Keys to the City by Lisa Schroeder
She carefully slid out a tray of chrysalises so we could see them up close. “They aren’t very exciting to look at, but imagine what’s going on inside. Wings are being formed along with other body parts.”
“It’s really amazing when you stop and think about it,” Vivian said.
“I can’t believe that this is your job,” Nora said. “Working with butterflies.”
Midge slid the tray back and closed the box. She was tall and thin with dark skin and black hair pulled back into a bun. And she wore a white lab coat, so she looked like the researchers you see on television.
“People who work with insects are specialized scientists known as entomologists,” Midge said. “But most also choose a specific kind of insect to focus on. People who study butterflies are called lepidopterists. That’s what I am.”
“Have you always been interested in butterflies?” Vivian asked.
She nodded. “I grew up in Connecticut, and my parents loved having a garden. It was important to them to have plants that would provide nectar for bees and butterflies. I enjoyed watching and learning what plants the butterflies seemed to love most. And that’s one thing you could easily do, Lindy, if you’re interested, is create a butterfly garden of your own. You don’t need a ton of space, just enough for a few of the right kind of plants.”
“The brownstone has a little courtyard,” Nora said to me. “Maybe you could plant some things out there that would attract butterflies.”
Midge reached over and grabbed some brochures from one of the tables. “This tells you how you can create your own butterfly garden at home.”
I took the brochure, but it felt like my heart had sunk into my stomach. As much as I loved the butterflies, I really didn’t think gardening was my thing. What if I planted a bunch of stuff, attracted the butterflies, only to have all the plants die later? I’d feel terrible. I think Vivian must have seen the disappointment in my face.
She said, “The other thing to consider is that they hire volunteers to work here and answer questions. Maybe in a few years, when you’re older, you could apply to work here as a volunteer. The zoo would train you and teach you all kinds of neat things about butterflies.”
Now that sounded more promising, though how would it look on a high school application? I plan to volunteer at the Butterfly Garden someday a long time from now. Like, who would care about that?
Midge talked for a while longer, telling us about the monarch butterflies and the migration that occurs every year, not realizing I already knew some of the stuff from the research for my report. I kept looking out the window, trying to spot butterflies on the plants just outside the window. I was close and yet so far—a feeling I’d felt a lot those past few weeks. And I was really tired of it.
I fingered the key underneath my shirt. The longer we did this, the more I wanted it to fit somewhere, anywhere, before time ran out and summer was gone.
What if we
could go to bed,
wrap ourselves in blankets,
wish to become something special,
and wake up completely changed?
It would make going to bed
a lot more fun,
that’s for sure.
That night, after dinner, I decided it was my turn to do something nice for Tyler. Earlier I’d done an Internet search for homemade dog biscuits and found a recipe that didn’t look too hard, using peanut butter and mashed bananas. Who knew dogs like bananas?
I don’t know why I felt more comfortable making dog treats than I did something like cookies. Maybe because if I messed up, Odie couldn’t say how bad they were—and he’d probably still eat them.
As I rolled out the dough in order to cut them with a small, round cookie cutter, I thought about how Tyler and Odie wouldn’t be here much longer. Fourth of July was less than a week away, and they’d be going home after that.
How could it be July? The summer was going by too fast. I felt anxious thinking about how we didn’t have much time left to unlock my special talent. I was starting to wonder if I might not ever figure it out. Maybe choosing emojis was as good as it was going to get. But that wasn’t the only thing that bothered me. I was going to miss Tyler, and Odie, too. Hopefully they’d come back to see Vivian again someday soon, but who knew when that would be? I remembered the way Odie had let me love on him when I needed to. I was glad Tyler had him—anytime he was feeling down about his parents, he had a loyal friend who’d be there for him. Not everyone had that, though it’d be nice if we did.
And that’s when a teensy-tiny idea that had started to form in my head when I wrote the princess story snowballed into a gigantic idea—an idea that might just save the B&B.
I put a bunch of the biscuits on a cookie sheet and stuck them in the preheated oven. I had thirty minutes before the timer would go off, so I went looking for Mom. I wanted to ask about taking Tyler to the pool one day next week, and if she was in a good mood, maybe I could tell her about my idea, too. But I couldn’t find her in the apartment anywhere. Davis was spread out on the sofa, reading a comic book.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She went down to the library,” he said. He looked up at me. “I mean, not the city library, the library room on the first floor.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’m going down there, too. If I’m not back in thirty minutes and the timer goes off, can you please take the cookie sheet out of the oven? And don’t forget to use potholders.”
“What are you making?”
“Dog biscuits.”
“What are they made out of?”
“Peanut butter, bananas, and some other stuff.”
“Yum,” he said. “Can I try one?” He got on his knees, put his hands up by his chest, and stuck his tongue out, like a dog.
I shook my head. “Davis, you are so—”
He flopped back down on the couch. “Adorable. I know.”
I figured there was no use arguing.
* * *
I found Mom sitting in one of the vintage wingback chairs reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, taking a seat in the other chair across from her.
She set the book in her lap. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Did you want to be alone or … ?”
“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t want to do any more work tonight. Needed a little break. And I really love how this room turned out. Figured it might as well get some use, even if it’s only me.”
“I love it, too. Hey, can we go to the real library sometime next week? I could use some new books to read.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. I wanted to spend some time with you and Davis next week, so we’ll definitely do that. Maybe go to the pool, too.”
I smiled at the way she seemed to have read my mind. “Can Tyler go with us? He loves to swim, and I told him we’d probably be going soon.”
“Sure. So you two are getting along well?”
“Mm-hm. But I only like him as a friend, so don’t worry.”
She smiled. “I wasn’t worried. I’m happy you’ve had someone to pal around with on the weekends. It’ll be kind of sad when he goes home, won’t it?”
I nodded as I chewed on my thumbnail. “Yeah. I think I’m really going to miss him.”
She stared at me for a moment before she said, “I’m sorry I haven’t spent much time with you kids this summer. I’ve let my work consume me, and that’s not good.”
I took a deep breath and then decided to finally ask her the question I’d wanted to ask for weeks. “You and Dad aren’t going to get a divorce because of this place, are you?”
Her eyes got big and round. “Lindy! Why would you say that?” She stood up and put the book on the chair, then walked over to my chair and knelt down in front of me. “Are you worried because you’ve heard us talking about it?”
“Mom, pretty sure it was more like fighting about it. And yes, I heard.”
She studied me, her blue eyes so sad th
“That’s what Tyler said,” I told her.
Mom let out a little gasp. “You told Tyler about this?”
“He’s here because his parents were having problems. I figured he’d understand how I felt. I mean, who else was I going to talk to about it?”
She kind of pursed her lips, looking not too happy with me. “Me? Or your dad? Or both of us even.”
“But you would have told me everything’s fine, like you are now, and how do I know that’s really true? You might just be saying that because you don’t want to hurt me. Tyler was there, and Odie, too, and it just kind of … came out. I mean, haven’t you noticed that Dad has been acting pretty strange lately?”
“Well, he has a lot on his plate at work right now, and then there’s the inn stuff that is causing some additional stress.” She reached up and put her hand on my leg. “But he’s okay. And we’re okay. Believe me?”
I looked into her eyes, and what I saw there was a whole lot of motherly love. I wanted to believe her. “Yes,” I finally said. “Still, what are you going to do about this place? We really need to think of something.”
“I do have one idea,” she said.
“So do I,” I told her.
Mom clapped her hands before she got to her feet. “Time for a family meeting. We need to make a decision and then figure out a plan. Come on.”
When we got upstairs, Mom called Dad and Davis to the kitchen table. The apartment smelled good—a little bit like banana bread baking.
“Are we having dessert?” Davis asked. “Those dog biscuits smell good.”
“You’re not having a dog biscuit,” Mom said. “When we’re done with our family meeting, we can have some ice cream. I bought a half gallon of caramel swirl yesterday at the store.”
“Yum!” Davis said.
Dad came and took his seat at the head of the table. “What’s going on?”
“I’d like to discuss the inn. The name of our B&B is the Chorus Inn, with a little nod to Broadway, right? Yesterday, as I sat at my desk brainstorming, I came up with the idea that we name each room after a famous Broadway play or musical. You know, the Annie room, the Wicked room, the Phantom of the Opera room.”
“The Hamilton room!” I suggested.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Exactly. We’ll be the place to stay for theater buffs. I’ll buy some photographs of the various theaters and have them framed. Maybe get a few more knickknacks for each room based on that room’s theme.”
“Julie, how much is this going to cost us?” Dad asked.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “She’s really good at bargain shopping.”
Mom crossed her hands on the table in front of her. “Thanks, Lindy. Yes, it wouldn’t cost much if I shop flea markets and thrift stores. I just need to be thoughtful and creative about it all.” She looked over at me. “But before we decide that’s what we should do, I’d like to hear everyone’s ideas. Lindy said she has one. Does anyone else have an idea about how we can make this place more interesting? More marketable?”
Dad shook his head. Davis said, “Offer free ice cream to everyone!”
“Except six months of the year, when it’s not exactly hot outside, people don’t want ice cream,” I said.
“I do,” Davis said. “I’d eat ice cream all three hundred and sixty-five days a year if I could.”
“Yeah, well, you’re weird,” I said.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Mom said. “Please tell us your idea, Lindy.”
“You’re probably not going to like it, Mom,” I said.
“Let me guess,” Dad said, “you want the two of us to play free ukulele concerts every night.”
“Um, no,” I said. “I thought we wanted to attract people, not make them run away screaming.”
Dad chuckled. “Hey, we’re not that bad.”
“You’ll never know what I think until you tell us,” Mom said.
“Okay, it’s just that, it involves something you don’t like very much.”
Mom looked at me funny. “What?”
I wrung my hands under the table. “Dogs.”
I knew she wouldn’t like it, but I still wanted to try. Because I think it’s a great idea and I love it! I know we’ll never own a dog, so this would be the next best thing. And Mom wouldn’t have to get close to any of them if she didn’t want to. They’d come in, go to their rooms, and stay there until they went out with their owners. Davis and I could help walk them, too, if people wanted us to.
It’s probably hard for people to find nice places to stay that take dogs. That’s why I think it’s a pretty brilliant idea, because it meets a need. Having rooms named after Broadway plays might be a fun idea, but that’s all it is—fun. It’s not like people are going to be jumping up and down to stay here because of that.
Mom said she’d think about it, but I don’t think she is. I think her mind is already made up. I’ve been brainstorming catchphrases to go with the name of our bed-and-breakfast, and I like this one the best:
The Chorus Inn
A Dog’s Best Friend
It’s a play on words because a dog is known as man’s best friend. But maybe this is another thing I’m not good at—marketing or whatever it’s called. What am I good at, though? That’s what I want to know. The longer I try to figure it out, the more I wish I could find out a little bit about my birth parents. Maybe I’d have some clues to help me figure out where to focus.
Sometimes being adopted feels like opening a book in the middle and reading without knowing how it starts. I can’t help but wish I could simply flip to page one and start from the beginning.
On Monday, Davis and I ran around the city with Mom while she collected items that would turn the B&B into a theater lover’s dream. She seemed really excited about her idea and hadn’t said another word about mine. So I let it go. I couldn’t think of anything else I might say to get her to change her mind. She didn’t like dogs. No, it was even worse that that. She was scared of dogs. It was like telling Davis we were going to turn the place into a haunted house, but he’d still have to sleep there.
On Tuesday, we did some more shopping and also went to the library. Mom let me check out as many books as I could carry in my book bag, so I came home with a bunch to keep me reading for a long time. Or at least a week.
Wednesday afternoon, as we were getting ready to go to the pool, Mom got a call on the business phone. She took it in her room, and when she came out, she had a huge smile on her face. “We have a reservation,” she said. “For five nights! They’re arriving on Friday and will stay through the fifth. I’m so excited! Maybe the rest of the summer will fill up after all.”
And so, with our very excited mother, we went to pick up Tyler for a couple of hours of swimming at our favorite pool back in Brooklyn. Nora and her older brother were going to meet us there, too. Mom had asked Vivian if she wanted to come along with us, but she had some errands to run and figured she’d do them while Tyler was with us.
“Before we hop on the subway,” I told Tyler as I handed him the paper bag, “can you take this back to your apartment really quick? I made Odie some dog treats.”
“You did?” he said with a smile as he peered inside the bag. “Wow. Thanks. He’s going to love these.”
“I hope so.”
“Yeah, they’re really good,” Davis said.
I gave my brother a little shove as Tyler laughed.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he rushed off. A few minutes later, we were making our way to the subway station.
“Does your pool have a diving board?” Tyler asked.
“Nope,” Mom told
“Yeah, you can’t even jump off the deck into the water,” Davis complained.
“Why’d you want to know?” I asked Tyler. “Do you have some fancy dive you were hoping to show us?”
Tyler smiled. “No, I just like diving off boards. It’s fun.”
When we got on the subway, a couple of teens carrying a boom box and a microphone got on, too. As soon as the doors closed, one of them pressed play and they started singing to us. I already knew they’d sing until we almost reached the next stop, and then they’d ask for us to give them money.
Mom leaned in from the other side of Davis and said, “Lindy, it’s really not a good idea to give money to people you don’t know. You should always keep your wallet safely zipped in your bag, close to you.”
I already knew this but I simply said, “Okay, Mom.”
Every time we’d gotten on the subway this week, she’d tried to turn it into a teachable moment. At least it was my mother and not Frannie the nanny. That would have been ten times worse.
At the next stop, the singing stopped, and the performers collected a little bit of money and got off. Now we could go back to talking again.
“Do you ride the subway by yourself at home?” Davis asked Tyler.
Tyler shook his head. “Back home we have what’s called the RTA. I don’t know what it stands for, but it’s a light-rail system. My family has never used it much. It’s different in Ohio because if you have a car, it’s usually faster to just drive there. Or that’s what my dad says, anyway.”
Davis started talking to Mom about something, so I took the opportunity to ask Tyler about his parents. “Have you talked to them lately? Your parents? Have they said anything about … you know?”