Jack walked over, clapped a hand onto Hugo’s shoulder. “Hugo can’t pass through the door, but Mr. Reese can.”
“Oh, Lord.” Hugo groaned so loudly Lucy giggled.
Jack pointed at her. “You can giggle through the door, but you can’t laugh.”
“Okay, what the hell are you talking about?” Andre demanded. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about. Anybody?”
“You have to figure it out yourself,” Hugo said. “Welcome to my world.”
Jack gave a soft, rather wicked little laugh. Lucy could tell he was enjoying himself. Good thing he was enjoying himself. No one else seemed to be having fun.
He walked back to the fireplace and pointed at the painting above it. “A Picasso,” Jack said. “It can pass through the green glass door. But not any old painting.”
“It’s not a Picasso,” Hugo said, glaring. “I did that one.”
“It’s very nice,” Lucy said. The painting was eye-catching, bright with wild colors, trees and sand and a house made of squares and triangles.
“You can’t pass a compliment through the door either,” Jack said. “But you can send through a bit of flattery.”
“Useless,” Dustin said, collapsing back onto the sofa.
Melanie buried her face in her hands. “What are you talking about?” When she lifted her head, she didn’t look quite so perfectly put together as before.
“Shall I give you all another hint?” Jack asked.
They all loudly said, “Yes!”
Jack pointed his finger and scanned the room with it. It landed on Andre. “Andre—what was the last movie you watched?”
“Ah…” He thought about it a second. “ProbablyStar Wars,with my son.”
“Excellent.” Jack rubbed his hands together. “I’ve actually heard of that one. Let’s see…” He snapped his fingers. “Here we go. You can pass Harrison Ford through the door. And also Mark Hamill. You may send in Carrie Fisher, may she rest in peace. And also Princess Leia. But Han Solo isn’t allowed, and neither is Luke Skywalker. Billy Dee Williams can pass through the green glass door three times. But certainly, never Darth Vader. He shall not pass.”
“Heroes can go through? Not villains?”
“Picasso was not a hero,” Hugo said. “Ask any of his mistresses.”
“True,” Jack said. “But his mistresses are also welcome through the door. As are villains.”
Melanie placed her fingertips on her temples and rubbed them as if a massive headache were brewing. “I’m going to scream,” she mumbled.
“It has to be one thing,” Dustin said, looking up at Jack. “One thing they all have in common, yes?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “It’s one thing they all have in common.”
Jack said nothing as if waiting for them to absorb this hint.
Lucy took a breath. Okay, okay…something they all have in common. One thing all those objects and people and concepts had in common…Carrie Fisher. Princess Leia. A book. A Picasso. Flattery? What on earth was he talking about?
She closed her eyes, thought long and deep. Jack wrote kids’ books. This was probably a riddle a kid could solve.
Something rang a bell…the tiniest of bells when Jack said Carrie Fisher. Oh, she remembered. She’d been teaching Christopher how to spellCarrie. He had a girl named Kari in his class, so it was eye-opening for him to learn that some words could sound exactly alike but have different spellings.Kari. Carrie.
Words. Some words are spelled one way…
Lucy felt a little spark fire in her brain.
What they all had in common was that they were all words. Of coursepainting,artwork,page,andHugowere all words too. So it couldn’t be that. Still, something about the words themselves, not the meaning…
