Something She's Not Telling Us - Darcey Bell Page 0,56

mom’s sixtieth birthday party. They liked the sound of Rocco, though they hadn’t met him yet.

Grandpa Frank asked, “When are we going to meet him?”

“Soon,” I said. “I promise.”

“Let’s celebrate,” said Granny Edith. “Drive out to our picnic spot and have a bite to eat.”

It wasn’t clear what we were celebrating, and it was a cold day. But I never refused to go.

“Can you drive?” I asked Grandpa Frank. “I mean, do you feel like driving?”

My grandfather began his stupid poem: James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree took great care of his mother, though he was only three.

Grandpa recited it like a threat. Or did I just imagine that because I was paranoid?

Grandpa Frank drove to the picnic spot. We ate my grandma’s fried chicken and drank her homemade lemonade and watched the light sparkle on the river.

It always cheered me up. I felt ready to go back out and face the world.

Meanwhile I was going to Mexico. ?Adios, abuelitos!

16

Charlotte

As soon as they leave Chef Basil’s and step out into the burnished Oaxacan sunlight, Charlotte says, “Thank God Rocco wasn’t there.”

Ruth gives her a puzzled look, then hesitates at the corner. Charlotte knows how to get back to Mom’s, so that makes her the leader. She crosses to the shady side of the street, and they fall into step.

Ruth says, “Rocco likes good food. Your brother’s got political principles. But give him a good meal, and he’s yours. It runs in the family, Charlotte. You and Eli like to eat. And Daisy eats a wider range than most kids her age. You probably have to watch out for her in Mexico. Stuff can make kids sick. Is the water at your mom’s okay to drink? I’ve been embarrassed to ask.”

Daisy! That Charlotte has forgotten her for an hour is alarming. Irrational, really. Daisy’s with Mom, who loves her and will take good care of her. It’s Mom’s city. She’s better qualified than Charlotte to navigate these streets with a child.

Mom set fire to their childhood home. Mom tried to murder Rocco. That Charlotte’s not supposed to remember makes it harder to forget. Mom is a different person now. Responsible. Together. Well . . . reasonably together.

Charlotte says, “The city water’s fine. Plus Mom’s got a filtration system.”

“Glad to hear it,” says Ruth. “Hey, let’s go check out this fabulous antiques shop.” She points at a cluttered, grimy window. “Do we have time?”

Charlotte trails Ruth into the tiny store. Why has she never noticed this shop, crammed with marvelous paintings, textiles and furniture, treasure and junk? A dusty skylight lets in just enough sun for customers to see what everything is. Toward the front of the shop is a case of antique wristwatches.

Ruth says, “Wouldn’t one of these make a great gift for Rocco?”

Maybe, maybe not.

The store is a cabinet of wonders, crammed with old religious paintings, picture frames made from tiny seashells, bits of embroidery, tinted portrait photographs. Charlotte drifts toward the back of the shop, hoping to find a dollhouse or an antique doll that Daisy might like, though she knows that modern kids sometimes think old dolls are scary.

On one wall are several rows of wooden masks: conquistadors, mermaids, snakes, eagles with giant beaks. The most amazing mask is in the dead center of the wall. Obviously very old, it’s divided into two halves. On one side is an angel, on the other a grinning scarlet devil. A thin chain dangles down between the two sections.

Charlotte’s startled when one of the masks says, “Pull the chain.”

The talking mask, which has the face of an old man with two wings of slicked-down gray hair, yawns and lifts its chin. Charlotte utters a little yelp of fear.

It’s not a mask that has spoken to her, but the shop’s elderly proprietor. Judging from his sly chuckle, she assumes he often plays this trick on new customers.

Again he motions at the angel-devil mask and gestures for Charlotte to pull the chain. She gives it a tentative yank, and the two halves of the mask divide. The angel and devil come apart, revealing a third mask beneath them: a pretty young woman with black hair, pink cheeks, blue eyes.

Why does the mask seem evil? Then it stops seeming evil and seems beautiful. She wants it.

“How much?”

“Six thousand pesos.” About three hundred dollars.

Ruth is standing beside her. Charlotte hadn’t noticed.

“Birthday gift for your mom?” says Ruth.

Charlotte’s mother doesn’t want gifts. She’s threatened: If they give her anything, she’ll “regift” it to the first