And Then Everything Unraveled (17 page)

It was a good thing that Quinn had insisted on coming with me, because I didn’t have any cash and the credit card machine was broken, so I needed him to pay the cab fare. I also tried to convince him to take the cab home, but he insisted on following me into the terminal. It was nice to have him there, even if he did keep trying to change my mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked yet again as we took our places at the end of a very long check-in line.

“I have to,” I said. “Nobody else is doing anything, so I need to do what I can.”

“Are you sure you can’t wait until Rafe gets back, so he can tell us what he knows?”

I was scared of what Rafe might know, but Quinn didn’t know that. “I’m sick of waiting,” I said. “In fact, I’m done with waiting. And I can always call and ask Rafe when I get there.”

“You’ll ask me what when you get where?” somebody asked from behind me.

I spun around. In his jeans and T-shirt, and without a tie
with cute animals on it, I almost didn’t recognize him. But it was Rafe. He had the rumpled, tired look of someone who’d been traveling for days, though his smile was as kind as ever. I only hoped it wasn’t because he was gearing up to tell me things I didn’t want to hear.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“My flight just arrived. And I saw you and your friend from the escalator when I was on my way to the baggage claim. So I thought I’d come say hello. Where are you off to?”

“Yes, Delia, where are you off to?” asked somebody else from behind me. And I didn’t have to spin around this time, because Charley has a very distinctive voice.

It was like a convention. All we needed now was Patience and the Monkeys.

“I told you—she’s going to Chile,” Quinn said to Charley. He turned to me with a sheepish look. “I might have texted Charley while you were making your flight reservation.”

“So you’re the aunt,” said Rafe, taking Charley’s hand in his. “Rafael Francisco Valenzuela Sáenz de Santamaría, at your service. It’s a delight to meet you in person. Now I can see where Delia gets her beauty, as well as her charm.”

I thought that was laying it on pretty thick, but Charley didn’t seem to mind. With an effort, she pulled her gaze away from Rafe and back to me. “You’re going to Chile?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“To Chile,” she repeated.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “It’s a country. In South America. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

And then it was just like that first night on the roof. But instead of Dieter cracking up, Charley cracked up.

“You’re laughing at me?” I asked, incredulous. “After all of this, after everything I’ve been through, and the way you sold me out—you’re laughing at me.”

“Your aunt is just appreciating the irony of the situation,” said Rafe. “Isn’t that so?”

Charley only nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. I could tell it was taking every ounce of restraint she had not to crack up all over again.

I couldn’t help what happened next. And it was her own fault. I mean, she was
laughing
at me.

“What irony?” I demanded. “What’s so funny about wanting to go rescue my mother? Just because everyone else is giving up doesn’t mean I’m giving up. And there’s no reason to give up, because T.K.’s alive, and the only reason to give up would be if you knew that she wasn’t, but she is—”

“Delia!” Charley tried to interrupt me.

“—even if you don’t think so and you made Rafe come back and even if Rafe doesn’t think so, which is why he agreed to come back—”

“Delia!” Charley said again.

“—but that wouldn’t make sense because she tried to call me and Carolina saw her—only in her head, but she saw her—”

“Rafe,” Charley said. “Please tell me you have it with you.”

Rafe was rummaging in his coat pockets. “Where did I put it?”

“—and there were rumors about someone who fit her description in Patagonia—”

“Ah,” said Rafe, pulling out his phone.

“Show her already,” urged Charley.

“—and the
Polar Star
didn’t really disappear, somebody just made it look like it did—”

Rafe stuck his phone in front of my face. There, on the screen, was a photo of a little boy in overalls, holding a toy dump truck.

“So?” I said.

“Look at the picture,” he said.

“I am,” I said.

He leaned in to peer at the screen. “Oh. Wrong one. That’s my nephew, Lorenzo. Adorable, isn’t he?”

“Rafe,” said Charley impatiently.

Rafe took his phone back and fiddled with it. “Here we go,” he said, handing it to me.

This time it was a photo of Rafe, wearing the same clothes he had on now, like the picture had just been taken that morning, eight days after I’d first met Carolina Carderas.

And standing next to Rafe, smiling into the camera, was my mother.

I ended up not going to Chile. I was also sort of glad to leave the airport, because I couldn’t even begin to imagine what all of the people who’d witnessed our little scene must have been thinking.

Rafe wasn’t comfortable explaining everything there, in such a public place, so we decided to go back to the loft. Quinn was going to come with us, but Charley put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I owe you—yet again,” she said. “But we need to discuss this with Delia alone. Do you mind?”

“That’s all right,” he said. “I understand.” He turned to me. “Call me later?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I said.

And then he leaned down and kissed me. And this time it wasn’t Romeo kissing Juliet. It was Quinn kissing Delia. And that was even better.

Rafe wouldn’t even talk in front of the cabdriver. At least, not about my mother or Chile or anything interesting. He was fine with talking to Charley about Charley, and laughing at everything she said like she was some sort of brilliant comic genius. But it wasn’t until we were behind closed doors at Charley’s that he started answering my questions.

“Your mother’s safe in Chile, but she doesn’t want anyone to know that, obviously. So you must be very careful not to say anything to anybody at all,” he told me.

“Were we right, though?” I asked. “Was it the people at EAROFO? Or Navitaco? Or Thad?”

“Yes,” said Rafe.

“Yes? Which one are you saying yes to?”

“All of them. But in different ways.”

“What about Hunter Riley?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“That’s complicated,” said Rafe.

“Could you be any more cryptic?” I asked in frustration.

He smiled. “Possibly.”

“Who’s hungry?” said Charley.

“You’re changing the subject,” I said.

“No, I’m starving, and you probably are, too. And we have a long night of planning ahead of us, and there’s no way I can do that on an empty stomach. I’m thinking tacos. What do you think?”

Suddenly, I was ravenous. “Lots of tacos,” I said. “And how’s our ice cream supply?”

“I’ll go out and pick up provisions,” said Charley. “Rafe, do you like tacos?”

“I adore tacos. But why don’t I go with you? I can help you carry everything.”

“Sure,” said Charley. She was looking at Rafe like she’d never looked at Lars or Midwest Bill. I hoped he enjoys teen movie classics.

So they went to pick up dinner, and I changed out of my uniform and into a pair of jeans. Then I took the phone and a cushion from the sofa, climbed up on the wide ledge in front of the window, and made myself comfortable. The sun had just set, and the sky was a bluish purple over the skyline.

A flash of movement on the sidewalk below caught my eye, and I glanced down, wondering if it was Charley and Rafe, already back from the taco place. But as I pressed my face against the window, I saw a figure step into a shadowed doorway across the street. I waited a moment, but nobody stepped back out. It must have been someone who lived there, I decided, going into the building. None of the lights went on in the upper floors, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Anyhow, I had more important things to do than spy on my neighbors. Like phoning Quinn.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Juliet,” he said. “You
called.” In the background, I could hear Bea and Oliver chattering and what sounded like a cartoon on the TV.

“I told you I would,” I said.

“Did Rafe tell you the whole story?”

“Only a bit. He’s supposed to tell me more later.”

“And then you’ll tell me?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“Like maybe tomorrow night?”

“I could do that,” I said, wondering if he could tell from my voice that the uncontrollable smile thing was happening all over again.

“I could do that, too,” he said.

“Then I’ll plan on it.”

There was a crash behind him, and one of the kids squealed. “I’m babysitting,” said Quinn. “And I’d better run before they destroy the place. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

I sat there in the window for a while after we hung up, the uncontrollable smile still on my face, watching as the bluish purple of the sky slowly darkened to black. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way, like everything was right with the world. Or almost right.

I mean, it was wonderful to know for a fact that T.K. was okay. But in a way, everything was just beginning. After all, we still had to figure out how she could get her life back without
having to worry about anyone taking it away again. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to come home. And based on what little Rafe had told me, this would be a seriously difficult knot to untangle.

So, I had a lot to take care of.

But for now I was just going to think about seeing the photo of Rafe and T.K., and kissing Quinn. And then maybe some more about kissing Quinn.

To be continued…

Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Sturman

All rights reserved. Published by Point, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.,
Publishers since 1920
.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Sturman, Jennifer.

And then everything unraveled / Jennifer Sturman. — 1st ed.

       p. cm.

Summary: Delia’s mother is declared dead when her ship disappears on the way to Antarctica, but when Delia arrives in New York to live with an aunt she has never met, she begins trying to figure out what really happened to her mother.

ISBN-13: 978-0-545-08722-3 (alk. paper)

ISBN-10: 0-545-08722-8 (alk. paper)

[1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Aunts—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools— Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.

PZ7.S94125An 2009

[Fic]—dc22

2008046958

Jacket Illustration by McFaul
Jacket Design by Whitney Lyle

First edition, July 2009

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

E-ISBN: 978-0-545-22989-0