“My Gruffalo.”
“What is a Gruffalo?”
“It’s from a book called The Gruffalo,” Ruby patiently explained. “When I was younger, it was my favorite. My mom made me my very own. She sewed it herself out of a sock and some yarn and buttons. He’s one of a kind. Did you ever make stuff for your kids when they were little?”
“I made trips to FAO Schwarz, but that’s about it.”
“What’s FAO Schwarz?”
“It’s a very large toy store in New York City. You should visit there sometime.”
“Will you take me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not capable of taking you anywhere.” She swiveled the chair to face Mom. “Where’s their father? He’s not going to come barging in uninvited, is he?”
Mom regarded her steadily. “I can guarantee he will not.”
“Are they noisy?” asked Mrs. Bellamy.
“They’re kids. They make noise.”
“I imagine they’re messy, as well.”
Ruby walked over to their mother and looked Mrs. Bellamy in the eye. She was still acting scared, but intensely determined as she faced the old woman. “Last year at the end of first grade, I got the Neat as a Pin award.”
The old lady returned the steady gaze. “What about this year?”
“I’m working on it. But Shelley Romano is in my class, and she’s giving me a run for my money.”
Mrs. Bellamy glared at the kid with dragon eyes. Yet buried beneath the fierce glare was something Cara recognized—a glimmer of humor.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting your own room.”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
“And your own bathroom?”
Ruby relented. “We could share.”
“Why don’t you finish telling us about your expectations,” Mom suggested gently.
“I expect each day to be no different from the last. My schedule is quite simple.” She rattled everything off in a brusque, bitter tone. “I wake up at nine each morning and have coffee. Then I’m bathed and dressed for a late breakfast. Lunch is at one o’clock and dinner at seven-thirty. I’m in bed by ten. Any questions?” She seemed to be daring them.
No one spoke. Then, to Cara’s surprise, Ruby raised a tentative hand.
“Yes?” demanded Mrs. Bellamy. “What is it?”
“You asked if there were any questions,” Ruby said. “I have a question.”
“You have a question. And what might that be?”
“I was wondering... What do you do?”
Aw, jeez, thought Cara, watching the old lady’s face.
“I beg your pardon,” the old lady fired back. “What do you mean, what do I do?”
“I mean like, do you go to a job, or have meetings, or run errands? Stuff like that.”
It was a good thing Ruby was tiny and supercute, because it made people more tolerant of her.
But maybe not Mrs. Bellamy. She had the look of a fire-breathing dragon again. “Child, can’t you see I’m confined to this chair?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can see that.”
“Then you must understand that I can’t do anything. I can sit, and on a good day, I might have the tiniest bit of function in my arms. But I don’t actually have any good days, because I can’t do anything.”
“Oh.” Ruby simply stared at her, unperturbed. After the initial scare, the kid was showing some backbone.
“I’m open to suggestions, if you happen to have any.”
“You could sing,” Ruby said without missing a beat. “Or if you don’t like singing—”
“How did you guess?”
“You could listen to music. Or audiobooks—I used to listen to them before I learned to read. You could also tell jokes and talk on the phone if you put it on speakerphone. You could tell me all your favorite flowers, and I would plant them in the garden so you can have a bouquet whenever you want one.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “I can think up more stuff and make you a list if you want.”
The silence in the room felt like a storm about to descend. Mom looked mortified. If Cara’s rudeness had put the job in jeopardy, Ruby had finished it off. Poor Mom.
Then Mrs. Bellamy blew into her tube, and the chair glided toward an arched doorway leading to a long hallway.
No one moved. Mrs. Bellamy stopped, and the chair swung back. “Well?” she asked, eyeballing Ruby. “Are you coming?”
Ruby blanched. “Coming where?”
“To see where you’ll be living.”
* * *
The job posting had simply stated that the offer included “ample living quarters.” Cara thought she knew what was meant by ample, but this was definitely more than ample.
Mrs. Bellamy led the procession down the hallway and through the house. Each room they passed was pretty and sparkling with the light reflecting off Willow Lake. The rooms had old-fashioned names like the conservatory, the library, the card room, the solarium. The place at the end of the hallway was known as the quarters.
The quarters turned out to be bigger than most apartments they had lived in. It was a sunlit suite of two bedrooms, separated by a fancy bathroom with black-and-white tile, a deep claw-foot tub and a separate shower surrounded by clear glass. There was an antique-looking desk and, best of all, a deck on the outside, with a view of the lake. Everything was as elegant as a set on Masterpiece Theatre.
Ruby acted as if she had entered the Magic Kingdom, not that anyone in the McCallum family could afford to go to Disneyland.
“This reminds me of Mary Lennox’s house,” Ruby exclaimed. She turned to Mrs. Bellamy. “Mary Lennox is the girl in—”
“The Secret Garden,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “I’m a cripple, not an ignoramus.”
Cara wondered if it was politically incorrect to say cripple when you were the one in the wheelchair.
“Do you like books?” Ruby asked her. “I love books, and I can already read chapter books all by myself. I still like reading aloud, though.”
“So do I. We will have to begin reading together,” said Mrs. B.
“It’s beautiful, Mom,” said Ruby. “Do we get to stay?”
Mrs. Bellamy swiveled to face Mom. For the first time, the old lady seemed to smile. It wasn’t an actual smile but almost. A lightness in her eyes, like the sun reflecting off the lake. And Cara realized old Mrs. Bellamy really wasn’t actually old, and she wasn’t a total sourpuss, after all.
“I was just about to ask you the same question.”
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