“Three. Winkin’, Blinkin’, and Nod.”

  Maggie laughed. “What nice names. Where are they now?”

  “I gave them to Peg. My neighbor.” Granny’s voice sounded as though she might cry. “I gave away my cats.”

  “Why? You could have brought them here.”

  “They’re outdoor cats. They’d suffer in the winter up north. I miss them already.”

  Maggie took a step toward her. “I’m sure they’ll be all right.”

  Granny turned her head away.

  Maggie wanted to help, but she didn’t know what to do.

  “I’ll be your cat,” said Matthew. He stood in the doorway and looked pleadingly at Maggie.

  Maggie nodded.

  Matthew got on all fours and crept into the room. He rubbed up against Granny’s legs. “Mmmmrrr,” said Matthew. Maggie thought it was the worst excuse for a meow that she’d ever heard.

  “You’re big for a cat,” said Granny, but her hand came down lightly on Matthew’s head.

  Matthew sat on his haunches. “I’m not a normal cat. Couldn’t you tell from my growl? I’m a lynx.”

  “A lynx?” Granny drew her hand back. “Now how do you even know about lynxes?”

  “Mom read me and Maggie a book about a boy who stays on a farm all summer with his cousin or someone. They have a big old mean cat that’s really a lynx.”

  “I think I’d be afraid of a lynx.” Granny pulled her legs away now.

  “I’m a good lynx,” said Matthew. “You don’t have to be afraid. As long as you don’t try to eat my mice.”

  Granny opened her mouth, as if to protest.

  But Maggie spoke quickly: “It’s better he’s a lynx than a regular cat.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, if he was a cat, he’d just remind you of Winkin’, Blinkin’, and Nod, and you’d miss them more. But as a lynx, you can love him.” Maggie smiled encouragingly at Granny.

  Granny put one finger to her lips. “Love a lynx? Hmmm.”

  Angel Talk

  Pretty good start, if I do say so myself.” The Little Angel of Understanding had to hold back the urge to strut.

  “So you made all that happen?”

  “It was easy, actually. Matthew’s such a willing guy. He was kicking around a ball in his bedroom, and I made that book he talked about fall off the shelf and knock him in the head.”

  “You made a book knock him in the head? Are you nuts? He could have been hurt.”

  “It didn’t hurt,” the little angel said quickly. “It’s a paperback book. And then I tossed the book out in the hall and down the stairs.”

  “What?” The archangel threw his hands out to both sides. “You made a book go flying down the stairs? You can’t do things like that. You’ll have the whole family fearing the house is haunted.”

  “Matthew didn’t act surprised. He seemed to think nothing of it. He simply followed the book and wound up outside Maggie’s room, where he heard Granny say she missed her cats. And the rest just happened naturally.”

  “You surprise me, little angel.” The Archangel of Understanding’s voice was a mix of scolding and admiration. “I don’t like you making books move all over the place like that. But I have to admit you did a beautiful job with Maggie.”

  “Maggie? What do you mean?”

  “The way she spoke. It was wonderful. How did you get Maggie to realize it was better that Matthew pretend he was a lynx than a regular cat?”

  “I didn’t. She knew that on her own.” The little angel thought about Maggie’s words for the first time now. “It was a pretty terrific thing to say, wasn’t it? It looks like Maggie’s an understanding person all on her own.”

  “She looked stumped before Matthew appeared, though. I think your timing helped her a lot. Keep it up.”

  Cold

  Maggie went home with Shelagh after school. That helped to make up for the fact that they hadn’t been able to play at all on the weekend, because Maggie had been so busy helping set up the bedroom for Granny’s arrival. But at 5:00, Maggie headed home. She didn’t want to; she did it because that was Mom’s rule. Everyone had to help make dinner. Even Matthew would be in the kitchen washing vegetables, or cutting scallions with a pair of scissors or something.

  Maggie walked slowly. Would Granny be helping in the kitchen, too?

  The late bus that took kids home from athletics stopped at the corner. Marcus got off. He waved to Maggie. That surprised her. Usually Marcus ignored her whenever his friends were around—and the bus was full of his friends. So she felt special and happy at his wave. She ran to catch up with him.

  “How’s it going?” said Marcus.

  “Good. I was just at Shelagh’s.”

  “I thought so. But I mean, how’s it going being in the same room with Granny?”

  Maggie lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  “It wasn’t my idea, changing rooms and all.”

  “I know that. Mom told me.”

  “Bad break,” said Marcus.

  Maggie thought of how sad Granny’s voice had been last night, when she’d talked about her cats. Maggie felt suddenly guilty; she shouldn’t be disloyal to Granny. “It’ll be okay.”

  They walked up to the front door side by side. Matthew greeted them with a lynx growl and loped into the kitchen. Maggie followed.

  “There you are, sweetie.” Mom gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek. “How about you cut the zucchini into rings for me, okay? Matthew already washed it.”

  Maggie took out the cutting board and got to work, while Marcus ripped up lettuce for the salad and Matthew sat on the floor leaning against Granny’s legs like a sick lynx.

  Granny was leaning with both arms on the counter, looking out the window. “Geese,” she said.

  Mom glanced over from the pot she was stirring on the stove. “Right. They’re migrating already.”

  Matthew climbed up onto the counter and pointed his finger. “Lots of them,” he said. “Canada geese.”

  Maggie put down her knife and came over to watch. The V formation never failed to amaze her. Geese were such funny, orderly creatures. Maggie opened the window so that they could hear the distant honks.

  • • •

  That night Granny unpinned her hair. Two long white braids fell down her back. She pulled one forward over her shoulder and unbraided it.

  Maggie couldn’t remember ever having seen Granny with her hair down before. “Can I help you?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. She settled on Granny’s bed behind her and loosened the other braid. “Weren’t the geese beautiful today?”

  “Horrible is more like it,” said Granny.

  Maggie scooched on her knees around to the front of Granny. “Why would you say that?”

  “Geese leaving means winter’s coming.”

  “I love winter,” said Maggie.

  “Well, I don’t. In the south we don’t have harsh winters. Why, I’ve walked on the beach in January, feeling perfectly comfortable. No, I don’t look forward to freezing. My bones clack at the very thought.”

  “You won’t freeze.” Maggie shook her head. “We keep the house warm.”

  But Granny shook her head, too. “Winter is the end of everything.”

  Angel Talk

  Blankets,” said the Little Angel of Understanding. “I’ve got to get Maggie’s mom to go out and buy a bunch of extra-warm blankets for Granny.”

  The Archangel of Understanding didn’t say a thing.

  “And somehow I’ve got to find a way to make the dad turn up the thermostat a degree or two.” The little angel paced back and forth in front of the archangel. “And maybe Maggie can buy Granny a sweater as a nice autumn surprise.”

  The archangel put his hand over his mouth.

  The little angel paced faster. “And boots, she’ll need good boots. And a hat and mittens and—”

  The Archangel of Understanding burst out laughing.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “You, little angel. You’ve made yourself a long shopping list.”

  “So? Someone has to keep Granny warm.” The little angel hugged himself. “She said she’s afraid of the cold.”

  “I’m sure she is. And I know for a fact that Maggie’s mom has already done a lot of shopping. Don’t worry about Granny freezing; she won’t.”

  “Well,” said the little angel doubtfully, “I want to do something to help.”

  “Then pay attention to what’s really bothering Granny.”

  The Little Angel of Understanding thought hard. “Missing her cats and being afraid of the cold are the only complaints she’s made—other than saying she hates airplanes and watermelon seeds.”

  “Those might be the only complaints, but they aren’t the only things on her mind.”

  “Her voice trembles sometimes,” said the little angel slowly. “Especially when she talks about her old home. She must miss everything she left behind so much.”

  The archangel bowed his head. “The house she raised her children in. The neighbors she’s grown old with. Her cats. Even her window boxes full of geraniums.”

  “Missing what you love can hurt fiercely.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why I’m glad Matthew is pretending to be her lynx.” The little angel looked into the archangel’s face. “Granny can learn to be happy again if she can replace what she lost.”

  “I don’t know if it’s ever possible to replace things, really. But even if you could do that, it wouldn’t be enough. There’s more to Granny’s unhappiness than just missing what she left behind.” The Archangel of Understanding tapped the little angel’s ears. “Try to remember her words.”

  And now the little angel replayed Maggie and Granny’s conversation in his head. “Oh, she said winter is the end of everything.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Oh, now I get it.” A feeling of terrific sadness pressed on the little angel’s cheeks. “Moving in with Maggie’s family makes Granny feel cold, like winter. She feels like her life is coming to an end.”

  The archangel shivered.

  The little angel wrapped his arms around the archangel as though he were the big one and the archangel were the little one. “Granny’s wrong,” he said firmly.

  “What do you mean? Granny’s old, little angel. She had a stroke.”

  “But she’s wrong to think that everything is ending. For each thing that ends, something else starts. Wonderful things start.”

  The Archangel of Understanding wrapped his arms around the little angel, too, so they were hugging each other. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but what you said about Granny’s window box back at her old house gave me an idea.” The little angel smiled. “You know how much I like plants.”

  Flowers

  The week went by without anything else bad happening between Granny and Maggie. That was partly because Maggie avoided talking to Granny unless she had to. But that was partly because Granny seemed to have adopted a new attitude; instead of complaining, she simply didn’t talk.

  But something else had been happening all week, something very strange.

  When Maggie woke on Tuesday morning, she stood by the window, as she always did upon first waking up. And there on the ground just outside her window was a bouquet of daisies. Maggie ran outside and looked around. The daisies had been thrown there by someone, of course, but there was no one anywhere about. So she took them inside and put them in a vase on the dining room table.

  “Where’d they come from?” asked Mom.

  “Someone just chucked them in the yard,” said Maggie. “Right outside my window.”

  “How odd.” Mom fiddled a little with the flowers, rearranging them by size. “They are nice, aren’t they?”

  On Wednesday morning there was another bouquet: This time, chrysanthemums. And on Thursday, daylilies.

  “Now where did daylilies come from this time of year?” Mom pursed her lips. “Someone must have bought these at a flower shop. I wonder why they threw them away.”

  Friday’s flowers were long-stemmed roses.

  “That’s it,” said Mom at dinner that night. “This is no accident. You must have a secret admirer, Maggie.”

  “Maggie has a secret admirer?” Marcus almost choked on his spinach. “That’s a joke.”

  “And why shouldn’t she have a secret admirer?” asked Granny.

  Everyone looked at her. It was the longest sentence she’d said in days.

  When no one answered, Matthew piped up: “What’s a secret admirer?”

  “Someone who thinks you’re great but doesn’t tell you to your face,” said Dad.

  “Maggie, do you like flowers?” asked Granny.

  “Yes.”

  “So do I.” Granny went back to cutting her pork chop.

  • • •

  That night before Maggie crawled into bed, she stood in the dark and looked out the window. Maybe if she woke up super early she could hide behind the curtain and see the person who was bringing the flowers.

  “What kind do you think there will be tomorrow?”

  Maggie turned her head to see Granny sitting up in bed. She’d thought she was asleep. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s supposed to go down to freezing tonight. Anyone who leaves flowers is a fool.” Granny punched her pillow a few times, then lay back. “Winter’s coming. And there won’t be any more flowers.”

  In the past week dozens of trees in town had turned yellow and orange and red. The juniper berries and holly berries stood out against the deep green of the bushes. Whatever flowers still stood in people’s gardens were browning at the edges. If it really did freeze tonight, those flowers would be totally brown by morning.

  Winter didn’t have a lot of bright colors, that’s for sure.

  Maggie rested her cheek against the cold pane of the window glass. “There are flowers after winter, though,” she said.

  But all she heard from Granny was the steady, deep breathing of sleep.

  Angel Talk

  The flowers are a nice touch,” said the Archangel of Understanding.

  “Thank you. I have fun waiting to see Maggie’s face each day as she discovers the new bouquet.”

  The archangel smiled. “Good. But I don’t really see the point. How do the flowers help anyone?”

  “Now you’re the one not listening closely enough to Granny,” said the little angel.

  The archangel jerked his head backward. “What?” Then he tilted his head. “What did Granny say?”

  “That there won’t be any more flowers once winter comes.”

  “I heard that. That’s why Maggie said there would be flowers after winter.”

  “Yup.” The Little Angel of Understanding put his hands in his pockets and stood tall. “And that’s my idea. Or, rather, Maggie’s idea. But I led her to it. Flowers after winter.”

  “I’m still not following you,” said the archangel.

  “Then watch.”

  Planting

  On Saturday morning when Maggie opened her eyes, Granny was already standing by the window.

  “Nothing,” she said to Maggie. “Not a single flower.”

  Maggie’s heart dropped. She ran to Granny’s side. The ground was covered with frosty dew, but nothing else. The leaves on the lilac bush had withered to brown overnight. The sky was overcast.

  “It’ll snow soon,” said Granny.

  “I think you’re right. But how can you tell? I thought you lived in the south all your life.”

  “Not all my life. When I was a girl, I lived in New Jersey. My father ran a paint store in Asbury Park, right down by the ocean.”

  “Did you hate winter then, too?”

  “No.” Granny turned and went down the hall to the bathroom.

  Maggie watched her go. Then she looked out the window again. The frost on the grass looked different. It seemed as though someone had cleared it away in spots. From Maggie’s angle, the cleared parts looked just like a bunch of tulips. Spring flowers.

  Maggie ran down the hall. She stood outside the bathroom door. “Did you have a garden, Granny? Did you have flowers in the spring when you lived in New Jersey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have tulips?”

  “Yes.” After a minute, Granny added, “And daffodils. And hyacinths. And what do you call those funny little flowers in yellow and purple?”

  “Crocuses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’re going to have them again.” Maggie ran into the kitchen, grabbed Dad by the elbow, and swung him around.

  “Careful, Maggie. You’ll make me burn these pancakes.” Dad eased his elbow away and turned back to the stove. “What’s up?”

  “I need a lot of money.”

  “Money?” said Dad.

  “Money?” said Marcus, his mouth full of pancake. “I need money, too.”

  “Did your secret admirer ask to be paid?” said Matthew.

  Marcus laughed.

  So did Daddy.

  “What’s so funny?” Mom came into the kitchen holding a catalog with pictures of flowers all over the cover.

  Maggie snatched the catalog. “Where did you find this?”

  “On the front steps. It’s missing an address.”

  “Well, it’s ours,” said Maggie, feeling quite sure. “But I don’t want to wait for a mail order. I want to go to the hardware store right now and buy bulbs and seeds.”

  Mom nodded. “That sounds okay. We could use a few new flowers along the border of the house.”

  “Not just there. Marcus and Matthew and I are going to dig up all the grass in the front yard.”

  “What?” said Marcus. “Who says?”

  “And we’re going to plant bulbs. Four hundred of them.”

  “Four hundred,” said Mom weakly. She sat down.

  “One hundred each of tulips and daffodils and hyacinths and crocuses.”

  “I can dig up grass,” said Matthew. “Lynxes dig good.”

 

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