A True Home Page 2

  “I’m the front-desk lizard. It’s not my job to serve the food,” grumped Gilles, but he took the soufflé anyway and, with that, disappeared.

  Tilly didn’t even protest the departure of her favorite dish. She was still glaring at Mona with such ferocity that Mona couldn’t help but tremble.

  Mona looked down. Her paws were still very dirty. “It was the storm…” she muttered.

  “Oh, dear, dear. You poor thing,” gushed Ms. Prickles. “Now where is a nice rag?” The porcupine opened a cupboard under the sink and rummaged through it. She pulled out a rag that looked like it was made of soft bark. She handed it to Mona, who quickly rubbed her paws and even her tail.

  “There, that’s better, isn’t it, dearie? Mona, right?”

  Mona nodded, handing back the towel.

  “Such a sweet name, for such a sweet little thing. You know, I think I’ve still got a bit of my cheese crumble left. Would you like a nibble? It’s a favorite with our mice guests.”

  At this, Tilly broke in, “No time for eating. The party will be over soon. And now I have more work to do, showing her around….”

  “Oh, Tilly—hush, tush,” said Ms. Prickles. “Show a little sympathy. I’d think you would, considering…”

  Tilly went completely silent. There was a long pause, but Ms. Prickles didn’t say anything else, except for “Oh, Tilly. It’s been a long day for all of us, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Ms. Prickles,” said Tilly finally.

  Ms. Prickles turned to Mona and explained, “Mrs. Higgins, our housekeeper, is sick with a cold, and it’s meant double the work. And with the party going on…Well, it’s not easy to keep a hotel this size running, that’s for certain.”

  “I can usually do it by myself just fine, except for this feast,” replied Tilly with a humph. Then she looked at Mona again and sighed. “Well, we’d better get you an apron.”

  “You can have the crumble later, dearie,” Ms. Prickles said to Mona, as Mona once again was led away.

  After dropping off her suitcase in Tilly’s room (“I guess you’ll have to share with me,” she said), they passed more rooms and hallways and at last reached a storage room, where Tilly dug out a broom, dustpan, and apron. The apron was much too big, so Mona wrapped the strings around her waist several times before tying them. It was so long she hoped she wouldn’t trip on it.

  “Do I need a key?” asked Mona, pointing to the one that Tilly wore around her neck. After all, Gilles had been wearing one, too. And Mr. Heartwood had lots.

  “Pah,” replied Tilly. “You’re only working the night. Keys are for proper staff, like me. You’ll just be cleaning the ballroom.”

  Just the ballroom, indeed!

  With only a few guests left, nibbling the last of the buffet, the ballroom was far larger than it had seemed before. And far messier. Crumbs of seedcakes and bits of mushrooms and acorns dotted the knotted wood floor. Mona had to sweep up all the crumbs with a broom—a dried dandelion turned upside down. Like the apron, it was too big for her, but she held the handle down low. She dumped the crumbs in a bucket, even though she was so hungry she wanted to eat them.

  And there was honey everywhere! Tilly gave her a rag and a nutshell of soapy water, but the honey was very hard to scrub off.

  It was a long night, especially since nothing Mona did seemed to be good enough for Tilly. “Still sticky,” she’d say in between doing her own tasks, and she’d make Mona return to the spot and scrub some more.

  Through it all, the storm raged, the wind rattling the shutters of the ballroom. Mona was grateful to be inside and warm, despite the hard work. Hard work, but how full of marvels! The bright clusters of elderberries that Tilly took down from the ceiling. The instruments on stage, made of reeds and seedpods, that pinged and tinged when Tilly moved them. The woven willow-strap slippers left behind by a guest. And best of all, the sunshiny yellow leaves that Mona helped Tilly arrange in acorn vases on the tables, to greet the guests in the morning.

  The night ended with a bite of cheese crumble, too. So, when Mona lay down in Tilly’s room on the spare bed of feathers—the most comfortable bed she had ever had—Tilly’s loud snores didn’t bother her. (Tilly sounded grumpy even while sleeping!) Mona wasn’t grumpy, though. When at last the little mouse fell asleep, her dreams were filled not with fears of the forest, but with the wonders of the Heartwood Hotel.

  It was with a heavy heart that Mona, suitcase in paw, followed Tilly down the hall to the kitchen the next morning. It was time to leave. Time to go back out into the forest to search for a new home.

  Tilly, on the other hand, seemed much more pleasant now, and full of chatter.

  “I have been here for years. This was my fifth Acorn Festival. Thank goodness the skunks didn’t come this year. They did once. Now that was bad. Lord Sudsbury never learns to leave his stink at home, no matter how many times Mr. Heartwood has told him.”

  “Skunks stay here?” asked Mona.

  “Oh boy, do they. They come every year for their anniversary. I always fix up their room ’specially for them. But that’s not for a few weeks. I’ve got the squirrels’ rooms to prepare first. It’s their big convention—on best nut-storage practices. Since I’m a squirrel myself, only I can say this…but they’re trouble. They party all night long.”

  “Oh,” said Mona.

  “Not that it matters to you, of course.”

  By this point, they had reached the kitchen. The big table was laden with food: bowls of seeds and honey, and plates of fried thistles. Around the table sat Ms. Prickles and Gilles, as well as animals she hadn’t met, even a woodpecker. Mr. Heartwood sat at the head of the table.

  “A party of fun, well-planned, now done,” Mr. Heartwood said, raising his cup. “Good job, everyone.”

  Mona didn’t have a cup to raise, and didn’t even know if she was supposed to stay for breakfast. Mr. Heartwood had, after all, offered only one night and one meal. She didn’t think breakfast was part of it, even though the seedcakes smelled really good—toasty and buttery. And familiar, too. Had she eaten some, long ago?

  “Aren’t you having breakfast, dearie?” said Ms. Prickles, interrupting her thoughts. “Try a seedcake. It’s my own special recipe.”

  Mona shook her head. “I probably should leave now….”

  “That’s right,” said Tilly as she squeezed in between two rabbits.

  “But you need to eat! Especially if you have a long way to go,” said Ms. Prickles. “Where is your home, dearie?”

  “My home was washed away in the storm,” said Mona.

  Ms. Prickles’s forehead creased. “Oh my. And what of your family?”

  “I don’t have any,” said Mona in a quiet voice.

  “Oh. Oh, dear. Tilly, do you hear that?”

  Tilly’s tail bristled up again.

  “That was a bad storm,” commented one of the rabbits. “Good thing it’s over, so the guests can leave. Imagine if they were stuck here…it would be a disaster! It’s already too busy.”

  “Hmm,” said Mr. Heartwood, staring hard at Mona. “It is our busy season. And we are understaffed, what with Mrs. Higgins under the weather. If you pledge your paw to our hotel, and give it your all, you may stay for the fall. You will receive a salary of Fernwood farthings, too, of course.”

  Mona couldn’t believe it.

  Tilly looked shocked, too.

  “So, Miss Mouse?” said Mr. Heartwood. “What say you?”

  “Oh yes!” said Mona. “I mean, I do.” She put her paw on her heart.

  Mr. Heartwood nodded. “Good. Now take a seat. After all, work begins when stomachs sing.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  And so, after leaving her suitcase by the door (she would return it to Tilly’s room after she ate), Mona found a place at the table, between Ms. Prickles and Gilles. It was half a spot, really—much too small for most animals—but for Mona, it was just right.

  “Humph, hiring you without Mrs. Higgins’s approval. She won’t lik
e that,” muttered Tilly after breakfast, as she reluctantly showed Mona around.

  “Who’s Mrs. Higgins?” asked Mona, her stomach full of the delicious seedcakes.

  “The housekeeper. I told you that already. She’s sick, remember? You have to listen better. There’s a lot to learn around here. My mother always said mice had brains like Swiss cheese—full of holes.”

  “But…” started Mona. She had felt happy but now her stomach sank. She knew that wasn’t true.

  “But nothing. Just try to keep up, okay?” Tilly pointed to a closed door across the hall from the kitchen. “That’s Mrs. Higgins’s office. After breakfast the first thing you have to do is see her. She’ll give you a list of the guests who are checking out, the guests who are checking in, and who has requested room service. If a guest is checking out early, you start cleaning that room first. Most guests arrive in the early afternoon. All their rooms must be ready. Beds made, sinks and bathtubs scrubbed, soaps out, and treats on the pillows.”

  Mona nodded, wishing that she had a notebook to write it all down.

  “How long has Mrs. Higgins been sick?” asked Mona.

  “Since the end of summer,” said Tilly. “The summer was stressful. First the Strawberry Festival was cancelled because the strawberry season came too early, and then we couldn’t have a Blackberry Festival because the blackberry season never arrived at all; it was too dry. The summer really never has had a successful festival yet, according to Mrs. Higgins, and she’s been here since the Heartwood’s start. Then there were the frogs.”

  “What about the frogs?”

  “They purposefully overflowed the tub in their suite, and it took Mrs. Higgins and me half a day to mop up the mess. We were damp from our heads to our tails, and she caught a bad cold from that. Not me, though.” Tilly pointed to the door of Mrs. Higgins’s office. “Look, she’s posted my schedule.”

  Pinned to the door was a piece of paper with writing on it, which Tilly took down and showed Mona.

  – Breakfast tray for Branch Room 2

  – Breakfast tray for Twig Room 10

  – Hot honey cup for Twig Room 6

  – Extra soap for Root Room 3

  “That’s for the boars’ suite, no doubt,” said Tilly knowingly. “They like to scrub twice.”

  After room service came the check-outs, which took up half the page. But there were only two check-ins.

  “It’s going to be a busy day with all the festival guests leaving,” said Tilly, folding up the list and tucking it in the pocket of her apron. “You better not slow me down. Come on, there’s lots more to show you. We only have an hour.” She pointed to another door down the hall, which was propped open. “That’s the laundry room, where bedding and bath towels are cleaned and sorted, and where we pick up most of our supplies. Guests can have their clothes washed here, too.”

  Mona peered inside. Wet sheets hung from racks to dry and the room smelled like soap. There were tubs of steaming water, as well as different-shaped bins of all sorts of bedding. Already the two rabbits from breakfast were crumbling up the leaves in one of the bins. They waved to Tilly.

  Tilly waved back, then said to Mona, “Different guests prefer different sorts of bedding. Rabbits like dried grass or oak shavings. Squirrels like crumbled leaves and twigs. Birds like nests of moss, and moles dirt and some leaves. Some guests have special requests. There are bags there, to carry the bedding in.” Tilly pointed to some large sacks hanging from pegs on the wall. “You fill them with what you need.”

  Tilly moved on to the staircase and pointed down. “The floor below is the root floor, where there are rooms for rabbits, moles, voles, shrews, and ground squirrels. Farther down are the hibernation suites and food storage, and below that, Mr. Heartwood’s quarters.” But Tilly didn’t head down, she headed up. Mona hurried after her.

  In the lobby, Gilles was at the front desk, bent over some papers. He gave Mona and Tilly a nod, then returned to his work. Tilly gestured to the hearth. “We don’t light that till the First Snow Festival.”

  “What’s the First Snow Festival?” Mona asked, but Tilly didn’t reply. Instead the squirrel nodded to the sign that read WE LIVE BY “PROTECT AND RESPECT,” NOT BY “TOOTH AND CLAW.”

  “Everyone staying at Heartwood has to abide by that rule. Mr. Heartwood is very particular that all guests meet his mandates. Like the Six-Legged Rule. They’re so small—everyone would have to constantly watch where they put their paws.”

  “What’s the Six-Legged Rule?” asked Mona.

  Again Tilly didn’t answer, rounding a corner to show Mona the dining hall (“for guests only”), which was beside the ballroom, before hurrying on to the second floor.

  This floor was dedicated to guests’ enjoyment. There was a games room, a library, and a salon. And then it was up to the guest rooms. The trunk floors were for bigger animals, like skunks, hedgehogs, and badgers. (“But we’ve never had a badger except Mr. Heartwood stay here.”) The branch floors were for squirrels and chipmunks and other smaller animals. (“Our most frequent guests.”) The twig floors, higher up, were dedicated to birds. (“And opossums. They like hanging-branch balconies.”) And then, near the top, were the biggest and most expensive suites: the honeymoon suite and the penthouse suite.

  “Oh, it must be so nice to sleep in one of the fancy rooms,” murmured Mona.

  “Don’t be silly!” cried Tilly. “The staff never sleep in the guest rooms. We always sleep downstairs.”

  “I was just imagining…” started Mona.

  Tilly snapped, “Keep up. There’s only one place left to show you.”

  At last, they came to the top of the staircase. “This is the stargazing balcony,” said Tilly. “It’s especially popular at night.”

  Mona followed Tilly out a doorway and stepped outside onto a balcony built on top of a giant branch, with a wooden railing all around it. It was filled with tables and chairs and couches, and it had the most fantastic view Mona had ever seen. “Go on,” said Tilly, sitting in one of the chairs. “You might as well take a look.”

  Mona leaned against the railing, careful of the binoculars that hung there, and stared out.

  The blue sky stretched up all around her, and the treetops waved below, a sea of green and orange and red. Golden sun was peeking up in the distance. “Oh!” breathed Mona. She had never been up so high, not in all her life. She felt like a bird.

  And, in fact, there was a bird on the balcony, too.

  It was a beautiful swallow with glossy blue feathers and a starry white breast. Although she was the same size as the Blue Bow Warblers, she seemed much smaller. One of her wings was in a sling, and she was staring out toward the sun. A drop of water—was it a tear?—slid off the bird’s beak.

  “Are…are you okay?” asked Mona.

  The swallow turned her head to the mouse. There were tears in her eyes. She really was crying. “What was that?” the bird said in a sad, small voice.

  “Oh, nothing. Sorry to disturb you, Miss Cybele,” Tilly said, suddenly by Mona’s side. “Mona, come on!” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  “You are not supposed to talk to guests!” snapped Tilly, once they were back on the staircase and heading downstairs. “That’s another rule. Unless of course a guest talks to you first. I thought you would know that.”

  “But she was crying….”

  “And now you’re trying to make excuses!” huffed Tilly.

  But Tilly didn’t get any further. She was interrupted by a bigger huff. Up the staircase, huffing and sniffling, hobbled a very round, very gray hedgehog with a handkerchief in one paw and a cane in the other.

  “Oh, Tilly, there you are! What are you doing?”

  “Don’t get mad at me, ma’am,” said Tilly. “It’s Mona. She’s the new maid Mr. Heartwood hired. He told me to show her around.”

  “New maid?” Mrs. Higgins blinked at Mona, puzzled, then let out an explosive sneeze. She wiped her nose with her handkerchief and shook her head. �
��I’ll find out all about you later,” she said to Mona, and then to Tilly, “But there’s no time for that now. Lord and Lady Sudsbury are coming. In fact, they just arrived!”

  “The skunks?” cried Tilly. “But they aren’t supposed to arrive for weeks!”

  “Yes, the skunks, but please call them the Sudsburys, Tilly,” said Mrs. Higgins sternly.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” said Tilly.

  “They decided to come early,” continued Mrs. Higgins, “for what reason, I am not sure. But they are in the lobby as we speak. Mr. Heartwood is meeting with them. With all the festival guests still here, he is concerned about their scent. You know Lord Sudsbury. He’s so high-strung. Mr. Heartwood simply does not want him to spray. If he sprays…Well, you know how long it took to get rid of the smell last time. Luckily no one complained, but rumors could have started….” She sighed. “I am not sure what good a lecture will do. But that is not our problem. You must prepare the honeymoon suite at once for them. They plan to have breakfast in the dining hall and check in at noon.”

  “That gives us lots of time,” piped Mona, but she instantly wished she hadn’t.

  “Perhaps with a regular guest’s room, but these are the Sudsburys!” cried Mrs. Higgins, punctuating her sentence with a sneeze.

  Tilly nodded and gave Mona a smirk.

  “Here’s the list,” said Mrs. Higgins, handing Tilly a slip of paper. Mona had to stand on tiptoes to get a peek. It read:

  Special Requests:

  – Black-and-white striped sheets

  – Marinated mushrooms

  – A skunk cabbage bloom

  – Perm rollers for Lady Sudsbury

  – Tie press for Lord Sudsbury

  – Binoculars

  “The binoculars are new,” said Tilly.

  “What are they for?” asked Mona.

  Tilly rolled her eyes. “It’s none of our business.”