“COME ON, LET’S TRY TO HAVE A NICE SUPPER,” GRACE’S MOM COAXED, giving her a searching look. “I made your favourite…”
Grace let out a deep breath and nodded. Maybe she could turn this situation around and find out what Stanley was doing here. Remembering her nana’s favourite saying, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, she vowed to be on her best behaviour.
That lasted about thirty seconds—until the moment she saw Rick Stanley walking toward her dad’s chair at the dining room table. He’s not getting that chair, too! Grace thought to herself. Before she realized it, she’d slipped in behind him just as he was about to sit down.
“Sorry, my chair,” Grace said.
Stanley jumped up, banging his knee against the table. “Whoa! I didn’t see you.”
Grace’s mother shot her a withering stare. “Your chair?”
“It is now,” Grace said.
“No problem,” Stanley chortled. “There are lots of seats.” He pulled the place setting from Grace’s usual seat to the one beside her mother.
Grace’s mom proceeded to load their plates with steaming heaps of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and carrots. Grace lathered butter on a scone and took a bite. It was nothing like her nana’s—it was hard as a rock! Her mom’s cooking was awful, the rare times she even tried it. Thank goodness boiled dinner was bad-cook-proof.
Crunching on the tough biscuit, Grace watched Rick Stanley as he ate. It was disappointing. He acted very normal and boring, not at all like a criminal. She felt like her chance to get answers out of him was slipping away. Suddenly, she remembered the expensive-looking sports car in the driveway. “I like your car,” she blurted out.
Stanley beamed. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? The only one on the island, the dealer told me.”
“Wow!” Grace said. “You must have won the lotto or something.”
Stanley chuckled. “I wish.”
“All my dad ever had was an old pickup. I guess the fossil museum pays way better than it used to.”
Grace’s mom gasped into her wine glass. “Grace!”
Stanley’s face went bright red. “No, that’s okay. I, uh, just came into some money. A relative passed away…”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Grace’s mom said.
“It’s all right. It was a…distant relative.” He grabbed the serving bowl and scooped out a second helping of boiled dinner. “This is delicious, Pat. It’s been a long time since I had good corned beef.”
“My pleasure,” Grace’s mom said, sipping her wine. “It’s nice to have company again.”
For Grace, dinner seemed to go on forever. Stanley was asking her mom all kinds of questions about how she was feeling, what had she been doing, how things were going—blah, blah, blah. He didn’t even flinch when he bit into one of the cement scones, not even a twitch! He was putting on the nice-guy act and she’d had enough.
“Who was it?”
Stanley stared blankly at Grace. “Who was what?”
“Your relative?”
“Oh. Ah, it was an aunt, a great aunt…on my father’s side.”
“What was her name?” Grace asked, putting on her sweetest smile. “Did she live around here?”
“Grace.” Her mom’s voice was raised to the watch it level.
“No, no. That’s okay.” Stanley held Grace’s gaze. “It was Great Aunt Beatrice. She lived in Baddeck.” He patted his shirt pocket and stood up abruptly. “I think I left my cell in the car and I need to make a quick call. Excuse me, ladies? I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, of course,” Grace’s mom said.
Grace watched Stanley from under her lashes. She could have sworn he gave her a dirty look as he passed by, but it disappeared almost immediately. Was she imagining things?
Grace’s mom frowned at her across the table. “What are you up to?”
“What did I do?”
“You know perfectly well!” she scolded. “What’s all this third-degree business?”
“I was just making conversation.”
“Hmm…well, we could do with a little less of that from here on in,” she said. “I’ll just finish up here and then we’ll get the tea on for dessert as soon as Rick gets back.”
Grace broke up pieces of her uneaten biscuit with her fork.
“A bit tough, weren’t they?”
“Just a little,” Grace said. More like frozen hockey pucks!
Her mom shrugged. “At least the corned beef was tender.”
Grace nodded, deciding not to mention that the vegetables must have boiled forever—they were so waterlogged that they disintegrated as soon as she touched them with her fork.
Grace and her mom waited…and waited. It seemed like Stanley had been gone for ages. Grace wiggled impatiently in her chair. Who would he be talking to all this time? Men never talked on the phone longer than they had to. Not her dad, anyway. Jeeter either. She grabbed the empty serving dish on the table. “I’ll get the dessert.”
Grace walked through the swinging door into the kitchen and froze. Rick Stanley was standing by the open doorway of the basement. She couldn’t tell if he was going down or coming back up.
“What are you doing?”
Stanley spun around. “Uh, looking for the bathroom.”
“That’s the basement! Bathroom’s here.” She jabbed her elbow at the open door to her left.
“My mistake,” he murmured. He glanced down into the dark cavern of the basement. “Your light is out.”
Grace’s mom entered the kitchen as Stanley finished speaking, catching the end of what he had said. She rushed over to the open basement door and shut it. “We don’t go down there…Jonathan’s office is in the basement…” she trailed off.
“Oh.” He nodded sympathetically. “That’s right—I think you may have mentioned that when we talked before. I can fix that light, if you like.”
“I, um…no, thank you,” Grace’s mom replied. “Not right now.”
“You know,” Stanley added, stroking his chin, “if you’re putting off going down there because you don’t know what to do with everything, I could help you sort it out.”
“Go through his things?” Grace’s mother looked shocked. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
“I understand,” he said. “It’s just that there could be fossils or documents that Jonathan may have wanted to go to the museum.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Grace’s mom leaned against the basement door.
“He sure loved the museum,” Stanley added, his voice softer.
“Yes, he certainly did.” Grace’s mom’s eyes glazed over. She wrapped her arms around herself, like she had a chill.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fix that light anyway?” he asked, reaching for the doorknob.
Grace’s Spidey senses were tingling. Stanley seemed determined to get into the basement for some reason. “No!” she cried.
The exclamation startled Grace’s mom out of her trance. “Thank you, Rick,” she said firmly, “but we can do that another day, perhaps. There’s no hurry, since we don’t go down there.”
“No problem.” His hand lingered on the doorknob. “Call me when you’re ready. I can help.”
“I know I can’t put it off forever. But I locked it after….” she trailed off. “For the life of me, I can’t remember where I put the key. I’ll have to find it first.”
“Sure,” Stanley said understandingly. “Just let me know if you need some help.”
She nodded. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?”
“Thanks, Pat,” Stanley said, “but I couldn’t eat another bite. Not after two helpings of dinner.” He patted his stomach. “I should get going.”
“Well, it was good of you to come by,” Grace’s mom replied. “We really appreciate your concern for us. You’re always welcome here.”
“I’ll be sure to take you up on that.” Stanley turned to Grace. “Take it easy, kid. Drop by the museum anytime.”
Grace attempted a smile, but she was sure all she’d managed was a grimace—if her mom’s frown was any indication. But she couldn’t help it.
After Stanley left, Grace’s mom made her help with the cleanup. Every second seemed like an hour. She had to tell Fred, Mai, and Jeeter about Stanley.
Finally in her room, Grace fumed at her dead walkie-talkie and slapped it into the charger. Her mom was now sitting by the phone in the living room, so she couldn’t call anyone for a private conversation.
The fossil museum was her dad’s creation and here Stanley was, acting like he owned it! Plus, he’d tried to sneak into her dad’s office—hadn’t he? Her mom would say her imagination was going wild. But why else would he want to go down into their grungy old basement? What was he after?