“I always knew Manhattan was a melting pot,” Uncle Chuck said, “but this is something else altogether, isn’t it?”
“This is Vincent’s doing,” Mrs. Hudson said, frowning at all the people.
“Looks like he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, does it?” Mr. Hudson said.
Mrs. Hudson didn’t say anything, just kept frowning at the chaos. A group of men wearing togas passed them, speaking in what sounded like Greek.
“What’s going on at the museum?” Ruby asked. A legion of soldiers in blue coats with tails, white breeches, and tall hats with feathers stood on the steps of the Met. In front of the soldiers was a short man wearing a similar but more decorated uniform. Instead of the tall hat the other soldiers wore, his was like an upside-down boat sitting sideways on his head. He spoke loudly in French. He seemed to be issuing some kind of proclamation to the crowd before him, though most were not listening.
“Who is that dude?” Corey asked, pointing.
“And what’s he saying?” Ruby asked. “Something about a castle?”
Matt listened and interpreted it in English as best he could. “He says the castle is his and that he is the emperor of this land. Those who resist his rule will be thrown in the dungeons or put to death.”
Mr. Hudson squinted at the man. “He sort of looks like Napoleon Bonaparte. Hang on, I think that is Napoleon Bonaparte!”
“Looks like you’re not getting your job back any time soon, huh, Dad?” Corey said. Mr. Hudson’s face dropped.
“Let’s get home,” Mrs. Hudson said, ushering all the children. “Come on.” They started walking, but then Mrs. Hudson looked back. Albert was still by Blossom. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he was invited or should follow.
“You’re free to do as you like, Albert,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Wait here for Vincent if you want, but if you want to stay with us, you’re going to have to keep up.” She turned around and started walking without looking to see if Albert followed. But he did, because where else was he going to go?
Matt kept close to Jia as they walked. She hugged Pike’s book to her chest. She didn’t seem like she wanted to talk, so Matt didn’t say anything, even though he wished there was something he could do to comfort her.
“So,” Corey said, addressing Henry as they walked. “What should we call you?”
“Call me? What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re technically our grandpa, right? But you don’t look like a grandpa. You look younger than our dad! So it would be kind of weird to call you Grandpa, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Henry said. “I guess you can just call me Henry.”
Corey screwed up his face. “No. I don’t think that’s right. We can’t call you Henry. It’s like calling our dad Matthew or a teacher by their first name. Totally disrespectful. We have to give you some kind of title. Like how we call Grandma Gaga, you know?”
Henry glanced at his wife who was clearly avoiding eye contact with her husband. “How did you come to call her Gaga?”
“Mateo couldn’t say Grandma Gloria when he was little,” Ruby said. “He called her Gaga, and the name stuck.”
“Much to my chagrin,” Gaga mumbled.
“Well, I like it,” Henry said. “Seems to suit you. More than Grandma, anyway.”
“Ha. Ha,” Gaga said dryly.
“Hey, I got it!” Corey said. “We could call you Haha! Get it? I mean your name is Henry Hudson, and I’ll bet if Matt had tried to say that when he was little, it probably would have sounded like Haha, wouldn’t it?”
Henry Hudson wrinkled his brow. “Ha-ha?”
There was a moment of silence, and then a strange sound emitted from Gaga, sort of like water sputtering from a hose, and then she let out a loud snort. “Haha! Haha!” she doubled over laughing. At this point everyone else cracked up, too, though whether it was more at Gaga’s glee or the name itself, no one was sure.
“Haha it is, then,” Henry said, smiling at Gaga, who now had tears streaming down her cheeks, and then her face suddenly crumbled, and her laughter really turned to sobs. All the merriment of the moment shriveled up in a hot second.
Mr. Hudson went to his mom and wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay, Mom. Everything will get worked out.”
Henry (or Haha now) stepped toward Gaga, but then paused. He looked completely helpless.
“Come on, Henry,” Mrs. Hudson said, putting her arm through his. “We’re almost home and then you can rest. I know it’s been a long day for you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sure has.”
Matt thought he could use a rest as well. His brains felt like scrambled eggs. Vikings and Roman armies taking over the Brooklyn Bridge, Napoleon Bonaparte taking over the Met, his long-lost grandfather coming back, not to mention everything that had happened before all that. Matt wondered if there would be any home to come home to, and even if there was, would it remain? Would his family? Would they ever be free of the threat of Captain Vincent?
8Home Again
When they reached their apartment door, Mrs. Hudson motioned for everyone to be quiet, in case their past or future selves were home for some reason, and slowly put the key in the lock. It turned and clicked. She opened the door just a crack and called inside, “Hello? Anybody home?”
No one answered. Mrs. Hudson pushed open the door. Matt saw just a glimpse of the dining room and kitchen. All was still and quiet.
“We’d better do a search,”
