children and the expected guests (extra chairs had been brought from all over the house). Moocho Brazos was busily setting out plates, pots of coffee and tea, and pitchers of milk. “Five minutes,” he said when the children came in. “Also, Mr. Washington, if you get a chance . . .” He handed Sticky’s father a doorknob. “I’m sorry, these old things with their weak screws —”
“Never mind,” said Mr. Washington. “I’ll have it back on in a jiffy.”
Moocho thanked him and went back into the kitchen.
“Isn’t that the second doorknob of the day?” asked Mrs. Washington.
“I believe he’s as excited as the rest of us,” said Rhonda, rising to greet the children with warm hugs, just as she’d done a hundred times since their return. “After all those days of worry, every day without it feels like a celebration!”
Constance waved her arms madly about as if being attacked by bees, but Rhonda managed to hug her regardless.
“If you think you’re excited
Rhonda cleared her throat. “I, um, just checked on him, Kate. He’s still asleep.”
“Still? Is it real sleep or is he pretending again, do you think?”
Rhonda exchanged glances with Mr. Benedict, who remained inscrutably silent. A few days before, Milligan had returned from the hospital to rest and heal in Mr. Benedict’s house. He was in a fairly mummified state, all bandages and casts, and was unable to leave his bed, but he could not have had more attentive nurses — or more nurses, period — than his friends and family in the house. What was more, the children were attempting to keep Milligan entertained by talking to him, singing to him, reading to him (Constance recited several poems, including one called “A Slight Misjudgment in the Darkness”), and even performing skits. They’d been doing this ever since his return, more or less without interruption, and Milligan had taken to pretending he was asleep in order to get some peace.
“I suppose I might have seen him peeking at me a little,” Rhonda admitted. “But you know it’s for —”
“Oh, good grief,” interrupted Kate, already at the door. “He won’t want to miss Moocho’s
Reynie took a chair between Miss Perumal and her mother, both of whom patted him affectionately. They couldn’t have him close enough these days — Miss Perumal looked anxious every time he left the room — and Reynie had been patted so often he worried he might be ground to dust. (“Consider yourself lucky,” Miss Perumal had said the day before, when he’d jokingly complained about it, “that the pats aren’t significantly
Across the table, Constance had taken a chair next to Mr. Benedict, and making a sly grab for the sugar bowl (which Rhonda quickly slid out of reach), she announced that Captain Noland and Cannonball had just arrived. The Washingtons and Perumals looked at her curiously, for it seemed impossible that she could know this, and Miss Perumal’s mother said in a too-loud voice that she must have misheard what Constance said — was it something about lowlands and cannonballs? — but Sticky went straight to the window. He saw an annoyed-looking Mr. Bane scraping falcon droppings from the gate, and Madge perched in the elm tree looking satisfied, but no captain or Cannonball. Drawing a chair to the window (because of his bandaged hands, he had to hug it awkwardly between his arms), Sticky climbed up for a better view.
“I don’t see them,” he said finally.
“Oh, they’re already inside,” Constance said. “Mr. Bane let them in. He wasn’t happy about it, either, but I suppose Mr. Benedict told him he must.”
“I did indeed,” said Mr. Benedict.
Sticky scowled. “You let me drag this chair over and stare all around even though you knew they weren’t outside? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was funny to see you do it,” Constance said.
The Perumals and Mr. Washington were looking more and more confused by all this, but Mrs. Washington was distracted by Sticky’s risk-taking behavior. “Do get down from there before you fall,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “You make me so nervous.”
Sticky started to argue, thought better of it, and finally sighed and stepped down from the chair just as Captain Noland and Cannonball appeared in the dining room doorway. They were welcomed with a great deal of enthusiasm, which the men gladly returned. Indeed, Cannonball’s natural enthusiasm overpowered everyone else’s, and by the time they were all seated again, Sticky was wearing Cannonball’s cap and Reynie’s hair was frightfully mussed from tousling. Miss Perumal, having heard of the captain’s love of coffee, had already set him a cup of Moocho Brazos’s gourmet brew. Captain Noland expressed his thanks and lost no time in taking a sip. He smiled — it was a very strained smile, Reynie thought — and set the cup carefully back onto its saucer. Still smiling, the captain twitched, swallowed, and politely commented upon the coffee’s excellence. He did not touch his cup again.
After some moments of friendly, boisterous conversation, Mr. Benedict tapped his teacup with a spoon. “Will you all please turn your attention to Phil? I understand he’s pressed for time, and he has a few things he wants to say before he goes.”
Captain Noland looked up and down the table. For a man who had just wrecked his ship — and, as a result, his cherished career — he seemed perfectly happy, even exuberant. At the same time, there was a hint of sheepishness in his manner, which was quickly explained when he said, “If you will indulge me, everyone, I have some apologies to make — apologies and explanations. Especially to you, Reynie. I’m afraid once we were aboard the patrol boats there was too much confusion for us to talk. I’m very glad to have the chance now. Ah, and here’s Kate, just in time!”
Kate had entered the room frowning — she’d failed to wake Milligan up from his “sleep” — but she brightened when she saw Captain Noland and Cannonball. After a hearty exchange of greetings, she took her seat, and the captain resumed his speech.
He looked at each of the children in turn. “I realize how distressed you all must have been when you reached the bay shore and the
