Since I only had Costa Rican colones in my pocket, we couldn’t use the pay phone to call Mike. Instead, we walked the two miles back to town, past acres of endless dirt and skittering tumbleweeds. Leroy sniffed every single clump of dry grass like he was a doggie Geiger counter. I figured he must have been hoping for more jackrabbits. I kept thinking about Florida and wondered how she was holding up. Plus, I couldn’t get Walter Brinker off my mind. What in the world had made that man so crabby?
“Well, at least he didn’t shoot us. That’s a plus,” Violet said.
“I think he was bluffing,” Noah said. “More bark than bite.”
“I hope you’re right. And that he was telling the truth about loaning us the amber.” After what Mike told us about Walter being only fifty percent honest, I didn’t trust the guy.
“Any idea how we’re going to get that key?” Noah asked.
“I’m thinking,” I said.
Violet clutched her stomach. “Yeah, me too. But what I’m thinking about is dinner. I’m so hungry I could eat a whale!”
When we walked into Grandma Daisy’s kitchen, she’d just finished grilling a tower of cheddar cheese sandwiches on crusty homemade bread. It was as if she’d known we’d be back any second. She set a platter of them on the kitchen table along with a big bowl of cold fruit salad mixed with honey yogurt. We thanked her and eagerly dug in.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Sort of,” I said and then took a giant bite. I wiped a thread of warm cheese from my chin.
Violet chimed in after helping herself to two sandwiches. “Walter Brinker’s a dirty stinking rat. He stole the frog amber to keep his fanny pack charged so it would cough up lottery tickets and make him rich.”
Grandma Daisy sighed. “The man didn’t read the instructions that came with the pouch. That won’t work well at all.”
“It definitely hasn’t.” Noah piled a mountain of fruit next to his grilled cheese.
I told Grandma Daisy all about the deal Walter had offered us, and how we had to get the key from Grandpa Jack if we were going to be able to recharge the fanny pack.
She tapped her knobby fingers on the table. “I think Angela could turn out to be a big help. If you don’t mind, let me talk to her. We’ll have to be delicate about how much we say.”
After dinner, Grandma Daisy warmed up one of her famous blueberry pies. It was exactly like the one Rosalie Claire made for us a few days ago, and the same kind my mom used to make before she died. One bite and my head and heart filled with a swirl of happy memories.
“Knock, knock. Guess who?” My mom pushed open the back door and my heart fluttered fast.
“Homework tonight. Thought I’d do it over here.” She dropped her backpack on the floor by the kitchen table.
As Grandma Daisy cut her a slice of pie, my mom unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out a book.
“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I have to write an essay. Have you read this?” she asked, holding it up.
Only about a zillion times.
“It’s my favorite,” I said. “The first time my mom read it to me I was five. She loved that book.” How freaky did it feel to be telling my kid-mom about her grown-up self?
“Wow, that’s crazy! This is my favorite book, too. I’m obsessed. How cool would it be to just walk through a wardrobe into a whole different world?”
“Pretty cool,” I said, thinking that a magic TV wasn’t too bad either.
My mom took a bite of her pie. “You know what I wish? I wish I had a wardrobe like that. Then I’d leave Truth or Consequences and go someplace magical. Once I got to the other side I’d lock the wardrobe door and throw away the key so no one could come find me. Except for you, Daisy. You’d have your own key.”
“Thank you, Angela. I appreciate that. And funny you should mention a key.” Grandma Daisy joined us at the table, scooting her chair close to my mom.
“You know, Angie, I’ve always been honest with you and I’m not one for beating around the bush.”
My mom stopped chewing and set down her fork.
“The kids came here because they’re looking for something important for Rosalie Claire. In order to get it, they need a key your dad may have that once belonged to someone else.”
My mom’s eyes opened wide. “Did he steal it?”
“No, no. Nothing like that,” said Grandma Daisy.
“He won it in a card game,” I told her. “It’s silver. And has the initials W.B. painted on it in red.”
She shrugged. “Never seen it.”
“Maybe your dad knows where it is. Or your mom,” Violet said. “You could ask one of them.”
“Yeah? Well, my mother and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now so that won’t be happening. I could hunt around in my dad’s dresser sometime when my parents are out.”
“The thing is, Angie, you can’t just take it. There’s a little bit of magic wrapped up in all of this and you know the rule. Your dad has to give it up willingly,” Grandma Daisy said.
My mom grinned. “Magic? Ooh, my favorite subject. Tell me more.”
Grandma Daisy clasped a hand over one of my mom’s. “I wish I could, but this time I just can’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
“I always trust you, Daisy.” She sighed and I could tell she wasn’t too happy to be left out of the loop.
“So how are we going to get this thing?” Violet’s eyes glinted with mischief.
Noah scraped the last bit of pie from his plate. “If you asked your dad, do you think he’d just give it to you?”
“No way. He’d be on to me.”
We sat in silence as my brain clicked with schemes. Most were totally dumb, until finally I hit on something that just might work.
“I have the perfect plan. Let’s do a scavenger hunt.”