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Mo, though I’d always think of her as just Mo to myself.
    All at once, I knew that I’d much rather be downstairs with her than unpacking my things in this way-too-pink bedroom.

I went to find Granny Mo, which was easy, since all I had to do was follow the noise. A teapot was sending a piercing whistle up the stairs, pots were clanking, and Mo was singing “Deck the Halls” (even though it was nearly a week after Christmas!). I edged my way down the staircase, through a hall, and into the kitchen, where the racket was coming from.
    â€œSome tea?” Mo asked, even though her back was to me. She turned off the burner of the old-fashioned stove and picked up the screaming red teakettle.
    â€œI guess. I don’t know,” I said. How had she known I was there? “Do you have hot chocolate?”
    â€œHot chocolate it is!” She riffled through the cabinets. “But I make awfully good tea, with fruit and flowers in it.”
    â€œTea is fine,” I said quickly, since I could see my request was causing quite a ruckus.

    â€œAnd you need something to put in your stomach. How about grilled cheese?” she asked, slamming a heavy iron skillet down on a burner.
    â€œGreat,” I said. “Thanks, Granny Mo.” Hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of my deciding what to call her, I crossed to a wide kitchen window made of eyeglass lenses. I looked through them at the snowy landscape beyond. I squeezed one eye shut and peeped through a large monocle at square plots covered in snow. I recognized them as raised flower beds, but there were so many of them that I figured the lens was creating multiple images.
    â€œThere’s a greenhouse back there at the edge of the ridge on your left,” said Mo.
    I moved to a pair of pink octagon-shaped lenses to try to see it. Suddenly everything in sight was rose colored.
    â€œThat’s how I make my living, selling plants and teas from the garden and the greenhouse,” Mo said proudly. I smelled the grilled cheese burning, so I figured it was a good thing she hadn’t chosen cooking asa career. “The work earns me just enough to keep this old place up and running.”
    I pressed my nose against the thick pink glass. To my amazement, I saw a spectacularly
grand
Victorian greenhouse with steamy windows, and more snow-covered flower beds, hundreds of trees, an apple orchard, a bridge … and—it was the most incredibly huge garden I’d ever in my whole life imagined!
    â€œCan we go see the garden?” I asked.
    â€œYou betcha,” said Mo. “As soon as we’ve finished our late lunch and called your father.”
    Mo was true to her word. After we finished our orange-mint-smelling tea (which was interesting) and our grilled cheese sandwiches (which were crispy charred), and called home and talked to Dad (who promised to send me a good-night e-mail), Mo said, “There’s mostly snow out there, but at least I can show you the maze. Come on!”
    â€œMaze?” I asked, hurrying to catch up to her.
    She was already over by the snake hooks, buttoning up a furry purple coat, boots back on. She had on fake leopard-fur earmuffs, and that now-familiar grin was back on her face. “At dusk, the temperature starts dropping fast, so grab a scarf and hat,” she said. “And why don’t you wear my green coat?” With that,she marched back through the kitchen.
    I heard the kitchen door slamming behind Mo as I scrambled to put on her coat and my boots. The coat went nearly to my feet and the sleeves were too long, but I rolled them up to reveal a tiger-print lining. How perfect! I shoved my gloves in one of the pockets and grabbed a ski hat with a tassel and a striped scarf, which must have been twelve feet long.
    â€œMy Christmas roses are in full swing at this time of year,” Mo proudly announced as I stepped outside. She pointed to snowy blossoms while I was still