During dinner that night, Fran and the Aldens did most of the talking. Lottie was strangely quiet.
“When I’m making my designs, I keep a bowl nearby filled with pressed flowers,” Fran was telling them. “And some ribbons, too, of course — satin, velvet, and a few snippets of lace.”
Violet swallowed her last bite of chicken. “That must be the hard part,” she guessed. “Coming up with a good design, I mean.”
“Well, the secret is to have something in mind before you begin.” Fran took a sip of water. “But you really can’t go wrong. Flowers always look nice.”
As Henry and Jessie stood to clear the dishes, Fran said, “You’re not yourself tonight, Lottie. Is anything wrong?”
The young woman’s face reddened. “Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” She got up from the table. “I think I’ll skip dessert if you don’t mind.”
Benny’s jaw dropped. “But … we’re having strawberry shortcake!”
“Yes, and I’m sure it’s delicious,” Lottie said, smiling a little for the first time. “But I’d much rather paint right now.”
“It must be very hard, Lottie,” Jessie said, “making that kind of switch.”
Lottie’s whole face suddenly changed. Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed. She looked like a different person. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked in a strained voice. “Are you implying that — ”
Jessie felt her cheeks turning pink. “I … I only meant that it must be hard switching from sketching to painting every day.”
Lottie was clearly startled. “Oh, I didn’t realize … ” She quickly left the room without finishing her sentence.
“What was that all about?” Henry wondered.
“You got me!” Jessie answered. “Lottie’s awfully touchy.”
“Well, there’s no need for anyone else to skip dessert,” Fran said, as she dished up the strawberry shortcake.
Benny was glad to hear that.
After feasting on Fran’s wonderful dessert, the Aldens washed and dried the dishes. Then they went outside to play croquet. Jessie was helping Henry set up the wickets when she noticed Reese watching from a distance.
“Hi, Reese!” she called out to her.
Reese walked over and gave the Aldens a big smile.
“We’re learning how to play croquet,” Violet told her cheerfully.
“You can play with us if you want,” offered Benny. “Those arches are called, um…”
“Wickets,” Henry reminded him.
“Right,” said Benny. “And you hit the ball through them.”
“Sounds like fun,” Reese said as Violet handed her a mallet.
They were soon laughing and cheering as they hit the wooden balls through the wickets. Sometimes they hit a ball too hard and had to go searching for it in the long grass by the creek. But they didn’t mind. It was a beautiful evening and the birds were singing. It wasn’t until the shadows grew longer that they finally put the game away.
“Guess what, Reese?” Benny said, as they all sat together on the kitchen steps.
“What, Benny?” Reese replied.
“We went to your mother’s antique shop today,” he told her, “and I bought a cookie cutter shaped like a ghost cow.”
“Oh, Benny!” Jessie laughed. “It’s not shaped like a ghost cow. It’s in the shape of an ordinary cow.”
Reese was quiet for a moment. “I keep thinking about that magazine article,” she said. “My mother says Fran will get over it. But I’m not so sure.”
Henry looked at her questioningly. “You mean because the runaway ghost will be left out?”
Reese nodded. “I told my mother it isn’t right. The story of Buttercup means a whole lot to Fran.”
“Your mother seemed pretty firm about it,” said Jessie.
Violet agreed. “I don’t think she’s going to change her mind.”
“No, she hasn’t budged,” admitted Reese. “Not yet, anyway,” she added with a mysterious little smile. “Well, I have to be going. Thanks for the game!” With that, she was on her feet and sprinting home across the grass.
“That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” remarked Jessie. “Why does Reese think her mother will change her mind?”
Henry shrugged. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But I hope she’s right.”
The Aldens went back into the house. After pouring lemonade into tall glasses, they headed for the living room. Fran was sorting through the old photographs from the attic with Lottie.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Fran looked up and smiled as the children walked into the room. “Did you enjoy croquet?”
“We sure did,” Henry answered. “Reese even played for a while.” He sank down in a buttercup-patterned chair.
“I was hoping you’d spend time together.” Fran seemed pleased. “Speaking of croquet,” she added, waving a photograph in the air, “I thought you might like to see that picture of Homer.” She held it out to Violet. “I was ever so pleased to find it with the other photos. It’s the only one we have.”
Violet studied the photograph that Fran handed her. It was faded with age and badly creased in places. But it still provided a glimpse of two young men in jackets and trousers. They were standing on either side of a young woman in a hat and a long dress.
Benny checked it out over Violet’s shoulder. “Look, they are holding mallets.”
Fran nodded. “Selden’s the young man with the mustache and the straw hat, and that’s Anne standing beside him.” She pointed. “Homer’s on the far right. He’s the one with the flower in his buttonhole.”
Fran waved another photograph in the air. “Here’s another one you might find interesting. I’d forgotten we even had a picture of the old tree house.”
Benny’s face lit up. “You mean, the one Anne called Little St. Ives?”
Nodding, Fran handed the photo to Benny. “It’s just peeking out from the branches of the tree. Can you spot it there?”
The other Aldens gathered around. “I can see Little St. Ives!” cried Benny. “Wow, too bad it was struck by lightning.”
Just then, Lottie stood up. “I think I’ll hit the sack early tonight,” she said. “It’s been a long day.” She stretched and yawned.
“I believe I’ll do the same,” added Fran, removing her reading glasses. She placed the envelope of photographs on the table beside her. “That walk around Cedarburg left me tuckered out.” She said good night, then followed Lottie out of the room.
Benny rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Smiling over at her little brother, Jessie said, “Early to bed sounds like a good idea.”
As they started for the door, Violet noticed that Henry hung back. His eyes were still glued to the photograph of the tree house.
“What is it, Henry?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
Henry didn’t answer. Instead, he dashed out of the room. He returned a few moments later with Fran’s magnifying glass. “I think I see something in this photograph,” he said, examining it closely. He had noticed something the others hadn’t.
Jessie glanced over Henry’s shoulder, “I don’t understand. It’s just a picture of a tree house.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” said Henry. “Then I noticed something carved into the tree.”
Jessie studied the picture through the magnifying glass. “You’re right, Henry. There is something carved into the tree.”
“What is it?” Benny wanted to know.
“An arrow,” Jessie answered. She looked from the photograph to Henry and back again. “But what does it mean?”
“The arrow’s pointing up,” Henry said. “And it’s — ”
Jessie drew in her breath. “And it’s carved into the trunk of the tree!” she said, finishing Henry’s sentence.
Violet and Benny stared at Jessie. They looked totally confused.
“The clues weren’t leading us to that trunk in the attic at all,” Henry concluded, a smile spreading across his face.
Jessie agreed. “They were leading us straight to the old tree house.”
“So is that the answer to the riddle?” Benny was getting more excited by the second. “Is the answer a tree house?”
“I’m sure of it.” Henry nodded. “Remember what you called the box Fran found?”
“A shadowbox,” Benny said. “Because it’s filled with shadow elephants.”
Henry nodded. Then he began to recite, “The thing you hold/ Is the thing you seek.” He looked over at his brother and sisters. “Violet was right. The riddle was telling us to seek another shadowbox.”
Jessie settled into a chair. “That makes sense. The tree house is shaped like a box. And it’s half hidden in the shadows of the tree.”
“So it’s a shadowbox, too!” cried Benny. “We were holding a shadowbox, and we were supposed to look for a shadowbox.” The youngest Alden did a little dance. Figuring out clues was always fun.
Jessie sank back against a cushion. “There’s only one problem.”
Violet looked over at her. “What’s that?”
“We’ll never find the third riddle.” Jessie sounded very sure.
“Why not, Jessie?” Benny asked her.
“Remember, Benny?” she said. “The tree house was destroyed.”
“Ouch!” Henry winced. “You’re right, Jessie. If the third riddle was hidden somewhere inside the tree house, it’d be lost, too.”
Benny sighed with disappointment. “That means we’ve come to a dead end.”
“Maybe not, Benny,” Violet said, smiling a little. “Maybe not.”
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