After the police left, Adam helped his uncle patch up the window temporarily with cardboard and duct tape. They swept up the broken glass pieces, scraped away the wax, and cleaned up the smashed cakes.
“The bakery will have to remain closed until the window’s fixed,” said Uncle Henry. He shook his head and muttered, “Why would anyone do this?”
Adam knew why, of course. He swallowed. “Uncle Henry, I have to tell you something.”
Adam went upstairs and returned with the snow globe. He told his uncle all about the magic behind the snow globe, about the crazy adventures he’d had, and the people he’d encountered. He told him about meeting Francine the candle seller, and about the town where the candle factory had stood. He told his uncle about Jack and their trip to New York City in 1968. He told him his suspicion that it was M who’d vandalized the bakery that night, in search of the snow globe. Uncle Henry listened quietly and did not interrupt.
Finally, once Adam finished, Uncle Henry said gently, “Your parents were natural explorers, Adam. It wouldn’t surprise me if you inherited some of that, and went traveling in your dreams.”
Adam’s mouth fell open. “These weren’t dreams! Candlewick is a real town! Or was!”
“I’ve also traveled to real places in my dreams. You say these travels happen only at night?”
“Not the first time!” said Adam, catching Uncle Henry’s knowing eyebrow raise. “That time was in the afternoon.”
Even so, he knew the story wasn’t convincing. Uncle Henry gave him a worried frown, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about this shady M character. This mess tonight was probably done by one of the other bakers. They don’t like the competition, you know, now that we’re getting successful.”
“But—”
“It’s getting late. You should go to bed. Here, take your snow globe with you.”
Adam sucked in his cheeks. There was no use arguing. “Yes, Uncle Henry,” he mumbled as he shuffled toward the stairs.
On his way, he passed the patched-up window where, right outside the bakery, on the other side of the wall, lurked a tall man in a black suit.
Uncle Henry was not the only person who had heard Adam’s tale about the snow globe.
CHAPTER SIXTEENBURNED
The Biscuit Basket remained closed for the next few days. There were a lot of back-and-forth negotiations with the insurance company. The initial cost of repairing the window would take a good chunk of money from Uncle Henry’s savings, but thanks to the earnings from the previous month, they wouldn’t be scraping for cash.
Adam stayed hunched in his bedroom for most of the weekend, staring at the empty snow globe. The longer the snow globe remained blank, the more miserable he felt. And like the snow globe, he had nothing: no leads on the mysterious M, no proof of the snow globe’s magic for the police or his uncle, and no idea what to do.
The unknown tends to scare people because it makes us jump to many different conclusions. If your closet door swings open on its own in the middle of the night, for example, you might think you have a ghost on your hands, when it could just as likely be a faulty latch or a draft. Or if someone suddenly disappears, never to be heard from again, you might think they have been taken by kidnappers or monsters from the lagoon, when it’s equally likely they simply decided to go on a long vacation without any of their belongings. But because our minds never truly know the truth in these cases, we can simply go about guessing all day.
For Adam, the two biggest unknowns occupying his mind were: 1) the true extent of his and his uncle’s safety, and 2) the likelihood that he’d ever be able to warn the townspeople of Candlewick of the fire before it started.
To say nothing of other past events closer to his heart he’d desperately like to change.
Then, on Sunday evening, it happened. A landscape finally emerged inside the snow globe.
It was Candlewick.
This might be his chance. Adam anxiously waited until Uncle Henry had gone to bed, and, for good measure, sat tight until his uncle’s snores in the living room reached a steady rhythm. Then Adam took the snow globe and gave it a small shake.
Snowflake confetti swirled inside the glass. Adam was already thinking about what he’d do once he got to the town. He didn’t know how much time he had, so he needed to hurry.
In a blink, Adam was back on the same hillside outside the town of Candlewick. Though the air was warm, the stars winked coldly overhead against the inky sky. He started toward the town, but by the time he reached the outskirts, he realized something was very, very wrong.
Only a few of the houses had their lights on. Most of the windows along every street were as dark as the streets themselves. Cars had vanished from driveways. None of the lampposts were lit. Worst of all, a stale layer of smoke hung in the air, along with a familiar scorched smell. Adam sniffed the air again. To his horror, he recognized what the smell was: burned candle wax. It was the same smell that had stuck to the floors of his uncle’s bakery a few days ago.
He peered desperately into the distance, where the candle factory stood isolated in the dark. Its ominous smokestacks were dormant. None of its windows were lit either. “That doesn’t mean anything,” Adam told himself. After all, the place was still standing.
Had he been close enough, Adam would have realized each window had been completely shattered.
As Adam stumbled ahead, the smell of smoke grew stronger. He arrived at the first street and slowly passed the houses, looking around for a sign of someone—anyone.
The first few homes were empty. The next house had a dog
