“If only he’d stayed away from pyrotechnics.It’s a wonder the place didn’t burn down.”
She giggles.“Maybe this place is luckier than we think.”
“Let’s hope,” I say.“He wasn’t the best businessman, but he was a great guy.I hope I do his legacy justice.”
“You will.How are you and your family coping?”she asks softly.
“We’re… doing our best.Thanks for asking.”I breathe out, still stuck in a sordid reality, where the man I loved and admired took his life in this very building, where so many of his plans and hopes fizzled and died.“I love him and miss him.But I’m pissed at him, actually.Pissed that he couldn’t talk to us.”
Marnie nods.“Sometimes it’s hard to talk to the ones we love most.”
I smirk.“Easier to talk to a friendly stranger?”
“We started as strangers, but now we’re friends,” she says.“I’m here whenever you need to talk, Henry.”
“Thanks, Marnie.”
She scribbles on a page torn out from her vintage Trapper Keeper notebook.“I’m giving you homework.Start thinking about the design and clues for the escape room—local lore and history.And a memorial to Jay—his service, favorite music, anything that he loved.We’ll put it at the entrance, so it’s the first thing anyone sees.We want him remembered for his life, not his death.”
“That’s what I want, too,” I say, slipping her list into my pocket.
“I’ve lined up an excellent contractor for the project.We’ll meet Dot here on Monday.I’ll give Dr.Blake the go-ahead for the garden.Marigold will work on the signs and the exterior mural.This ugly duckling is about to become a swan.”
I laugh at the bounce in her step as she says it.“I have no doubt.”
Through the second-floor balcony’s access door, we take the red-carpeted staircase down to the main museum—a dusty, dark hodgepodge of serial killer displays, movie memorabilia, and diverse oddities from voodoo dolls to shrunken heads.The six-foot, glass-enclosed witch from the recent blockbuster film,Hunter The Return, looms eerily in the corner, her decrepit visage facing the wall, so as not to scare Olly.
Or me, if I’m honest.
I wince at the towering witch.“I haven’t gotten used to the witch yet.It was one of the last things Uncle Jay acquired, but I don’t know about keeping it.”
“Let’s devote one room to scarier items with a warning for parents,” she suggests.“Marigold can create some signs for us.”
Marigold scribbles into her notebook, her eyes barely visible under the brim of her bucket hat.
“That’s a good solution.The corner storage room would work.That way, Olly and I don’t jump every time we walk in the door,” I say.
“I don’t care for it, either,” Marigold says, not looking up.
Marnie takes notes, smirking.“People love movie memorabilia, and that’s one thing that keeps Wilmington weird, right?That’s a good place for the Fort Fisher Mermaid, too.It’s a bit creepy.I’ll make some adjustments to the design and send you a revised layout.”
Our meeting ends, and once they leave, I check my watch.I have half an hour before Carly returns with Olly, and my day switches to his first-grade homework, dinner, and prepping for my classes tomorrow.The end of the year is always an overwhelming rush for teachers to get things done.With 115 eighth graders taking their exams this week, I need to have their last-minute reviews ready.
Still, I need a break.Reaching for my keys on the counter in the foyer, I notice the hand-carved blue jay figurine my uncle kept by the cash register for good luck.It’s on its side, wobbling slightly.
Did I knock it over?
I set it upright, pat its head, and leave.
Two blocks over, I enter the Queens and Dreams Diner—me and Olly’s favorite place outside the museum.Growing up, Jay would take me here for burgers, shakes, and music on the jukebox he salvaged and restored for DeeDee, the owner.
“My favorite history buff,” DeeDee greets me, her red lips turned up in a smile almost as wide as the polka-dotted dress that swishes with her every move.“Just one today, Henry?”
“Um, how about a booth?Carly’ll be here soon with Olly.”
She seats me near the window and engages in light chitchat.How are you?How’s school?How’s Olly?But my answers come in short sentences, as if that’s all I can muster.
Finally, her penciled brow perches high on her forehead.“What’s wrong?You don’t seem yourself today.”
