Big Little Lies(120)

“Please don’t tell me you’re fighting over that piece of paper,” said Ed.
“He’s not sharing!” screamed Chloe. “Sharing is caring!”
“You get what you get and you don’t get upset!” screamed Fred.
In normal circumstances that would have made Madeline laugh.
“It’s my paper airplane,” said Fred.
“I drew the passengers!”
“You did not!”
“Well, you can stop all your stressing.” Madeline turned to see Abigail leaning against the doorjamb.
“What?” Madeline said.
Abigail said something that she couldn’t hear over the yelling of Fred and Chloe.
“Bloody hell!” Madeline snatched the piece of paper from Fred’s hand and tore it in half, handing them a piece each.
“Now get out of my sight!” she roared. They ran.
“I’ve taken down the website,” said Abigail with a world-weary sigh.
“You have? Why?” Madeline resisted the urge to throw her arms above her head and run around in circles like Fred did when he kicked a goal.
Abigail handed her a printout of an e-mail. “I got this.”
Ed and Madeline read it together.
To: Abigail Mackenzie
From: Larry Fitzgerald
Subject: Auction Bid
Dear Miss Mackenzie,
My name is Larry Fitzgerald and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You probably don’t hear from many eighty-three-year-old gentlemen living on the other side of the world in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My darling wife and I visited Australia many years ago, in 1987, before you were born. We had the pleasure of seeing the Sydney Opera House. (I’m an architect, since retired, and it had always been a dream of mine to see the Opera House.) The people of Australia were so kind and warm to us. Sadly, my beautiful wife passed away last year. I miss her every day. Miss Mackenzie, when I came across your website, I was moved by your obvious passion and your desire to bring attention to the plight of these children. I would not like to purchase your virginity; however I would like to make a bid. This is what I propose: If you close your auction immediately, I will make an immediate donation of $100,000 to Amnesty International. (I will, of course, send you a receipt.) I have spent many years campaigning against the abuse of human rights, and I do so admire what you are trying to achieve, but you are a child yourself, Miss Mackenzie, and I cannot in good conscience stand by and see you take this project to fruition. I look forward to hearing whether my bid is successful.
Yours sincerely,
Larry Fitzgerald

Madeline and Ed looked at each other and over at Abigail.
“I thought one hundred thousand dollars was quite a big donation,” said Abigail. She was standing at the open fridge as she talked, pulling out containers, opening lids and peering into them. “And that Amnesty could probably do something, you know, pretty good with that money.”
“I’m sure they could,” said Ed neutrally.
“I’ve written back to him and told him I’ve taken it down,” said Abigail. “If he doesn’t send back the receipt I’m going to put it straight back up.”
“Oh, naturally,” murmured Ed. “He’s got to follow through.”
Madeline grinned at Ed and then back at Abigail. You could see the relief coursing through her daughter’s young body; her bare feet were doing a little dance as she stood at the refrigerator. Abigail had put herself in a corner, and the wonderful Larry Fitzgerald of South Dakota had given her an out.
“Is this spaghetti Bolognese?” said Abigail, holding up a Tupperware container. “I’m starving.”
“I thought you were vegan now,” said Madeline.
“Not when I’m staying here,” said Abigail, taking the container over to the microwave. “It’s too hard to be vegan here.”
“So tell me,” said Madeline. “What was your password?”
“I can just change it again,” said Abigail.
“I know.”
“You’ll never guess,” said Abigail.
“I know that,” said Madeline. “Your father and I tried everything.”
“No,” said Abigail. “That’s it. That’s my password. ‘You’ll never guess.’”
“Clever,” said Madeline.
“Thanks.” Abigail dimpled at her.
The microwave dinged, and Abigail opened the door and took out the container.
“You know that there are going to have to be, er, consequences for all this,” said Madeline. “When your father and I expressly ask you to do something, you can’t just ignore us.”
“Yup,” said Abigail cheerfully. “Do what you’ve got to do, Mum.”