When the Curtain Rises (11 page)

Nyssa nodded reluctantly. “I know, but I'd better go. My grandparents just flew back from a trek in New Zealand. They're on their way home to Thunder Bay. Sorry. You'll have to check it out without me.”

Chloe walked Nyssa downstairs and took the wooden box and the papers to the back garden. She set everything down on one of the stone benches in the clearing, sat down beside the pile and took a deep breath.

The stack of papers she'd rescued was a collection of letters from Dante to Magdala. Chloe riffled through them briefly before setting them aside. Her palms damp, she reached for the small, ornately carved, dark wooden box. She wiped the lid carefully with the hem of her T-shirt, admiring the intricate vines and exotic fruits that appeared from underneath layers of dust. She lifted the box to study it more closely and caught the faint but unmistakable scent of roses.

The box was locked. Somehow Chloe knew that her key would be a match even before she removed it from around her neck and tried it in the keyhole. The key turned without any trouble, and the latch was released. She paused to wipe her hands on her shorts, and then she slowly lifted the lid. The box was empty.

Chloe put the box down on the bench and considered her next move. What she wanted to do was write down a wish, place it in the box and see what happened. But if Magdala was right, the box was dangerous. Chloe removed the tiny key from the box and clutched it in her fist. A few minutes passed as she wrestled with her choices. I have to do it, she told herself silently. I have to see if it's real.

She ran back to the house for some paper and a pen. When she returned, she scribbled down the first wish that came into her head, pushed the folded paper inside the box, closed the lid and quickly inserted the key. “There,” she said aloud to break the silence that hung heavily over the clearing. “It's done.”

Five minutes passed and nothing happened. “This is ridiculous,” Chloe told herself at last. She gathered together the box and Dante's letters and got up.

“Chloe!” Abigail called out as the girl came through the back door. “I was just about to go looking for you.”

Chloe clutched the bundle in her arms self-consciously. “What is it?”

The housekeeper gave a short laugh and nodded toward the kitchen. “Come see.”

As Chloe entered the kitchen behind Abigail, a man was just hanging up the phone that hung by the refrigerator. “Like I was saying,” the man said to the housekeeper, “you might as well fill up your freezer. The tow truck won't be here for at least another forty-five minutes, according to the dispatcher. On a hot day like this, it's all going to melt if it stays where it is.”

“Mr. Shambhu's ice-cream truck just broke down on the road right in front of the house,” Abigail explained to Chloe.

“Strangest thing,” the man said, scratching the back of his head. “The truck engine, the generator for my freezers, and my cell phone all went dead at the same time. I guess my bad luck is your good luck.”

“Are you sure about this?” said Abigail. “We could return everything to your truck after it's been repaired.”

Mr. Shambhu waved his hand. “Don't worry about it. My truck could be in the shop for a while.”

“Well, thank you. It's very generous of you.” Abigail turned back to Chloe. “There you go. Give Mr. Shambhu a hand, and you and Nyssa will have all the ice-cream bars and Popsicles you can eat for the rest of your visit.”

Chloe shut her mouth and swallowed hard. “Could you give me a minute?” she mumbled. She was already backing up, making her way to the end of the hall where she'd left the rosewood box. With trembling fingers she unlocked the box and removed a slip of paper. She unfolded the paper and read the words she'd scribbled less than half an hour earlier:
I wish for all the ice cream I can eat
.

C
hapter
E
leven

“I
t was a totally lame thing to wish for, I know,” Chloe told Nyssa as they sat on the front steps the next morning. “I just wrote down the first thing that popped into my head. I thought it was pretty safe.”

“And? Wait, don't tell me,” said Nyssa. “Let me use my psychic powers. Abigail went shopping and came back with a few pints of Häagen-Dazs.”

“Hold your skepticism for a minute. It wasn't like that at all.” Chloe told her friend the whole story, from writing down her wish to Mr. Shambhu's multiple breakdowns in front of the house.

“It's a coincidence, Chloe,” Nyssa insisted. “Weird, but still a coincidence.”

“How can you say that?” Chloe shook her head in frustration. “I make a wish, and Mr. Shambhu's truck breaks down, his generator dies and his cell phone battery goes dead, all in the space of less than half an hour, right in front of this house. What are the odds?”

Nyssa shrugged. “It's a long shot, but it isn't impossible. What
is
impossible is a box that grants wishes. Please tell me you don't believe in fairy tales.”

“Dante believed the box's powers were real. And Magdala was afraid of Monsieur Lucien because she believed in its powers too.”

Nyssa just shook her head. “So what are you going to do with this ‘magic' box?”

“Make another wish, of course. A better one this time. I'll have to think about it.”

Nyssa rose to her feet. “Well, while you're thinking about it, why don't you get on the back of my bike and I'll double you down to the lake.”

The two friends were making their way back from the beach at lunchtime when a man in dark sunglasses suddenly stepped onto the bike path directly in front of them. Nyssa tried to swerve, but with Chloe's added weight on the back she lost control. The bike went down.

“I'm sorry,” the man said as Nyssa and Chloe untangled themselves from each other and the bike. “I seem to have walked into your path.”

“No problem,” Nyssa replied. “You okay, Chloe?”

Chloe brushed some loose gravel from her knees. “I'm fine. Just a few scratches.”

“Chloe,” the man repeated, pronouncing the name carefully. “You must be Katherine and Elizabeth's niece.”

Chloe looked up at the dark-haired stranger. He was about her father's age, but at least half a foot taller. He was dressed rather formally for a summer stroll in the park, in a dark suit and tie.

“Lucas Dromnel,” he said as he extended his right hand. “I just moved into a suite in the house next door to your great-aunts.”

Chloe shook the offered hand. Mr. Dromnel's skin was cool to the touch, but his grip was firm.

“I'm Nyssa,” Nyssa said, thrusting out her own hand. “I live around the corner.”

Lucas Dromnel shook Nyssa's hand as well. “A pleasure to meet you both,” he said with a smile. “I'm sure we'll be bumping into each other again.”

“
He
was creepy,” Chloe said with a shudder when they were safely out of earshot. “Did you see the way he was staring?”

“How could you tell he was staring through those dark sunglasses?” Nyssa asked.

“'Cause I could feel his eyes on me—couldn't you? And what was up with the dark suit?”

“I don't know. Maybe he's an insurance salesman or a funeral director or something.”

“Or maybe he's in the Mafia,” Chloe suggested as they turned off the path and prepared to cross St. Mark's Street.

Nyssa raised an eyebrow. “The Mafia?”

“I don't know,” said Chloe. “I just didn't trust him.”

“All right then. Moving along to other fantastical subjects,” Nyssa said as they came to a stop by Chloe's front gate, “have you decided on your next wish?”

Chloe nodded. “I've got something in mind. It's not world peace or anything, but it's better than a supply of ice-cream bars.”

“Yeah? What?”

“I'll tell you after lunch,” said Chloe. “Are you staying?”

“Can't. I promised my mom I'd be home in twenty minutes.” Nyssa made a face. “I've got a dress fitting. I'm a bridesmaid at my cousin's wedding at the end of August, which means I have to wear this hideous purple sack.”

“All right,” said Chloe. “Meet me back here as soon as you're done. We'll see who's right about the wishing box.”

Chloe excused herself from the table immediately after lunch and returned to her room. She took a seat on her bed, facing the rosewood box. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let's get it right this time.” Carefully she wrote out her wish. She read it over, placed the note inside the box, closed the lid and turned the tiny key. She left the box on the desk beside her bed and went out to the veranda.

Chloe had just sat down on the top step when she saw Nyssa come racing around the corner, two houses down. “Hey,” Nyssa called out, lifting one hand off the handlebars to wave. A blue van suddenly pulled out of a driveway into Nyssa's path.

“Nyssa!” Chloe yelled.

The warning came too late. As Chloe watched in horror, Nyssa's bicycle ran straight into the van, and Nyssa flew over the windshield. She came down with a sickening thud.

Chloe raced onto the road. “Nyssa!” she screamed again. “Nyssa!”

The street was suddenly full of people. “Don't touch her,” warned a man who'd been jogging on the path across the road. “We don't want to injure her spine.”

“I've called nine-one-one,” said another man with a cell phone in his hand. “An ambulance will be here any minute.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” moaned the woman whose van Nyssa had hit. “I didn't see her coming!”

“Nyssa,” Chloe cried, standing helplessly a few feet away.

Then someone was dragging her away, and she could hear Abigail's soothing voice in her ear. “It's okay, Chloe. Listen, the ambulance is almost here. They'll take good care of her. She'll be all right.”

Chloe let herself be led back up to the house, where her great-aunts waited anxiously on the veranda. “Oh, how horrible, my dear,” Kitty said as she gathered the numb girl into her arms. “Look, the paramedics are here already. Nyssa will be all right now, don't you worry.”

Chloe tried to break away from her great-aunt's embrace. “I have to see her!”

“No, Chloe,” Bess said firmly. “You'd only be in the way. I phoned Nyssa's mother, and she's on her way to meet Nyssa at the hospital. She'll call as soon as she has news.”

Kitty gave Chloe another squeeze. “Nyssa's going to be all right, you'll see. Now come inside and lie down. You're in shock.”

After six hours that felt more like six weeks, the phone finally rang. “Hello?” Chloe said breathlessly.

“Hey, Chloe.”

“Nyssa?”

“Who else?”

Chloe felt tears trickle down her cheeks. “Oh, Nyssa!”

“C'mon, don't get all teary on me. I'm fine. Aside from a concussion, a few cracked ribs and a broken radius, that is.”

“A broken what?”

“My right arm.”

Chloe's fingers were white around the phone. “Oh, Nyssa—I was so scared!”

“They want to observe me for a little while. The doctor I saw in emergency said I would have split my head open if it wasn't for my bike helmet. You should see it.”

“Your bike's all right,” Chloe said hoarsely. “At least, that's what the woman whose van you collided with told Abigail. Not a scratch.”

“So I heard. I asked my dad to drop my bike off at your aunts' house. My mom doesn't want me riding with a cast on my arm. You might as well get some use out of it.”

Chloe felt as if a large marble had suddenly wedged itself inside her throat. “No,” she whispered.

“Chloe? Are you okay?”

Chloe swallowed, her breath stuck somewhere in her chest. “Oh, Nyssa,” she choked out. “I'm so sorry.”

“For what?” Nyssa asked. “I'm the one who wasn't watching where I was going.”

“No, you don't understand!”

“Understand
what
? Sorry, Chloe, I have to go. The nurse has just come in to check me over again. I'll call you later if I can.”

“Wait, I need to tell you—” Chloe said. But it was too late. Nyssa had already hung up.

Chloe tried to practice the piano in the sitting room, but her heart wasn't in it. After playing a few scales, she abandoned the piano and returned to her room. She forced her eyes past the rosewood box on her desk to the stack of letters beside it. She picked up the letters and carried them through the front of the house to the veranda.

Kitty, Bess and Abigail were seated at the wicker table, sipping iced tea. They invited Chloe to join them, but she declined. She sat on the steps instead and began to read the first letter in her pile. It was a letter from Dante to Magdala, dated July 14, 1917, less than two weeks after Magdala had abandoned the carnival with her daughters and returned to Little Venice.

Dear Maggie,
I trust that you and the girls had a safe journey and are
now comfortably settled in the house. I am sorry that
you feel unable to stay with the carnival while Monsieur
Lucien is present. But as I respected your decision to
return home with the twins, I hope you understand my
decision to keep Lucien with the carnival.