Witch Twins and the Ghost of Glenn Bly (8 page)

It didn’t take long for the word of the magical strawberries to spread. By afternoon, the people who lived on the surrounding farms and towns had come to witness the magical straw berry field. While some onlookers clicked pictures, others sampled the berries.

Afterward, Mac invited everyone into the castle kitchen, where he blew the dust off an ancient Glenn Bly cookbook,
Four Score and Twenty Recipes for Strawberries,
and made a giant, gooey, gorgeous strawberry birthday cake.

“By the way, where are the Shrillingbirds?” asked Grampy

“They might be halfway to Baja by now,” said Grandy. “And Mac, I don’t think you’ll have a problem buying back your castle. I have a hunch those two won’t be visiting here anytime soon.”

“And why do I have a feeling your special charms did the trick, Arianna?” asked Mac with a warm wink. “You are one of my favorite problem solvers.”

Grandy smiled back. “I do what I can,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

“Oh, I can’t wait to be old and have old flames,” said Luna.

“Harrumph. I can’t wait to be old and hog all the credit for stuff,” said Claire.

When the twins went looking for Sir Percival, they found him in his usual place, behind the clock on the landing.

“I knew it!” exclaimed Luna. “I knew you wouldn’t stay popped for long.”

“Not a chance. I’m this castle’s guardian ghost,” he explained. “I’m here to protect Glenn Bly forever.” He jingled his amulet proudly. He looked a little bit bolder after last night’s stunning victory over the Shrillingbirds.

“If you ever need help guarding,” said Claire, “you can call on us.”

The final night at Glenn Bly was the best yet. In honor of Daphne’s birthday, the Bundkins, Blys, and Bramblewines stayed up late playing five-card poker and charades. Afterward, Mac taught them a Scottish reel.

“The best things about the Shrillingbirds being vamoosed is that we get our beds back,” said Claire when the twins went upstairs to bed. “Humdrum Chamber was the pits.”

But as they settled into bed, thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Storm number four!” Claire’s eyes widened.

“I guess the rain helps the strawberries grow,” yawned Luna.

The goat, who had moved into Elderberry Chamber on account of its tasty armchair cushions, bleated in agreement.

The next morning, it was time to bid good-bye to Glenn Bly, and everyone was slightly sad, except for Grampy, who had not warmed to old flame Mac, and had not enjoyed being humiliated on the golf course.

On the other hand, Daphne seemed saddest of all.

“You’ll come back in the summer, right?” asked Daphne. “In the summer, it never gets dark here. It stays twilight all through the night.” She turned to Claire. “Did you know that, American Claire?”

“Nope,” said Claire. “But did you know that
crepuscular
is another word for twilight?”

“Nope,” said Daphne. “I wonder, which of us has the most interesting fact?”

They both looked at Luna to be tiebreaker.

“Daphne,” said Luna, decisively. And though she hoped to visit Daphne Bly again, she was glad she would be able to stop breaking ties for a while.

With only a few minutes until their plane landed in Philadelphia, the twins shook Luna’s spy globe to see what was happening in other parts of their world. The colors of the globe swirled like a sunlit summer stream as they passed it back and forth.

“Show us Glenn Bly,” commanded Luna.

Inside the globe, a picture of the castle focused. Mac and Daphne were both in the stable, feeding the horses.

“And not a Shrillingbird in sight,” Luna noted contentedly.

“Show us our family,” said Claire, fogging the glass.

Now an image of their mom, Steve, Justin, their dad, Fluffy and baby Bert appeared. They were all sitting together in the airport, waiting for the plane to get in. (Well, Justin wasn’t sitting. He was playing Hacky Sack.)

“Crumbs, our family keeps getting bigger and bigger!” said Luna.

“And better and better,” added Claire. “Hey, Loon, what were your favorite parts of our visit to Glenn Bly?”

“Tea in the drawing room, exploring the castle with Daphne, and learning how to make strawberry scones and cake,” Luna answered promptly. “What were yours?”

“Riding Dooley, chasing out the Shrillingbirds, and sneaking into the Charter Room early this morning to write my name in the Book of All Records,” said Claire.

The twins grinned at each other. Opposites forever.

“What about me?” their grandmother called softly across the aisle so that she didn’t wake up Grampy. “Aren’t you going to ask me my favorite part of the trip?”

“What were your favorite parts?” the twins asked Grandy together.

“That’s easy.” Grandy smiled. “Playing golf with Fred and listening to those terrific thunderstorms as I fell asleep!”

Then she tossed a honey-roasted peanut in the air and caught it in her mouth.

“Crumbs, those thunderstorms kept me awake, Grandy,” said Luna.

“Yeah, I thought they were totally spooky,” said Claire.

“Nonsense. Nothing says Scotland to me better than a good loud rain. It really sets the mood.”

“Wait a minute, Grandy. Were
you
the one casting spells to make all that stormy weather?” Luna leaned forward, indignant, to catch her grandmother’s eye.

“Of course I was. To me, a good thunderstorm is like a little lullaby.” Grandy answered, settling back in her seat and adjusting the mini pillow at her neck. “And as the saying goes, ‘Into every life, a noisy storm must thunder.’”

And although Luna had a feeling this was not quite the right saying, it sounded perfectly true when Grandy said it. Which was always the case.

I was born in 1970 in my mother’s hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I was the oldest of three children, and spent my early childhood as a “military brat,” moving between bases in North Carolina, California, Panama, and Rhode Island. I returned to Pennsylvania for high school, and then attended college at the University of Pennsylvania. After earning a bachelor of arts and sciences degree in 1993, I eagerly answered a “help wanted” ad in the
New York Times
and an “apartment rentals” ad in the
Village Voice
. That same week, I secured both my first job and my first apartment. I began working for Macmillan Children’s Books as an editorial assistant; living two blocks away from the office ensured that I didn’t get lost on my commute.

While balancing days working in the editorial department with nights writing fiction, I discovered my abiding love of New York City, and knew that I would want to live there for the long haul. At Macmillan, and later Hyperion Books for Children, I read old favorites and new favorite fiction for younger readers, and in doing so rediscovered classic stories that had been so riveting in my youth. I was particularly enthralled to connect with Robert Cormier, an author whose work I idolized when I was a child—years later, I got to spend a day with him at Simmons College. It wasn’t long before I completed my first novel,
Rainy Season
(1996), which was accepted by Houghton Mifflin & Co. A semi-autobiographical account of family life on an army base in Panama, the book was recommended by
Publishers Weekly
as a “Flying Start” notable debut. My second book,
Split Just Right
(1997), told the story of a bohemian single mother raising her daughter. My third book,
Sons of Liberty
, a drama set in New England that addressed child abuse, was nominated for the National Book Award in 1997. I followed this novel with a contemporary supernatural story,
The Other Shepards
(1998), and then
Dive
(1999), a novel that grappled with the real-life unexpected death of my stepbrother, Jason.

Turning to more lighthearted fare, I created a middle-grade series, Witch Twins, about identical twins living in Philadelphia (based on my nieces) who work to become “five-star” witches—with some help from their eccentric, spell-casting grandmother. The four-book series includes
Witch Twins
,
Witch Twins at Camp Bliss
,
Witch Twins and Melody Malady
, and
Witch Twins and the Ghost of Glenn Bly
. I also completed
Amandine
(2001), a novel loosely based on Lillian Hellman’s chilling play
The Children’s Hour
. Themes of friendship, deceit, and betrayal surfaced again in my next book,
Overnight
(2003), about a sleepover that goes horribly wrong.

In
Hannah, Divided
(2002), I tried my hand at historical fiction, crafting a story of a young math prodigy living in 1930s rural Pennsylvania, who then wins a scholarship to study in Philadelphia. In 2010, I returned to the genre with
Picture the Dead
, collaborating with my friend Lisa Brown, an author and illustrator, on an illustrated novel about Spiritualist photographers in the Civil War era.

In 2005, I received another National Book Award nomination for
Where I Want to Be
, a family-centered psychological drama with paranormal elements. The following year, I published a light, young adult romance titled
My Almost Epic Summer
. I also launched another middle grade series; this one, Vampire Island Stories, is about a family of vegan vampires living in New York City.

Family plays an important role in my fiction, and while I don’t consider myself a fantasy writer, I do enjoy adding a measure of the supernatural to otherwise realistic fiction. This blend runs through a number of my books, namely
The Other Shepards
,
Where I Want to Be, Picture the Dead
, and
Tighter
. I write stories that emphasize our lasting connections to those we have lost, and how our families—past and present—inform our everyday life in ways that can be both startling and steadfast.

In 2007, my husband, Erich, and I traded Manhattan for Brooklyn, where we live very happily with our two young children—a daughter, Priscilla, and a son, Hastings—as well as a ten-pound shih tzu named Edith. Parenthood has inspired me to write for a younger audience, and to that end, I teamed up with the author Courtney Sheinmel to create an early-reader series called Agnes and Clarabelle, forthcoming from Bloomsbury Press, about a pair of two differently anxious friends.

My husband and I both avidly support nonprofit organizations such as the MacDowell Colony, Prep for Prep, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, buildOn, and 826NYC, an after-school tutoring and creative writing center for high school youth, where I sit on the board of directors. I am also a member of the PEN American Center and the Writers Guild of America. Visit me at
www.adelegriffin.com
and on Twitter at @adelegriffin.

My brother Robert and me in Maine in 1976, when I was six years old. Our mother was born in Maine and our grandparents returned there, to the Rangeley Lakes, most summers.

Me in Rhode Island with my brother Geoff in 1981. I was eleven years old and in my Agatha Christie phase. I would read Christie or nothing.

My contribution to my high school arts magazine. I loved to make collages, considering them the highest form of art. I also emulated Victorian gothic romance, and loved historical costumes. Many of my illustrations were wacky, inadvertent mash-ups of period clothing spanning multiple centuries.