The Mapmaker and the Ghost(38)
Cassandra smiled. “I have a feeling if there’s anyone who can do that, it’s you. But we should probably be getting back out there or they might think we’re doing something truly outrageous in here. Like baking these muffins from scratch,” she said as she took another plastic crate of store-bought muffins from a cupboard and walked them out to the little greenhouse room.
Goldenrod followed her as she set them on the table. Birch and Randy weren’t speaking to each other. Randy was still staring down at his chocolate milk, not looking very pleased with himself, while Birch was carefully examining his surroundings.
“Birch, dear,” Cassandra asked kindly, “is there something bothering you?”
Birch jumped at being addressed. “Oh … no,” he said unconvincingly.
“Are you sure?” Cassandra encouraged.
Birch paused. “It’s just … well, your house. It’s a little … weird.” He seemed to blush as soon as he said it. But Goldenrod had to admit, she was just as curious as he was.
She looked eagerly over at Cassandra, who was smiling. “Yes, I suppose that’s as good a word for it as any. Most of those things”—she waved nonchalantly in the direction of her dusty first floor—“they were presents from my son, Edward, Randall’s father. We had a bit of a falling out when I decided to give up the mansions and fancy cars and all that other nonsense for a nice, quiet life with my garden. My son takes his revenge the way he deals with anything else in life—by throwing money at it. I imagine he thought he’d get me to change my ways if he made me feel as much like an old lady as possible.
“But I’m nobody if not a girl who likes to mess around with people’s expectations.” She winked at Goldenrod. “After all, coming from a long line of explorers also means coming from a long line of people who don’t really like to be told who to be. So I never go near that stuff, but keep it around just the same. As a good reminder that I live my life the way I want.” Goldenrod saw the old lady peek slyly at her from the corner of her eye.
“Oh,” Birch said. He hesitated a moment and then continued quietly, “Actually, there is one more thing we wanted to ask you. Our mother’s garden is destroyed and, well, we just don’t think it’s fair for Spitbubble and the rest of them to get away with it.”
“Oh, you don’t, eh?” Cassandra gave a little smile.
“Nope. And we want to do something…,” Goldenrod said.
“I think,” Birch said slowly, “that we want to take them on.”
The old lady let out a short cackle. “Well, well … I must say, I think that’s a splendid idea.”
“Only we’re not sure exactly what to do,” Birch said.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out together. Randall will help.”
Randy scowled into his cup, but for the next hour—with some prodding from his grandmother—he filled them in on all sorts of information that helped them formulate a plan.
27
A SPOOKY EXPERIMENT
A little bit later on, Goldenrod found herself alone at the edge of the forest once again. She had left Birch, Randy, and Cassandra to deal with some of the finer points of their plan while she conducted a different sort of business.
She carried a replacement backpack, although she had yet to replenish its missing supplies of notebooks, graph paper, and the like. There was a very strong possibility that she would have to make a quick getaway and carrying a lightened load would make that much easier.
When she reached the edge of the forest this time, she cased her surroundings carefully, looking around just like she and Charla had once practiced; it was very important that there would be no kidnappings today. Quickly, she slipped into the forest.
She moved as quietly as she possibly could, all the while keeping very alert for any signs of Spitbubble or the Gross-Out Gang. Every now and then, when she was positive that there was no one around, she would call out, in as loud a whisper as she dared, “Meriwether!”
So far, she had gotten no response.
Finally, Goldenrod made it over to the little clearing where she had first seen the ghost. After remaining quiet for over five minutes, straining her ears to make sure there were no signs of other human beings, Goldenrod allowed herself to call his name a little louder.
There was still no response.
“I’m on a quest to reclaim the blue rose,” Goldenrod said in a firm, but quiet voice.
There was a brief second of silence and then, with a pop, Meriwether appeared in the center of the clearing. He gave a slight bow to Goldenrod, but she could see that he still looked a little grumpy. She wondered if he had been sulking the whole night through and marveled at how he had managed to ever get much done in his lifetime with that kind of attitude. Then again, she had to remind herself, two hundred years was an awful long time to be left to haunt one place, especially for an explorer, and if the blue rose wasn’t properly discovered this time, that would be a whole other fifty years for him in tiny Pilmilton Woods. She should cut him some slack.
“Meriwether,” she began gently. “I have a plan.”
Meriwether eyed her a little suspiciously. “Do you?”
“Oh, yes. And I’ve met your great-great-great-great-great-grandniece and she thinks it just might work. It does, however, involve an experiment.” Goldenrod waited.