Charlotte tugging on my hand.
"Let's go, Stacey," she said. "This is getting kind of boring. Nothing weird happened at
all. I guess there wasn't really any mystery after all. Mr. Hennessey probably is just a crazy old man."
I shook my head, trying to dear my thoughts. What was going on? When I looked at the house again, there was no fire. But I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it had to do with Mr. Hennessey. I felt like he needed help, and like it was up to me to go to him. It was the weirdest feeling, let me tell you, but it was overwhelming and I couldn't ignore it. .
I dragged Charlotte over to where Claud stood with Myriah and Gabbie. "Claud, can you watch Charlotte for a little while? I've got to go see Mr. Hennessey, right now," I said breathlessly. She must have thought I was nuts, but she just nodded. Charlotte looked up at me, confused. But there was trust in her eyes, too. I think she could see that somehow this meant a lot to me. I knelt down and gave her a hug. "Be good, Char. I'll be back soon," I said.
I took off for Stoneybrook Manor, running until I got a stitch in my side, then walking, then running some more. I still didn't understand exactly why I felt I had to go there, but the feeling was stronger than ever. It seemed to take ages to reach the home, but finally I
stood on the sidewalk, just as I had yesterday, looking at Stoneybrook Manor. I took a deep breath, walked up the path, and pushed open the door. The man at the reception desk rose from his seat as I approached.
"How may I help you?" he asked, just as he had yesterday. I could see that he didn't remember me.
"I ... I'm here to see Mr. Ronald Hennessey, please," I said. I was still breathing hard from all that running.
The man's eyes lit up. He did remember me! But then a sad look came over his face. He walked around his desk and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked straight into my eyes and said, "I'm so sorry to have to give you this unhappy news, but Mr. Hennessey passed away just last night."
Chapter 15.
I was in shock. Mr. Hennessey was dead! I just couldn't believe it.
And I couldn't say a word. I must have looked pretty silly. Finally, someone spoke. "Aren't you Stacey McGill?" It was the woman, Ruth, who had wheeled Mr. Hennessey out to see us.
"Mr. Hennessey couldn't stop talking about you after you left," she said. "He was very pleased to make your acquaintance. He left this note for you." She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me.
I took the note and thanked her. Then I walked over to the lounge and sat down to read it. Sure enough, my name was on the outside of the paper. "Miss Stacey McGill" it said, in an old-fashioned-looking script. I opened it up.
"Dear Miss McGill," I read. "I hope to be able to tell you this in person, but if for some reason I cannot, this letter will serve my purpose."
It was almost as if he'd known he was going to die! I read some more.
"I enjoyed our brief meeting. You and your friends brought a moment of interest and a spark of fun to a lonely old man's life. In fact, I'm afraid that I must confess to being a bit carried away with your 'mystery.' "
What was he saying?
"I sincerely hope that my tall tales did not disturb you too greatly. And, to set the record straight, there was not one grain of truth in any of them! I know that children your age love a mystery, but please don't be too sad that this one is over. That old house was nothing but a lovely and comfortable home for my family and me."
The note went on for a few more lines, but that was his basic message. There was no mystery after all. I felt relieved, but I was a little sad that it was all over. And I definitely felt sad that Mr. Hennessey was gone. He seemed to have known all about what we were going through, without our even having to tell him. Plus now we'd never know the whole truth about the house.
I walked slowly out of the lobby and up the
path. The honking of a car
"Let's go, Stacey," she said. "This is getting kind of boring. Nothing weird happened at
all. I guess there wasn't really any mystery after all. Mr. Hennessey probably is just a crazy old man."
I shook my head, trying to dear my thoughts. What was going on? When I looked at the house again, there was no fire. But I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it had to do with Mr. Hennessey. I felt like he needed help, and like it was up to me to go to him. It was the weirdest feeling, let me tell you, but it was overwhelming and I couldn't ignore it. .
I dragged Charlotte over to where Claud stood with Myriah and Gabbie. "Claud, can you watch Charlotte for a little while? I've got to go see Mr. Hennessey, right now," I said breathlessly. She must have thought I was nuts, but she just nodded. Charlotte looked up at me, confused. But there was trust in her eyes, too. I think she could see that somehow this meant a lot to me. I knelt down and gave her a hug. "Be good, Char. I'll be back soon," I said.
I took off for Stoneybrook Manor, running until I got a stitch in my side, then walking, then running some more. I still didn't understand exactly why I felt I had to go there, but the feeling was stronger than ever. It seemed to take ages to reach the home, but finally I
stood on the sidewalk, just as I had yesterday, looking at Stoneybrook Manor. I took a deep breath, walked up the path, and pushed open the door. The man at the reception desk rose from his seat as I approached.
"How may I help you?" he asked, just as he had yesterday. I could see that he didn't remember me.
"I ... I'm here to see Mr. Ronald Hennessey, please," I said. I was still breathing hard from all that running.
The man's eyes lit up. He did remember me! But then a sad look came over his face. He walked around his desk and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked straight into my eyes and said, "I'm so sorry to have to give you this unhappy news, but Mr. Hennessey passed away just last night."
Chapter 15.
I was in shock. Mr. Hennessey was dead! I just couldn't believe it.
And I couldn't say a word. I must have looked pretty silly. Finally, someone spoke. "Aren't you Stacey McGill?" It was the woman, Ruth, who had wheeled Mr. Hennessey out to see us.
"Mr. Hennessey couldn't stop talking about you after you left," she said. "He was very pleased to make your acquaintance. He left this note for you." She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me.
I took the note and thanked her. Then I walked over to the lounge and sat down to read it. Sure enough, my name was on the outside of the paper. "Miss Stacey McGill" it said, in an old-fashioned-looking script. I opened it up.
"Dear Miss McGill," I read. "I hope to be able to tell you this in person, but if for some reason I cannot, this letter will serve my purpose."
It was almost as if he'd known he was going to die! I read some more.
"I enjoyed our brief meeting. You and your friends brought a moment of interest and a spark of fun to a lonely old man's life. In fact, I'm afraid that I must confess to being a bit carried away with your 'mystery.' "
What was he saying?
"I sincerely hope that my tall tales did not disturb you too greatly. And, to set the record straight, there was not one grain of truth in any of them! I know that children your age love a mystery, but please don't be too sad that this one is over. That old house was nothing but a lovely and comfortable home for my family and me."
The note went on for a few more lines, but that was his basic message. There was no mystery after all. I felt relieved, but I was a little sad that it was all over. And I definitely felt sad that Mr. Hennessey was gone. He seemed to have known all about what we were going through, without our even having to tell him. Plus now we'd never know the whole truth about the house.
I walked slowly out of the lobby and up the
path. The honking of a car
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