100 Cupboards by N. D. Wilson

asked, and kept rubbing Henry’s knife.
    Dotty hit him with her rag. “He said that. And so did she. But the important part was when he said, ‘Frank ever get that door open?’ Do you know what I said? What I said was—Are you ready for this? I said, ‘No.’”
    â€œAh,” Frank said. He lifted Henry’s knife up to his mouth and dabbed the blade with his tongue. “That’s my honest wife. I appreciate you lookin’ out for my dignity.”
    â€œAnd then I said I would give him a call to come by and open it. I’d rather not be a liar, Frank.” She crossed her arms. The skillet dangled on one hip, the rag on the other.
    â€œDots, excellent wife, I appreciate that. I’ll get that door open and accommodate you spaciously within the room hidin’ behind it. But Billy Mortensen will have nothing to do with it. He threw a baseball game in the state playoffs our senior year, and you know it.” Frank glanced up. “I’ll only see him socially. He’ll never bill me.”
    â€œWe could pay up front,” Dotty said, and walked back into the kitchen.
    The sounds of metal scratching on flint and slowly chewed grilled cheese dominated the room. Finally, Frank set Henry’s knife down, ate his sandwich in two bites, and drained his milk. He stood and put his hands on his hips.
    â€œWomen and children behind the lines!” he yelled, and all the girls jumped. Henry froze with his mouth open. “Bang the drum slowly and ask not for whom the bell’s ringing, for the answer’s unfriendly!” He threw a fist in the air. “Two years have my black ships sat before Troy, and today its gate shall open before the strength of my arm.” Dotty was laughing from the kitchen. Frank looked at his nephew. “Henry, we play baseball tomorrow. Today we sack cities. Dots! Fetch me my tools! Down with the French! Once more into the breach, and fill the wall with our coward dead! Half a league! Half a league! Hey, batter, batter!”
    Frank brought his fist down onto the table, spilling Anastasia’s milk, and then he struck a pose with both arms above his head and his chin on his chest. The girls cheered and applauded. Aunt Dotty stepped back into the dining room carrying a red metal toolbox.
    Frank sniffed. “You know me well, wife. I thought those were in the basement.”
    â€œThey were. You should have been an English teacher, Frank.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” Henry asked.
    â€œWe’re going to build a wooden horse, stick you inside it, and offer it up as a gift,” Frank answered.
    â€œBurn your bridges when you come to them,” Dotty said. She smiled at Frank, picked up the empty plates, and walked back into the kitchen.
    â€œCan we watch?” Henrietta asked.
    â€œYou,” Frank said, “can go play in the barn, the yard, the fields, or the ditches, so long as you are nowhere near the action. C’mon, Henry.”
    The girls moaned and complained while Henry followed his uncle up the stairs. At the top, they walked all the way around the landing until they faced the very old, very wooden door to Grandfather’s bedroom. Uncle Frank set down his tools.
    â€œToday is the day, Henry. I can feel it. I never told your aunt this, but my favorite book’s in there. I was reading it to your grandfather near the end. It’s been due back at the library for a while now, and it’d be nice to be able to check something else out.”

CHAPTER FIVE

    Henry sat on the floor of the landing and watched his uncle fiddle with the doorknob.
    â€œHere it comes,” Uncle Frank said, and pulled. The knob rattled off in Frank’s hand.
    â€œWhat’s that spike thing?” Henry asked.
    â€œThat, Henry, is the spike thing that sticks through the door and holds the knob things.” He looked at Henry and waggled his eyebrows. “Now we’re gonna be a little more