“I have no knowledge of this.” Stefan seemed bemused. “I am sorry to be saying I am sorry yet again.”
“Oh well, it must have been lost somewhere along the way. But I think it was important to them. A trophy. The sort of thing you’d want to display in your den if you were a big game hunter. Like a moose’s head.”
“That’s a pretty bizarre analogy,” Fred commented.
Cassie made a wry face. “Give me a break. My head hurts, and all my bones feel like I’ve just been crunched by a boa constrictor. My communication skills are still a little off.”
“On the contrary,” Griffin broke in. He seemed oddly animated. “My dear girl, your communication skills are spot on.”
“Huh?”
“The star amulet. A goddess symbol. It’s given me an idea. A fantastic idea!”
By now they were all staring at him dubiously.
He jumped up and began pacing the room. “I’ll have to get in touch with a few people back at the vault to run the calculations, but I believe we’ll still be in time.” He stopped muttering long enough to notice the reaction of his colleagues and hastened to explain. “Cassie’s words jogged my memory about something. My theory may be far-fetched but if I’m right…” He was beaming now. “By tomorrow, I’ll be able to tell you precisely when and where the soul of the lady will rise!”
Chapter 25 – On Purpose
“Thanks, Gamma. I don’t think I ate anything since lunch.” Zachary wiped his mouth with a napkin and proceeded to lick up every last bread crumb on his plate.
The lemon squares had vanished into the boy’s stomach an hour earlier to be followed by two sandwiches, several dill pickles and a bag of potato chips.
“I can make you another sandwich, dear,” Faye offered. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some chicken salad instead of another mushroom burger?”
“Sorry, Gamma. You know I’m a vegan. Give me enough time, and I’ll convince you to be one too. You wouldn’t believe the way animals are treated in the meat and dairy industry. I could show you pictures that would turn your stomach. Worse than Auschwitz.”
Faye regarded him dispassionately. “I take it you won’t be wanting the chicken salad, then?”
Apparently deciding to proselytize another time, the boy replied, “Those portobellos were pretty good. I think I could manage just one more.” Then he changed the subject entirely. “Sorry if I chased off your friend.” He was alluding to Maddie’s hasty departure. “Who is she, anyway?”
“Oh, just a neighbor.” Faye remained intent on slicing two more pieces of bread. “She came over to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“She didn’t leave with any.”
The old woman shrugged innocently. “She must have forgotten in all the excitement of your arrival.” She placed another grilled portobello mushroom sandwich in front of Zachary.
He fell to devouring it without ceremony. “You’d think she’d be used to your great-grandkids popping over all the time,” he said between mouthfuls.
“She isn’t because they don’t. My progeny is scattered all over the globe. Dropping by for a visit is reserved for major holidays during alternate decades. No, Zachary, your situation is unique. Your parents have the distinction of being the only relatives who live in close proximity to me.”
While she was speaking the boy had managed to consume the rest of his sandwich and several chocolate chip cookies.
“Can I get you anything else?” the old woman asked.
“Got any soy milk?” he asked hopefully.
“I’m sorry, dear. Just cow’s milk, I’m afraid.”
“That’s alright. I’m good for now.” The boy stood up from the table and stretched contentedly. He wasn’t more than five-foot eight, but he towered over Faye. “Just point me someplace where I can crash.”
“You know this is only a temporary solution,” Faye cautioned. “You’ll have to deal with your parents sometime.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but not tonight, OK? No lectures tonight.”
The old woman chuckled. “I remember being a teenager.”
“You do?” Zachary tried not to sound too shocked.
Faye gave an amused smile. “Yes, that long ago. Remarkable that my memory hasn’t failed, isn’t it?” She paused to recollect. “It was a time in my life when there seemed to be far too many rules.”
“And all of them made by somebody else,” her descendent muttered.
“Yes,” Faye agreed quietly. “I believe that was the troublesome part.” She exited the kitchen and gestured for Zachary to follow her. “I suppose the guest room will do. I just changed the bedding.”
“Were you expecting company?” The boy trailed her up the stairs.
“I’m always expecting the unexpected,” she said over her shoulder.
The second story floorboards creaked as she led him to a room at the far end of the hall. Switching on the light, she said, “You can put your things in here.”
The bedroom was set under a dormer at the back of the house, so the ceiling was slanted. The room contained an old-fashioned brass bed, a nightstand, and an antique oak dresser. White lace curtains floated on the evening breeze streaming through the open window.
“Better than Howard Johnson’s.” Zachary tossed his backpack in the corner and flung himself across the mattress. The metal springs rasped under his weight.
Faye stood in the doorway with her arms folded, regarding him silently for several seconds.
Noticing her scrutiny, the boy sat up. “What?”
“Just tell me what triggered this urgent need for freedom.”
“Gamma, do we have to go into that now?” His tone was wheedling.
“Twenty-five words or less.”
“I wanted to do a summer internship with Greenpeace. The fascist dictators I live with said it was too dangerous. All I was going to do was hand out flyers in the city. It’s not like I was trying to stop an illegal whale hunt or jump in front of a baby seal that
