Seven Stories Up (15 page)

I was relieved to see him, a familiar face. Besides Molly and Nora, I guessed I knew Frank better than anyone in town at this point.

“Frank!” I called.

“Why, hey!” he shouted, jumping up and opening our door. “You made it!”

We walked around the car. Molly climbed up onto the running board and I followed her.

Frank tossed his cigarette into the street, slammed our door shut, climbed in, and stepped on the gas. The car sprang out into the brick road.

“How was the fair?” he asked. “Yous guys see anything good?”

“We
did
,” said Molly. “We saw it
all
.”

“Very nice, very nice,” said Frank. “And where exactly do you want me to take you now?”

“The alley behind the Hotel Calvert,” I said without thinking.

“The
alley
?” He turned around. “Really?”

“It’s … umm … a shortcut to our house,” I said.

Frank chuckled. “I don’t even want to know what you girls are up to, do I?”

“Perhaps it’s better if you don’t,” admitted Molly.

“Your money, ladies. Your choice.” Frank whistled as he drove along.

Safe in the car, Molly cradled Fortunata’s tiny bottle in her hands, then held it up to the sunlight streaming in the rear window. It dazzled. “Do you think I’m supposed to eat it?” she asked. “Or perhaps sprinkle it onto my skin, like he did with the flower?”

“I don’t think you should do
anything
with it,” I said. “
Definitely
don’t eat it.”

“But
you
saw what it did to the flower! It made it perfect.”

“That was a
trick
,” I said. “Don’t you think if he really had a magical lifesaving potion, he’d be working at a hospital? Obviously I believe in magic. Just not the kind people sell in bottles. Seriously, that stuff could make you sick.”

“I’m
already
sick,” said Molly.

“Look,” I said, turning to her. “I
know
you’ll be fine without any stupid dust. You’ll live a long time. You just have to believe me.”

“But …”

“If
you’re
sick,
I’m
sick, Molly. I have trouble breathing too. Do I need to eat blue sparkles? Don’t
I
seem fine?”

Molly nodded slowly. “You do,” she said. “You always do.”

“So we wheeze. We shouldn’t run up mountains. But we’re in the same boat, Molly. Please trust me?”

I thought Molly would argue, but she didn’t. She just said, “I
do
, Annie. I
do
trust you. If you really believe that I shouldn’t try it, I won’t.”

“You mean that?”

“Truly,” she said, slipping the bottle into her pocket.

That night, when Nora came up with dinner, we were collapsed on the carpet with Friend, staring at the ceiling. The maid burst into laughter. “I won’t ask what you’ve been up to,” she said. “But you look like tired puppies.”

“Oh, Nora!” said Molly, sitting up. “We
are
tired, but it was such a day! We went to a fair!”

“When you weren’t here for lunch,” said Nora, “I was a mite concerned. But I’m pleased you had a good day.” She set down her tray and served us each a plate of something fishy. Without meaning to, I wrinkled my nose.

“Now, now,” scolded Nora, “plenty of children would be delighted with a nice bit of fish. You two don’t know how lucky you are.”

A picture of Annika’s and Olivia’s grubby, hungry faces flitted through my brain. I felt instantly awful, and I forced down a bite of the fish as penance.

“That said,” added Nora, “I have something else for you too. Look!”
She ducked into the hallway and returned with a red metal box.

“What’s
that
?” Molly asked.

Nora laughed. “Well, until today it was a bread box, but I don’t want the kitten messing in the closet anymore. I thought this might be just the thing.” She headed for the bathroom.

We followed and watched as she tilted the bread box onto its back, lifted the door to an open position, and set it on the floor. When I looked inside, I saw that the box was half full of ashes.

“How clever you are!” said Molly. “Thank you!”

Nora blushed. “Why, it’s hardly anything. The hinges were broken and the kitchen was about to give it away, so I nicked it!”

Friend had followed us into the bathroom and was sniffing around the box. He hopped right in.

“He likes it!” cried Molly.

“Sure enough,” said Nora. “He’s a good boy. Now, how about we leave him to his business and you return to your supper. If you don’t like hot fish, you certainly won’t enjoy it cold.”

Once Nora was gone, we ate our peas and rice and fed some of the fish to Friend, who was leaving sooty little paw prints all over. We got into our nightgowns, but Molly didn’t drink her powder that night. She carried it into the bedroom and set it on her little table, but then she just stared at it.

“Don’t you need it?” I asked, staring at the cloudy glass. “To sleep?”

Molly eyed the glass. “I’m not even certain why they give it to me. Usually everything is so dull, I’m happy to nod off. But since
you
arrived, I don’t want to. Today I’d rather lie here and remember. What a grand afternoon! Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Totally.” I rolled onto my side. “But if we aren’t going to sleep yet, let’s do something else.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Molly.

“We could read.”

“I always read.”

“We could talk.”

“We’re doing that right now!”

“Well, then
you
think of something,” I said, poking her in the arm.

Molly pondered for a minute. “Do you know what I’ve always thought about doing? Ever since I’ve been stuck in here?”

“I can’t possibly guess,” I said.

“From my window I can see two little statues.…” Molly crawled from the bed and pointed at the dark yards below. “Of the Blessed Virgin. Over there. One is made of white plaster, and the other is painted blue. They belong to two very old women, who scrub them and plant flowers at their feet.”

“Okay,” I said. “So?”

“
So
 … I’ve always thought it would be fun if one day they suddenly switched places in the night. So that the women would think …”

“Ooh!” I sat up fast. “They’d think it was a miracle! What a great idea.”

Molly smiled. “I think maybe we should do
that
.”

I was out of bed now too. “You mean it? Right now? You want to go sneaking around in the night to steal other people’s Blessed Virgins?”

“You don’t think it’s wrong, do you? I mean it to make them happy.”

“No, I totally get it. Sure.”

Molly was bouncing on her toes. “Also, I want to go down in the dumbwaiter this time, so we can stop in the kitchen for a snack. Because that fish was …” She made a face like she smelled something bad. “
Not
delicious. Maybe we can find some chocolate chips. Maggie and Ginny steal them all the time.”

“I’m
so
totally in,” I said. “All in. If you’re sure you’re up for this.”

Molly nodded. “I truly, truly am.” She pushed a chair over to the ugly dog painting, climbed up, and swung out the picture. Then she gasped.

“What is it?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Molly. She reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.

I leaned over her shoulder to read it. All the note said was
“BE CAREFUL, GIRLS!”

“Oh,” I said. “It’s just Nora.”

“Yes,” said Molly. But her face looked serious. She folded the note carefully and slipped it into the pocket of her nightgown.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

Molly smiled. “It means—she was
thinking
of us. She was
concerned
. Isn’t that nice?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“It is,” said Molly. “It matters. Because … she cares.”

Two minutes later we were inside the black box, crammed together, creaking our way slowly down. One of Molly’s knees was digging into my back, and I could feel blisters burning into my palms from the rope. But it wasn’t as hard going down as it had been going up, and I was excited. At last we reached the bottom. Molly pushed gently at the door. It opened. A sliver of light shone in from the kitchen.

I whispered, “Hey, how do you know nobody will be down here?”

“I
don’t
,” hissed Molly. “But supper is over, and it doesn’t
look
like anyone is here, does it?” She swung the door open a little further, and we slipped down carefully onto a big wooden table, and then to the tile floor.

“It looks safe,” said Molly.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now we feast!” Molly leaned into a cupboard. “What would you like?”

“Ugh. Anything but fish,” I said. “Or liver. So
grody
.”

“Grody?”

“Yeah, like gross, disgusting.”

“Grody,” repeated Molly slowly.

“Hey, I know,” I said. “Let’s invent something. Our own secret recipe. My friend Susie and I do that
sometimes when she sleeps over. See what you can find for ingredients, okay?”

“Yes, yes!” Molly was so excited, her curls were trembling.

We snooped around for a few minutes, opening drawers and cupboards. Molly found ginger cookies, and I discovered a jar of raspberry jam. Molly turned up a bowl of whipped cream in the icebox. There wasn’t a chocolate chip to be seen, but there was homemade buttercream frosting. We put everything on the table and layered it all. A cookie, spread with jam and frosting, slathered with whipped cream, and topped with another cookie. Together we sat down on the floor, each of us holding a gooey, amazing sandwich.

“This is,” I said, nibbling my treat sideways, “the yummiest thing ever.”

“Eyefinkshowtooo,” mumbled Molly through a huge mouthful. She was grinning. There was whipped cream on her nose. She swallowed. “What shall we call them?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Molly and Annie’s Delicious Cookie Delights?”

Molly shook her head. “No, that’s too long.”

“True,” I said. “So
you
come up with a name, Miss Smarty.”

She licked a finger and pondered the question. “They
should be called … Sneakypies,” she said. “And they can only ever be eaten late at night, in secret!”

“Hey, that’s pretty good.” I laughed.

We sat and ate and chewed and munched, and licked the sides when the whipped cream dripped out.

“Oof,” Molly said at last. “I’m stuffed!” She patted her stomach happily and groaned as she stood up. Then she walked over to the kitchen door and opened it just a crack.

“Me too,” I said. “But we still want to do our secret switcheroo thing, right? How will we get outside?”

Molly didn’t answer. Instead, with no warning at all, she pushed gently at the swinging kitchen door and took a step.

“What are you doing
now
?” I called after Molly.

She turned back and held up a finger to her lips. “Shhh! Come on. There’s nobody about. Let’s go!”

“Go where?” I asked.

“I want a key,” said Molly. “To my room. So we don’t have to sneak in and out anymore. See?”

I peeked over Molly’s shoulder. Sure enough, the desk was empty, and behind it on hooks were rings and rings of keys. “I want a key,” repeated Molly slowly. “This is
my
home. I should have one, shouldn’t I?”

“I … guess,” I said.

“Here I go,” she said, stepping away from the safety of the kitchen and into the main lobby of the hotel. Just like that. The door swung behind her.

I watched through the crack in the kitchen door.

We’d been hiding so long it was strange to see her out in the open. It was like she was walking from a dark closet into a great big field or something. I held my breath.

Molly skated slowly away from me, in her sock feet and nightgown, across that broad expanse of marble. I hadn’t seen the lobby in all its glory before, and it took my breath away. The chandelier cast a soft, glittering light. The piano was gleaming ebony. The leather chairs looked deep and soft. The paintings that decorated the room were set in huge gilded frames. There was a warm, golden sheen to the room, a richness.

Molly looked tiny and pale in that great huge place. She made it to the reception desk and went around to the key hooks. She climbed onto a stool and reached up. I watched a small hand stretch out and grasp at a key. Then she slipped down again and waved for me to come out.