Angel of the Battlefield Read Free

get our tour,” Felix responded.
    They glared at each other.
    The stairway felt like it had no air at all.
    â€œMaybe she’ll get lemonade,” Felix said hopefully.
    â€œShe did get lemonade,” their mother said, appearing on the stairway below them. “Are you two snooping around?”
    â€œWe’re not,” Felix answered.
    Their mother’s flip-flops shuffled up the stairs until she loomed in front of them, her arms full of grocery bags. Her ponytail drooped, and her face glistened with sweat.
    â€œUpstairs,” she said, handing each of them a bag. “Now.”
    â€œBut it’s so boring—” Maisie began.
    â€œYou have been here all of what? A few hours?” their mother said, stepping aside and waving her one free arm for them to get moving. “You haven’t had time to get bored.”
    Felix gave her a big smile when he walked past her, but she did not smile back.
    â€œHow am I going to trust you two when I start work on Tuesday?” their mother said as they climbed up, single file. “This is a new job that I wouldn’t even have if I wasn’t Phinneas Pickworth’s great-granddaughter. Do you think law firms in Newport, Rhode Island, are desperate for lawyers? They are not,” she answered before they could. “I have to prove myself, you know, and not worry that you two are going to get into all kinds of trouble.”
    â€œI didn’t know we had to stay locked up all day like Rapunzel or somebody,” Maisie said.
    When they reached the top of the stairs and the door to their apartment, their mother turned to face them. The heat had made her mascara melt and leave black smudges around her eyes so she resembled a raccoon.
    â€œThis is hard,” she said. “Hard, hard, hard. But we have to put one foot in front of the other. All of us do.” For an instant it looked as though she might cry. But she took a deep breath and collected herself. “There are eighty acres of grounds out there,” she said. “You can spend the next six days until school starts exploring them.”
    She opened the door to their tiny, hot apartment.
    â€œYour great-great-grandfather was an explorer, you know,” she said, unpacking the shopping bags.
    Felix smiled as he watched her take out turkey and a package of American cheese.
    â€œWhy, he sailed down the Nile,” she continued, “and visited the tombs of Queen Hatshepsut and—”
    Maisie watched her unpack, too. “I bet they don’t even have the ham I like here,” Maisie said miserably.
    â€œThey do,” their mother said. She held up a neatly wrapped package of deli meat. “See? We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere.”
    That was when Felix told his mother about the gazebo. He thought it might make her happy that they had indeed explored a little.
    â€œThe inside ceiling is painted light blue with clouds,” he said. “And there’s a little bench in there with the back shaped like a heart.”
    â€œPhinneas Pickworth was a romantic.” Their mother sighed.
    After they finished their sandwiches and potato chips—barbecue for Maisie, ripples for Felix—their mother brought out a pound cake.
    â€œLet them eat cake,” she said.
    They looked at her, puzzled.
    â€œThat’s Marie Antoinette’s most famous line,” their mother told them. “She said it when—”
    â€œMom, who cares what some lady who died a million years ago said?” Maisie asked.
    Their mother sighed again. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn a little something about history and people you’ve never heard of.”
    â€œMom?” Felix said, his mouth full of cake.
    â€œSwallow first,” she said.
    Felix swallowed. “Why aren’t we allowed in the mansion? I mean, isn’t it technically ours?”
    She shook her head. “It belongs to the preservation society. As long as