The back door slammed shut and in a second the screen door slammed, too. Maggie took a step or two after them and then stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Disappointment? Hurt? Frustration? All of those things, she decided, and mad, too. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. And when she was through and turned back into the kitchen, there was her grandfather standing in the doorway in his pajamas and robe.
“What’s going on down here?” he said.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m sorry we got you up. It’s just … it’s just …” She pulled out a chair and sank into it. “Things are a mess, and I’ve got to figure out what to do about it.”
“Well,” he said with a hint of a smile on his face, “if you can do it quietly, I’d appreciate it.” But he made no move to go.
“Please stay, won’t you? Do you suppose we could talk?”
He threw her a questioning glance and said, “Let me plug in the coffee first.” When that was done, he took a chair facing her. “I’m all ears. Shoot.”
“It’s about yesterday afternoon when I went blackberry picking with the Bremmer sisters.” He nodded. “While we were there, Gretchen and I stumbled onto a bunch of the high school kids. They were having another one of their meetings and I just didn’t—” She stopped and bit her lip. “Oh, no, there I go, I’m doing it! And I shouldn’t be. I’m not supposed to be telling you.”
“You haven’t told me much.”
“I’m not supposed to tell you anything. I can’t. I can’t even tell you what the argument was about. It’s because … because of a secret I have to keep.”
“A promise is a promise,” her grandfather said. “I know about that. I have a few secrets of my own.”
“Actually, most of mine are pretty insignificant. But I guess all promises are important, even if they aren’t worldshaking. But this one is significant, even if it is little-town stuff.”
“Remember, Maggie, this little town is my home now. Anything that concerns it is important to me.”
Maggie nodded and stared beyond him to the coffeepot that had begun to perk rhythmically. In a moment she sighed and said, “You know, Grandpa, there’s something I’ve noticed about this little town. Well, not something, but a lack of something. Everyone’s pretty much the same in Twisted Creek. There are no black or brown faces. No Asians. And I miss that. I like the … the mixture we have in L.A. I know there’s a better word than mixture, but I can’t think of it now.”
“Diversity?”
“Right. Diversity. That’s it. It’s a good thing this town has Amparo and Jorge and you and me, too—even if I look more like my mother—otherwise it would have no … no diversity at all.”
“There are two Chinese families living up beyond Silvergate, but they keep pretty much to themselves.”
“Aren’t there any children?”
“There were, I’m told. But they were sent down to San Francisco to live with relatives.”
She nodded again and said, “You know how I feel about cities in general and loving Twisted Creek just the way it is? I know I’m right about pollution, but do you think I could be wrong about other things?”
“Wrong?” He shook his head. “That’s the way you feel, isn’t it? There’s nothing right or wrong about feelings.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She smiled at him. “You’re impressive, you know, Grandpa?”
“Honey, you’re too easily impressed.” He got up, walked to her side, bent over, and gave her a kiss. “I’m going to go wrestle with my computer for a bit. It’s acting up. I hope it’s nothing serious.” At the door he turned and said, “When the coffee’s done, will you bring me a cup?”
Maggie sat at the kitchen table, listening to the gurgling sounds of the coffee maker. If I’d told him more, I would’ve been doing what Cat accused me of. Breaking my promise. But, oh, how I’d like to talk to someone. If I was home, I’d just pick up the phone. Or, if there was a phone here, I’d call and talk to Mom. Not to tell her the kids’ secret. Just to talk. About Cat and Spence and Greg and funny Mr. Wagner. “He’s unreal,” Mom would say. “Sure you’re not making him up?” And then they would laugh. Letters aren’t the same. Anyway, Mom hates to write letters, even on e-mail. If Grandpa had a phone, it would fill some of the empty space.
At school Maggie felt the empty space left by Cat. Cat talked to her only when she had to. Not one unnecessary word in class, at lunch, or at their lockers. She was cold. Cold as an ice cube. Maggie was sure that everyone noticed, but only Spence said anything.
“Something wrong with Cat?” he asked.
Maggie was tempted to tell him what had happened, but thought better of it. She shrugged and said, “She’s probably missing her parents. They’re going to be gone longer than she thought.”
Monday and Tuesday were long, uncomfortable days for Maggie. On Wednesday she decided she had to change things. Cat had to listen to her. At lunch she wrote her a note:
Cat,
It feels weird having you mad at me. If you’d listen, I could absolutely explain. Really. The whole thing was an accident. Besides, Gretchen Bremmer isn’t as bad as you think she is. Actually, she’s a pretty cool lady. I’d like to talk to you about everything. Please meet me after school where the road ends by the playing field. I’ll wait there for you.
Maggie
She asked Nance to give the note to Cat as soon as she could. When the last bell rang, Maggie rushed down the stairs and out to the end of the playing field. By the time all the other kids had gone by and Cat hadn’t shown up, she began to worry. Ten lonely minutes later, she gave up. Cat wasn’t coming. It was no consolation to think that she’d tried.
The afternoon was sunny and bright. Shreds of clouds moved lightly in a bold blue sky, and on the mountain peaks snow sparkled like shattered glass. There was a sweet spring smell in the air. Maggie had never known May to be such a beautiful month. But today might as well have been a gray smoggy day in the city. That would have better matched her mood. Dejected, she started toward Pine Street.
On Monday and Tuesday she had taken Cat’s shortcut through the woods, hoping to see her. Today she headed the other way, walking up Main toward High Street. When she reached the Bank of A.J. Bremmer, an overpowering urge took hold of her. She wanted to talk to her mother. She had to talk to her mother. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pushed the heavy door and stepped inside.
The room she stood in was long and narrow. A woodpaneled wall with four barred windows ran the length of the room. It looks like a set for a western movie, she thought. A white-haired man, bundled up in a bulky sweater, stood before one of the windows, transacting business with a long-faced woman behind the counter. On the other side of the room, by two glassed-in telephone booths, two men in khaki work clothes and a plump woman and little girl were seated on a long, polished bench. In one of the booths a man was carrying on an earnest conversation, while in the second booth a gray-haired woman looked around impatiently, as if waiting for her call to go through. Above the bench a sign said “Please limit your calls to essentials. Pay charges at Window One.”
The word “essentials” stared at Maggie accusingly. She glared back. She sat on the bench next to the little girl, who was staring at her candidly. She spoke to the woman. “Are you waiting to use the phone?”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “You have to get a telephone use slip over there.” She indicated Window One.
Maggie thanked her and went to the first window at the rear of the room. A thin, bald man rose from a small desk and asked her what she wanted.
“A telephone use slip, please.”
He came to the counter and pulled a printed pad toward him. “What number are you going to call?”
Maggie gave him her mother’s business phone.
“The reason you need to use the phone, please?” he said, pencil poised.
“We-ell, it’s … it’s that I absolutely need to talk to my mother. I haven’t talked to her in two months, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s your mother you want to call? This line is reserved for the town’s use through Mr. Bremmer’s generosity. It is not intended for frivolous purposes.”
“Frivolous!” Maggie’s voice rose. “Frivolous?” All her feelings about what had happened with Cat boiled over in her angry reply. “That’s an absolutely rotten thing to say! What’s frivolous about wanting to talk to my mom?”
“Lower your voice, young lady,” the bald man snapped. “You’ll disturb Mr. Bremmer.”
But it was too late. A door at the back wall flew open and Mr. Bremmer hurried through it. “What have we here, Mr. McNee? A problem? A problem?”
“See what you’ve done?” the man called McNee hissed. “You’ve upset him.”
“It’s your own fault!” Maggie hissed back. “You could’ve been nicer!”
Mr. McNee turned around and said soothingly, “There is no problem, sir. I’m just explaining our policies to this young lady. It seems that she was not aware of them.”
“That’s right, Mr. Bremmer,” Maggie said, leaning over the counter. “I wasn’t aware that Twisted Creek had such mean policies! It’s too nice a place for that. Didn’t you ever miss your mother? Didn’t you ever want to talk to her so badly you could cry?”
Mr. McNee said, “I’ll take care of her, sir. Don’t you bother yourself. I’ll take care of her.” As he spoke, the man who had been in the first booth stepped up to the window, his wallet in hand.
Mr. Bremmer, obviously flustered, looked from his employee to Maggie and back again. “Well,” he said and paused. “Well, no, McNee, you take care of your customer. “I think I know this girl. I’ll talk to her.” He stepped through a door next to the barred windows and signaled Maggie to follow him. They sat on the bench where now only the woman and the girl were waiting. “Yes, yes,” he said, “now I remember. You’re Margaret and you came to tea.”
Margarita, Maggie wanted to say, but decided that this was not the time to correct him. She nodded.
“Well, well,” Mr. Bremmer said, “so you think Twisted Creek’s a fine place, do you?”
“Until today I did.” Then, shaking her head, she added, “That’s not really true. I still love it. But I would like to talk to my mother.”
Mr. Bremmer’s eyes narrowed behind gold-rimmed glasses. “Do you have a problem? Problems are no good. I don’t like problems.”
“Who does?” What a weird man, Maggie thought. He’s afraid of everything. “All right,” she said, getting up, “I’ll be going now. I don’t want to trash your system—or cause you a problem.”
“You don’t want to do what?”
“Mess around with your system,” she said quickly. “You know, your policies. Forget it. I just won’t call my mother.”
Mr. Bremmer let out his breath. “Go on, go on,” he said, pointing to a now empty booth, “call your mother. Keep in mind, young woman, that our policies are made to protect our town from bad influences.” He rose and pointed to a clock high on the back wall. “Brief, be very brief.”
Maggie hurried into the phone booth. After all that struggle, she thought as she punched in her mother’s number, Mom had better be in her office. She was, and her mother’s secretary put her right through.
“Maggie!” her mother said breathlessly. “Are you all right?”
“Everything’s cool, Mom. I didn’t mean to scare you but I … I just felt like talking to you. I can’t talk long. I’m using a phone in the bank. But I guess I just wanted to keep in touch.” She told her about school and about her new friends. Twice she started to tell her about her problem with Cat, but gave up. It would take volumes to explain and she didn’t have the time.
Just before they said good-bye her mother said, “Weren’t you surprised at the announcement in Mim’s letter?”
“What letter? Mail’s awfully slow up here.”
“Oops,” her mother said, “I almost blew it.”
“Blew what?”
“I can’t tell you now, Maggie. I promised.”
Promises. Maggie grimaced. Promises. They were haunting her this week. She glanced up at the clock. “I’d better hang up now, Mom,” she said, fighting back tears. She started to say good-bye, but a fluttering in her throat held the word back.
“Are you all right?” her mother asked.
“Yes, yes, I was just wondering … have you and Jase tried the Italian restaurant on Third Street yet?”
“Not yet,” her mother said. “Why? Are you hungry for Italian?”
“Maybe. I was just thinking … just wondering …”
“I’ll wait to try it with you when you come home.”
“That would be nice, Mom. Oh, oh, I’m getting dirty looks from everyone, so I’d better say good-bye.”
“Good-bye, honey,” her mother said. “I miss you.”
“Me, too,” Maggie said and hung up quickly. She was glad she’d talked to her mother. It was a good thing to do. As for the Mim thing, she’d just have to wait until the letter came. With a little shrug of acceptance, she stepped out of the telephone booth.
At Window One, Mr. McNee had the charges waiting for her. She paid him and said “Thank you” over-sweetly. His thin nose twitched irritably.
Next, she walked around the end of the counter to Mr. Bremmer’s door and knocked. When he said “Come in,” she opened the door halfway. He was almost hidden behind a huge immaculate desk.
Hanging on to the doorknob, she leaned forward and said, “Thanks, Mr. Bremmer. It all went smoothly. There was no problem.”
“Fine, fine,” Mr. Bremmer blustered, rising from his chair. “Essentials only. Remember that.”