24
WE WAKE UP BEFORE THE SUN AND LOAD OUR car with Mom’s supplies. The only words she says to me are orders. “Be careful.” “Don’t jostle that around.” “That’s a box of dishes, not a snow globe.” I make sure I’m the one who carries the red suitcase. She’s bound to notice the difference in weight, and then it’s all over for me and my plan.
Neither of us bring up the argument. I’m still mad, and her bossing me around, plus the orange sweater, only adds to it.
When I roll the suitcase to the trunk she says, “Let me help you with that.”
“I’ve got it,” I say. But as I try to hide how hard it is to lift and gently lower into the trunk, I feel so unsure it must show on my face.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks. But what she really means is whatever’s wrong with me I better just get over it, because she has bigger things to worry about today. So, I say nothing, climb in the back with the boxes instead of the front, and fasten my seat buckle.
“Sure, I don’t mind being the chauffeur, your highness,” Mom grumbles as she gets in, slams her door, and starts the car.
The drive takes even longer because we get stuck behind a tractor for part of the way. I fall asleep and only wake up when Mom says, “We’re here.” She turns and gives me a smile. Either the time driving or her nerves about the competition have softened her mood toward me. I can’t say the same.
I empty the contents of my backpack in the back seat of the car. Maybe I can figure out a way to get Dr. Jon from mom’s case and into my bag, then sneak over to the appraisal. Mom looks at what I’ve done and raises an eyebrow.
“Thought I’d take my empty bag in case we find something we want to buy, then I can carry it in here,” I say.
“Well, I don’t know that we’ll have time to shop.” She pins a flyaway curl back into her bun. “We better head over and start setting up.”
“Okay.” I throw my bag over my shoulder. We unpack the trunk and I grab the red suitcase by the handle.
“Careful with that one. It’s got the centerpiece. Something goes wrong with that and I might as well go home now.”
The Tulsa convention center is a whole lot bigger than the venues we’ve been to before. There are the normal booths of crafts, but there are also food trucks, an indoor farmers market, and even a full-size carousel. Huge banners hang from the metal rafters advertising Collector’s Menagerie and the new show Top Table. Mom smiles when she sees the shock on my face.
“It’s like they moved a whole state fair inside, isn’t it?” she asks.
I only nod and move out of the way of a couple of Mandalorians, followed by a rolling cart topped with two cats in Victorian gowns pushed by a woman dressed to match.
“Whoa,” I say. “I hope those guys aren’t on one of the tables.”
Mom laughs. “There’s some sort of cat show and costume competition in here too. Being so close to Halloween, I imagine we’ll see quite a few costumes today.”
We approach a wide-open entrance with turnstiles and doormen all wearing dark blue shirts and hats with a familiar golden logo. There’s a banner bearing a tagline I instantly recognize:
COLLECTOR’S MENAGERIE: SHARE YOUR TREASURES WITH THE WORLD.
Mom puts a hand on my shoulder. “When we’re done setting up maybe we’ll have time to poke around.”
I swallow hard and manage to nod.
Mom checks her paperwork. “We need to find table thirteen. Yikes, thirteen.”
“Well, it is the day before Halloween. So, maybe thirteen is lucky today.”
Mom gives me a doubtful look as I catch a glimpse of a sign for tablescaping and a familiar roped-off area full of empty tables. I point just as Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel walk by. “Let’s take that as a good sign,” I say.
Mom laughs. “I sure hope you’re right.”
We find table 13 and wheel over our suitcases. Mom scans her table and even leans over to eyeball it up close, making sure it’s level. She brushes her hand across the top, and after a deep breath, says, “Well, let’s get to it.”
I stand there trying to think up some reason to get her away from the table long enough for me to get Dr. Jon into my backpack. Then I could just say I need to go to the bathroom, rush over to the Main Hall, get Dr. Jon appraised, and be back before she even knows I’m gone. It’s not a great plan, but it’s all I’ve got.
Or I could tell her. Maybe she’d even come with me?
I reach for the dinner plates.
“Careful, those are handmade to look like worn stoneware. I want to hold off on putting them out until I get the hay down.” At the mention of hay, my heart stops.
She pulls out a big bag of hay, the kind they sell for guinea pigs and rabbits at the pet store. For a moment, I’m relieved, but then she says, “I also have seven tiny hay bales that form a little pyramid under the centerpiece. They make it just the right height. It’s going to be sheer perfection.” Mom squeezes her hands under her chin. “The boots weren’t going to work, and then I found those miniature bales in the Halloween department at the hardware store. It was fate. Those little hay bales solved all my problems.”
I’m frozen, standing there holding one of her handmade plates. She’s talking about the hay around the boots, the hay that I took out so Dr. Jon would fit in the suitcase, the hay that is right now sitting under our dining room table over an hour away. “Those weren’t just packing so the boots wouldn’t shift around?” I ask.
Mom is focused on sprinkling hay. “Oh no, those saved my centerpiece. I thought I was going to have to start from scratch. No, this time I didn’t have to use nearly as much Bubble Wrap, with all this hay.” Mom laughs.
The next few minutes pass like I’m underwater, like I just need to break the surface, take a deep breath, and tell Mom what I’ve done. What have I done? Because I wanted to get money, to sell Grampa’s heart find, I’ve cost Mom a win she’s been working toward for years.
Mom starts to unwrap her showstopper. I take a deep breath. “Mom, I have something to tell you.”
She holds a hand up. “Wait, me first. I made this as a surprise for you.”
She pulls away the last piece of packing paper. It’s an antique window complete with peeling paint and a country scene affixed to the back of the panes so that when it sits on the edge of the table there’s a view looking out into a field. It’s sort of brilliant, but also familiar.
“What do you think?” she asks. “I borrowed it from Grampa’s backyard. I thought it might be nice to have a little bit of his energy here for good luck. Plus, it’s what you’ve always suggested, working in pieces with some character and heart. I think I finally understand why it’s special for you two.”
“I love it,” I say, and for once, I mean it. “It’s perfect.”
Mom smiles. “Maybe even better than perfect?”
I nod and my eyes fill with tears. Mom steps toward me and hands over a paper towel. “Oh now, don’t overreact.”
“Mom—” She interrupts me again and dangles something in my face that looks like the snaps from a pair of short suspenders.
“These are the napkin holders! I ordered a pair of toddler overalls and cut the straps off. A genius move, if I do say so myself.”
Speaking of genius moves, I accidentally left part of your decorations so that I could bring along something I stole from Grampa, hoping we can take the money and bring Grampa back home. Nope, that’s not going to work.
Mom, I was wrong. Your tables are like a collection. And I’m sorry I didn’t see it before now. Before I ruined everything. That’s a start.
I open my mouth just as Mom reaches for the red suitcase.
She looks up at me, still smiling over her napkin holders when her eyes narrow a little. “How did you know I had hay packed around my centerpiece?”
We both see a flash of sequins at the same time. Lorna Diamond, dressed in her signature glitz, makes her way through the tables, catching light like a walking disco ball, and heads straight for us.
Lorna walks right up to Mom and says, “I want to apologize for my behavior at our last competition. You created a divine table that deserved the win. I acted like a spoiled child, and I’m sorry.”
Mom is so shocked she’s not even bothering to hide it. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she’s able to reply. “Well, thank you for that, Lorna.”
Lorna nods as I hear Mom unlatch the suitcase and open it.
“Wait,” I manage to get out before Mom gasps. Lorna peeks around the open suitcase and gasps too.