Bliss (13 page)

“Bernard Bastable!” Miss Thistle shouted, finally. “I love you too! I want to make you my frog prince! Never in all my years have I seen a man with such magnificent, froglike charisma! You are a treasure! Kiss me now!”

As she finished, Miss Thistle crossed her eyes and covered her mouth again, horrified, as if it had betrayed her. She turned and ran away toward the schoolhouse, her face purple with embarrassment.

“Come back, sweet Felidia!” Mr. Bastable cried.

A siren pealed out as the Calamity Falls Fire Department engine careened through the town square. “There!” Pierre Guillaume shouted, pointing. “That man is going to break my Eiffel Tower!”

The crowd made room for the truck as it eased to a halt in front of the restaurant.

Fire Chief Conklin squinted up at Mr. Bastable and raised a megaphone. “Bernard Bastable! If you do not get down immediately, we will have to come up there and remove you!”

Mr. Bastable shook his head. “Not until my Ladylove agrees to be my Lady Wife!”

Two firemen unfolded a forty-foot metal ladder and set it against the top of the tower. “What's that guy
on
?” the one fireman asked the other.

Rose gulped. She knew exactly what he was on. And it was all her fault. What would her parents do if they were there? Surely they'd have a way to fix this. Although, really, they would never have gotten themselves into this mess to begin with.

It was only after Mr. Bastable had safely been dragged down the ladder that the tower groaned and teetered in the wind.

“Oh no,” Rose said.

“Oh yes,” Sage said, his eyes wide with excitement. “That tower is coming down! Tim-
berrrrrrrrrrr!
”

Leigh pointed her camera toward the roof and clicked.

Another wind gusted hard, and with a mighty
crack
the tower wobbled and fell over in slow motion, coming down right toward the crowd.

“Everybody
move
!” Chip yelled, scooping up Leigh in one arm and Sage in the other and running to the right. The townspeople scattered to either side as the tower crashed down against the square, folding up with a metallic clatter right in the front of the restaurant.

“Nooooo!” cried Pierre Guillaume, burying his head in his hands and beginning to sob.

Rose felt someone poking at her shoulder, and she turned around to see Ty, who was running a hand through his hair to make sure it looked just the right kind of messy.

“What's going on?” he muttered, unimpressed by all the mayhem. “I came downstairs from my nap and everyone had vamoosed.” Ty was dressed in a pair of jeans that was only slightly wrinkled and a long-sleeved navy blue shirt.

“I need to speak with you,” Rose whispered, pulling Ty away toward the fountain. “Mr. Bastable and Miss Thistle both went bonkers. Mr. Bastable scaled the fake Eiffel Tower and declared his love for Miss Thistle, and Miss Thistle couldn't help but shout it back. The combination of Love Muffins and Cookies of Truth is lethal! We need to figure out a way to fix this, immediately, before Aunt Lily catches on, and before word gets back to Mom and Dad that the town is going crazy!”

Ty gulped. “Oh.”

“What now?” Rose said, rolling her eyes.

“It might be even worse than that,” Ty began slowly, looking a bit sheepish. “I
may
have taken those extra Love Muffins and given them”—he paused for another gulp—“to a couple of girls in my class.”

CHAPTER 10

You Scream, I Scream

A
s far as everyone else was concerned, the excitement was over.

The crowd that had gathered to watch Mr. Bastable had scattered. A few old ladies took a seat on the ledge of the Reginald Calamity fountain and talked about how it would be nice if some man had climbed a tower to proclaim his love for
them
. A few men sipped coffee and complained that in the old days towers weren't built so flimsily. Lily and Chip stood next to the maitre d's podium outside Pierre Guillaume's chattering about the things on the menu they wanted to eat. And Pierre Guillaume was crying as a noisy yellow crawler crane lifted the cracked remains of the tower high into the air and dropped them into a rusty red Dumpster.

Rose and Ty stood under the shadow of the awning of the law offices of Karen Publickson, Esq., trying to figure out what to do.

Through the window, Rose could see Ms. Publickson sitting calmly at a desk, looking natty in a navy business suit with her black hair perfectly arranged in a twist on the back of her head.
Maybe I should be a lawyer instead of a magical baker
, Rose thought.
Lawyers' mistakes rarely result in old men climbing on top of towers and taking off their pants
.

Rose's lips were pursed so tight in anger that she could barely speak. “Ty,” she managed to squeeze out, “
why
did you give girls in your class Muffins of Love and Cookies of Truth?”

Ty just shrugged. He was looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

Rose wanted to smack him over the head—despite the fact that if she had been presented with the opportunity to give Devin Stetson both a Love Muffin and a Cookie of Truth, she probably would have shoved them down his throat faster than he could say thank you.

Before Ty could answer, the calm hum of the sundrenched brick plaza was broken by a horrible shriek. It sounded like a girl was being mugged, but no one had ever been mugged in the entire history of Calamity Falls, much less in the blinding daylight of the town square.

It was Lindsey Borzini. She was running toward the law offices of Karen Publickson—or rather, toward Ty. “There he is!” she howled. “It's—It's—TY!”

Lindsey, the oldest daughter of Mr. Borzini, peanut-shaped proprietor of Borzini's Nuttery, was known for having the worst tan in Calamity Falls. As she shrieked and careened across the brick plaza toward Ty, she looked like a roasted carrot with arms.

She was waving a thin, glossy book in the air with one hand and a Sharpie marker with the other. Was it an issue of
Tiger Beat
? Had Ty recently put out a pop album that Rose didn't know about?

As she got closer, Rose saw that it was the Calamity Falls Middle School yearbook. Ty had graduated from there in June, and lumped in with the other eighth graders was a picture of him with his auburn hair looking especially spiky and gelled.

Two things were clear to Rose:

Just before Lindsey reached Ty, the lumbering form of Mr. Borzini appeared out of nowhere like a defensive lineman and tackled his own daughter to the ground. The two of them lay there in a heap, wrestling on the brick floor of the plaza: Lindsey screaming and reaching desperately toward Ty, and Mr. Borzini pinning her by her shoulders and trying to avoid the wild waving of her fists.

“What has gotten into you, Lindzer Tart?” he cried.

All Lindsey could say in response was, “TY! Tyyyyyyyyy!”

Mr. Borzini look up at Ty while Lindsey whacked him in the side of the head. “She's been like this all morning. I don't know what's wrong with her. Maybe if you just say hi?”

Ty walked over and knelt down on one knee. Lindsey clawed at his jean-covered knee. “Um … hi,” Ty whispered.

Lindsey's eyes went wide, a look of calm washed over her face, then her eyes closed and her head went limp in her father's arms.

“Fainted again,” Mr. Borzini said. “That's the fifth time she fainted today—all because she heard your name or saw your picture.”

Rose caught Ty in a proud smirk, and she smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

“I don't get it. I mean, you're a good-looking kid and all,” said Mr. Borzini, “but you're not
that
good looking.” Mr. Borzini picked Lindsey up in his arms and lumbered away.

Rose and Ty had both heard the frightened confusion in Mr. Borzini's voice. Rose didn't need to admonish her brother any further.

Ty turned to her and sighed. “I
know
, I know. We'll find a recipe to fix it.”

Lily and Chip walked over with Sage and Leigh. “What was
that
all about?” Sage asked.

“It seems Ty has an ardent suitor!” Aunt Lily patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “It's not so surprising, darling. You look like a model, only a little shorter and younger. A miniature model!”

Ty's cheeks blushed a deep crimson.

“Hey!” Sage asked. “Does this have anything to do with what you guys were making yesterday when you tricked Lily and me into running after Leigh all day, and then the cookies you made last night after you told me to go to bed?” He put both hands on his hips like a stern mother.

Rose looked at the freckles on Sage's nose and thought that perhaps it was time to stop lying to her younger brother, who was clearly more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

“Did you trick me into chasing after Leigh yesterday?” Aunt Lily asked, her mouth a large O.

Ty gasped indignantly. “Of course not! Why would we do that to our favorite aunt?”

Rose then saw a way to keep Chip and Lily out of the house in order to fix the mess. “I have an idea! There is a big mess in the bakery, as we all know, and there is a lot of cake on the floor, and we just don't feel right leaving it like that.”

“It looks like a cake bomb went off in there,” Ty said.

“So why don't you two enjoy a relaxing French lunch—with many courses,
multiple
courses—while we go and clean up the bakery?” Rose finished, trying not to look like the cat who caught the canary.

“Yes! Ty and Rose will clean up the bakery!” said Sage.

“You too, Sage!” Rose said, making sure to include Sage this time around. “The non-adults will clean up the bakery, for a change.”

Lily and Chip looked at one another quizzically, then, after a moment, Aunt Lily shrugged and said, “All right! How kind! And now for Leigh's escargots!”

Leigh shook her head. “Uh-uh. Don't want 'em.”

Lily pursed her lips and said, “Okay, but we are
still
having lunch. I've been looking for an opportunity to speak with Chip alone.” She smiled devilishly.

Chip gulped as Lily slipped her arm into his, and together they strolled inside.

Sage was pouting. “Why do I have to clean the bakery too?” he whined.

Rose pulled Sage and Ty into a huddle. Leigh sidled in between Rose and Sage, sat on the ground in the middle of the huddle, and took off her shoes.

“This is classified intelligence, Sage,” Rose said. “Can you keep this top secret?”

Sage stopped pouting and nodded with fervor. “I'll keep it the toppest secret.”

That wasn't reassuring, but Rose pressed on. “We've been having some trouble with the
you-know-what
,” she said. “We did a recipe, and it went wrong—”

Ty cut in. “Actually, it went
right
. But now we have to go back to the house to figure out how to reverse it.”

“Exactly,” Rose said. “So, your mission, should you choose to accept it—”

“You can count on me!” Sage said.

“—is to watch Leigh while Ty and I find a recipe to fix it!”

Rose smiled, glad that she'd found a way to make Sage feel included.

Sage angrily broke away. “Heck no! Babysitting is not spy work. I want to be on the front lines. I want some action.”

Leigh leaped up. “Me too!” she shouted. “Action!”

Ty grumbled, “Ahhh, fine.”

“We don't have forever, so let's do this,” Rose said. “And let's not make any mistakes this time.”

As Rose and her siblings passed the sprawling green lawn of Calamity Falls Elementary School, she heard kids shouting like they were on a runaway carnival ride. Scattered across the wide expanse of the lawn, approximately two hundred children were engaged in what looked very much like a war.

Half of them had painted their faces yellow and patrolled the north end of the lawn, while the kids on the southern half had painted their faces blue. The blue-faced kids were hiding behind a half-dozen teacher's desks, which they had somehow dragged from the school building and lined up like a barricade. Stacked behind the desks were hundreds of supple blue water balloons.

“It's Wednesday,” Rose whispered. “Why aren't they all in summer camp?”

Sage gulped. “Mr. Fanner is not going to be happy about this,” he said solemnly. Rose and Ty had each gone through Calamity Falls Elementary School terrified of Mr. Fanner, who stormed through the halls every morning and handed out pink detention slips if he saw so much as an untied shoelace.

But then the strangest thing happened: All of the summer-camp teachers (minus Miss Thistle) made their way down the center of the lawn, smack through the middle of the balloon war, and none tried to stop it. All of them sauntered behind Principal Fanner, who wore a tweed jacket and spectacles and looked like an old-fashioned college professor.