Applewhites at Wit's End (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

G
etting the man out of the Heffalump trap turned out to be considerably more difficult than getting him into it. As the dock floated away, it had dragged the ropes into the water, where they'd sunk immediately muck-ward, so there was no way to pull it back in. Destiny, not the least bit bothered by muck, jumped off the dock and paddled his way back till he could stand up and slog his way to solid ground, where a dripping Winston met him, wagging with relief, and shook pond water all over him.

“My idea worked! Did you see how good it worked?” Destiny burbled to E.D. as he unbuckled his muddy life jacket. “I was a very good honeypot. Don't you think I was a good honeypot?”

The man called out that he had no intention of ruining his suit by swimming to shore. So Cordelia hurried off to find Archie and Zedediah, who brought down a coil of rope. Jake swam one end of it out to the dock, and the others pulled it back in.

The impostor, still pretending to be an agent of the state, announced as he stepped off the dock onto theshore that the state could shut them down immediately on the basis of the pond alone. But when he noticed Harley taking pictures, he went suddenly silent and allowed himself to be escorted back to the dining tent, glancing over his shoulder every few steps at Winston, who was trotting along behind him, alternately growling and whuffling all the way. Sybil, Lucille, and Randolph met the procession, and Paulie, who'd been moved out of the kitchen and into the tent, greeted them all with his usual cascade of curses and then demanded a peanut.

It wasn't until Lucille and Sybil had seated him at a picnic table and Harley announced he was going to the office to upload the photographs he'd taken of the “rescue” at the pond that Thomas Timmons broke down and admitted that he was neither Thomas Timmons nor an agent of the state.

Randolph threatened to call the police on the spot.

“No one's had breakfast yet,” Sybil protested. “It's never good to make important decisions on an empty stomach!”

“There's no decision to be made!” Randolph said. “This person has perpetrated a fraud! I guarantee you there's a law about impersonating a government employee and terrorizing innocent citizens! He is a criminal, and it's our
duty
to turn him over to the authorities!”

“He's not
going
anywhere, Randolph,” Zedediah said. “Breakfast first, authorities later. I for one would like to hear the young man's story before we send him off to jail.”

Lucille smiled beatifically. “Think of it this way, Randolph. Terror can be an excellent motivator. Just go inside and look at the kitchen. It's absolutely sparkling. I don't think the refrigerator has
ever
been so clean!”

“And now we know why,” Sybil added. “Cleaning a refrigerator is an appalling job!”

So it was decided that everyone who needed to would shower and change and gather back in the dining tent for breakfast, while Lucille and Harley printed out the pictures Harley had taken—pictures, Randolph reminded the impostor, that would serve as evidence of fraud in a court of law.

When breakfast was over, the interrogation of the prisoner began.

“My name is Jonathon Sandler,” he said, surrendering his fake ID badge. “I live in Traybridge. I'm an actor.”

“An actor?” Randolph scoffed. “There's no work for an actor in Traybridge!”

“You're telling me! That's why I went to New York right out of college. I tried my luck there for three years and only managed to get two roles in all that time—both of them off-off-Broadway. No money. I survived as a bookkeeping temp.”

Zedediah, who had been sitting next to Destiny watching him draw possums on a sketch pad, looked up. “Were you any good at it?”

“I got a couple of pretty good reviews—”

“I meant at bookkeeping!”

“Oh. Everybody I did temp work for wanted to hire me full-time. But I wanted to stay free to take whatever acting job came along. A lot of good that did me. I finally just gave up and came home. I figured even if Traybridge Little Theatre didn't pay, I could at least get onstage there. When I went to audition, Mrs. Montrose offered me this job instead.”

Randolph erupted in fury. “This
job
? It isn't an acting job; it's a criminal conspiracy! Call the police
now
! We can get that wretched woman on conspiracy to defraud! I knew all along she had to be behind this.”

Jonathon Sandler, scratching his neck, grinned sheepishly. “She offered to pay really well!”

When the whole story came out, it was pretty much what E.D. had suspected. When Mrs. Montrose couldn't get the state interested in
Eureka!
, she'd decided to get revenge on the Applewhites as best she could.

“It was to be a kind of terrorist action at first,” Sandler explained. “The intention was to inflict psychological trauma. So she had me deliver all those messages about the state regulations day after day. Then I was supposed to let myself get seen skulking around. She didn't warn me about the goat! I wouldn't have come back after that horrible day, but the goat tore the suit. It was from the costume shop at the Little Theatre, and she told me she'd take the cost of it out of my pay. I had to come back to earn the rest of it or I'd have ended up in debt!”

“She intended to inflict psychological trauma?” Randolph said. “When the case comes to trial, she'll discover that it didn't work. Applewhites are made of stronger stuff!”

Right,
E.D. thought, remembering the look on her father's face the morning she'd seen him with one of Mrs. Montrose's threatening messages crumpled in his hand.

“After the inspection she was planning to forge a ‘cease and desist' order from the state—and send it by mail from Raleigh. She thought you'd shut yourselves down to avoid prosecution.”

“Never!” Randolph insisted. “We would have fought the state to the last breath!”

E.D. explained the policy of distraction and delay then, and told Jonathon Sandler she was sorry Wolfie had ruined the suit.

Cordelia, who was sitting across the table from him, said, “I hope he didn't hurt you!”

Sandler smiled at her and shook his head. “He scared the devil out of me, though. The worst part wasn't the goat.” He scratched at his neck. “It's the poison ivy I got in the woods. It started on my neck, and it's spread all down my back!” Cordelia patted his other hand comfortingly.

Destiny looked up from his drawing pad. “Tell 'em about the Heffalump trap, E.D.!”

She explained about her call to the department. “So we knew you couldn't be a real inspector.”

“You
knew
?” Randolph said. “You knew and didn't tell your family? How sharper than a serpent's tooth . . .”

David pointed a finger at Sandler. “I suggested capture and torture. You're lucky everybody else here is such a wimp.”

“Then I had a Pooh and Piglet idea!” Destiny crowed. “The dock was a Heffalump trap, and I was the honeypot! And it worked! We caught you!”

“Yeah. You caught me.” Sandler breathed a long, shuddery sigh. “And now I'll never get the rest of my pay. I'm back to being a starving artist!”

“You're going to jail—that's what's going to happen to you! Don't think for one minute that we won't bring the full force of the law down on your head. And on the head of that vengeful, sadistic woman!” Randolph turned to Lucille. “You printed out those pictures, didn't you? They'll be all the evidence we need.”

Lucille held up Harley's photographs. “They're evidence, all right. But we're not going to turn them over to the authorities.”

“What do you mean? Of course we are!” Randolph said.

“There is a Higher Authority involved here, Randolph,” she said. “Take a look.” She spread the photos on the table. In almost every one of them, orbs could be seen clustered around Jonathon Sandler's head. “There. You see? Orbs! Benevolent spirits, drawn to light and joy. They would not be in these photographs if this young man had come here with malicious intent. He is here for some higher purpose—a higher purpose than Mrs. Montrose could ever have imagined.”

“And what,” Randolph asked with acid in his voice, “might that purpose be exactly?”

“It will emerge in time,” Lucille said blithely. “You may be sure of that.”

“It may have emerged already,” Zedediah said. “Zedediah Applewhite Handmade Wood Furniture is in serious need of a bookkeeper. I've been working overtime, and I can't keep up with the books. For that matter, this whole family would benefit from having somebody around who knows how to keep track of money.”

“Now
there's
a good idea!” Sybil said.

“I do have a degree in accounting,” Jonathon said. “Of course, I really prefer acting. . . .”

“It's possible,” Sybil said, “that there will be a place for you in one of Randolph's productions from time to time.”

“Are you
kidding
?” Randolph said. “After all he's done . . .”

“Well, the least you could do is let him audition, dear,” Sybil said. “As well as he played the part of Thomas Timmons, he could turn out to be a real asset!”

Jonathon Sandler was smiling. E.D. noticed that Cordelia hadn't moved her hand from his since she'd patted it.

Sandler looked up at Randolph. “It would be an honor to be in a Randolph Applewhite production,” he said.

“There now! All's well that ends well,” Lucille said. “The whole point of
Eureka!
is to nourish creativity in these children, and look how creative they've been. Look how brilliantly they worked together to save the camp.”

“It was never actually in danger,” Randolph pointed out.

Zedediah stood up and swept his arm around the dining tent where the breakfast dishes were drawing flies and yellow jackets. “Who has KP for Community Service? The day is getting away from us. We still have a camp to run, after all!”

Chapter Thirty-six

“I
t seems to me,” Zedediah said at that night's staff meeting, “that camp, like education, involves an adventurous quest. Kids learn not so much from what they're
taught
as from what they
do
.”

“Not just kids,” Sybil said. “The more I work on my children's book, the better I get!
Petunia Possum, P.I.
It's going to be a stunner.”

“Don't forget magic,” Lucille added. “The orbs are with us!”

“Orbs!” Paulie muttered sleepily from his perch. “Orbs, orbs, orbs.”

Zedediah rubbed his hands together. “All right, then. You all have another month to encourage these kids to do what they do best—”

“Not
just
what they do best!” E.D. protested.

Jake nodded. “If that's all they do, how will they ever find out the rest of who they are?”

Hal, who almost never spoke up at a staff meeting, cleared his throat. “Like me being a counselor. Doing the hard stuff's what makes it an adventure.”

“Focus, focus, focus!” Randolph said. “If we aren't going to prosecute Mrs. Montrose, it's time to get serious about an end-of-camp event that will show her and the whole of Traybridge, North Carolina, what real talent and creativity can do! Theater, dance, music, art. I say we sell tickets and rub her nose in our success!”

“We already have a theme,” Lucille said. “The barn's becoming a patchwork quilt. We could make it a whole day of family activities and call it the Patchwork Summer Festival of the Arts. Just imagine it: strolling singers—”

“—storytelling for kids,” Sybil added.

“Face painting!” Cordelia said. “And Q can teach people Step!”

Hal nodded. “Art gallery in the barn . . .”

Lucille clapped her hands. “Perfect! A gallery of sculpture and photographs. We can have a whole section just for orbs. We'll have to have food, of course. Barbecue, hot dogs, fried green tomatoes. I'll see if I can get my guru, Govindaswami, to come and do a booth with Indian food. . . .”

“If Cinnamon has really tamed Wolfie, we could have a petting zoo!” Sybil said.

“And most important,” Randolph said, “a show to cap it all off. We'll call it
A Patchwork Evening of Scenes and Improv
.”

“Don't forget New Fusion Movement—that's what we've decided to call it—ballet, Step, tap, and modern dance,” Cordelia put in. “Jonathon told me he studied dance the whole time he was in New York. He could be in it too!”

“Sybil and I will start organizing the publicity tomorrow!” Lucille said. “It'll be a sellout.”

Jake looked at E.D.; E.D. looked at Jake. Both of them sighed.

Archie, who had offered to watch the campers during the staff meeting, had built a campfire and gathered them all for a marshmallow roast to celebrate
Eureka!
's reprieve from the state. He sent Samantha to the Lodge to invite the staff to join them after the meeting.

Jake and E.D. stood together, leaning on the porch rail, after the others had gone out to the campfire circle. Winston had settled next to them, chin on his paws.

“They're off again, aren't they?” Jake asked.

E.D. looked up at Jake's face, lit by the full moon. When had he gotten so much taller, she wondered. And why hadn't she noticed? His Mohawk had begun to tip over, softening his old delinquent look. The ring in his eyebrow glittered in the moonlight. “There's nothing like the passion of the Applewhites,” she said.

“You ought to know,” Jake said. “You
are
one.” He grinned. “That was some act you put on today.”

Jake thought back to the first time he'd seen her—not even a whole year ago. She'd had scabby elbows and knees then, chopped-off hair, and a body like a ten-year-old boy. And she had clearly hated him. The feeling, he remembered, had been mutual.

The sound of Archie's guitar floated up to them from the campfire. After a moment Harley and Ginger began to sing Ginger's latest song. “Moonlight on the water, mockingbird in the trees, come and join the laughter caught on the evening breeze. . . .” An owl hooted from the woods.

They could never say later whether E.D. had kissed Jake or Jake had kissed E.D., but Winston's tail thumped on the porch floor. Even the dog knew how much had changed.