The Puzzler's Mansion (4 page)

“For the whole weekend?” asked his mother.

“Yeah. If it's okay. I'd really like to go.”

“Well, who is the friend?”

Winston cocked his head, unsure how this next part was going to go. “He's a musician. A piano player. His name is Richard Overton . . . ?”

Forks paused in midair, and his parents stared at him. The silence
stretched out long enough that Katie looked around and said, “If he goes away for the weekend, can I go somewhere, too?”

“Richard Overton,” said Winston's father. “You know, he's pretty famous.” The amusement in Nathan Breen's eyes made it clear this was no small understatement.

Winston nodded. “That's what Mr. Penrose said.”

“And you're invited to his house?”

“Yes . . . Can I go?”

His parents looked at each other, dazzled by this unexpected turn of events. “You know,” said his father, “when I woke up this morning, I said to myself, I wonder if anybody in this family will ever be invited to the home of a world-famous musician. And now, on this very same day, look what happened.”

Katie said, “You really said that?”

“I'm just kidding, sweetie.”

Katie rolled her eyes.

“So I can go?” Winston asked. It looked like things were moving in his favor, but he still needed someone to say it.

“I think you can go,” said his mother.

“But until then,” added his father, “we better not see any notes home from your teachers.”

“Okay,” said Winston. He'd expected that. He would be walking a tightrope at school for the next two weeks.

“Is he going to play for everyone up there?” asked his father.

“I think he creates the games and we get to play,” said Winston.

His father looked at him for a moment and then said, “Is he going to play
the piano
?”

“Oh,” said Winston. “I suppose he can if he wants to. It's his house.”

His father's smile tightened in a way that Winston understood meant he was trying not to laugh. Well, whatever. Winston had gotten the permission he needed. In his mind he was already running through the carpeted hallways of Richard Overton's estate, looking for a cleverly hidden clue.

“I want to do something fun,” said Mal. “Something I can look back on next week when I'm miserable.”

“Oh, no,” said Jake. “Are you going to complain all day? I'm going home.”

“What are you talking about?” Winston said.

Mal said, “What, I didn't tell you?”

They were at their usual table at Rosetti's, another weekend having finally arrived after a long, long school week. Time was playing its usual cruel trick: now that something exciting was on the horizon, the hours had slowed down to an inchworm's crawl. Winston had spent the week drifting through school, trying his best to concentrate on his classwork. There had been other puzzle events in the past, and in the days leading up to them, Winston sank further and further into his daydreams, almost sick with anticipation as the event drew closer. But he couldn't take a two-week mental vacation from school—not ever, and especially not now. Even without a note home from Mr. Burke, if his parents decided that he was goofing off in order to stare at the ceiling and think about Richard Overton's mansion, they would take back their permission in a flash. Winston wasn't about to blow this, so he stayed focused . . . mostly.

At least this weekend he was finally able to get together with his friends.

It was a true October day. Whoever was in charge of the weather had finally realized that it wasn't supposed to be summer anymore.
The afternoon sun was losing a war to an army of smoky gray clouds, and the wind rose and fell in gusts that alarmed the trees. Maybe it would rain, but not for a while, and none of the boys wanted to be indoors. They had biked to their school just to have someplace to go, and played some handball against the playground wall. Then they turned around and headed into town for some pizza.

“What's your news?” Winston asked.

Mal sighed and said, “My sister is graduating high school this year.”

Winston squinted at his friend. “That's the news?”

“No. She's looking at colleges next weekend with my parents.”

“That's the news?”

“Would you stop asking that? No. This is the news: I have to go with them! They're dragging me all over the state so my sister can look at different dorm rooms.”

Jake said, “He actually thought his parents would let him stay at home by himself. Can you believe that? For the whole weekend!”

“Hey,” said Mal. “I'm thirteen now!”

“And so mature,” Jake said.

Mal grinned and stuffed his mouth with pizza. “Anyway,” he said—though it came out
anymumf
—“this coming week I have, like, six different tests, and then next weekend I'm off on the Road Trip of Doom. That's why we have to do something really fun today.”

Jake shrugged. “Any suggestions?”

“Horror-movie-athon?” Mal said.

“How many movies are in a ‘thon'?” Winston asked.

“I don't know. Seven?”

Jake and Winston hooted at that. “Fourteen hours of watching people get eaten by zombies!” Jake yelled. “Pass.”

“Well, you guys come up with something, then.”

Something occurred to Winston. “Wait,” he said. “It's next weekend that you have to go on this trip?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it some more and then slowly began to smile. “Maybe you can tell your parents that you have other plans.”

Jake and Mal stared at him.

They finished their pizza and went down the block to Penrose's shop. Penrose was dusting his shelves with what looked like the entire back half of an ostrich. He seemed pleased when he saw Winston walk in with Jake and Mal.

“Ah, Winston,” Penrose said. “I suppose you're not here to play chess. But I'm glad to see you with your friends.”

“Yeah, we finally got together. In fact, I have a question about that. Some of these people going to Richard Overton's house, um . . .” Winston searched for a way to ask his question delicately.

Penrose understood immediately. His eyes flicked over to Mal and Jake, who were trying not to look too excited. “You want to ask if some of the guests will have more than one child with them.” It looked like Penrose was suppressing a smile. “Yes, I think that will be the case.”

“Well, then, I was wondering . . .”

“I think I know what you're wondering,” Penrose said. He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a long moment, gazing at the boys, and seemed to make a decision. He said, “I will call my friend Richard and ask him if I might bring a couple more guests. He is a very generous individual, and he will almost certainly say yes.” The three friends looked at one another, thrilled and grinning. Penrose continued, “But I want to be clear! I don't want to be your substitute father, and I don't want to be put in a position where I have
to reprimand you. I was a boy myself once, and I understand what three boys can get up to. I would need you to be on your very best behavior. Do you understand?”

They all spoke at once, trying to make Penrose see how well they understood. “Oh, absolutely!” and “We'll be good!” and “We promise, we totally promise.” Penrose, amused, patted the air to quiet them down. He sent them on their way and offered them a puzzle to think about as they left.

“Make it a toughie,” Winston said, and Penrose obliged.

THERE WAS A WHOLE
other week to get through. Keeping his mind on classwork was almost impossible. In social studies, Mr. Burke was like a radio station whose signal keeps fading out. Winston was looking at him and watching his lips move, but he had no idea what the teacher was saying. Gripping the edges of his desk, Winston leaned in and tried his best to focus. And he prayed that when Mr. Burke called on somebody, it wouldn't be him.

Mal's parents were skeptical, at first, about his attempt to get out of his sister's college road trip. That was understandable: Mal was a well-established joker, so his parents only laughed when he told them he had been invited to spend the weekend at the mansion of a famous musician. But Mal stuck to his story, and eventually his mother called Penrose and learned that Mal was telling the truth. After some discussion, Mal's parents told him he could go.

For Jake, going to Richard Overton's house meant missing a Saturday swim practice. It was the first time he'd ever skipped out, and the coach had given him a hard time about it. For a couple of days, Winston thought Jake might change his mind. But the temptation of
the weekend was too much. Winston felt a little guilty for being so pleased that Jake had chosen his friends over swimming laps in the high school pool.

Somehow, Friday arrived. When the bell rang at the end of eighth period, Winston was first out the door, even though he sat at the opposite end of the classroom. In that one moment, he could have made any sports team in the school. He weaved his way through the crowded hallway, found his locker, retrieved his backpack stuffed with the things he'd need for the weekend, and bolted for the front door.

Outside in the traffic circle was a battered green taxicab. Winston peeked in the window and saw Mr. Penrose sitting in the backseat, reading a newspaper.

“Hey, Mr. Penrose,” Winston said.

“Winston!” He folded his paper and got out of the car. “You're ready to go. Good.” He opened the trunk. Winston tossed his backpack in, where it sat, dumpy and embarrassed, next to Mr. Penrose's more stylish weekend bag.

Mal was out next, with a bag that was even shabbier than Winston's. “I can hardly believe this,” he said, putting his bag in the trunk. “Right now I should be listening to my sister talk for three hours about what sorority she wants to join.”

“You owe me big,” Winston said, smiling.

“I do!” Mal agreed. “I really do.”

Jake exited the school with a camouflage duffel bag, and Mal asked him if he was playing games this weekend or joining the army. Mr. Penrose slid into the front seat next to the cabbie. After a brief tussle over who had to sit in the middle—which Mal lost—the three boys jumped into the back, and they were on their way.

The trip was well over two hours long. Winston told Mr. Penrose
that he had listened to Richard Overton's CD and liked it very much, and Mal surprised them all when he said he'd looked up Richard Overton on the Internet, downloaded some of his music, and listened to it all week.

“I never knew I liked classical music,” Mal said. “Some of that stuff rocks!”

“It rocks?” Jake teased.

“Well, not
rocks,
” Mal said. “You know what I mean.”

They talked about school, the boys comparing one of their average days to Mr. Penrose's experiences as a child. Apparently, teachers were once allowed to hit their students, and did so for the slightest reason. Winston was glad he was born after
that
bad idea had faded away.

And of course they talked about puzzles. Winston had come prepared with a few he had thought up, and Mr. Penrose had as well, and they traded little bits of wordplay. Mal and Jake jumped in when they solved something, and even the cabdriver shouted out answers a couple of times.