are prepared for rain in the morning and perhaps there will be a storm by noon. This is not what we desired for our second day at sea, but since the Intrepid is such a solid bark I am certain it can weather anything.
Captain James Whittaker
Chapter Three
“So I’ve been thinking, Aunt Margaret,” I said at breakfast the next morning. “I’m sorry about the china and I want to make it up to you.” Mom beamed at me while Aunt Margaret’s eyes narrowed — pretty much what I expected.
“This plan of yours — it’s going to make up for a broken heirloom that’s almost a hundred and fifty years old?” Aunt Margaret asked dryly.
That old, eh? I could understand why she was peeved.
“Margie, let’s just hear what she has in mind,” Mom said. I started out carefully.
“I’ll bet keeping Aunt Beatrix entertained all day has been a pain — am I right?” Mom shot me a look about the same time as Aunt Margaret frowned. “Don’t get me wrong … she’s probably been a pain in a nice way.” My speech wasn’t coming out like I had rehearsed in my mind. “Anyway, I was thinking you might like some time off, so how about I do stuff with her sometimes?”
“You’ll do stuff with her? Like what?” Aunt Margaret asked doubtfully.
“You know, I could show her around Crescent Beach. I could tell her about the ancient Coast Salish who once lived here. We could visit Mr. Grimbal’s store. Maybe I could show her how to tie sailor’s knots and how to play Crazy Eights. It’ll be fun.”
Mom and Aunt Margaret looked at each other and I could tell they were talking with their eyes the way sisters do when they know exactly what the other one is thinking. Then they both started to do that snort giggle thing that runs in the family. Why did I have the feeling that maybe I should have thought this through more? I knew Aunt Beatrix was bossy and opinionated, but just how bad could it be spending time with her?
“Good morning, everyone. What’s all this joviality about?” Great Aunt Beatrix came through the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a huge nightgown that flowed around her like a floral tent and her thin white hair was wound up tight in pink curlers. I didn’t think people used those things anymore.
“Peggy, don’t you have school today?” she said when she finally took note of me.
“Nope, it’s Saturday. Remember, Aunt Beatrix?” She sighed heavily at me. What was that about? She was the one who couldn’t seem to keep the days of the week straight.
“Peggy, please don’t say ‘nope.’ You need to speak proper English during your formative years; otherwise you will develop poor grammar habits.” I bit my lip to hold in the groan. “And dear, don’t you think you’d better put something else on?” She turned to Mom, whose cheeks had turned pink. “Really Elizabeth, you can’t approve of this. She’s worn that shirt two days in a row. And shouldn’t she do something with her hair?” I felt my mussed-up hair, then looked down at my Canucks jersey. It had only a couple of dirty smudges, but otherwise was perfectly fine.
“Actually it’s the fourth day that I’ve worn this shirt, Aunt Beatrix. And unless something drastic happens to it today, I’ll probably wear it tomorrow too.” I watched her baggy eyelids widen. Aunt Margaret nervously brushed at the crumbs on the table and Mom quietly slipped out of her chair and took the dishes to the sink.
“Oh, I see. Well, in my day, children were expected to be clean and dressed appropriately. But …” She sighed. “… those days are gone. You youngsters go around with rings in your noses and eyebrows, and your arms marked up with tattoos, and wear the most atrocious things.” She looked at my jersey with her nose all wrinkled … like it smelled or something. That was the moment when I figured out what Mom and Aunt Margaret were laughing about earlier.
“Right, well, that’s very interesting. But I’m off to the library.” I saw my mom’s eyes widen. I bet she knew I was already working on how to get out of spending time with the old biddy. I needed to come up with a different plan to get those diving lessons. Just then Aunt Margaret opened her big mouth.
“By the way, Aunt Beatrix, you’ll be pleased to know that Peggy is planning to spend some time with you this afternoon and on school days when she gets home. In fact, it was her idea. So now the two of you can get to know each other better. Won’t that be nice?” The look in my Aunt Margaret’s eyes told me I’d walked right into the quicksand and she had no plans to rescue me. I jumped out of my chair and headed quickly for the back door.
“Gotta go,” I said, and whipped out the door. On the way out I heard the last of their conversation.
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m very sure with daily guidance I can set Peggy on the right course — just as I did when you both were girls.”
Great! While I thought I’d come up with the perfect plan for softening Mom up so I could get diving lessons, in actual fact I had become an improvement project for my great aunt.
I stayed out as long as I could. First, I stopped at the library to look for books on underwater archaeology. When the librarian couldn’t find anything she offered me a book on some old guy named Jacques Cousteau. She said he was famous because he explored the oceans and was like the father of scuba diving. I figured it was worth a look. My next stop was TB’s house to use his computer to locate the Reef Dive Shop and find out about lessons — it was the nearest dive shop to home, and the best part was they had beginner lessons starting almost every week.
When I finally got home Aunt Beatrix was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her coat with the fur collar and some crazy-ugly brown shoes. On her head was a dorky feather hat. She must have been hot, which would explain the serious scowl on her pinched face.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come,” Aunt Beatrix said curtly. “I was led to believe we would be going out this afternoon. If I’d known you were going to return so late I would have gone with your mother and Margaret. You know it’s very rude to keep people waiting.” She made an exaggerated effort to look at her watch. “I’m not even sure now if I have the energy for an outing anymore …” Brilliant, that suited me just fine. “… But I suppose I can muster the strength for a short excursion. Perhaps to that gift shop that sells antiques and aboriginal art. What’s it called?”
“Real Treasures and Gifts,” I sighed.
“Yes, that’s the place. Well, let’s get going then.” She shooed me out the door like a little kid with muddy feet.
All the way to Beecher Street Aunt Beatrix nattered on at me like a cranky parrot. Mostly it was about the broken china. She reminded me it had been in the family for six generations and that one day it might be mine. “If there’s anything left of it, that is,” she said. After a while she moved on to my dirty fingernails and torn sneakers. She’d just started giving me tips about the best way to make a good impression on my teachers when we finally arrived at Real Treasures and Gifts. I was trying to estimate how much trouble I’d get in if I just dumped her off on Mr. Grimbal and ran for it. He was just as crusty as Aunt Beatrix so they’d make a great pair.
“Hello ladies, come right in,” Mr. Grimbal said in his slick, used-car salesman voice. “And who is this charming lady with the elegant hat, Peggy?” Oh please, did he think that kind of goopy flattery actually worked? Then Aunt Beatrix giggled daintily. Hmmm, obviously he knew something I didn’t.
“Good
