The Vanderbeekers Make a Wish Read online

  “Oh, sorry,” Oliver said, his mouth full of cookie. He offered the container to Grandma. “Do you want one?”

  “You eat way too many sweets,” Grandma said. “It’s not good for you.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Mama says that as long as we eat a balanced diet and get exercise, a couple of cookies a day isn’t a big deal.”

  Grandpa walked over and selected a cookie. He took a bite and smiled.

  Grandma sniffed. “Do you have real food?”

  “There’s some leftovers in the refrigerator,” Jessie said. “I’ll reheat them for you after I’m done cleaning. Grandpa, are you hungry?” Neither of her grandparents had eaten much at lunch.

  Grandpa nodded.

  After the dining table was cleared, Jessie pulled leftovers from last night’s dinner out of the refrigerator, split the noodles and broth into two bowls, and stuck them in the microwave. At the same time, she kept an ear on Grandma’s conversation with Oliver.

  “How are your grades?” Grandma asked Oliver.

  “They’re okay,” Oliver said. “I mean, not as good as Jessie’s, but I’m passing all of my classes.”

  Grandma’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oliver has been training with the high school basketball team,” Jessie chimed in from the kitchen. “He’s getting really good.”

  “Basketball?” Grandma asked in a tone one would generally reserve for “pinkeye.”

  “Yep,” Jessie said. “If he keeps it up, he’ll go right to the varsity team as a freshman. That’s pretty much unheard of.”

  Oliver beamed, but Jessie noticed that Grandma wasn’t impressed by basketball. So Jessie added, “Oliver is a great English student. Much better than me. He reads all the time.”

  Grandma didn’t respond, which made Jessie think that neither basketball nor English thrilled her. But Oliver didn’t seem bothered by Grandma’s disapproval. He had wandered over to the couch and was now reading. Grandpa was next to him, trying to keep Franz from snatching his third cookie.

  Jessie took the bowls from the microwave and set them on the table with napkins and chopsticks. Grandpa sat down and started eating right away, but Grandma sniffed the noodles suspiciously, as if she thought Jessie had sneaked poison into her bowl when she wasn’t looking. Jessie rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen to clean up. When she was done washing the stacks of dishes left in the sink from the morning, she turned around to see Grandma finishing her last bite of noodles. Grandpa was already done and was helping himself to another cookie.

  “Good?” Jessie asked Grandma, taking the empty bowls to wash.

  Grandma wiped her mouth with a napkin. She didn’t say anything, but she did nod, which Jessie thought was better than nothing.

  It was weird, Jessie thought as she washed the rest of the dishes, that she had nothing to say to the grandparents who were in their home at that very moment. She would give anything to sit down with Pop-Pop and ask him questions. When she was done cleaning, she dried her hands and turned around. Her grandparents were gone, presumably back upstairs to Mama and Papa’s room.

  So Jessie took out her phone, sat at the dining room table, and started to research all the Whalers Coves in California, hoping she could learn more about the family she had never known.

  Seven

  Hyacinth watched as Isa grunted and lugged the unwieldy wagon up the stairs to the library. Rainwater that had pooled on the tarp splashed onto her pants and shoes. Laney tried to help but only made the wagon tilt precariously and threaten to dump their books. When Isa finally got the wagon up to the entrance, she rested.

  “I hope I didn’t strain an arm muscle,” she grumbled. “Mr. Van Hooten will kill me.”

  Mr. Van Hooten was Isa’s violin teacher, and he had prohibited Isa from doing anything that might injure her fingers or arms. That was why she never played basketball, volleyball, or softball. Once, a few years ago, she had played basketball during PE and sprained two fingers. Mr. Van Hooten had marched to her school and had words with the gym instructors. After that, Isa ran laps whenever they played sports with high finger-injury possibilities.

  Hyacinth loved the library. Walking through those heavy wooden doors and breathing in the smell of books always gave her a feeling of possibility, as if the whole world were waiting for her to discover it. Isa pulled the wagon to the check-in counter, and together the three sisters started unloading books.

  “Hey there, Vanderbeekers!” Ms. Abruzzi said. As usual, she was wearing an outfit that Hyacinth adored: a silk blouse printed with cats wearing reading glasses, a chunky necklace of large yellow beads, and big glasses with leopard-print frames.

  “We’ve got books to return,” Isa said, heaving up one of the science books. “Again.”

  “I see you needed the wagon today,” Ms. Abruzzi said, peeking over her big wooden desk.

  “Jessie and Oliver wanted us to bring in their books,” Laney informed her.

  “Can we leave the wagon here while we look around?” Isa asked Ms. Abruzzi.

  “Of course. Just park it over there in the corner.”

  Isa pulled the wagon to the corner while Hyacinth stayed by the circulation desk.

  “Anything I can help you with, Hyacinth?” Ms. Abruzzi asked.

  “We’re trying to find out where my great-grandfather was stationed during World War Two,” Hyacinth told her.

  “That sounds like a great project. Is this for school?”

  “No. We found an old letter that said our great-grandfather fought in a war and was stationed somewhere called Whalers Cove, but that’s all we know about him. We think World War Two makes the most sense.”

  Isa had rejoined them by then, and she stood by, waiting to hear what Ms. Abruzzi would say.

  “Hmm . . .” Ms. Abruzzi tapped her pen against her chin. “That’s not much to go on. I think the National Personnel Records Center needs certain information, but let me check.” She turned to her computer and typed rapidly. “Yes, you would need the complete name as used in service, the service number, the branch of service, date and place of birth, and dates of service.”

  Isa shook her head. “We only have his name and not any of that other information.”

  “What are you trying to find out, exactly?” Ms. Abruzzi asked.

  Hyacinth told Ms. Abruzzi about the letter and their plans to re-create Pop-Pop’s trip.

  “Ah,” Ms. Abruzzi said. “Let’s see if we can at least find out if Whalers Cove shows up in any of the World War Two books.”

  Ms. Abruzzi stood and the Vanderbeekers followed her. Hyacinth noticed that her favorite librarian’s outfit was even more awesome now that she could see the whole thing. Ms. Abruzzi wore silver pants and black-and-white zebra-patterned boots. Hyacinth wondered if she could make shoes like that by painting white stripes on her black boots.

  With the efficiency of a woman who had worked in that very library building for two decades, Ms. Abruzzi marched over to a stack, scanned it briefly, and plucked three huge books from the shelves. She brought them to an empty wooden table, took the top one off the pile, and flipped to the index. Isa did the same with a second book, and Hyacinth did the same with the last.

  “What are you looking for?” Laney asked.

  “I’m just doing a quick search for Whalers Cove to see if anything comes up,” Ms. Abruzzi said. “Nope, not in this book.”

  “Not in this one either,” Isa said, closing the book.

  “Or here,” Hyacinth said.

  “I could check the other libraries to see if they have any books about World War Two sites in North America,” Ms. Abruzzi suggested, gathering the books to reshelve.

  “I want to check those out,” Laney said, nodding at the books in Ms. Abruzzi’s arms.

  “Really?” Isa and Hyacinth said.

  “I want to learn more about the war,” Laney said.

  “These books are going to be really hard to read,” Isa told her. “Maybe Ms. Abruzzi can suggest some that would be easier.”
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br />   “Yes, we can go upstairs to the children’s department—” Ms. Abruzzi began, but Laney interrupted her.

  “I want these,” Laney said. She grabbed the book on top of the stack that Ms. Abruzzi was holding, staggering once the weight of the volume was fully in her arms.

  Hyacinth reached down to help, but Laney shook her head and stumbled to the circulation desk. Ms. Abruzzi brought the other two books to the desk and put them on the counter, then scanned Isa’s library card. After she processed the three World War II books, she pulled out a stack of books she had set aside for Oliver. They were an eclectic mix of books in verse, contemporary realistic fiction, fantasy, and historical fiction.

  “Should I go ahead and put these on your card?” Ms. Abruzzi asked Isa.

  Isa sighed and nodded. Hyacinth stealthily added a pile of craft and recipe books to the stack.

  “And that brings you up to forty-nine checkouts,” Ms. Abruzzi said to Isa.

  “I’m glad we brought the wagon today,” Isa told her.

  The Vanderbeekers waved goodbye to their favorite librarian, loaded up the wagon, and headed back down the stairs. It was still raining, big drops splashing on the sidewalk.

  “Oof, this is even heavier than it was before,” Isa said. “I thought we were only picking up a few books.”

  Hyacinth and Laney looked at their big sister.

  “I feel like you don’t know us at all,” Hyacinth said.

  “Can we stop by Castleman’s Bakery on the way home?” Laney asked. “Please? Pretty please?”

  “I feel like you don’t know me at all,” Isa said, veering toward Castleman’s, their trusty red wagon bumping down the sidewalk behind them.

  * * *

  There were many places that felt like home to the Vanderbeekers: the brownstone, of course, but also Mama’s cat café, the library, the community garden, and Castleman’s Bakery. In fact, one of Laney’s first memories was going to Castleman’s Bakery with Papa on Saturday mornings. Mrs. Castleman would always give her a star cookie as big as her hand, and Mr. Castleman would emerge from the back kitchen with a piece of dough for her to play with. Laney loved the way it squished in her hands.

  The bakery was busy, with customers placing large orders of flaky cheese croissants and sweet apple turnovers. While Isa parked their wagon in an empty nook under the side counter, where the sugar packets, coffee stirrers, and milk were kept, Hyacinth and Laney got in line. The bakery, protected from rain, was a welcome respite.

  While they waited, Laney examined the framed newspaper articles written about the bakery hanging along the wall.

  “A Cozy Home Bakery in Harlem,” said one headline.

  “The Castlemans Give Croissants the Royal Treatment,” said another.

  Laney peered closer at the articles and realized that they were yellowed with age. That reminded her that Mr. and Mrs. Castleman had been around for a long time.

  A few minutes later, the Vanderbeekers got to the front of the line. Mrs. Castleman smiled when she saw them.

  “Hello, my friends. What can I get you today?” Mrs. Castleman asked.

  “We are in desperate need of chocolate croissants,” Isa said.

  Mrs. Castleman took a piece of wax paper from the dispenser and began putting chocolate croissants into a bag.

  Laney looked through the display case at Mrs. Castleman’s hand reaching for the pastries.

  “Mrs. Castleman, did you ever know Papa’s dad?” Laney asked.

  Mrs. Castleman’s face broke into a big smile. “Of course I knew him. Pop-Pop came in here almost every morning for a cup of coffee. One sugar, heavy on the milk.”

  “Really?” Laney said.

  Mrs. Castleman nodded. “He started coming in when we first opened. Your father was around ten years old, and they would come here after Pop-Pop was done coaching the basketball league at the Y. Your dad used to play in that league.”

  “Really?” said Isa, surprised.

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Castleman said. “That was a big thing they shared. Didn’t your dad teach Oliver how to play?”

  “I guess he did,” Isa said. “Him and Uncle Arthur.”

  Mrs. Castleman nodded. “Pop-Pop would bring in your dad and all the kids in the league and buy them whatever they wanted. I always sold a lot of croissants when they came by. I gave them extra when I could. Pop-Pop couldn’t have made much money driving garbage trucks around.”

  “He drove garbage trucks?” Isa said.

  “Just like Mr. Mark?” Laney asked.

  “Just like Mr. Mark,” Mrs. Castleman said.

  “I guess I never asked what he did for a living,” Isa said.

  “Did Pop-Pop ever mention anything about Whalers Cove?” Hyacinth asked.

  Mrs. Castleman squinted, thinking. “No, I don’t remember him ever saying anything about a Whalers Cove.”

  Isa’s phone chirped, and Laney peeked at the screen and saw that it was Benny.

  “Benny’s shift starts in an hour, and he wants to know if I can hang out with him for half an hour before,” Isa told Hyacinth and Laney.

  “You should do it,” Hyacinth said. “We can walk home by ourselves.”

  “Nice try,” Isa said, knowing how much Hyacinth and Laney wanted to have more independence, “but I’ll walk you home first.”

  “I want to read my books and do research on Whalers Cove,” Laney said.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Hyacinth said.

  Isa nodded, and Laney helped Isa gather the wagon, maneuver it out of the bakery, and head for 141st Street. On their way home, Isa’s phone chirped again.

  “Benny again?” Hyacinth asked.

  Isa shook her head. “It’s Papa. He got to Indiana safe, but his flight was very turbulent.”

  “What does that mean?” Laney asked. Except for Jessie, none of the Vanderbeeker siblings had ever been on a plane.

  “It means it was really bumpy.”

  “That sounds scary,” Hyacinth said.

  “I want to talk to him,” Laney said. “Can he call now?”

  “He said he would call tonight,” Isa said, putting the phone in her pocket.

  As she munched on her pastry, Laney absorbed the new information she had learned about her grandfather. It made her even more curious about her dad’s family, and stories about Pop-Pop were definitely on her list of things to talk to him about when he called later.

  Eight

  Oliver sat in his bedroom. He had been researching Whalers Cove on Jessie’s computer when Grandma emerged from Mama’s bedroom and asked why he was spending so much time online. Then she told him he should do homework, and when he explained that he didn’t have any homework during the summer, she looked completely horrified.

  To get away from her, he headed to the backyard. On his way through the kitchen, he noticed Grandpa at the sink dismantling the faucet handle.

  “What are you doing?” Oliver asked.

  “It leaks,” Grandpa said as he inspected the parts inside the faucet.

  Oliver, hearing Grandma coming down the stairs, slipped out the door. He knew Grandma wasn’t a fan of chickens, so he would be safe outside. Climbing up to his treehouse, he hid himself among the thousands of leaves and got some protection from the rain. A knot of sparrows had the same idea—they were right above him, chattering wildly.

  The gate at the side of the building gave a squeak, and Oliver looked down to see Mr. Beiderman entering the backyard. He headed straight to the tree and began climbing the ladder. Oliver was stunned. Mr. Beiderman had never been in his treehouse before.

  “I know I’m going to break my neck climbing this,” Mr. Beiderman grumbled as he heaved himself up into the treehouse. His face was slightly red. “So, Oliver, how are things?”

  “Uh, fine? What are you doing up here?”

  “I heard that you’re having a not-so-great day,” Mr. Beiderman said. “And I know your dad went to Indiana and your mom is working, and I saw you out here alone and thought I’d se
e how you were.”

  Oliver stared through the trees. He could see Jimmy L’s apartment across the way, and he wished his friend were home and not a thousand miles away.

  “It hasn’t been the best,” Oliver admitted.

  Mr. Beiderman nodded in understanding.

  They sat in silence for a while, listening to the chickens clucking away below them and the city sounds—ambulance sirens, cooing pigeons, and the steady beat of music coming from a stereo.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your canceled camping trip,” Mr. Beiderman said. “When does your dad get back from Indiana?”

  “Thursday,” Oliver said. “And Grandma and Grandpa are probably going to stay all week.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Beiderman said. “Would it help if Orlando and I came over for dinner tonight? It might provide a distraction, right? I’ll order pizza for us.”

  Oliver shook his head. “Well, Grandma is going to think that’s too unhealthy.”

  Mr. Beiderman shrugged. “Too bad. Now can we get down from here? I’m hungry and need a cookie ASAP.”

  * * *

  As they made their way back inside, Oliver told Mr. Beiderman about the new hair place that had just opened up on Frederick Douglass Boulevard. A lot of kids in Oliver’s school had gone in there with regular hair and come out with awesome hair. Their boring brown or black or blond or red hair was now all the colors of the rainbow. The other day, Oliver had seen a guy emerge from the salon with bright green spiky hair.

  Aunt Penny, who was sitting at the dining room table learning how to knit with Hyacinth and Laney, looked up at their entrance and overheard their conversation.

  “Trust me, you do not want to do that to your hair,” Aunt Penny interjected.

  “Why not?” Oliver said.

  Aunt Penny held up her knitting, observed all the holes in her project, then showed it to Hyacinth, who looked at it and shook her head sadly.

  “You have to start over,” Hyacinth told her.

  As Aunt Penny removed the stitches from the needle and started winding the yarn back into the ball, she said, “I’ve never dyed my hair, but that’s probably because I saw what happened to Uncle Arthur.”