The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse

All throughout Helmsley House, the animals erupted in joyous furor. Archer had never once heard anything like it.

“It’s time!” a porcupine bellowed. “It is time!”

“They’re home!” cheered a zebra. “How do I look? The stripes, I mean. I should have had them pressed!”

“Shut it, you fool,” the ostrich snapped. “And would someone take this blasted lampshade off my head?”

“Are you sick?” the badger asked Archer. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Archer was too fixated on the door to respond, and he was so flustered he didn’t realize he was still clutching a fork as he inched his way toward it.

“We’re gone for nearly twelve years and they change the locks?” came a voice on the other side.

“I’m sure they were changed the moment we left.”

♦ TEA WITH GIANTS ♦

Archer took a deep breath and opened the door wide. He was immediately engulfed in the blinding whiteness of snow whirling into the foyer. He couldn’t see anyone, but heard two voices, filled with laughter. Archer squinted. Two faces emerged. His eyes widened. Archer was staring at his grandparents.

“Why, hello there,” they both said, with smiles so large they might crack lesser faces.

Those three words filled Archer all the way to the top.

“Hello,” was his nervous and quiet reply. “I’m Archer Helmsley.”

“How can you be Archer Helmsley?” Grandpa Helmsley asked. “The Archer I had a brief encounter with many years ago was dressed something like a Christmas tree. And if I’m not mistaken, he also had a peculiar fondness for cucumbers.”

Grandpa Helmsley was as broad as he was tall. His beard, a mix of white and gray, matched his hair, which was pushed back from his forehead. But it was Grandpa Helmsley’s pale green eyes, sparkling with something wild, that held Archer entranced.

“I don’t think he’s that Archer anymore,” Grandma Helmsley said.

Grandma Helmsley was smaller but no less brilliant. Her plump figure was hidden beneath a thick coat and a faded red dress. The warmth beaming from her smile could have thawed the whole of Rosewood.

“He certainly isn’t,” Grandpa Helmsley agreed. Then he pointed to the fork still clutched in Archer’s hand. “You’re not going to… what I mean to say is, that’s a little…”

“Hostile,” Grandma Helmsley finished. “I believe that’s the word you’re looking for?”

“Quite.”

Archer blushed and dropped the fork into his pocket.

“Much better.” Grandpa Helmsley glanced over his shoulder as though they were being watched. “Now would you mind if we stepped inside? It’s no iceberg out here, but it is quite chilly.”

Archer’s grandparents stepped over the threshold and into Helmsley House as though they’d only just returned from a very long walk.

“Best shut the door, dear,” his grandmother said. “Rosewood has many prying eyes.”

Archer closed the door and put his back to it. Stomps and thuds echoed down the stairs.

“Would that be your parents?” Grandma Helmsley asked, hanging her snow-laden coat on a caribou’s antlers.

“They’re fixing your room,” Archer explained, his heart pounding.

“Very good. We did hope to have a moment alone with you.”

“Forks out of the way!” his grandfather whispered, and with a firm hand on Archer’s back, he ushered him down the hall and into the kitchen.

Grandma Helmsley inspected the countertop feast and poked a pancake. “Tea,” she said, shaking her head and taking a kettle to the sink. “Best to begin with tea. Builds an appetite for more.”

“Splendid!” Grandpa Helmsley pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “And while the water boils, I have a question for you, Archer. Come have a seat.”

Archer wanted to pinch himself as he sat across the table from his grandfather. His grandparents were practically fictional characters to him. He’d read their journals. He knew their tales. They’d crashed planes in the desert and been lost in jungles. But now, here they were, two giants, stepping off the page and into the Helmsley House kitchen.

Grandpa Helmsley leaned forward and clasped his strong hands as though he was about to say something very important. “Tell me, Archer, are the stories true?”

Archer blinked a few times. Stories?

“He means the tigers,” Grandma Helmsley clarified, pulling a tray from a cabinet and setting three cups on it.

Grandpa Helmsley slapped the table, his green eyes sparkling. “The tigers!”

“But more importantly,” Grandma Helmsley said, “that you and two friends put together a plan in the hopes of finding us.”

“We did,” Archer replied. “But that’s not a good story. We failed miserably.”

“Miserably?” Grandpa Helmsley roared. “You mean it failed gloriously!”

“While it was a dangerous thing to have happened,” his grandmother said, lifting the whistling kettle off the stove, “when we heard why it happened, well, we were tickled pink.”

“I was tickled purple!” Grandpa Helmsley said, his eyes still twinkling. “Outrunning tigers? I’ve never heard of such a thing! You’re a Helmsley all the way to the stars, Archer!”

“I can’t imagine Helena was thrilled about it,” Grandma Helmsley said, joining them at the table and pouring everyone a cup.

“No,” Grandpa Helmsley agreed. “But don’t give us this ‘It’s not a good story’ nonsense, Archer. We want to hear all about it. And don’t spare a single detail.”

Archer had never imagined his grandparents would be eager to hear his story, especially with so many more important things to discuss. When he’d finished telling it, his grandparents were silent. Grandpa Helmsley’s whole face had welled up. Grandma Helmsley patted his shoulder gently.

“Don’t let your grandfather’s scruffy outsides fool you, Archer. Inside, he’s as soft and sweet as a caramel.”

Grandpa Helmsley chuckled and cleared his throat. “Forget the caramel, Archer. It’s only that, what I mean is—look at you! You’re completely grown! And we missed it.”

“Now you’re talking nonsense,” Grandma Helmsley said. “He still has plenty of growing up to do. That’s not to say you’re underdeveloped, Archer.”

Grandpa Helmsley sized him up. “Tad short for your age. And skinny like your father. But with a bit of elbow grease, you’ll sprout like an oak! The Society will help with that. Once you’re a—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Grandma Helmsley urged.

Grandpa Helmsley sipped his tea. “Yes, lots to sort out first.”