eleven-inch model of the Nautilus submarine, an underwater rifle, diver boots and helmets, and some of the furniture from the elaborate salon—were earmarked to be kept with the costumes for preservation.

  When the exhibit had been open, the huge organ in the Captain’s salon, separated from the public by a very ineffectual gold chain, had been one of the most photographed items. Also popular, and safe behind a large viewing window, the giant squid had been located in the back of the show, but it was far beyond repair.

  On his way to the Haunted Mansion construction site, Ken wandered by the closed-off building. As he walked through the disorder, he noticed the workers as they struggled with the organ to get it loaded onto a truck headed for Burbank. The instrument wasn’t especially heavy, but it was awkward with the tall pipes.

  Ken froze as he stared at the piece of furniture, still impressive even though it was dusty from neglect since the exhibit closed. Something clicked in the back of his mind. There had been
a debate that raged since 1959 regarding the Haunted Mansion. And that debate centered on an organ that Walt Disney had wanted in the Ballroom scene in the Mansion. The problem was that no one could agree on what it should look like. Some thought it should be a small organ that would normally be found in the parlor of plantations. Others thought it should be baroque and eerie. The idea of a large cathedral organ had even been bantered around. But there had been no agreement and Walt had died before he could make the final decision.

  Now a perfectly fine organ was right in front of him. It was elaborate without being too grand or gaudy. He could see that the console would curve around the ghostly organist just right. That large shield on the top with Captain Nemo’s ‘N’ wouldn’t do, though.

  Ken asked the workers to stop for a moment. Glad to set down the uncooperative piece of furniture, they immediately complied. As he walked slowly around the organ, Ken half-closed his eyes, and pictured it covered with even more dust, the keys seemingly playing themselves. As he stared at the shield, he asked if the men could remove it for him.

  None of them wanted to tell one of the Disney big-shots ‘No.’ So the foreman was called over to explain that the pipes would be ruined if they snapped it off like he requested.

  Smiling to himself, Ken thanked them and told them to leave the organ off to the side. Someone would be by later to pick it up.

  As he continued toward the Haunted Mansion again, still two years away from opening, Ken had already made plans to replace the pipes with taller, straight pipes and remove the gold trim from around the top of the console.

  After eight years of debate, the Haunted Mansion finally got its organ.

  New Orleans Square — 1850

  “Would it be all right if I looked around your house, please?” Peter cranked up the charm with his smile and directed the request to Constance—the one he figured he had a better chance to sway. She had showed him nothing but kindness so far—so different than how he had always pictured her as an axe-wielding murderess. It was Master Gracey he wasn’t so sure about at this point. Instead of being the innocent victim, there was something more about him that Peter just didn’t understand. Those blue eyes seemed to bore right through him and look for his deepest, darkest secret.

  “Of course you can.” Constance smiled sweetly at him. “But, wouldn’t you like something to eat first? I was about to ring for tea.”

  With another glance at the master of the house, Peter quickly decided to ignore his growling stomach. He didn’t want to eat with the man and knew he could probably find his way to the kitchen later. “No, ma’am. I’m not hungry. Can I be excused?” He tried to remember some of the manners his mother had drilled into him since birth.

  Not wanting to create a scene just now, Gracey curtly nodded his approval, not swayed at all by the silly look on the boy’s face. “Just don’t touch anything,” he yelled after the retreating figure.

  “Such a polite boy.” Constance gave a sigh as Peter rushed out of the room. He quickly looked left and right and then headed for a stairway. “Dressed oddly, but nice. Can’t quite place his accent. Can you…,” she broke off at the look on her husband’s face. He seemed about ready to explode. “I’m sure you will find his parents soon, Edward. He won’t be a problem. Shall I ring for tea?”

  As the sound of Peter’s footsteps pounding up the stairs faded, Gracey’s expression was sour. “It is past tea time. You should have rung already. Yes, you are right, my dear. He won’t be a problem.”

  After the maid brought in the silver tea service and Gracey settled into a chair with a plate of cakes, Constance brought up a something that had been on her mind ever since she found the boy outside. “Edward? In case you can’t find his parents….” She stopped when his head shot up.

  “I intend on finding them.”

  “Yes, it would be best for all. But, in case you don’t…. Might you consider letting him stay here? I would so love to have a young one about.” Her eyes dropped to her tea cup, not wanting to see her hopes dashed immediately. “I think,” she continued in a timid voice, “he could be trained in his speech rather easily. Other than his odd outfit, he seems to have fine manners.” She had forgotten all about her desire to speak to his mother about his earlier breach of etiquette.

  The knuckles that gripped his fragile cake plate had gone white. With an effort to calm himself, Gracey popped a lemon petit four into his mouth. “It seems you’ve put a lot of thought into this, Constance. He has only been here a short time and already you want to make him part of the family.”

  Emboldened by his apparent willingness to discuss the subject, she took a sip of her tea. “A little,” she admitted with a small smile. “It is just a thought, Edward. What would happen to him if his family could not be found, or perhaps they drowned in the river?”

  He closed his eyes briefly when a door slammed shut upstairs, rattling the pictures on the wall. “I see he found the library. I thought that room was locked…. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my dear. I will see what I can find out in town shortly. We have the party tonight, you know.” His eyes narrowed as he watched her expression.

  The look of hope on her face dimmed at the reminder. “Yes, our anniversary party. I didn’t forget.” The smile on her face was forced. “Are you sure you prefer a fancy dress? I’d so much rather enjoy a ball.” She hated the thought of a costume party.

  His smile was hidden by another bite of cake. “Yes, I am sure you would. You will look beautiful in your wedding dress again. And, don’t forget your pearls. I look forward to seeing them around your neck.”

  “Yes, Edward.” Eyes downcast, her smile did not quite make it to the end of her lips.

  “Now where is he going?” Gracey muttered, looking up at the ceiling as Peter’s footsteps could be heard running down the hall. “If I find anything amiss, he will be put out immediately!”

  “He isn’t a thief, Edward!”

  “And how do you know that, Constance? Your years and years of acquaintance? Your vast experience as a mother?” He was secretly amused when she shrank back at his words.

  The teacup slightly rattled in the saucer when her hands started to tremble. Setting the china back on the tea tray, she tightly clasped her hands together under the folds of her gown. “Of course I don’t have that, Edward.” She was quiet for a moment as she willed the lonely ache in her heart to cease. “It is just a feeling I have that he is a fine boy. I worry what would happen to him if he were to find himself alone in the world.” Perhaps I should worry what would happen to him if he were to stay here, she admitted to herself.

  Gracey pushed himself to his feet. He could hear the organ music all the way from the ballroom. He needed to get the boy away from that expensive instrument before he broke something. “Even if he did stay here,” he told her curtly as he walked toward the door, “he would never be a Gracey.”

  Her voice was a whisper as the door slammed shut. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

  Peter was delighted to have the run of the Mansion. With the master key firmly in his hand, he tried it on the first locked door he could find. Even though the key worked perfectly, he was disappointed it was just a library. He had hoped for the more familiar, more exciting settings that he remembered from the Mansion at home.

  The second door he opened was much more to his liking: The Ballroom.

  Unaware of the Gracey’s anniversary, he was surprised to see it was being set up for a party. As he stood at the large banquet table, he counted the twelve place settings he expected to find. With a big grin on his face, he rearranged one three-piece place setting of blue and white plates to form a Hidden Mickey. As he stood back to admire his work, he noticed the tall brass fruit holder sitting amid the fresh flowers that adorned the length of the table. Even though his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten all day, he didn’t want to take anything or make it obvious he was touching their things. He had heard Master Gracey’s parting words and cor
rectly took them as a warning. With a glance at the Hidden Mickey, he decided to leave it there. It was just too funny.

  Another step back allowed him to look up at the three-tier brass and crystal chandelier and he wondered if anyone would be swinging from it later that night. Doing a quick waltz step he had been forced to learn, he danced his way over toward the organ. He stopped mid-turn to look at the two huge portraits of the duelists that hung over the stairway. With a mental note to see where the stairs went, he frowned as he stared at the paintings. He could see one of them bore a striking resemblance to Master Gracey and they both had the same disagreeable look on their faces. He’d have to ask Constance about them later. Sensing she liked him, Peter figured he could probably get her to tell him everything about the family.

  Knowing the history of the organ that sat in Disneyland’s Mansion, Peter knew that particular instrument didn’t work. “Wow, this one’s so clean!” As he stood next to the organ, he put a tentative finger on one of the ivory keys and was disappointed when it made no sound. “This one’s fake, too? Aww.”

  After he got comfortable on the red velvet bench in front of the console, he tried a couple more keys with the same results. He was going to give up and see where that staircase went when his foot accidentally landed on some kind of pedal near the floor. Glancing down to see what it was, he saw there were two of them. Not familiar with how an organ actually worked, he made a correct guess. “Foot pedals? Worth a shot.”

  He began to pump with his feet and then tried a key again. This time he was rewarded with a deep, echoing sound. “Cool! It does work! Hope nothing starts flying out of the pipes.” After a quick upward glance, he tried to remember the notes of any of the songs he had learned during a two-year battle over piano lessons. When nothing came to mind, he reverted to the first tune he had pecked out on their baby grand back home.