Kim Thompson - Eldritch Manor 2-Book Bundle

In which our heroine goes out to seek her fortune in the world, but finds only old ladies and scrapes her knees

A s she tumbled over the handlebars of her bike, twelve-year-old Willa Fuller decided that this had to be the absolute worst day of her life so far.

It was the first day of summer vacation, a day shed been eagerly anticipating for months. The sun shone down on her small town, the birds sang, the children played, but Willa was in a slough of despond (a lovely phrase shed read somewhere). And falling off her bike was the least of her troubles. Everything had gone wrong from the very start of her day.

At breakfast her bread got caught in the toaster and burned and smoked and stank up the whole kitchen. Then her mom came in, waving aside the smoke without comment, which was a sign something grim was in the offing.

Something grim is in the offing, announced Willa, because she liked saying old-fashioned words like that, but also to make her mom smile. Her mom did not smile. Another bad sign.

Willa, she said flatly, you wont be staying with Grandpa this summer. Grandpa lived in a tiny house right on the ocean, and every summer Willa went to stay with him for two or three weeks. She looked forward to it all year. Just a short drive from town, the seashore seemed like another world. At Grandpas she didnt have to worry about being cool or popular, she could read all day if she liked, or wander up and down the beach looking for treasures, and she always, always found something good. But what she liked most of all was that Grandpa always treated her like a grown-up.

Is he all right? Willa asked anxiously.

Her mom smiled, nodding. Grandpas fine, dont worry.

Willa hated serious talks like this. You just didnt know what terrible thing was coming next. Her mom looked down at the table and went on.

Its just that things arent going so well, and we thought maybe you could get a summer job here in town and help out.

Willa was stunned. All she could do was nod as her stomach turned right over. Things not going well? Were they broke? She guessed it had to do with Grandpa. He himself admitted he was the worst fisherman in the world. He said his good luck had left him the same time Willas grandmother had, long ago when Willas mom was still young. Whatever the reason, while his friends hauled in catch after catch of wriggling fish, Grandpas nets always came up empty. He now made his living by renting his boat to tourists and fixing traps and nets for the other fishermen. It wasnt much of a living, and Willa knew Mom and Dad sent him money to keep him going.

Willa stared down at her burnt toast as all this ran through her mind. She wished Dad was there to back her up, but hed already left for work. Her mother briskly brushed the toast crumbs from the table. Dont your friends work in the summer? I always had a job when I was your age.

Willa shook her head. They go to camp mostly. Nickys at camp, Floras at camp. Kates at the cottage with her cousins. It wasnt her friends fault they went away for the summer, Willa knew, but she still felt abandoned.

Her mother barely registered what shed said. Well, anyway ... Id like you to go see Hattie at the Tribune today. She said shed try to find a job for you there. Delivering papers at least. Its not much but itll be a start. Her mom rose, smiling. Your first job! Isnt that exciting? And she breezed out of the kitchen, not waiting for an answer, and not registering the utterly miserable look on Willas face.

So on what should have been a gloriously free first day of summer, Willa unhappily pedalled over to the newspaper office. Climbing the front steps she caught sight of her reflection in the glass door. She looked so awkward, all bony knees and skinny arms, in second-hand clothes that didnt fit properly. Her curly hair stuck out in all directions. And to top it all off she was slouching, which always made her mom yell at her. She made a face. Then she thought about Grandpa, took a deep breath, pulled herself up straight, and went inside.

The newspaper office filled her with dread. It was easy for her mom to talk about getting a job, like it was the simplest thing in the world, but dealing with strangers, especially grown-ups, just made Willa anxious. Her mother was calm, clear, and forceful, always in control, but Willa ... Willa panicked, Willa mumbled, Willa dropped things and stumbled over her own feet whenever someone was watching. Willa only felt comfortable when she was alone, reading and daydreaming. Or when she was with her grandpa at the seashore, but of course now that was off the agenda. Instead she was here in a loud and busy newspaper office full of vaguely alarming grown-ups.

Willa inched up to the front desk and asked for her Aunt Hattie. She had to ask four times because the receptionist couldnt hear her over the ringing phones and people talking. Aunt Hattie was Dads older sister. She was tall, huge, really, with five or six pencils always stuck and forgotten in her frizzy hair. The same frizzy hair Willa had, from Dads side of the family. Hair that did the opposite of what you wanted it to, that defied gravity, and doubled in volume whenever it rained.

Now Hattie and her hair emerged from her office and loomed over Willa. She had the scowl of a person who is very busy and wants you to know it. Willa, she said flatly, weve got all the carriers we need. Willa smiled with relief, but Hattie wasnt finished. But I do have a spot in sales. Its commission work. That means you only make money if you sell subscriptions. Take it or leave it.

It didnt seem that leave it was really an option. Hattie didnt wait for an answer but loaded Willa up with sample papers, an order book, and a list of the addresses of people who didnt subscribe to the Trilby Tribune but should. It was now Willas solemn duty to talk them into changing their ways.

As Willa loaded the papers into her bike carrier, she reflected gloomily on her fate. She hadnt even wanted to deliver papers, but now that seemed like the best job in the world compared to knocking on doors and talking to strangers all day.

From that low point the day proceeded in a downhill direction. As Willa covered street after street, rang doorbells, and gave away sample papers, it became increasingly apparent that she was a terrible salesperson. When she launched into her sales pitch her mouth dried up and her voice became so thin and quavery that no one could hear what she was saying. She had to repeat herself over and over until the words got all tangled and she sounded like an idiot.

After a full day pedalling around in the dust and heat, she hadnt sold a single subscription, and she only had one more house on her list. It was the big house backing onto the ravine, the old rambly one that was twice the size of all the other houses on the block. Willa used to imagine that someone fabulously wealthy and glamorous lived there, until her mom told her it was a rooming house for seniors. After that the old place just hadnt seemed so interesting anymore.

She paused in front under a weeping willow. There was a small sign on the gate that shed never noticed before, obscured by vines. It said Eldritch Manor. Willa peered up at the house. It seemed too grand a name for such a tired-looking place, with its weathered, peeling paint and the porch sagging under its own weight. Still, the house had a kind of weary dignity, with its gabled windows and turrets and little balconies. There was even a widows walk on the roof. The place sure had more character than her house, a boring modern little bungalow. She longed for a widows walk. If they had one shed be up there all day. Shed stare out toward the ocean and pace tragically. Shed pretend she was waiting for someone to return after years and years of agonizing separation. It would sure beat selling newspapers.