Jill said, “This is what I’ve got so far—do you want to hear?”
Ben and Robert nodded, and she began reading from a document on her iPad.
At approximately two o’clock on Saturday afternoon, firefighters used axes to break open a side door at the Oakes School. They were responding to a 911 call about a fire on the third floor.
But when the fire crew charged up the stairs, they didn’t find a fire.
What they found was a flood.
In the third-floor girls’ room, a pipe had broken, one of those big silver pipes attached to a toilet. It wasn’t clear whether a gasket had failed, or if the old pipe had corroded away. But whatever the cause, one thing was clear: For at least one hour, water had been gushing out at about fifty gallons per minute.
A former Oakes School janitor, a man named Tom Benton, was near the school and noticed the fire trucks. When he learned what the problem was, he went right to the school basement and turned off the main water valve to the building.
There was a large drain in the center of the tile floor in the girls’ room, so only about half of the three-thousand gallon flood had gotten out into the hallway.
Mr. Lyman, the present school janitor, did not respond to his phone or his emergency beeper, so the firefighters and some citizen volunteers who appeared on the scene did what they could to deal with the water. People used mops and buckets, towels from the gymnasium, and two large water vacuums owned by the school.
There was some damage to the wooden floors in the third-floor hallway, and the plaster ceiling in the second floor hallway was also spotted and dripping. Four computers in a lab on the second-floor were destroyed by water.
One of the firefighters said that if it had been Monday morning before the flooding was discovered, the entire basement of the school would have filled up like a swimming pool, and water would have risen up to about three feet in all the rooms on the first floor. Also, most of the ceilings in the second- and first-floor classrooms would have gotten soggy and fallen to the floor, and all the books in the school library would have been destroyed, including the original books left by Captain Oakes. And the Underground Railroad station under the north staircase would have been completely flooded.
The fire chief said that if the flooding had not been stopped when it was, town inspectors probably would have had to declare the whole building unsafe. And certainly, no students would have been permitted inside the building. They would have had to finish the last few days of the school year somewhere else.
And the 911 call that saved the school? It came from an untraceable cell phone.
“So, what do you think?” she asked.
“It’s awesome,” Ben said. He especially liked all the things she’d left out—about how he had called her, and how she had been the one who called 911 and Tom Benton.
Robert nodded in agreement, then said, “Yeah, it’s a good summary, but what’s it for?”
“Well,” Jill said, “at the very least, I can use it as part of our project on the history of the school—it’s a pretty important historical moment, don’t you think? And I thought I might send it to the Edgeport Pennant tomorrow—let them do whatever they want with it—publish it, or just use it for information if they write a story of their own.”
“What do you mean ‘if’!” Ben exclaimed. “You know they’re gonna do a big story about this!”
It was Sunday afternoon and they were sitting on the seawall in front of the school, looking out at the water. It wasn’t really a Keepers meeting—just a chance to catch up about the recent events.
They were also taking a rest, because they were part of a flash mob that the Historical Society and the PTA had organized to help clean up the school before Monday morning—eighty or ninety people had shown up.
Which was good, because there was a lot to do, much more than the school janitors could do on their own. Both Lyman and Wally had worked from Saturday evening until almost two in the morning under the direct supervision of Mr. Telmer, the principal. And they probably had another late night coming up.
The broken pipe had been repaired, and the school’s water system had been checked by a team of plumbers. Every last bit of water had been vacuumed, squeegeed, soaked up, and removed. And now huge industrial fans were all over the school, evaporating the last of the moisture from the floors and walls and ceilings.
Jill said, “I’m not including it in the report, of course, but what did you tell your mom and dad about the race and everything?”
Robert butted in. “I can answer that—Ben told his mommy and daddy that he realized there was no way he was ever going to beat me in a sailing race, so he used this emergency as a way to disqualify himself and save face! Classic move, Pratt!”
“Very funny,” said Ben. “Remember, you’re the idiot who said that the recording I made was useless.” Ben paused a moment, then looked Jill in the eye. “What I told my mom and dad? I told them the truth.”
Jill scrunched up her nose. “You mean . . . ?”
“I mean I told them everything,” Ben said. “I couldn’t keep lying to them about this stuff. I know I didn’t get anyone’s approval, and I’m sorry about that. But I figured, if your dad can be trusted, then my mom and dad can be part of the team too. And I especially had to tell my mom. She had to know about the real estate thing, how Glennley was trying to use her. You should have seen my dad get mad about that—it was great!”
Ben’s face reddened at his own burst of emotion there, but Jill covered for him.
“So . . . her feelings weren’t hurt about it?”
“A little, but she totally got it. And when I told my dad everything about the man who owns the yacht he toured on Friday night? It blew his mind! So anyway, we should tell the others that there are two more Keepers.”
“Um . . . three more Keepers,” said Jill “My dad and I decided that we had to tell my mom—it was his idea. And it took twenty minutes and a lot of photos to convince her we weren’t making it all up just to tease her.”
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Robert snapped. “A real family affair. All I have to do now is tell Gram, and then we can all have a big Keepers of the School family picnic!”
The icy sarcasm chilled the air.
“It’s . . . it’s not like that, Robert—” Ben began.
Robert cut him off.
“Easy for you to say!”
But Jill wasn’t having it.
“Your mom and dad died, Robert—we get it, and we’re sorry, but it’s not our fault. Or your fault either.”
Ben barely breathed, amazed at Jill’s bravery . . . or was she just going for the throat—a killer?
She wasn’t done.
“And you should tell your grandmother, Robert—that’s my vote. Because it is a family thing, all of this is—the school, the harbor, the town, everything we’re trying to protect. And the three of us, too. It’s a family thing, so stop acting like you don’t have one. Because it’s not true.”
It took a moment, but the universe unfroze and then stayed that way.
Robert found it hard to look into their faces.
But he did, and even smiled a little.
“Sorry. And you’re right about the family stuff, all of it. And . . . I want to say something else. No matter how all this turns out in the next week or so, it’s still gonna be one of the best times of my whole life. I’ve never had so much fun . . . and I’ve never had guys like you around either.”
“Like family,” Jill said.
“Exactly,” said Ben, “like family . . . only a lot goofier!”
That didn’t get a big laugh, but it was enough to ease the tension.
Ben said, “Look, we should get back inside and help finish the cleanup. After all, we don’t want our wonderful janitors to get overworked—they’ve got a big week coming up!”
“Hey, look!” said Robert, pointing past the marina piers.
Ben saw a tall sail and immediately recognized the sleek hull of the Jeanneau 57. The yacht was making for Cape Lee, sailing south.
Could Lyman have . . . ?
Turning quickly, Ben scanned the front of the school, and up on the third floor he spotted Lyman and Wally. They stood at the windows of Mrs. Hinman’s room, looking southward.
Then Lyman lowered his gaze and saw Ben staring up at him.
They locked eyes, but just for a moment. Then Lyman did an odd thing. He raised a hand to his forehead and gave Ben a quick salute, navy style.
Almost involuntarily, Ben saluted him back, and Lyman turned and vanished.
“What was that about?” said Robert. He’d seen the whole thing.
“Not sure,” said Ben.
That’s what he told Gerritt.
But Ben knew exactly what those salutes meant.
It was like they were the captains of different ships, complimenting each other after a well-fought battle, recognizing a worthy opponent, a dangerous enemy.
The salutes meant something else as well.
Each of them knew that there would be another battle.
Soon.