Arthur could hear the smile in Talia’s voice when she said, “Thanks, Lucy.”
ELEVEN
To say the following days were an exercise in patience would be an understatement, even if patience was something Arthur had in abundance. Linus, too, though a little less so.
The children were another matter entirely.
Take Thursday morning, for example. At exactly half past seven, Miss Marblemaw swept into the house in a cloud of dusky perfume that smelled of wilted flowers mixed with the stench of self-importance. Clipboard firmly in hand, she entered the kitchen to find a group of children (and a forty-seven-year-old yeti) cheering on a wyvern as he attempted to beat his record by swallowing seven whole hardboiled eggs in the space of two minutes.
Unfortunately for Miss Marblemaw, she startled poor Theodore as he worked on his sixth egg, so much so that it shot from his mouth and hit her square in the forehead. Bits of egg and yolk plopped to the floor as Theodore chirped his apologies.
“Wow,” Lucy said. “That was eggcellent.”
“Eggxemplary,” Talia agreed.
“Come on, guys,” Phee said. “It’s not fair to have an inside yolk when Miss Marblemaw won’t get it.”
“I want to try egg-based humor too!” Chauncey said. “Okay. Hold on. Give me a second.” His face scrunched up as he concentrated.
“Good morning, Miss Marblemaw,” Arthur said as she haunted the entryway to the kitchen, plucking egg off her shoulders. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Playing … with food,” Miss Marblemaw muttered, scribbling on her clipboard. “Lack … of … manners. Of course, I’m not surprised that—”
It was about this time that Calliope decided to introduce herself to Miss Marblemaw. Given that she’d been busy the day before—Linus had found a dead mouse in his favorite pair of loafers that night—she hadn’t yet made her acquaintance with their new guest.
She did so by entering the kitchen, tail high above her. With a slow lift of her head, she looked up at Miss Marblemaw.
The two stared at each other for a long moment, both sets of eyes narrowed.
Miss Marblemaw looked away first. “As I was saying, just because you live in … this place, doesn’t mean you can’t show good manners that—”
Calliope began to make low hitching noises, her body quivering.
“What’s wrong with it?” Miss Marblemaw said with a grimace. “Does it have mange? Rabies? That won’t look good on a report. Surely, you—”
The hairball that Calliope expelled on top of Miss Marblemaw’s shoe was extraordinarily impressive in scope. At least three times the size of one of Theodore’s buttons, it landed with a wet plop, sliding off the side to the floor, leaving a trail of mucus and saliva in its wake.
Having made her introductions, Calliope left Miss Marblemaw behind, rubbing against Sal’s legs, meowing her displeasure at the woman who was hopping from one foot to the other, promising swift reprisal against such disgusting felines.
“Good girl,” Sal whispered as he patted his lap. Calliope jumped up, bumped her head against Sal’s chin, then settled in his lap, her purr a low, broken rumble.
“I got it!” Chauncey cried. “I was having an eggxistential crisis because I couldn’t eggxactly think of something to say. After eggstensive eggxamination, I have found the most eggstraordinary egg joke! The reason we all eggsist! Ready? Here goes! Why did the new egg feel so good? Because he just got laid!” He burst into peals of laughter, clutching his sides.
“Ah, yes,” David said, for some reason wearing Chauncey’s sun hat while shoving pancakes into his mouth at an impressive rate. “Adult humor. I approve, because I’m an adult. Arthur, I have some stock options to review with you. Remind me later.”
“Of course,” Arthur said, sipping on his tea. “I look forward to it.”
“Miss Marblemaw?” Lucy asked. “Did you have a good sleep?”
She blinked as she lifted her head, the wet hairball lying on the floor next to her shoe. “The mattress was too soft, but then most things around here seem to be, so I’m not surprised.”
“Oh,” Lucy said. “So, nothing crawled out from underneath your bed in the middle of the night and towered above you, but you were frozen in fear as the gaping maw got closer and closer to your face, so much so that you could smell the fetid breath of the monster who wanted to tear out your throat and consume your soul? Nothing like that?”
Miss Marblemaw sniffed. “Even if there was, I would have grabbed it around the neck and disposed of it without hesitation. After all, that is what one does when dealing with interruptions.”
Lucy blinked in surprise. “Really? That’s … huh. All right, I guess there’s always next time. Does anyone wanna bet me how much syrup I can drink before it starts oozing from my tear ducts? Last time, we got up to three bottles—”
“You let him drink three bottles of syrup?” Miss Marblemaw demanded.
“Of course not,” Arthur said. It had been four bottles. “Miss Marblemaw, why don’t we let the children clean up after breakfast, and you and I can discuss the lesson plans you requested while Linus handles the morning classes. I’m sure you’re as eggcited as we are to see what we’ve created. It’s really quite impressive, if I do say so myself.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. And with that, she whirled around and left the kitchen behind.
“Why didn’t she have breakfast?” Chauncey asked, one eye turned toward where Miss Marblemaw had been standing, the other on Arthur. “Doesn’t she know it’s the most important meal of the day? Poor inspector. I bet she’d feel better if she had some pancakes.”
“This is a start,” Miss Marblemaw admitted begrudgingly an hour later. “That being said, I would be remiss if I didn’t say that I have some serious concerns.”
“Do you?” Arthur asked, sitting back in his chair. “And what would those be?”
“Where to begin?” Miss Marblemaw flipped through the pages on her clipboard, marked up extensively. “Let’s start with what I saw before coming to the island. Are you aware of the reporters in the village?”
“I am,” Arthur said.
“Have you spoken with them?”
“I have not.”
“Good,” Miss Marblemaw said. “A bit of advice: don’t. Reporters only cause trouble.”
