chapter 25

“Mrs. who?” Nadine asked, but I didn’t know.

All this time, ten years, those letters had been in the corner of the quilt, like a secret.

I wasn’t too happy that it was Nadine instead of me who’d found those letters. I’d overlooked a big clue. Didn’t make me much of an investigative reporter, did it?

I’d let myself get sidetracked, searching for those missing animals instead of for my mama. Well, that was all going to change, but good.

Why hadn’t my mama put her last name on the quilt, too? Had she been in such a hurry that she’d only had time to sew Mrs.? Right now, it didn’t seem like much of a clue, but it did mean that whoever had left me was married.

Peddler Jenny had been married. But I didn’t know her last name, and I was beginning to realize how hard it is to track down someone if you don’t know their last name, but at least I had Nadine helping me out now.

If I hadn’t known about Mr. and Mrs. Tilton getting a divorce, the evening would have been perfect. Nadine and I built a bonfire on the shore, and we roasted hot dogs on sticks, and then marshmallows to make s’mores, and watched as a few shooting stars zipped across the sky. It was just like old times, and I hated going home, afraid to break the spell.

After chores the next morning, I met up with Nadine, and we rode Dolly into town to talk to Mr. Gilpin. Nadine wasn’t her usual talkative self, but I chalked it up to all the excitement of yesterday.

“After we ask Mr. Gilpin about you writing the column for me,” I said to her over my shoulder, “maybe we could look through old copies of the paper for more information.”

Nadine didn’t answer right off, and when she did, it was with a question.

“If you do find out who your mama is, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Go meet her, I guess,” I said. “I want to know why she left me in Hannah’s kettle.”

Nadine frowned.

“But you aren’t thinking of leaving Hannah, are you?” she said. “That just wouldn’t be right.”

I should have known all that good feeling between us last night couldn’t last. Who was she, with her perfect family, to be telling me what was right or not?

“You see, I was thinking more about your mama last night, after you left,” Nadine went on. “I’m not sure you should be looking for her.”

What?

“It would be wrong to leave Hannah,” Nadine said. “Besides, your mama hasn’t come back for you, has she?”

Her words stung me. I thought friends were supposed to support you no matter what. I wished I hadn’t told Nadine after all.

“Don’t you think that if she was coming back, she would have done it by now?” Nadine said.

That took my breath away. I managed to nod.

“Good,” Nadine said. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now, let’s go talk to Mr. Gilpin about the column.”

The rest of the ride into town, Nadine prattled on about the queen’s coronation, but I didn’t even listen. I kept thinking about what she’d said. Was she right? Was it wrong of me to be looking for my mama?

“How’s Hannah doing?” Mr. Gilpin asked, first thing.

“She’s sure not taking it easy,” I answered. “She was up at four o’clock baking, and I—” I was going to tell him about all the extra deliveries I had to do, but Nadine interrupted.

“Blue has something she wants to ask you,” she said.

I thought that was rude of her to interrupt, but I reminded myself that she was helping me out with my column.

“If it’s all right with you, Nadine said she’d write my columns for me,” I said. “Just till Hannah’s better.”

Mr. Gilpin looked at Nadine and then at me.

“Can she write?” he asked me, but Nadine jumped in.

“I write for the school newspaper back home,” she said. “Actually, Mr. Gilpin, I’m a much better writer than Blue is.”

I glowered at her, but she didn’t look my way.

“Well,” said Mr. Gilpin. “I don’t know about that, but Blue does have a lot on her plate right now. If it’s all right with her, I guess it’s all right with me. We’ll see how you do.”

Nadine pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket.

“Actually, I’ve already got it done,” Nadine said. “And I’m partly done with next week’s column as well.”

Yesterday, having Nadine write my column had seemed like a weight off my shoulders. So why did it feel like a stab in the back today?

When the paper came out on Thursday, people started talking about Nadine’s column. Even Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Allard.

I walked into the Monitor office just as Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Allard were leaving. They both nodded at me but kept on talking.

“I can’t believe she actually used the word catanadromous,” Mr. Allard said. “I consider myself an educated man, but even I had to look that one up.”

“Nothing wrong with educating the public by developing their vocabulary,” Mr. Gilpin said.

I went straight to Mr. Gilpin’s dictionary, which was already open to the right page. I wondered if Mr. Gilpin had had to look it up, too.

“Cat-a-nad-ro-mous, adj. referring to fish that go from salt water to freshwater every year to lay their eggs.”

Hmph, I thought. Anybody can look up words in a dictionary. Doesn’t make them writers.

Nadine was too busy finishing up next week’s column in the evenings to go swimming, or make s’mores, or watch fireflies.

“Well, I’d like to, Blue, really I would,” she said, “but I’ve just got too much to do to make this column something people will want to read.” Which was an insult no matter how you looked at it.

The second week, Nadine used the words glossophagine (“taking food with the tongue, like a frog or an anteater”), atrabilarious (“feeling melancholy”), testudineous (“slow-moving like a turtle”), susurrus (“a whispering sound”), and ranine (“pertaining to frogs”) all in the same paragraph!

“Nadine’s supposed to be writing about people,” I told Cat. “Not fish, turtles, and frogs. She’s not writing a nature book, for Pete’s sake.” But I knew if I said anything to Nadine, she’d just get mad.

On my deliveries, I heard other people talking about Nadine’s columns, too.

“It’s been years since I’d used my dictionary for anything other than a doorstop,” Mr. Moulton said.

Riding past the river one day, I saw Mr. Hazelton standing knee-deep in the water, fly-fishing. He grinned and waved.

“Trying to catch me one of those catanadromous fish,” he said.

Nobody had talked about my columns that way. It looked like Nadine was doing a better job than I had.

I could tell Mr. Gilpin was glad to have her there, too, because he told me, “Don’t worry about the column. You’ve got enough to handle right now.”

He might as well have said, Don’t bother coming back to work.

It had taken about two minutes for Nadine to step in and replace me. Even with knowing her folks were getting a divorce, I was finding it hard to feel sorry for Nadine.

I fussed about it with Cat.

“Who does she think she is?” I asked her.

Cat twitched her tail.

“Maybe she is a good writer,” I said. “But she didn’t have to steal my column.”

I made up my mind right then and there that I was going to keep looking for my mama, but I wasn’t going to talk anymore with Nadine about it. I’d let her think I’d given up on the idea. I was determined to get to Barre, too, one way or the other.