Mix-up in Miniature by Margaret Grace

partly teasing. “I’m sound asleep,” I said in a genuinely groggy voice.
    Maddie laughed like a toddler, bringing back happy memories. “Come on, Grandma. Wait till you see what I found this morning. Did you know our new dollhouse has a secret room?”
    “It’s not exactly ours, sweetheart, and no, I didn’t know. Have you been working on the house already?”
    “Yes, yes.” Maddie had grabbed my old bathrobe from a chair in my bedroom and now she held it open, looking like a bullfighter who’d been stuck with ragged blue chenille instead of a snappy red cloak. “Come on, come on.”
    “You went to the dollhouse instead of the computer?”
    She gave a slight nod. “When are you ever going to wear that new robe we gave you last Christmas?”
    “It’s my backup.” My head was still in my computer search for Varena Young. “I could have used your help last night,” I said, sticking my arms into the comfortable robe. “I was trying to do a search, and I didn’t get anywhere. It’s about the lady who died yesterday. I don’t think she has a website of her own, and I’m not sure I can trust what’s on the generic sites.”
    “Huh,” Maddie said, hardly pausing before telling me, “your slippers are right here.”
    I’d told her about a case, invited her help, and her response was another “Huh”?
    No screaming, “Let me do it! Let me do it!” I hoped my granddaughter wasn’t ill.
    I’d been hoping to ask Maddie about genealogy sites or blogs or other ways to find out about the personal life of a celebrity. Surely having or not having a brother wasn’t too intimate a detail to be public. I’d gone through the standard hoops, plugging in “Alexandra Rockwell,” but the name was more common than I thought. I’d been bleary-eyed by the time I learned of the possible Mildred Swingle connection and hoped Maddie would come to my aid.
    I’d also been surprised last night when Maddie didn’t shuffle into the living room when Skip arrived. Her room fronted on the driveway and she invariably heard his car. She’d typically make her sleepy way to wherever we were, and offer to help solve his case.
    Not today, though. No “Please, please, please.” I was tempted to feel her forehead for signs of a fever, but I didn’t want to frighten her. I needed to call my son before breakfast and clarify the state of her health.
    “Uncle Skip came by. I guess you didn’t hear him,” I said, pushing my feet into my slippers, which were older than my robe.
    “I must have been very tired, probably from waiting so long for you to come home for ice cream.”
    At least she hadn’t lost that edge. “Because I was Away So Long,” I said, reaching out to her most ticklish parts. “Aren’t you smart, getting that little dig in so early in the morning.”
    Also, another bit of avoidance, I mused.
    I thought of all the times I wished Maddie would not get involved in law enforcement, even from the safety of her computer. I should be relieved about that now, not focusing on the needs of my little unsanctioned investigation.
    But this was a sudden and unexplained reversal of roles. It had taken me a long time to get my granddaughter away from computers and interested in dollhouses. Now here I was trying to woo her away from a new house back to cyberspace.
    Maddie took my hand and pretended to tow me into the atrium where the dollhouse awaited. We arrived at the threshold, the moment she’d been waiting for.
    “
Ta da!
Isn’t it great, Grandma?”
    It was early enough in the morning that no sunlight crept in to spoil the effect. Maddie had turned on a tiny light here and there in the dollhouse and a magic world awaited. I saw that she’d added little touches with items from my own crafts drawers. A box of cereal, bowls, a loaf of bread, and a pot of jam sat on the kitchen table, ready for the dollhouse family’s breakfast. Upstairs, she’d placed clothes and toys strategically on beds and chairs. One tiny sneaker