It was a thick, muggy afternoon at the rind of August, and the Swifts were in the middle of a heat wave.

The month had moved slow and heavy, dragging its feet on the way to September. The hedge maze was yellowing. Midges skittered on the surface of the lake. There were more types of small, annoying flies present than the world could possibly have use for. Occasionally, a fish would rise to the surface and kindly reduce the population by one.

Shenanigan floated on the lake like a pond skater, too big for any fish, but still quite small for her age. She was enjoying the contrast between having a warm front and a cold back, right between the sun and the water. She was also waiting.

Soon enough, she heard the thump of medium-sized feet on the pier.

“You solved my riddle!” Shenanigan said happily.

Phenomena squinted at her in the bright sun. “It wasn’t hard,” she said flatly. “Come to the place that rhymes with ‘fake.’ Bring a towel.”

“I got your microscope back,” Shenanigan said, pointing to a muddy object on the end of the pier, festooned with pondweed.

“Thanks, but it’s hardly going to be of any use now,” sighed Phenomena, inspecting it. “There’s algae in the lenses.”

“Then keep it as an objet d’art,” said Shenanigan, kicking one foot so that she spun lazily.

“Ugh, you’re somehow more annoying in French,” said Felicity, holding her elegant sun hat on her head with one hand, and folding herself onto the pier next to Phenomena. She took out a fan and began waving it. “Ouf! Il fait chaud. If you’ve brought us out here to clap while you do something dangerous and stupid, I’ll be very annoyed.”

“You don’t have to clap,” said Shenanigan. Felicity huffed, but her mood brightened when Cook turned up with a gallon jug of fresh lemonade balanced on one shoulder. Aunt Schadenfreude was in tow with her parasol, one finger keeping the place in her book—something with a handsome vampire on the cover this time. Erf hurried across the lawn a few minutes later. Out of respect for the heat, their knitwear had been discarded in favor of a huge tie-dyed T-shirt they and Shenanigan had made in a bathtub a few days ago.

“Sorry I took so long,” they said, gulping lemonade. “Overthought the riddle. I thought, she can’t possibly mean lake—that’s too easy. Maybe she put fake because it’s a fake-out, and the towel is the real clue. So I’ve been checking all the bathrooms. Listen, you lot have too many bathrooms.”

Fauna was last. “I’m beginning to regret introducing this system,” she said. “Is this all of us, Shenanigan?”

It was. The rest of the Family were still shuffled about the world. Inheritance was assisting the Martinets with collecting letters, receipts, and documents of sale that would help in tracking down the pieces of the Martinet collection that had already been sold. Maelstrom wasn’t back from his voyage around the world with Rousseau, though he called when he could, and sent long letters with photographs tucked in the envelopes. He did not send postcards. Shenanigan missed him terribly, and sometimes in the night she worried that he would never come back. When that happened, her hand went to the string round her neck, and she held tight to the coat button he had given her, the one with the martlet on it.

Swifts land to raise a family, she told herself.

John the Cat was not present, but that was because he was not very good at riddles.

Shenanigan dropped out of her starfish position and started treading water, shaking the wet hair out of her eyes and lightly showering Felicity and Erf.

“People of Swift House,” she said grandly, channeling Pomme, “I have brought you here today to witness a momentous occasion. Not only are you about to see a great mystery solved, but perhaps you will also see the first step to righting a great injustice.” She had thought hard about this as she practiced her diving through the long days of summer. The conclusion she had come to was that there were more secrets in the world than the world could possibly have use for, and she could reduce the population by at least one.

“I beg only a few minutes of your patience,” she said. “All will become clear!”

Shenanigan took several deep breaths, in and out, oxygenating her blood. The trick was to not overfill the lungs. The trick was to not count the seconds. The trick was to not ever entertain the possibility of drowning.

She dove. On the pier and the surrounding grassy bank, her Family leaned forwards. Felicity’s fan slowed to a stop. All of them anxiously watched the water.

When Shenanigan broke the surface again, she had a gold coin as thick as a gingersnap clutched in her fist.

The
END