The Characters Throw a Launch Party!

“The mirror’s open, yet people are peeking in. What’s up?” Emma Mamsey’s eyes are wide and shining as she looks around our secret garden. The books are closed and readers should be asleep. “Looks like a party. What are we celebrating, Mrs. Breeden?”

“The writer’s launching a website.” Amalie Breeden’s voice runs up and down the scale as she bustles around, getting things ready.

“What’s a website?”

Amalie shrugs. “How should I know? That’s what happens when The Writer mixes up our times. Ask someone from Dancing On Glass, or Walk Back The Cat. They’re much more modern than we are.”

I do wish that Amalie Breeden would quit referring to my granddaughter as The Writer. She does it to annoy me. “Dancing On Glass is set in the 1970’s in New Orleans, so you could ask Amalise Catoir, ” I say, rubbing my hand over my forehead. Amalie Breeden does have that effect on me.

“But that book’s not yet released,” Mrs. Breeden says. “No, better to ask Walk Back The Cat’s people. They’re all over the place jumping from one time period to the other, but at least the Archbishop, Emily, Martin, and Teebo are…for the most part… in the new millennium.”

Emma goes off to look for someone from Walk Back The Cat to find out about this website thing. I smooth my pretty white dress and watch Amalie Breeden flit around, as she always does when she’s expecting company. My spirits lift. This is a party, after all. Whatever a website is, I’m always ready for a good party.

“Who’s invited?” I ask.

She gives me a look. “Why, the readers, of course.”

“I thought they were asleep!” I think about that for a moment. “Well who’s coming from our side of the mirror?”

“Everyone…almost everyone.” Her voice is snappy as she moves about like a spinning top. “Walk Back The Cat will be here soon. I invited Faith On Trial, but Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are so hard to find. They’re busy these days with all the turmoil out there. Don’t think they’ll show up this time…do you?”

“You never know. I’ve met them once or twice. They’re extremely courteous.”

“Are our Dancing On Glass friends coming?” Emma’s back. Mango Tree is early—we’re the only ones here so far.

Mrs. Breeden nods. “Of course. They’re a little shy still, not having been read yet. But they’ll get used to it, once they’re out.” She glances at me. “When did you say they’ll be released?”

“July 1, 2011. Goodness…that’s such a strange thing…time is certainly relative here. We’re all from different decades, even centuries. And here we are in April…uh…”

“…2010.”

“Yes…2010. Well my mind’s still back in the 1920’s.” A smile drifts through me just thinking of those days. “We didn’t have such things as electricity, or ice, or motors…ah, I mean automobiles…in those days in Mango Tree.”

Mrs. Breeden plants her hands on her hips as Phillip Sharp and Amalise Catoir appear from Dancing On Glass. “ I don’t like that man,” she says under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s premature for him to be here anyway, since the book’s not yet released.”

I hold silent, not appreciating the implied criticism of my granddaughter.

“Ah!” Mrs. Breeden perks up. “There’s Jude,” she says, touching her hair. “Just coming in. Now that’s a man.”

I give her a quick look. “He’s Amalise’s,” I say in a sharp tone.

Mrs. Breeden jumps. “Well of course. I didn’t mean…ah…” She casts about for a distraction. Her voice turns bright. “Walk Back The Cat should be here soon, Mrs. Perkins. Emily said she wouldn’t miss this party for the world. And of course where she goes, everyone else in that story tags along.” She turns, fiddles with the flowers on a table filled with party food. “I do like that Teebo, don’t you?” Her eyes slant at me. I know that look.

But I simply agree, given her particular situation. And Teebo’s one of the good ones. But, of course, no one can match my Harvey.

Miss Breeden shimmers off.

“Uh Oh. That gnarly group from Walk Back The Cat has arrived.” Emma Mamsey cranes her neck watching as Harvey holds wide the door and they all stroll in. Or wheel in, in the case of Teebo. Emily’s finally gotten that wheelchair to him, I see. He flips a hand in my direction with that grin of his that always makes me smile.

The Shroud group, Emma, calls them. They’re getting a new look soon, new title and new cover, reformatting, new information for the readers. It will be called Secret of the Shroud. Emily’s been talking about this non-stop and she’s not going to settle down until she’s met the readers, she says. She’s dying to give them the clues, so they’ll figure out the mystery behind that intriguing cloth! The Shroud’s being exhibited to the public in Turin, Italy—a rare event. The exhibition starts in two days, on April 10th, and I know a secret about that cloth.

Actually, it’s in the book if you follow the clues.

I take a seat and fold my hands in my lap, keeping my eyes on that Archbishop. Something about him reminds me of Mr. Breeden. It’s not the looks. They look nothing alike. It’s something else coming from inside…something evil, I believe. He spots me watching and nods. “Good evening, Barbara. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” I say.

“Where’s our writer?” Emily’s voice comes from across the room where she’s talking to that handsome young man, Martin something or other.

“Sleeping, we hope,” TeeBo laughs. “The readers are coming and it’s our time to party now.”

I laugh, too. Really, the Walk Back The Cat people do get along…much better than those of us who live in Mango Tree land, or the ones from Dancing On Glass who live in New Orleans. Although, I must say the Big Easy does keep things lively in that new book. Of course, I’ve lived in exciting cities too—Bangkok, Paris, Rome. I steal a look at Mr. Breeden and his wife standing at the edge of the gathering crowd, balancing cups of tea in their hands and inspecting everyone…yes, inspecting! Perhaps I should consider jumping ship for awhile. Segue from The Moon in the Mango Tree over to Walk Back The Cat for a few days.

I have a laugh at that one. Wouldn’t my granddaughter be surprised?

“Where is she?” Phillip Sharp’s head turns from side to side. His eyes are cold. “I don’t trust that writer.”

My head whips around. I never did like that fellow—not from the moment my granddaughter imagined him. I’m a former suffragette myself; don’t put up with attitudes like his. Amalise Catoir looks my way, as if she can read my thoughts. Phillip Sharp’s a dangerous secretive man. I give her my best smile—she is one strong, determined lady.

“Well he’s a premature infliction, if you ask me, with the book not out yet and all.” Mrs. Breeden sighs. “The Archbishop’s bad enough.” She glances at me from the corner of her eyes, looking for a reaction as she says, “I’ve noticed once The Writer starts thinking, strange new characters start hanging around.”

“We all came from her imagination, I suppose,” Emma says.

“Well there’ll be more soon,” Amalise Catoir says as she executes a perfect pirouette. She wears a knowing smile. “She’s working on a sequel to Dancing On Glass, I happen to know.”

“What if things are the other way around?” I say, looking off. If I didn’t know how convoluted my granddaughter’s mind was, I’d give this thought a bit more time. “What if it’s us that’s real, and the writer is a figment of our imaginations!”

Emma’s brows shoot up. After a beat, a smile slides across her face and suddenly she winks. “We’re behind the mirror, aren’t we? Who knows what can happen.” She turns and whistles, a loud and piercing whistle like she does at Nan, and lifts her hand.

“Hear, hear!” Harvey shouts over the top of the noise. Everyone turns silent.

Mrs. Breeden stands just behind Dr. and Mrs. Ruckles. Mr. Breeden is on the other side of the elderly couple. The Pipples could not come tonight—the doctor’s still unwell. I glance around but don’t yet find Ai Mah and Kham Noi. Emily moves toward Miss Best and slips her arm over the poor woman’s shoulder. Miss Best is shy. Martin and the Archbishop stand at attention, and Teebo straightens in his chair. I spot the Archbishop’s housekeeper, Miss Honeman, in the corner with that little flower girl. Amalise, Phillip, and Jude turn our way. All eyes are shining.

Harvey’s hand fiddles with that bow tie of his. I think again how smart he looks in those tropical whites.

“Our Readers will be here soon,” TeeBo says. He looks around and everyone nods.

“Let the party begin!” Emma shouts.

“Ready. Set?” The Archbishop intones.

Emma then: “Launch our new Site!”

“Laissez le bon temps roullez!” TeeBo shouts, almost levitating out of that chair as he laughs.