Secrets at the Chocolate Mansion (19 page)

Valerie smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. “Please come in. I'm so glad you're here. Milo really needs to see his friends right now. I'll go get him.”

But before she even called for him he appeared, running down the steps and pulling on his black puffy vest.

“Hey,” he said, a slight smile on his face, as if this were just any old Sunday. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Um, sure,” I replied.

“You two have fun,” Valerie called, waving as we headed down the front steps of their house.

We walked for a while in silence. Not a hostile silence, though; it was more like neither of us knew what to say. But I decided to talk anyway. It only seemed fair, since I was the one who texted him this morning.

“So, I need to apologize,” I began. “I shouldn't have laughed at you that day. About the whole haunted-mansion thing. I get that now.”

I told Milo about all the crazy things that had happened at Beckett's house, from the crashing of Caroline's mirror to me and Finn seeing the “ghost” of Margaret in Beckett's room. Then I told him about meeting the real Margaret in Beatrix's building this morning. I laughed at the funny parts, but Milo didn't. He didn't really say anything as we walked, but I could tell he was paying close attention.

“So, even though there's no ghost of Margaret, it made me realize that ghosts do exist,” I said. “It's because her memory haunts the place. She's a big presence in the building and I'm sure she always will be, and that got me thinking. I can see why someone would want to believe in a ghost. I mean, I can see why it
would be comforting to stay connected to someone who's gone. Especially when you loved that person a lot, and especially when they died too soon. So I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to make fun of something you believe in, even if I didn't entirely understand it. And maybe I still don't.”

I glanced at Milo out of the corner of my eye. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his vest, and he still wouldn't look at me.

“But you need to apologize to me, too,” I said. “For avoiding me. That wasn't cool.”

“I'm sorry,” Milo said, kicking a rock. “You're right. I should've returned your texts and calls.”

“It's not fair,” I said. “All I wanted was to know what was going on with you.”

Milo took a deep breath and puffed it out. “Okay, I'll tell you,” he said. “Two weeks ago was the three-year anniversary of my mom's death.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I mean, wow. I don't know what to say. That's intense.”

“It was,” he said. “It is, I mean. My grandma and I went to the cemetery to visit her grave, and then to the Donut Inn, which was her favorite diner. I ordered a Greek salad and a chocolate egg cream, even though I don't even like Greek salad, but that's what she always got. It's kind of dumb, I know.”

I shook my head and linked my arm through his. “It's not dumb at all.”

“Anyway, just eating her usual lunch made me feel closer to her. And I know that sounds kind of weird, but it's how I feel, and it's what we do. My grandma and I have been going there every year. Kind of in honor of her, I guess. Except this year something went wrong.”

“Because of what I said?” I asked. “I'm so sorry for making fun. I really had no idea.”

“No.” Milo shook his head. “I mean there was something wrong with the salad. They didn't wash the lettuce or something, and I got food poisoning and was up all night puking in the bathroom. My grandma took me to the hospital the next day and everything.”

“That's terrible!” I said.

“Yeah, it was a lousy few days. I was dehydrated and they had to give me an IV, and I hate needles. Then when I got home, I went to bed and kind of lost all track of time. My grandma told me I slept for three days straight, practically. And when I woke up and was finally feeling better … I don't know. I still felt lousy. Not ready for school, and mad at you. I mean, I'm not dumb—I know my mom isn't actually around all the time. She can't, like, see me or talk to me or anything. But when I'm near her grave, or eating her favorite food,
or playing chess sometimes, it's like I can feel her presence around me.”

“Like a ghost,” I said.

“Yeah.” Milo shrugged ever so slightly. “That's the best way to describe it, probably. I should've told you before. I mean, I don't care about the ghost of Margaret or some dumb haunted mansion. But what I was afraid to tell you the other day—what I want to tell you now—is that I
have
to believe in ghosts. Because if I don't, then I'm really all alone.”

He finally looked me in the eye, and seeing the hurt look on his face almost broke my heart. “I'm sorry I stormed off that day. And I'm sorry I've been out of touch. I should've explained all this sooner, I guess.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I'm sorry, too. Let's just forget about it. Start over.”

“Deal,” he said.

“Good.”

We kept walking.

“So, did you ever figure out who's been messing with Sonya's Sweets?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “But I think I'm close. There are two possibilities, actually—or maybe two people are working together, although I'm not sure how or why. But did you know that Jonas Adams has family who still live
in the neighborhood? His great-grandson is in college, actually.”

“You think his family could be behind the whole thing?” asked Milo.

“Maybe,” I said. “And there's also this surly Girl Scout I know who's totally obsessed with Girl Scout cookie sales. She was at the opening; I know because I have a picture of her. And yet she keeps denying it. So I have this weird hunch.”

“Huh,” said Milo. “Your weird hunches usually turn into something.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding. “And hopefully this one is no exception.”

I told Milo I had to get home, take a shower, and go through my notes again.

We parted ways, and I was just a few blocks from my house when I nearly ran right into someone familiar. Two someones, that is: Joshua and Felicity from Sonya's Sweets, except they were nowhere near the soda fountain. They were standing on the corner. Oh, and they were kissing.

Yup. That's right. Kissing.

I stopped and started backing up, intent on going in another direction to avoid them, but then Joshua spotted me and broke away.

“Hey, Maggie!” he said. “Wait!”

I had no choice but to approach. Still, seeing Sonya's crush making out with Felicity, Sonya's cousin? It was the last thing I expected to see, and the last thing I
wanted
to see.

But suddenly something major clicked into place.

Sonya had been complaining about all of Felicity's late-night texting. The person she'd been texting with called himself JAM.

Joshua's last name was Marcus. Joshua Marcus. Could JAM be his initials? And if so, what did the
A
stand for?

I thought about the mini-chocolate-bar tattoo on Joshua's wrist. And how he was always talking about his family recipes. And how Jonas Adams, Brooklyn's King of Chocolate, had a great-grandson who'd just started college, and was still living in Park Slope.

Maybe Joshua's middle name was Adams, and he's Jonas Adams's great-grandson.

Could it be? There was only one way to find out.

“Hey, what's your middle name?” I asked Joshua.

He turned to me, surprised. “What do you mean?” he asked as a panicky expression flashed across his face.

“It's Adams, isn't it?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” Felicity asked.

“He's JAM,” I said, pointing to Joshua. “Joshua
Adams Marcus. That's what you call him when you text each other, right?”

“Yes, he's JAM,” said Felicity. “But why do you care about his middle name?”

“Because I think he's named Adams after his great-grandfather,” I said, definitely aware of the fact that Joshua hadn't yet denied this.

“Wait,” said Felicity, turning to Joshua. “Who is your great-grandfather?”

Joshua turned bright red. “It's Jonas Adams, but please don't tell anyone. It's embarrassing.”

“Tell anyone what?” asked Felicity.

“That my great-grandfather founded Adams Chocolate,” said Joshua.

“Why would you hide something like that?” asked Felicity. “Adams Chocolate is delicious.”

“I know,” said Joshua. “But I never tell people that, because I want to succeed on my own, not because my great-grandfather created Adams Chocolate.”

“I don't see how sabotaging Ricki's store is going to make you successful,” I said.

“Um, what are you talking about?” asked Joshua.

“You're trying to eliminate the competition, right?” I asked. “That's why you broke the picture window, switched the salt and sugar, and made the chocolate chips disappear.”

“Wait, I'm the one who
found
the chocolate chips,” he said.

That's what you told people, I thought but didn't say. “Maybe you found them because you're the one who hid them,” I said.

“But I already told you,” said Felicity, “I'm the one who poured the salt into the sugar bowl.”

“But Joshua told me he did it,” I said. “And one of you has got to be lying, unless you're working together.”

“No, I was lying,” said Joshua, “because I didn't want to get Felicity in trouble. As for the picture window, I have no idea who broke it. But I promise you I'm doing everything I can to make sure Sonya's Sweets is a success. I feel lucky to have that job, and Ricki's doing incredible things with the store. I wouldn't do anything to harm anyone.”

I studied Joshua. He seemed sincere. And something about his plea made me believe him.

“So you don't know anything about the picture window?” I asked.

“Sorry,” said Joshua.

“You should go,” Felicity said to him suddenly. “I need to talk to Maggie alone.”

“Are we okay here?” Joshua asked me. “Do you believe me?”

I thought about this for a few moments. “I do,” I said.

“And you'll keep my secret?” asked Joshua. “I promise you, I am not trying to mess with Ricki's business.”

“Okay,” I said. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” He put his hands together and bowed a small bow. Then he turned to Felicity. “Text me later,” he said.

“Of course, Jammy,” said Felicity. She waved goodbye, and as soon as Joshua was out of sight she pulled me to the curb and sat me down.

“Okay, Maggie. What you saw? You've got to promise me you won't tell anyone.”

“I can't believe you'd do this to your own cousin.”

“Look, I can explain. I've been hiding this to spare Sonya. I know she has an enormous crush on Joshua, and that's exactly why I insisted we keep our relationship a secret. I didn't want her to get hurt, but the fact remains that I like him, too. And he's actually my age. It's, like, okay for us to be together. I'm not doing anything wrong.”

The way Felicity said this made it seem as though she wanted me to say that everything she did was okay. And some of it was okay: if she liked Joshua and Joshua liked her, then of course they could be together. They were both adults, or almost adults—more adult than
me and my friends, anyway. But sneaking around and lying to her cousin? And then asking me to lie about what I saw? That was wrong, and there was no way I was going to let her get away with it.

“You can tell Sonya whatever you want. Or don't tell her anything, but I can't keep this a secret. She's one of my best friends.”

“Exactly,” said Felicity. “I love her, too. That's why I think she should be spared the pain.”

I shook my head. “No. It's not fair.”

Felicity hid her head in her hands. “This is a disaster. I never should've come to New York. I knew I'd mess things up. Ricki and Sonya have been so nice to me, welcoming me into their home and giving me a job, and I've been terrible to them.”

“So it's you?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Felicity.

“Are you the one trying to shut down Sonya's Sweets?”

Felicity looked at me and laughed. “No! Why would I do that? I love my aunt and my cousin. And I know I'm lucky to be here. It's just—I can't work at the soda fountain. I'm no good at it.”

I couldn't exactly argue with Felicity. She was a horrible employee. “Are you sure you're not trying to ruin things there on purpose? Like, maybe you think if
it had to close down, you wouldn't have to work there anymore?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Felicity.

“Well,” I said, “you and Joshua were laughing right after the window got smashed. And you forgot to mail the electric bill. And, I don't know—you keep spilling stuff.”

Felicity laughed again. “Believe it or not, Maggie, those are honest mistakes. I'm not guilty of sabotaging the store. I'm only guilty of vanity.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Hold on. I'll show you.” Felicity opened up her purse, dug around in it for a few moments, and then pulled out a thick pair of glasses, which she put on her face.

“You wear glasses?” I asked.

Felicity nodded, blinking behind her thick lenses. The frames were dark purple and chunky. They were so ugly they were cool. Or at least they would be on someone else; on Felicity they just seemed wrong.

“Try to tell me I don't look hideous in these,” she said. “My eyes are so weak I can't even wear contacts, so I'm supposed to have these on all the time.”

I tried to look at Felicity objectively. She definitely looked different, but not hideous. Not that I should have to reassure her at the moment. And then my mind began
to shift gears, as some things—but not everything—fell into place.

“It was you who mixed up the salt and sugar,” I said. “Right? And Joshua lied for you because he likes you?”