like fingers. But her words blew all the fear right out of me.
“What do you know about my mama?”
“More than you could begin to guess.” Mrs. Hopper stepped forward. Jack made a little noise in his throat and tried to back up again, but between one blink and the next, Mrs. Hopper was beside him with her hand, her hook, around his wrist.
“I’ll just take this sweet boy here, so you don’t have any distractions while you’re getting our supper ready.”
Whatever happened later, I will say this about Jack Holland-he had nerve. With that giant Hopper holding his wrist, he kept his head. “But I’ve got to get back to the store, ma’am,” he said, his voice tight as he tried to keep it from shaking. “There’s some stuff Callie needs.”
“That’s right!” I yelped.
“How thoughtful!” Mrs. Hopper patted his cheek. I thought Jack might faint. I sure wanted to. “But I know Callie can handle all of that sort of thing. You come along with me. I want to introduce you to my sons.”
The helpless look Jack threw me over his shoulder as she dragged him out sank straight into my stomach. The door flapped back and forth behind them, and I couldn’t move. The Hoppers had him and they were still hungry.
I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw red and gold inside my lids. I had to think. I had to see what I had and use it. I had to, because otherwise… otherwise…
I couldn’t think about otherwise. I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was the heap of vegetables Jack had cut up. Ridiculously I thought I’d better get the potatoes in the pan before they turned brown. Past the counter, I saw the housekeeper’s desk, and the hook board with the spare keys.
The keys.
They weren’t just room keys; they were all the downstairs keys too. Including the key to the ladies’ parlor.
I’d seen how the Hoppers ate. They hadn’t paid attention to anything else while they were stuffing their faces. I’d make a pile of food. A whole great big mess of food. Then, while they were eating, Jack and I could sneak out and I’d lock them in and we’d run.
I felt better with a plan. Not a lot, but better enough that I could start moving and keep ahead of the part of me that wouldn’t stop screaming.
I sizzled up the salt pork in the old cast-iron Dutch oven, poured in the beans, and put that on the back burner to heat slowly. I made up the biscuits and got them in the oven. I cut bread into cubes, mixed in sugar and condensed milk, and put that in one of the other ovens. I cooked down the onions, carrots, and potatoes Jack had cut up in one of the big soup pots. I dumped in the clams and juice, got all that hot, and then poured in tomato soup and water. I lost track of time. Sweat ran in rivers down my face. I was close to worn out from heavy work and heat, but I didn’t dare stop. If I stopped, the fear would catch back up with me and I wouldn’t be able to do anything at all, even run. I sliced off thick ham steaks and put them in a pan and poured one of the nickel Cokes over them to make the glaze. I brewed coffee and used some of it for redeye gravy.
I could have fed the entire population of Slow Run with all this. I just had to hope it would hold the Hoppers long enough for me and Jack to get away.
“Oh, Callie!”
I jumped. The spoon shot out of my hand and hit the ceiling, then the floor, spattering gravy everywhere.
“I’m sorry, Callie, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Mrs. Hopper’s antennae waved in two directions at once, tracking the slick brown splatters. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve moved over to the main dining room. So comfortable and charming.”
The Moonlight Room. The Hoppers were in the Moonlight Room. My favorite place, the last place I’d seen Mama, and now it was full of Hoppers…
“Is that a problem, Callie?” She tilted her head, waiting patiently. Waiting to see if I’d do something stupid.
“No, ma’am.” Fear dug in, urging me to take a chance with my plan. “Could you… could Jack come and help me, please? There’s going to be a lot to carry, and I don’t want the food to get cold.”
“But sweet, sweet Jack’s looking so tired. I’ll send Letitia in to help, how’s that?” She didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t see her go, she moved so fast. There was just the door flapping.
It didn’t matter. My heart sank right through the floor. I’d ruined my whole plan. I’d have Letitia right behind me while I was serving. She wouldn’t be joining the others at the table if she was keeping an eye on me. What was I going to do now?
“I hope you eat yourselves sick,” I muttered, clutching the spoon tight. “I hope you choke, you…”
I stopped.
I had to be fast. I ran out the back door, into the narrow side hall that led to the bathroom. In the bathroom was a medicine cabinet. Mama kept a stock of useful stuff in that cabinet for guests with emergencies. There were bandages and aspirin, but also bottles of milk of magnesia and Pepto-Bismol, in case you needed to hold something down, and syrup of ipecac, in case you needed to bring something back up.
I stuffed the ipecac into my apron pocket and ran back to the kitchen.
“There you are.” Letitia folded her arms. I didn’t think it was just the breeze from the door that made her sash ends wave. I didn’t look too hard. “I thought maybe you ran out on us and your little friend.”
“Just had to use the water closet,” I muttered, going around the far side of the counter to get back to the stove.
Letitia made a delicate face. Then she leaned over the stove and sniffed at my gravy. “This better be good. My parents are
The back of my brain tried to tell me what that meant. I told it to be quiet. “It’ll only be another minute.” I picked up the wooden spoon, stirred the chowder, and tasted. “You can go tell them.”
She wrinkled up her borrowed nose. “Nice try, but I’m staying right here.” She stomped her foot. “My parents think you won’t light out on that skinny little boy, but I’m not so sure.”
“Then can you get the tureen off the shelf?” I pointed. “This is ready.”
She snorted, but she did it. As soon as her back was turned, I yanked the stopper out of the ipecac bottle and emptied the whole thing into the bubbling pot.
“Anything else,
“Thank you.” I poured the chowder in, careful not to spill a single drop. “That should do fine.”
8
With Letitia Hopper marching behind me, I carried that tureen full of ipecac-laced chowder into the dim and dusty Moonlight Room.
The Hoppers ringed a table in the exact center of the room. They’d stuffed Jack between Mr. Hopper and the oldest boy, Hunter. Hunter’s jaws moved like he was chewing a wad of gum, and he had one arm draped around Jack’s shoulders. Jack had turned a nasty shade of green, but he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow his panic as I set the tureen down. I shook my head just a little as I lifted the tureen lid, releasing the salt-and-tomato smell of my improvised chowder.
“Excellent!” Mr. Hopper inhaled deeply. Hunter smacked his lips. William burped, and little Clarinda giggled.
That was when I realized the dust cloths that had covered the tables and chairs were gone. All of them. Even the dust sheet we’d dropped beside Papa’s piano had vanished.
Mrs. Hopper glared at her children as she shook out her napkin and smoothed it daintily over her lap. None of
