was
lucky,” Alec offered.
“We all
were—” Ilene cut off her words, looking at her mother’s bedroom door. The door
was ajar, and Ilene glanced in at the bare wood floor, where the carpeting had
been pulled out, and bedframe, missing the mattress and box springs. She pulled
the door shut. “I think the mobile’s in the attic.”
Ilene
reached up and pulled down the folding ladder to the attic. It squeaked as it
unfolded and the springs extended. “Why do you need it?” She asked as she
ascended.
“I
can’t really explain, Mom,” Alec said, sounding whiney to his own ears.
Ilene
flipped on the attic light. “It’s in one of these boxes.” She walked over to a
stack of boxes, and stooped to open one. “I’m not sure why I kept it. You and
Adam never used it. I didn’t want it hanging over your crib,” she said with
such malice that Alec wondered just what his mother did know.
“Maybe
you knew I’d need it someday.”
“And
prayed you wouldn’t.” She removed boxes from the stack.
“Mom,
what all—what do you think happened the night of the fire?”
“I
think this is the box,” she replied. She pulled the flaps of the box open. Alec
noted that the box had been labeled “Alec’s baby things.”
“Why
was this box stored here and not at the house?”
“Your
grandmother offered to keep it.” Ilene smiled. “She had some things here for
you and Adam. She watched you all so often. And she just—when I received it, I
brought it to her. So, she kept it.” Ilene pulled the mobile from the box. It
unfolded in a delicate spiral as she pulled it out of the box.
The
attic light shone through the mobile, and letters and numbers fell on the attic
floor. The importance immediately struck Alec: this was the decoder. What
looked like an innocent mobile with 123s and ABCs unlocked the runes of the
Meredith Stone. Alec took the mobile as she handed it to him.
“Is
this it?” Ilene asked.
“Yes, I
think it is.”
“Will
it help ?” Tears threatened to flow from
her eyes again.
“I hope
so, Mom.”
Maxwell
Maxwell
Snug was having a bad day. At the age of nineteen, he had already been on his
own in Chicago for three years, so he was used to bad days. But today was
particularly bad. And it wasn’t even the fact that he had gotten stiffed on a
table at the diner where he worked; it wasn’t the fact that he was going to
have trouble scrounging up his half of the rent; it wasn’t even the fact that
he hadn’t had a date in two months. At the moment, what troubled him was the
presence of the dark-haired man who had slid into a booth in his section.
Maxwell’s skin had tingled as soon as the man walked in—but not a butterflies-in-your-stomach
tingle. This was one of his bad tingles. The kind he got just before disaster.
“I’m
cursed,” Maxwell complained to his roommate and co-worker, Haley.
Haley
smiled indulgently. She looked into Maxwell’s eyes. They were so green they
made her feel lost in a jungle. His lips were pouted out in a sweet-sad way
that melted her heart. No one could complain in such a self-effacing,
everything’s-the-end-of-the-world way as Maxwell. Somehow, it was endearing.
“What now?” She adjusted the band holding back her ponytail of blonde hair.
“Check
out the dude in my booth,” he said, using his shoulder to point at a man
sitting in a corner booth across the diner.
“He’s
cute,” Haley effervesced.
“Creepy.
He’s creepy,” Maxwell disagreed. “He’s wearing giant sunglasses inside.”
“Maybe
he’s hung-over.”
“Trust
me, that hipster has bad mojo.”
“He’s
not a hipster.”
“Creeper,
then.”
Haley
rolled her eyes. “What’d he do?”
“Nothing.
Yet. Just wait.”
With a
resigned exhale, Maxwell trudged to the booth and flourished a tip-winning
smile. “Welcome to Trotters. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Coffee.
Black,” he replied without looking up. He flipped the coffee cup on the table
upright. He
lucky,” Alec offered.
“We all
were—” Ilene cut off her words, looking at her mother’s bedroom door. The door
was ajar, and Ilene glanced in at the bare wood floor, where the carpeting had
been pulled out, and bedframe, missing the mattress and box springs. She pulled
the door shut. “I think the mobile’s in the attic.”
Ilene
reached up and pulled down the folding ladder to the attic. It squeaked as it
unfolded and the springs extended. “Why do you need it?” She asked as she
ascended.
“I
can’t really explain, Mom,” Alec said, sounding whiney to his own ears.
Ilene
flipped on the attic light. “It’s in one of these boxes.” She walked over to a
stack of boxes, and stooped to open one. “I’m not sure why I kept it. You and
Adam never used it. I didn’t want it hanging over your crib,” she said with
such malice that Alec wondered just what his mother did know.
“Maybe
you knew I’d need it someday.”
“And
prayed you wouldn’t.” She removed boxes from the stack.
“Mom,
what all—what do you think happened the night of the fire?”
“I
think this is the box,” she replied. She pulled the flaps of the box open. Alec
noted that the box had been labeled “Alec’s baby things.”
“Why
was this box stored here and not at the house?”
“Your
grandmother offered to keep it.” Ilene smiled. “She had some things here for
you and Adam. She watched you all so often. And she just—when I received it, I
brought it to her. So, she kept it.” Ilene pulled the mobile from the box. It
unfolded in a delicate spiral as she pulled it out of the box.
The
attic light shone through the mobile, and letters and numbers fell on the attic
floor. The importance immediately struck Alec: this was the decoder. What
looked like an innocent mobile with 123s and ABCs unlocked the runes of the
Meredith Stone. Alec took the mobile as she handed it to him.
“Is
this it?” Ilene asked.
“Yes, I
think it is.”
“Will
it help ?” Tears threatened to flow from
her eyes again.
“I hope
so, Mom.”
Maxwell
Maxwell
Snug was having a bad day. At the age of nineteen, he had already been on his
own in Chicago for three years, so he was used to bad days. But today was
particularly bad. And it wasn’t even the fact that he had gotten stiffed on a
table at the diner where he worked; it wasn’t the fact that he was going to
have trouble scrounging up his half of the rent; it wasn’t even the fact that
he hadn’t had a date in two months. At the moment, what troubled him was the
presence of the dark-haired man who had slid into a booth in his section.
Maxwell’s skin had tingled as soon as the man walked in—but not a butterflies-in-your-stomach
tingle. This was one of his bad tingles. The kind he got just before disaster.
“I’m
cursed,” Maxwell complained to his roommate and co-worker, Haley.
Haley
smiled indulgently. She looked into Maxwell’s eyes. They were so green they
made her feel lost in a jungle. His lips were pouted out in a sweet-sad way
that melted her heart. No one could complain in such a self-effacing,
everything’s-the-end-of-the-world way as Maxwell. Somehow, it was endearing.
“What now?” She adjusted the band holding back her ponytail of blonde hair.
“Check
out the dude in my booth,” he said, using his shoulder to point at a man
sitting in a corner booth across the diner.
“He’s
cute,” Haley effervesced.
“Creepy.
He’s creepy,” Maxwell disagreed. “He’s wearing giant sunglasses inside.”
“Maybe
he’s hung-over.”
“Trust
me, that hipster has bad mojo.”
“He’s
not a hipster.”
“Creeper,
then.”
Haley
rolled her eyes. “What’d he do?”
“Nothing.
Yet. Just wait.”
With a
resigned exhale, Maxwell trudged to the booth and flourished a tip-winning
smile. “Welcome to Trotters. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Coffee.
Black,” he replied without looking up. He flipped the coffee cup on the table
upright. He
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