Family Heirloom Challenge: "The Quest for Horace" -- by Anne Leskey

The Quest for Horace

By Anne Leskey

        

Horace has been in our family for a hundred and twenty years, and this Dr. Fye thinks we’ll just sell him? 

This was Kelsey’s indignant thought as she looked at the letter that she had just finished reading. Grandma was in the kitchen, cooking, and Kelsey decided that she’d better go tell her, so that she could have company in her indignation. 

She left the vestibule, and walked slowly into the kitchen, where the aroma of tomato soup was heavily perfuming the air. Kelsey put the two catalogs and the electric bill onto the table, and then carried the letter over to Grandma, who was humming an old fashioned ditty as she stirred her soup.

“Look at this, Grandma,” said Kelsey, pressing the letter flat onto the granite countertop, and taking the stirring spoon so that Grandma could more freely attend to the letter. 

Grandma murmured over the letter for some time, and then sniffed, “Well, doesn’t he think a deal of himself? Complacency just oozing in every overdone word he’s written. Obviously, there’s only one reply.”

“Yes. I suppose I’ll email him; did you see that he gave his email address? But anyway, I suppose I’ll email him to make sure that he understands that there is not a chance that we’ll sell Horace.”

“And look him up, too, dear,” said Grandma, taking back the spoon, “I want to see if he’s a crook, because if he is, he might try to steal Horace. ‘A rare specimen of his dwindling kind’ indeed. I’d say there are plenty of tortoises left in the world.”

“I think Dr. Fye must be referring to the specific type of tortoise that Horace is, Grandma,” answered Kelsey, going to the living room to open the lid of her computer, a 2009 laptop. 

She punched in her password, and then clicked on her web browser, and solicitously typed in Dr. E. Fye. She referred to the envelope for the state that he was writing from, and quickly put that in too, before hitting the search button. A list of things came up, and Kelsey clicked on the first website that appeared, one which she knew generally was pretty comprehensive when it came to giving away people’s private information. 

Before she left the page she had discovered that Dr. Fye was in actually Enger Algernon Fye, aged thirty-three, and had a very good record. He did not appear to have any relatives, and only had three neighbors that were listed. Kelsey sighed.

“Well,” she said, as Grandma came in, “there doesn’t seem to be anything against him.”

Kelsey pressed the back button, and started idly scrolling through the remaining results of her search. 

“Nothing?” Grandma said, almost anxiously, “Humph. And I was sure that he was a criminal, trying to blackmail us. Well, you can email him to tell him that he can keep his five thousand dollars for all I care, because he is not getting Horace.”

Kelsey nodded, and opened her email, and proceeded to thoughtfully begin writing,

Dr. Fye,

We, my grandmother and I, received your missive concerning the sale of our tortoise. I am sorry if this answer disappoints you, but our answer to your offer of buying him is irrevocably ‘no’. However, we will endeavor to answer any questions that will help you in your research about rare and unique species and breeds. Again, I apologize for being unable to comply with your request.

Sincerely,

        Kelsey Kirkwood 

Dr. Fye must have been watching his email, for it wasn’t but three minutes later that Kelsey got a reply. Annoyed, she looked at it. 

Ms. Kirkwood.

Thank you for offering to answer questions. I’m afraid that won’t do. I beg you to inform Mrs. Fairbairn that if five thousand is too little, as doubtless it is for what may be the last of his kind, I will unhesitatingly offer her ten thousand, and the guarantee that her tortoise will come to no harm.

Dr. Enger Fye.

Kelsey showed this reply to her grandmother, and Grandma humphed with dreadful emphasis.

“Well, well,” she said quickly, “So, Horace will come to no harm, will he? And Dr. Fye thinks he has to say that, does he! I’m not going to do anything but suppose that he is absolutely pulling my leg. And does he really think that ten thousand dollars could possibly cover the loss of a tortoise that belonged to my great-great-grandmother, my great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mother, and myself?”

“I suppose that he, like many people, thinks that money can get one anything,” Kelsey said thoughtfully. “Is the tomato soup burning, Grandma?”

“No, I took it off the burner. I should like to introduce that man to my opinion of the value of filthy lucre,” Grandma said. She shook her finger emphatically as she instructed Kelsey to send an even more positive refusal, which Kelsey gladly did. 

Grandma went to prepare grilled cheese, while Kelsey opened the door to the enormous room which was occupied by the subject of all this upheaval. He wasn’t in the room, having sauntered out of an open door into a large outdoor area which was walled in, but had every feature possible to promote the happiness of this adored tortoise.

“Horace,” called Kelsey, slipping out into the outdoor area, where Horace was basking on a large rock, overlooking his enormous built-in swimming pool, which was made of the finest materials and cleaned regularly. 

Horace didn’t look at Kelsey, instead just slowly moving off of his rock into his swimming pool with a comfortable air of leisure. Kelsey sighed, and refreshed his bowl of greens, taking a quick look around to see that all was in order before returning inside and replacing the greens in his sleeping room also, and then she washed her hands and went into the dining room where the lettuce salad, tomato soup, and grilled cheese sandwiches were all set out on the buffet sideboard. 

“I checked on Horace. He’s perfectly fine,” said Kelsey, sliding into her seat opposite Grandma, “You fed the canaries and the budgerigars, didn’t you, Granny?”

“Yes, dear,” said Grandma, “And I fed the dog.”

“Well, yes, I can see that,” said Kelsey, pointing at the brown Labrador, which was gulping down its kibbles.

“Dear Minnie,” said Grandma affectionately, “She does so like to eat. Did you know, Kelsey, I thought that your brother was going to stop by today, but he hasn’t come yet.”

“You know how Kyle loves to be late,” said Kelsey, “We’ll be hearing him soon, zooming in on that ridiculous motorcycle of his.”

True to his sister’s prediction, it wasn’t ten minutes later that they heard the sound of a motorcycle rumbling past their house, and then screeching to a stop on the gravel driveway. A pause, and then they heard the doorbell ringing violently. Minnie started barking in distress at the noise, and Kelsey went hurriedly down the hallway to the front door, opening it to the sight of her brother standing garbed in leather, with bright blue goggles (matching his motorcycle) and a silvery helmet. He took the latter two things off, and grinned at Kelsey, who looked at him in older-sisterly disapproval. 

“Hello, Kels. Am I in time for lunch?” he inquired, continuing to smile as he sniffed at the air. 

“Yes,” said Kelsey. “Grandma was wondering where you were,” she added, continuing to lead him towards the dining room. 

“Granny!” he said, happily seizing the bowl of soup she handed him, “How’s everything? Tortoise still alive?”

“Yes,” said Grandma with an awful frown. “But do you know, Kyle, someone was actually trying to buy Horace. Buy him! From me! Like he isn’t a multi-generational heirloom.”

“Who? For what price?” Kyle asked with interest, “How dreadful,” he added, seeing that Kelsey was looking at him with something like suspicion. 

“Dr. Fye. Dr. Enger Algernon Fye,” said Grandma, “His final offer was ten thousand. Of course I refused.”

“Ten, ten thousand?” gaped Kyle, “Why, what a pitiful sum for such a priceless treasure as Horace,” he continued, “I don’t wonder you refused him, Granny. You did exactly right. This is awesome soup.” 

Kelsey frowned, as Kyle’s wording made her think again that he was a most mercenary boy. She thought that it almost seemed like he was commending Grandma for not selling because the price was too low, rather then because Horace was something that tied together generations of their maternal line. This jarred on Kelsey, because she really wanted to be proud of her baby brother, but there were times, and more then a few of them, when she just couldn’t be anything but ashamed. 

The two of them, despite the six year gap in between them, had been relatively close for nine years, but after Kyle turned nine he also started turning more materialistic, and Kelsey, at fifteen, only viewed money as something that was unfortunately necessary and useful. They both continued in this, so that at twenty-five and nineteen they were very much different in their mindsets. 

“Well, I’ve got to run,” said Kyle, “Or I’ll be late for my history class. Starts in fifteen minutes.”

“But, Kyle,” said Kelsey, “The entrance of your college is ten minutes from here. You will be late.”

Kyle grinned. “Prof won’t mind. Half the people are always late to history.”

He jauntily waved his hand, crushed his helmet back onto his head, snapped on his goggles, yanked on his gloves, and proceeded to run out of the door, jump onto his motorcycle, and roar off down the road. 

“That boy,” said Grandma, “has no practicality.”

“Oh, he’s young,” said Kelsey hopefully. “But I do wish he’d get to his classes on time. It’s bad enough, the grades he gets.” 

She sighed, knowing that Kyle got as many ‘B’s and ‘C’s as was compatible with not failing. She had been so different when she had gone through those four years that she had taken. So far, she hadn’t needed either of her two degrees, but she was planning to start looking for a job next summer. Of course, she didn’t need one. She had been working for three years as Grandma’s secretary and companion, and also she had a small side career of writing stories and papers which paid her a pittance, but Kelsey thought it would be a shame to waste her degrees. Kyle, on the other hand, admittedly was just going to college ‘for the fun of it’, and that caused both Grandma and Kelsey a great deal of concern. Mr. and Mrs. Kirkwood had no fears, for generally whatever Kyle did was perfection to their biased minds. 

“Oh. Dr. Fye says that we can stipulate a sum. Apparently he doesn’t comprehend the meaning of the word no,” sighed Kelsey, looking at her computer screen disdainfully. “He suggests thirty thousand! He, or whatever organization he’s associated with, if he is associated with one, must be fabulously wealthy.”

“My dear, the time has come for drastic measures, or he’ll keep pestering you. Give him the dictionary definition of ‘no,’ as it pertains to a refusal, and see if he can worm his way out of that one,” suggested Grandma.

Kelsey, with an obstinately set face, did exactly that, and then turned off her computer, determined to ignore any further emails he might send. 

“I’ll wash the dishes.”

“Alright, dear. I think I might just have forty winks, then,” said Grandma complacently. 

Kelsey, smiling at the invariable phrase Grandma used to describe a nap, set about scrubbing the dishes in the hot, soapy water. She thought she heard a door click somewhere. Kelsey dried her hands on an apron, and walked through the house, but she didn’t see anything amiss, so she went and got a drying towel and proceeded to put the pots and pans into their proper places in the enormous pantry. 

After doing this, she opened up her computer to access the paper she was working on, and saw that she’d gotten an email. Sighing, she opened it, and then her eyes widened, as she saw one sentence written in all caps, bold, and with a dark red font color:

YOU WILL REGRET YOUR DECISION

“You don’t say,” she commented calmly, marking the email with a star, and putting it into one of her organizational folders, bearing the label of ‘threats.’ 

She closed her browser, opened her favorite word processor, and calmly continued writing her article about animal shelters. It was so important that they be run properly, as Kelsey knew from several summers of volunteer work. They’d gotten Minnie from a shelter, which was an excellent feature to work into her story. Besides, she had pictures of Minnie while the latter was still in the shelter which would—she thought she heard a car revving in the yard. Kelsey stood up, indignant, and went towards the window, but the only car was in the neighbor’s yard, and there didn’t appear to be tire tracks in the grass, so she supposed it had just sounded closer then it was.

Kelsey went back to her paper, after brewing a cup of coffee. Grandma’s forty winks was lasting a considerable time. Kelsey finished her paper, hunted up the appropriate pictures of Minnie, played with the canaries and budgerigars for a few minutes, and took the dog outside, while simultaneously making sure that the Rhode Island Red chickens were getting along amiably. When she came back in, Grandma was still sleeping, so Kelsey went into the enormous kitchen and started making stromboli. 

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, to see a text message from Kyle:

won’t be home going to Justins house.

Kelsey stared at the message, and then responded with an acknowledgment of his information, and a sarcastic reflection upon his lack of punctuation and capitalization. She put the stromboli in the oven, and went outside for some lettuce. She realized that though she had missed the tire tracks before, there were some. Angry, she snipped more lettuce then she needed, and carried it into the house. The lawn, the product of many hours of research and organic care, was Kelsey’s especial pride, and it enraged her that some trespassing ninny should have run their dirty tires all over her lush grass. At least, she reflected as she rinsed the greens, they did not run over the flowerbeds. 

“Oh, thank you, Kels. I slept longer then I meant to,” said Grandma, looking approvingly at the dinner preparations. “Did anything happen while I was away?”

“Apparently someone drove their truck over our property,” said Kelsey, draining the lettuce leaves, and setting them aside to make room for the compilation of the salad dressing, “but nothing but the grass seems to have been hurt. I thought I heard a car earlier, but I didn’t catch them at it, unfortunately.”

“Not much harm done, then,” said Grandma. “The chickens alright?”

“Yes! I made sure to count them, earlier, even before I knew the truck had gone through. All six are still there. And I took Minnie for her walk, but I haven’t checked on Horace since this morning,” Kelsey said, opening the oven to see the progress that was going on in there.

Grandma went to visit with her tortoise, and Kelsey finished her cookery, taking the result into the dining room and setting the table. Grandma came back, disappointed.

“Horace must be in one of his hideaways.” she said, “I had hoped that he’d be in a companionable mood, but I suppose it’s just as well, because you’ve got dinner ready. Where’s Kyle, Kelsey?”

“He’s staying at Justin Bronson’s house, apparently,” said Kelsey disapprovingly, “He didn’t specify if it was just for tonight or for the weekend, but…well, anyway, he won’t be turning up for supper.”

“Youthful gadabout,” said Grandma, pulling out her chair, and sitting down in it with a creak and a groan. 

Kelsey ate supper comfortably, but just as she was going to retrieve the chocolate cake, she felt a sudden headache. Ignoring it, she brought out their dessert, cut generous slices, piled some fudge sauce on top, and retrieved the monogrammed spoons. Grandma ate heartily, and Kelsey forced the food down. It was delicious, as all Grandma’s cakes were, but the headache was persistent. It wasn’t a painful one, it was just a dull, steady sensation which wasn’t enough to complain about, but was more then enough to make existing more uncomfortable than it should have been. 

As the evening progressed, there was a positive throbbing in her head, and although the pain lessened until she wondered if she could even be said to have a headache, there was something in her head that she didn’t understand. She decided finally that she must just be tired. She’d been up early, and her paper had caused her some more difficulty then she’d expected.

“I think I’ll go to bed early tonight, Grandma,” said Kelsey, “I’ve shut the chickens up, so I’ll just refresh Horace’s food.”

She went into the tortoise’s large bedroom to do this, but found that he was still hiding. Placing the food and water carefully in his favorite feeding location, she got herself into the shower, and then crashed onto her bed, with the sense of something growing in her mind, welling up, as it were. 

She tried to fall asleep, but the growth was still growing, and so she lay awake until dawn, trying to ignore it, and thereby concentrating on it all the more. When morning finally came, she walked into Horace’s room, not quite sure why, and then stopped short. 

Horace invariably came out at dawn to take his morning swim and eat his morning lettuce, but swim and lettuce notwithstanding Horace was not there. She had been confident that he’d been hiding, so she hadn’t checked his hiding spots. Kelsey quickly went towards them, trying to remedy her mistake, and searched, hoping that he hadn’t died. He likely hadn’t, but whether he did or not, he was not anywhere in his enclosure, indoors or outdoors. 

Kelsey bit back a frantic scream, and rushed into the main part of the house, and found Grandma composedly eating her oatmeal.

“Grandma, Horace is gone,” Kelsey said.

“Nonsense. Did you check all his places?” Grandma said, sprinkling her oatmeal with cinnamon.

“Yes,” Kelsey said insistently, “I think he’s been stolen.”

Grandma abandoned her porridge, “Kelsey, I know exactly who did it. Dr. Enger Algernon Fye is behind this, or my name isn’t Dorothea Fairbairn. I’m going to call 9-1-1, and then….”

“Ow,” burst out Kelsey, as the throbbing in her head finally escalated. 

Help. Dark. No. Lettuce. Where’s. Girl. Help.

“Grandma, I can hear him,” said Kelsey, “Grandma, I can hear Horace in my head.”

Grandma stared. 

“I have to follow him,” Kelsey added. “I’ll take my SUV. I’ve just got to pack. He’ll lead me there.”

“Alright, dear,” said Grandma, “You get your clothes, and I’ll pack you some food. Don’t forget your wallet. I’ll still call the police.”

Kelsey reflected, throwing the necessary items into a backpack with quick movements, that it was fortunate that she had such a grandmother. She and Grandma packed her SUV in a matter of moments. Kelsey reviewed everything, didn’t think she had forgotten anything, and gave Grandma a goodbye hug, before getting into the driver’s seat, buckling in, and turning the key. 

Now that Horace’s voice was sounding in her head, the pain and throbbing had completely vanished. She merely could attune her mind to that section, and hear him. She couldn’t tell how to respond, for when she tried, there was no response. There was merely a repetition of the words he’d thought earlier. Kelsey realized something else, too. While he was at the house, constantly accessible, she’d never heard his thoughts, but the further he went away, the easier she could hear him. She thought it likely that if she concentrated hard enough, now that she knew how, she’d be able to hear him closer up, too. But for now, she just had to follow the sound in her head, for she could tell what direction it was coming from, and she was tolerably certain that she was on the correct path. 

Strangely, she wasn’t perturbed by the fact that she could hear Horace’s voice in her head, nor did she bother about how she knew it was him. It seemed as if it was right and fitting, and that there had always been something indefinable missing hitherto. Her mind was connected with that of a tortoise’s, and Kelsey could not have cared less about the oddity of it. 

Such. A. Bumpy. Place. Where. Is. My. Water. I. Want. To. Swim.

“Poor Horace,” breathed Kelsey, carefully keeping her speed at precisely the speed limit, and wishing all the while that it wasn’t merely a country road, but a highway on which she’d be able to go seventy, rather than forty. Normally she didn’t enjoy driving fast…but there were exceptions. 

Once the thought that Kyle might have had something to do with Horace’s kidnapping crossed Kelsey’s mind, but she dismissed it. He was at Justin Bronson’s. In fact, Kelsey was so sure of this, that she decided to text Justin and confirm it. She pulled over, and produced her phone, her face a little pale.

Hi Justin, this is Kelsey. Is Kyle there?

A second later, Justin’s reply came.

No. I asked him, but he said that he’d be at your house.

Kelsey frowned, and wrote back, He said that he was going to your place. Which means he was lying, and I think he just stole my grandmother’s tortoise.

Why would Kyle steal Mrs. Fairbairn’s tortoise?

Because a Dr. Fye was willing to pay thousands of dollars for Horace.

Kelsey would not have normally told someone that she suspected that her brother had stolen her grandmother’s tortoise, but the Bronsons and the Kirkwoods had been good friends for some eight years, and Kelsey figured that Justin might as well be told as not. He might be able to help, but it didn’t seem likely, for it had been three minutes and he hadn’t replied. Probably he couldn’t think of anything to say, but just as she was going to continue, for Horace’s thoughts were more emphatic when she allowed herself to hear them, the pinging noise of a received text sounded. Kelsey picked up her phone, and read

Kyle always has been fond of money. Do you really think he would have gone to that length, though?  What measures are you taking, Kelsey?

Grandma called the police, and I’m searching in my SUV, because I can tell what direction Horace is traveling. 

Do you have a GPS attached to him?

No, I can hear his thoughts.

A short pause.

Are you joking?

No.

You can hear a tortoise’s thoughts?

Precisely.

Are you feeling well, Kelsey?

Yes. I know it’s unbelievable, but I can hear them. You’ll just have to believe me, I suppose, because I can’t offer proof at the moment.

Where are you?

Kelsey sent her location, and then waited, wishing that Justin would stop asking questions so that she could continue driving.

I’m going to come with you. If Kyle stole it, and Dr. Fye is in on it, then you might need help. Can you wait where you are for half an hour?

I suppose. You likely are right. I might have to take Horace back by force.

Exactly. See you soon.

Kelsey put her phone back in her pocket after responding to this farewell, and waited patiently by the road for Justin to appear. He soon did so, driving a smallish, old-fashioned car. Kelsey waved, and started driving, with Justin following. Kelsey’s phone rang, and she quickly accepted the call, seeing that it was from Justin.

“I thought that I could call you, and then we could converse easier if we need to say something.”

“Oh, okay,” said Kelsey, “So I should just leave my phone…phoning?”

“Yes.”

Kelsey agreed, and then carefully drove in the direction she was hearing the thoughts from. They seemed to be coming from the north, and she couldn’t only hope that she wasn’t mistaken in supposing that. Justin was following her patiently, apparently having accepted the fact that she was guiding herself and him on the basis of thoughts that she was gleaning from a tortoise.

Kelsey concentrated harder suddenly, for the thoughts seemed to be slipping away a little, but she quickly regained control of them, and almost was encouraged, for she thought the momentary difficulty might mean that they were getting closer.

Ah. Light. Water. Food. They. Are. Treating. Me. Properly. But. Where. Is. Girl.

Kelsey willed her thoughts as best she could into the corner of her mind where she felt and heard these words, and felt that she had properly sent back the words, Horace, this is Kelsey. I’m coming for you, me and Justin Bronson. It won’t be long.

Help. Is. On. The. Way. I. Will. Eat. 

Kelsey sighed in relief, and then managed to ask Horace to keep thinking, so she could guide herself to the spot where he was. Horace conveniently continued thinking two words, and that was ‘lettuce,’ consistently followed by ‘dandelions’. 

“Kels? Are you still there?” inquired Justin’s voice, coming through Kelsey’s phone. 

“Yeah,” said Kelsey, keeping her eyes fixed on the road, “Is something the matter?”

“No. I just didn’t know if the connection had broken, or something. You’ve not spoken in awhile.”

“Well, I’ve managed to establish a complete connection between myself and Horace. We can hear each other’sthoughts, so I can communicate with him. Unfortunately, he thinks very choppily, but it’s getting easier to decipher as I become more used to it,” Kelsey responded.

“Alright. I need to pull into this gas station, I forgot to fill up before I left home.”

“I need more gasoline, also,” Kelsey answered, so she moved her car so that they both pulled into the filling station at the same time, Kelsey wishing that cars didn’t need filling up so much. 

She turned off her car, and got out, starting to pump the gasoline into her tank. Justin got out a second later, and began filling up his own vehicle. 

“Are we getting closer, do you know?” he asked.

“Maybe a little. It’s getting more difficult to access his mind,” Kelsey said.

“But wouldn’t that mean that he’s getting farther away?” Justin inquired.

“Perhaps it should work like that, but I don’t think it does,” Kelsey answered, taking the fuel dispenser nozzle out of her truck, and hanging it back up. 

“I’m going to run in and get chewing gum,” said Justin.

“Alright. I won’t continue until you come back out,” Kelsey said, driving her car out of the filling station, and putting into the more common parking lot. Justin did the same, and then got out of his car and jogged towards the small convenient store that was just behind the station. 

Kelsey waited impatiently, until he came back out, and then got into her car, starting off again, once more with the phone lying on the passenger seat of her car, in an ongoing phone call from Justin. She could feel in her bones (and mind) that they were getting closer, despite the hours of disparity in their travel time. But then again, they might have reached their destination, which would mean that Kelsey and Justin were getting much closer all the time. Horace’s thoughts were of no use, for no matter how she questioned him, all he’d think was thoughts pertaining to food. 

“Well, Kelsey? Are we nearly there?”

Apparently Justin was thinking along similar lines. Kelsey sighed, drumming her fingertips on the steering wheel for a second before replying.

“Horace is being disobliging, Justin…he’s just thinking about his little tortoise stomach, instead of being rescued.”

“How very like a tortoise.”

“How do you know what a tortoise is like?” shot back Kelsey.

“I was trying to sound profoundly intelligent.”

“Oh. But I have to get Horace back, you know. Grandma will have a conniption if anything happens to him, and justly. Why, we’ve had him since 1900.”

“Surely not you and your grandmother, that long.” Justin was clearly amused.

Kelsey was not amused, and her voice betrayed the fact as she said, “No. Our family. My grandmother Holly Smith Ogleby was the first to own him. You know that, I’ve told you.”

“I forgot the name, Kels,” Justin protested. 

Kelsey sighed, and then slammed on her brakes, just as a car passed inches within the front of her car. She had been going forwards at an intersection, undeniably having the right of way, and the other vehicle had whisked across her path. She heard a shout from her phone, for the close encounter had evidently alarmed Justin more than Kelsey, who had been driving for nine years, and had had that sort of experience more than once. 

“Is your car alright, Kels?” 

“Yes. Please stop talking, I’m trying to concentrate. Horace’s head-voice is getting harder to tune into,” Kelsey replied.

Food. Is. Gone. There. Are. Fake. Lights. I. Want. To. Swim. Kelsey. Come.

It’s alright, Horace, I’m on my way. I think I’m getting closer. Are you stopped? Is whatever you’re on in motion?

A deep pause in Kelsey’s mind, and then a snappish.

No.

Kelsey sighed, relieved. Then you must be at your destination. Were you moved from the vehicle you were in?

Yes. This. Is. Alarming. Never. Did. Anything. Like. This. Before.

You’ll be fine, just hold on.

“Kelsey, are you sure you know where we’re going?” Justin asked in a justly alarmed voice, as they set off down the most intricately difficult road imaginable, full of hills and sharp corners. 

“Absolutely not,” said Kelsey, “I’m just going off of the general impression in my mind.”

“I can’t drive this. I’ve only been driving for a year!”

“Can’t you manage?”

“I’m attempting it,” admitted Justin, “But look at those cliffs that we could fall off of at any time.”

“We won’t,” reassured Kelsey, not at all sure of it. “But this is the way we have to go, and—Justin!”

They had just reached a more secure but very bumpy part of the road, and Justin’s car seemed to absolutely stop working, going crazily out of control, and spinning off of the road. Kelsey screamed as it smashed dramatically into a clump of trees. 

Kelsey instantly stopped her vehicle, making sure to leave it some distance away, snatched up her phone, and yelled into it.

“ARE YOU KILLED?”

“I don’t know,” answered Jason.

Kelsey sighed, relieved, and then hovered a little closer towards the wreckage of the old vehicle. The front, the left side, and the trunk were all completely smashed. Justin crept out, for the driver’s seat appeared to have not gotten much injury. He had a bruise rapidly forming on his forehead, but had had the sense to slam a pillow in front of the window shield, and most of the glass shards from the ruin of the pane appeared to have gotten caught in it, and none of them were stuck in him.

Kelsey and Justin stared blankly at the mess, which was quietly smoking in the midst of the tall trees.

“What happened?” Kelsey demanded, “Were you being a distracted driver, Just?”

“No,” Justin said defensively, “The car stopped working.”

“At least you’re not injured,” Kelsey said, continuing to stare at the wreck.

Justin absentmindedly started taking photos, “Do you imagine it’s even remotely important that I am not injured?” he demanded. “Kelsey, I just totaled Dad’s 1970ish car! He loves that thing…loved…that thing.”

“It’s Mr. Bronson’s car?” Kelsey said, duly alarmed. 

“YES!” screeched Justin, “He took my pickup to work, because he thought there was something wrong with the brakes or something on…that…but I looked it over after your text message, and I didn’t see anything out of place, and then…well, look at it! It’s a complete ruin, and I shall be in dire disgrace for thirty years.”

“Well, don’t you have superfluous numbers of cars are your place?” asked Kelsey, recovering.

“None of them are from 1973,” grimaced Justin. “That was Dad’s pride and joy. And justly…why, the poor car was forty-seven years old, Kelsey.”

“I doubt it cared,” said Kelsey consolingly.

“Look at it!” Justin bemoaned. “I murdered the poor thing.”

“Justin…it’s a car.”

Justin sniffed, “How would you feel if you’d just wrecked your Dad’s favorite car?”

“I probably would feel very happy. Dad’s car is revolting,” answered Kelsey, “Sorry, Just, but I’ve got to go find Horace. I really need to locate him.”

“I’ll come with you. You should leave your car. This is dangerous ground to drive on,” Justin said, “Kelsey, how am I going to tell my father?”

“Does your father attend to social media?”

“No.”

“Pity. You could have posted it, and then he could have gotten angry on the internet, and you wouldn’t have had to face him,” said Kelsey compassionately, “I suppose you could call him?”

“Never,” said Justin, “I’ll help you find your tortoise, but—you know, Kelsey, it’s been a really long time since I visited my sister.”

“But doesn’t she live in France, now? After marrying that exchange student?” Kelsey inquired, startled.

“Exactly,” said Justin, “Dad hates traveling.” 

They were walking down the twisting path by now, Kelsey trying to attend to both Horace’s voice and Justin’s lamentations, but she found the latter a little annoying, not quite able to comprehend how anyone could make such a fuss about a vehicle, not aware of Mr. Bronson’s deep affection for any vehicle over ten years of age, especially the one that Justin had just smashed. 

It was getting harder and harder to hear Horace’s thoughts, and Kelsey rejoiced at that, for she realized that it meant she was getting closer, and she expected that she’d find the place he was in at the end of this incredibly long lane. She had a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Fye was fond of privacy.

“Doubtless in order to torture innocent tortoises,” she explained out loud.

“What?” Justin asked, blankly, having been staring miserably at the sky for a few moments of the depths of his self-pity and genuine grief for the loss of the dear little car. 

“Nothing,” said Kelsey. “This looks like a place my sister Kayla would enjoy. Trees, privacy, and a number of insects. Really, it’s bothersome how many gnats there appear to be in this spot.”

“Gnats?” hollowly echoed Justin, “You can speak of gnats with the picture of that poor, forlorn, abused wreckage yet lingering in your mind? Or have you already forgotten it? Kelsey, what if she haunts me?”

“She? Justin, you wrecked a car! You didn’t murder someone.”

Justin sighed heavily, “It feels like it.”

“Well, I don’t imagine anyone will ever have to worry about you becoming a criminal. Oh yeah, this is definitely a place that Kayla would love,” said Kelsey, staring up at a dilapidated old building, covered in lichen and ivy, and with broken things everywhere. Dark and tall trees were spread around, and overgrown hedges abounded.

For a moment Justin forgot his trouble, “Wow, it looks like one of those enchanted fortresses that one sees in cartoon adaptions of fairy tales.”

“It’s not a fortress,” said Kelsey impatiently, “It’s just a very old and worn-out house. Probably spider infested, and absolutely filthy, but I suppose we’ll have to enter it.”

“We can’t just enter it, Kels.”

“Oh, I’ll knock of course,” said Kelsey easily. “They can’t just steal Grandma’s tortoise. Of course, you don’t have to come along.”

Justin sighed heavily. “If I’m slain in there, I suppose I could be buried with the car? A double headstone, you know. Justin Charles Bronson, born July 4, 1994, died Oct 16, 2020 and then right next to my tombstone, there could be Guinevere “Bug” Bronson, born 1973, died Oct 16, 2020. Do you suppose it would be feasible, Kels?”

“Possibly,” Kelsey said, restraining a burst of laughter, and climbing nimbly up the three broken stone steps to the tattered door, and banging on it quite vehemently. 

“You know, it really is quite sad,” Justin said, when nobody immediately opened the door. “I’m only twenty-six and I have already ruined my life so far as to have to contemplate running to France for safety.”

“How alarming,” Kelsey said, eyeing the door with some trace of anger on her features. 

“Poor Marie,” Justin sighed. “She’ll be so disappointed in me, when she learns why I turned up at her doorstep, begging entrance.”

“Justin, you really don’t need to get so depressed because you accidentally wrecked a car. Cars are cars, not people. Besides, think of my situation. Here I am, able to hear the thoughts of a very precious tortoise, that could be about to be killed by some mad scientist.”

“Oh, yes, but at least you didn’t wreck your Dad’s—”

“2020 hideous monstrosity? That’s what he has,” filled in Kelsey with an impatient sigh. “Nobody appears to be opening the—Hello.”

This last word was addressed to a tall, pale man who opened the door. He had a thin face, thick curls, enormous glasses over small eyes, the most peculiar nose imaginable, and a rather large mouth with equally large teeth, which he was showing in an unfriendly grin, which he didn’t appear to be conscious of. His clothes were rather shabby and dramatic, and he had a quill pen perched jauntily behind his ear. 

“Hello. You remind me of someone,” said the man dreamily. “Come in,” he added sweetly.

Kelsey and Justin came in, Kelsey looking rather angry, and the stranger appearing perfectly unconscious of it. He waved them majestically to a threadbare couch of a rather damp and moldy appearance.

“What has gone wrong?” he continued smilingly, looking at them through his absurdly humongous glasses.

“You stole my Grandma’s tortoise,” said Kelsey bluntly, “Or at least, know who did.”

“Did I?” asked the man absentmindedly, “Dear me. How did I go about it?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Kelsey. “But I am not going to have gone through that long ride of insufferable difficulties in trying to keep track of Horace’s thoughts, only to come across your pretended innocence. I know that you are Dr. Fye, and that you stole Horace the tortoise, and I’m tolerably certain that my baby brother aided you in your crime.”

“How very vehement,” smiled the man dreamily. “I really can’t remember doing any of that, but I suppose maybe I did. I thought I paid the young man. Oh well, it likely doesn’t matter much.”

“It matters tremendously,” Kelsey blurted. “Horace isn’t for sale, and here Justin’s totaled his dad’s car to get here, and you might at least stop being so heartless and tell us if the tortoise is here!”

“Heartless? No, no,” answered the man anxiously, “I’m just not in the habit of feeling with my blood pumping organ. I really have some doubts about its emotional capacity. I don’t know what you’re talking about though, so I must call in help.”

“If you try and fight us, I will knock you to the floor!” Kelsey said excitedly, “I demand the return of our tortoise.”

“Don’t get agitated,” soothed the man. “Just let me find her, and she’ll comprehend it, I think. Do we have the tortoise? I suppose we might. Everything’s possible in this peculiar little existence of ours. That’s really a supremely comforting thought, by times.”

He gently sauntered out of the room, and came back with a youngish woman whose appearance made Kelsey stand up in absolute shock.

“You! Kayla, what are you doing here? How…how dare you?” she gasped excitedly.

“Kelsey, what are you talking about?” said the woman, who was evidently Kayla Kirkwood, Kelsey’s older sister. “This is my home.”

“Your home? But, Kayla, you’re living with Aunt Melissa, finishing graduate school.” 

“No. Kelsey, didn’t Mom and Dad tell you? Why, I texted them three weeks ago, telling them that I got married five weeks ago,” said Kayla in a surprised voice.

“Mom’s phone died that week, and Dad never checks his messages,” said Kelsey in a small voice, “You’re married? To him? Surely not to him?”

“Of course,” said Kayla, looking hurt, “And why are you here, if you didn’t know that I was?”

“Kayla, he and Kyle stole Horace.”

“Stole Horace?! But Kelsey, after your refusal, Kyle turned up and said that you’d agreed, so Enger paid him fifteen thousand, and he took it to take to Grandma. Did he?”

Kelsey sighed, “No, Kay, he didn’t. Why didn’t you just openly ask for Horace? What did you want with him anyway? I don’t understand, Kayla.”

Kayla Kirkwood Fye proceeded to explain. It appeared that she and Enger had hatched the plan of asking Grandma for the tortoise under guise of not knowing Grandma, and that they thought it would be an excellent way to give Grandma some more spending cash. And besides, they planned completely to return Horace as soon as possible. But the reason they wanted him, was because Enger had been doing research—here Enger’s sister-in-law shot him a very disbelieving look—and they were tolerably certain that Horace was no ordinary tortoise.

“Well, besides the fact that he and I have a telepathic connection, I don’t know that there’s anything unusual about him, except for that he’s a hundred and twenty years old.”

“I thought that would be it,” smiled Enger Fye, smiling benignly at Kelsey. “Telepathy is really so interesting, and so very rare. You are really quite fortunate…do you have a name?”

“Kelsey. Hasn’t Kayla mentioned me? I’m her only sister,” Kelsey said, sounding hurt.

Kayla sniffed, “Nobody responded to my message about getting married. I thought nobody cared, but I havementioned you. It’s just that Eng doesn’t always comprehend unimportant things like his wife’s sister’s name. He knows that I’m Kayla…I think.” 

“Did I do something?” Enger asked innocently, “But, did we pay the young man, dear?”

“Yes, Eng,” said Kayla. “Of course, he didn’t know that I was here, either, I suppose, come to think of it. Of course, we’ll return the tortoise immediately. Did Justin come in a separate car? He could take Horace back, while we search for Kyle.”

Justin sniffed, “I came in a car. But I totaled it.”

“Oh dear. Well, you have a good job. You can get another,” said Kayla kindly.

“It was my dad’s 1973 pride and joy,” Justin said, in a quavering voice. 

“Bother. Well, you can take our car.”

Justin nodded, “Alright.”

Kelsey looked apprehensive for a second, and then nodded, “Well, where do we go to find Kyle?”

“I don’t know,” said Enger, smiling, “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” he asked vaguely.

“No, Eng,” said Kayla, “Everything’s fine. Justin, here’s the car key. You’ll find my car and Horace in the garage out back. There’s a GPS in it, so you’ll be fine.”

Justin nodded, taking the key and walking outside, evidently pleased with this opportunity to revive his confidence in his driving skills. Kelsey could only hope he wouldn’t pass by the mess that he’d created earlier. She had slightly recovered from the shock that her sister had gotten married and gotten married to such a person, but she was now more eager than ever to catch her brother.

“He would hardly go back to college,” she remarked, getting off of the couch and pacing, “and he has so many friends.”

“Perhaps Dana’s place?” suggested Kayla. “Fiancées are always so convenient when one needs a place to hide after stealing one’s grandmother’s tortoise.”

“Kyle doesn’t have a fiancée,” said Kelsey.

“Oh, but he does,” persisted Kayla. “We’re friends on Facebook. She’s not very far from here, just in Smithfield.” 

Kelsey sighed, “Alright. We can take my car, since Justin has yours. What did you say that Kyle’s fiancée was named?”

“Danielle Worthington, but everyone calls her Dana,” Kayla said breezily. “So, let’s go get into your car. I think that Justin has left. Enger, come along. Kelsey’s going to drive us to Smithfield to find my brother Kyle.”

Enger smiled beautifully. “Alright.”

He walked amiably out of the house, and seemed to almost float along the driveway towards the place where Kelsey had deposited her vehicle. Kelsey unlocked her car, and slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Do you know the way to Smithfield?”

“Not exactly.”

“I don’t suppose you brought a GPS or Maps?”

“I was going off of Horace.”

“Then I’ll drive,” said Kayla, gesturing for Kelsey to leave the steering wheel.

Kelsey, recognizing the justice of Kayla’s suggestion, amicably left the seat to her sister, and got into the back, next to her newly discovered brother-in-law. Kayla turned on the engine and flew across her impossible road, apparently quite used to all the corners and cliffs that abounded upon it.

After about fifteen minutes of silent driving, Enger starting silently singing hymns to himself, swaying his head from side to side as he enunciated the lyrics. 

“You wrote those emails,” accused Kelsey, looking at her sister’s reflection in the mirror that was hanging from the middle of the front of the car. “But then why did you say I’d regret my decision?” she added.

Kayla smiled, “Oh, yes. Well, you couldn’t except Enger to write an email? The poor fellow doesn’t understand computers. And as for that, I just thought that it might prompt you to do something, and I thought you likely would regret it if Horace turned out to have dangerous magical propensities.”

Kelsey silently thought that her sister might have at least married someone who knew how to send an email, but she had enough sense not speak the thought aloud. 

“That really was a dreadful wreckage, when we passed Justin’s car,” Kayla continued, “Doesn’t Mr. Bronson like that thing? Bad luck for Justin.”

“Apparently it’s Mr. Bronson’s pride and joy, but I doubt he’ll be too upset. Justin’s his favorite son.”

“Justin’s his only son,” said Kayla.

“I think he counts his son-in-law—but of course, Marie and Pierre Moreau are in France, so Mr. Bronson can’t get very well acquainted with him,” answered Kelsey. “Kayla, you are going to have to tell Mom and Dad that you’re married.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose I will. But if I have to actually face them everyone’s going to end up in tears. Kelsey, please tell them for me,” pleaded Kayla. “You know how anxious they were for me to have a spectacular career and get rich and be the prototype of a successful girl. They won’t appreciate that I just want to take care of a rundown house and have a garden and a cat.”

“Well,” said Kelsey resignedly, “alright.”

“Thanks, Kels. You’re such a darling,” Kayla said, apparently relieved, and also picking up her pace, which had slackened a little. 

“Are you going the speed limit?” Kelsey asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, yes. We’re only about half an hour away here,” Kayla said, subtly lessening the pressure on her gas pedal, noticing that she was going ten miles above the speed limit.

They reached the place, a neat white house with a prim lawn, a fountain, and a St. Bernard dog lounging around the yard in the charge of a sharp-faced woman. A girl of about seventeen was lounging comfortably on the porch, swinging her feet as she sat in a rocking chair. She bounced up when she saw who had pulled in, and hurriedly went inside, slamming the door in their faces. The woman and St. Bernard vanished also.

“That’s encouraging,” said Kayla. “This definitely means that Kyle is here. I bet he’s afraid to meet Kelsey.”

Kelsey looked grim. “He should be,” she said darkly. 

Kelsey and Kayla went up to the door, and proceeded to soundly knock and use the doorbell with persistence. Enger meanwhile sailed over towards a window, and smiled and waved into it.

“Is Kyle there?” Kayla asked him.

Enger smiled again, “Look, it’s that nice young man I paid.”

“Oh,” Kayla said grumpily.

Enger looked alarmed. “Was I not supposed to pay him?”

“It doesn’t matter, Eng.”

Enger nodded, relievedly and abstractedly. 

Finally the door opened, and the girl was smiling at them. She was rather pretty, lots of pink hair, big brown eyes, a tan complexion, and a perpetual, very lipsticked smile. Her face was a bit flushed at the moment, but she welcomed them in. Kyle was out of sight, and Kelsey frowned ominously, though she was a little pleased. At least he knew he’d done something to be disapproved of. 

“Who is this?” Dana asked, looking at Kelsey, “She looks a bit like Kyle.”

“Our sister, Kelsey.”

“Oh, he’s told me about you,” Dana said in a very unflattering voice, “You used to be really close with Ky, weren’t you?” she added sweetly, “Such a shame he found out that your personality was so incompatible with his charming nature.”

“Speaking of Kyle, I want to see my brother, now,” said Kayla firmly, eyeing Dana.

“Kyle? I haven’t seen Ky for…oh, two months now,” Dana said in a surprised voice, raising one over-plucked eyebrow. 

“But I just saw him in the window,” Enger remarked absently. “I think.”

“You’re not deceiving us, Dana. He must give Enger and Kayla back their fifteen thousand dollars. NOW!” Kelsey seldom raised her voice without good purpose and effect. Dana started trembling, casting uncertain glances at her visitors. 

She finally burst into tears, “But Kyle can’t give it back. He’s in debt. His motorcycle payments have gone so far back, and he thought he could make it up with this. And he’s already spent the dollars, and I think it’s very mean of his family to let him suffer because they won’t pay for his motorcycle.”

“He shouldn’t have bought something he couldn’t afford,” said Kelsey shortly. “Now, you just march over and grab my brother, and bring him here.”

“Y-you can’t control me.”

“And he’s just committed a theft. Would you prefer him to be subjected to our judgment, or that of the police?” said Kelsey.

“Alright,” sniffled Dana, fluttering nervously out of the room.

Kelsey, Kayla, and Enger waited on the flowery sofa, watching the St. Bernard snore by the fireplace, and looking around the room which was overdone and incongruous in its various fabrics and wooden accents. It was a very cheap looking room, in the sense of gaudy, and not of inexpensive. Kelsey shuddered, and wished she was back at Grandma’s, where everything was neat, tidy, and harmonious. Kayla appeared to be wishing herself away too, although Kelsey couldn’t honestly say that she preferred the rundown mansion of Kayla’s to the well-built, if hideous, house they were in now. 

Kyle slowly approached, skulking behind Dana, who was looking a little more confident now. Kyle scratched at his ear, as he sat down in front of his family, grinning at them.

Kelsey stood up, “Did you pay all of that money already?”

Kyle scowled. “Yes. I did.”

“Do you imagine that our parents will be overly pleased with this information? Or that Grandma will thank you for stealing her tortoise so that you might amend your errors in judgment? You already had a car, you didn’t need that stupid motorcycle, and now you’ve gone and made yourself a criminal just so you can zoom along in that dangerous little device,” Kelsey spoke in a measured voice. 

“Well, don’t get all fussy about it. Enger and Kayla can afford it.”

“True, but utterly beside the point,” said Kayla. “We’re taking you straight to Grandma’s, and then Kelsey can phone our parents, and bring them down.”

“I won’t come.”

“Yes you will,” Kayla said. 

“Indeed,” Kelsey agreed.

Kyle looked deflated and defeated, and in a very short time they had him bundled into the car, and they got in themselves. Dana followed them, riding on Kyle’s motorcycle. She was a far more skilled driver of it then he ever was, but Kyle had his head buried in his hands, and therefore didn’t notice this mortifying fact. They got back to Grandma’s place fairly soon, and were starting to drive up her long lane, when they noticed something. The car and motorcycle came to abrupt halts, and everyone got out.

“Justin!” Kelsey, Kayla, and Kyle all gasped. 

Justin was kneeling several feet away from the wreck and ruin of Kayla’s 1968 car. He appeared to be silently groaning.

“Justin, is Horace alright?” Kelsey asked, running over, “What happened? Again?”

“Horace is fine,” said Justin tonelessly, “I dropped him off, and was about to drive back to Kayla and Enger’s place, but there’s that curve in your driveway, and I thought Minnie was going to run across the driveway, but I swerved too far, and my foot went down too heavily, and I ran into an oak tree.”

Kayla walked over, “That’s a mess,” she said heavily. “You didn’t mean to do it.”

“I’ll pay you back,” averred Justin, “As much as you think it’s worth, but I’m going to have to get a job in France. Marie will take me in out of the kindness of her heart, and I think I can survive from there.”

Kayla looked at her car and sniffed. 

Just then, another vehicle spun into the driveway, and stopped just behind Kelsey’s car and the motorcycle. Mr. and Mrs. Kirkwood, in addition to Mr. and Mrs. Bronson, got out of it. Justin shrank behind Kelsey, who felt like shrinking behind someone also, imaging the scene of chaos that was about to erupt. Grandma also came out, attracted by the sight of ten people gathered around the wreckage of a 1968 car in her daffodil bed. Thankfully, the daffodils had all died away long before October. 

“Justin!” said Mrs. Bronson, “We’d gotten worried. You didn’t tell us why you’d left, why, where’s Dad’s car?”

“Totaled,” Justin said hollowly.

“Mom, Kayla’s married.”

“Nonsense.”

“This is Kyle’s fiancee.”

“Totaled?”

“Completely.”

“Dana…Dana Worthington.”

“Enger Fye. Yes, five weeks married.”

“I texted you.”

“We didn’t get it.”

“Totaled?”

“Sorry.”

“And you’ve broken Mrs. Fairbairn’s car too, I see, Justin.”

“No, that’s mine.”

Things were silenced for a bit, but then Kayla, who had been looking at her car all this time, gave a convulsive sob, her shoulders shaking in dismay, as her eyes filled with tears, the loss of her vehicle having finally set in.

“I didn’t insure it, even,” she whimpered.

“My 1973 pride and joy,” whispered Mr. Bronson.

Mrs. Bronson silently patted his hand. 

“Is something wrong, Kayla?” dreamily asked Enger.

Kayla choked back her tears, looking extremely surprised. “You know my name? I didn’t know you knew my name.”

“I’ll get you a new…car, did you say?” Enger assured kindly. “This is a nice place. When do we go home?”

“What’s Kyle doing here? He’s supposed to be at college,” Mrs. Kirkwood asked sternly.

Kelsey resigned herself heavily, and proceeded to launch in a long and detailed explanation that left little room for questions. The facts were arranged in order, and given with clear preciseness. Somehow, nobody doubted her, but Mrs. and Mr. Kirkwood were slightly shocked at the fact that Kayla had been married over a month, and also at the idea of Kyle both being engaged for a year and also being in debt to a motorcycle company. The three things had just never crossed their minds.

“You’re not secretly married, are you, Kelsey?” asked Mrs. Kirkwood piteously.

“Not at all,” Kelsey assured. “Grandma, do you suppose we could all have some tea? I think that would be the appropriate thing.”

Grandma nodded. “I’ll just bustle in and make it. We’d better have some maintenance people attend to this heap of rubbish before it explodes. I understand crashed cars do that frequently.”

“In movies, I think,” said Kayla hopefully. “Not here, I trust. But…yes.”

“I’ll call the people,” said Mr. Kirkwood. “Everyone else go along inside.”

They did so, and Kelsey rapturously found Horace sauntering around the kitchen. She started patting him on the head, which attention he tolerantly accepted.

“Oh, Horace, I was so afraid for you,” Kelsey said, beaming, and trying very hard to concentrate on what was going on in his mind.

Such. Joyful. Voices. Wonder. What’s. Wrong. Very. Upsetting. To. My. Digestion. I. Want. My. Room.

Kelsey started leading him towards his bedroom and outdoor area. He splashed into the water, looking as pleased as it was possible for a hundred and twenty-year-old tortoise to look.

Kelsey walked back, and found Justin miserable, Mr. Bronson miserable, Kayla hovering between miserable over her car and rapturous over the fact that Enger knew her name, Dana sobbing because Kyle was in trouble, Kyle sobbing because he was in trouble, Mrs. Bronson apparently amused, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkwood stunned, and Grandma calmly pouring tea and producing gingersnaps from the pantry, which refreshment only seemed to be truly enjoyed by herself and Enger, who almost seemed aware of the fact that he was drinking the tea. 

Kelsey smiled, thinking of Horace being in safety again. The fuss over the cars seemed so superficial compared to that, but…it was a real grief to Kayla, Mr. Bronson, and the guilty wrecker Justin. Anxious to do something to help with their sorrows, Kelsey proceeded to make more tea, and then set about compiling supper.