Nicholas! Come back. I swear I’ll never laugh at you again.”
But Nicholas just kept walking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
N icholas spent the rest of the afternoon alone in the tower room. He told himself that he was there to search for another of his father’s secret hiding places (which he didn’t find), but deep down, he knew that he was the one doing the hiding this time. Charlie had injured his pride, and that hurt a lot more than his banged-up shoulder. At dinner, he barely spoke, and when he finished picking at his food, he went right back upstairs.
He was staring out the window at
Goblin
when he heard a knock at the spiral staircase. “What?” he growled.
“Nothing,” said Nick. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Nicholas leaped out of bed, feeling guilty. “No, comeon up. I’m sorry, I thought it was Hayley and Hetty bugging me again.”
Nick chuckled. “Not this time. They’re on the phone with your mother. You know, these stairs are getting easier. Maybe I’ll move in here after you go back to New York.”
“Really?”
“I don’t think so. For one thing, Pistol won’t come up here, and in the winter he likes to sleep at the foot of my bed. Keeps my feet warm.” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for Nicholas to sit, too. “Awful quiet today. You seem like a young man with something on his mind. Everything okay?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You know, all this talk about your dad—is it making you miss him? Because that would be a pretty natural thing to happen, I think.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I do miss him, but that’s not why I’m …” His voice trailed off into silence.
“Okay—I don’t want to pry. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. When Charlie gets here in the morning, we’ll give that first coat of paint a light sanding, and then lay on the second. If it’s a nice dry day, we might even get another coat on later in the day.”
From the look on Nicholas’s face when he mentioned Charlie, Nick knew something had happened.
“Um, yeah, I don’t know if she’ll be coming over tomorrow,” Nicholas mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Oh?”
“Uncle Nick, do you know how to ride a bike?”
Nick was caught off guard by the question. “A bicycle? Sure. Boy, I didn’t see that one coming. Right out of left field. Can I ask why?”
“I can’t. Ride a bike. Nobody ever taught me. So today, Charlie was going to, but then I busted, and …” He stopped to compose himself. “Why do girls have to be like that?”
“I’m afraid you’ve stumbled onto one of the great mysteries of the universe, son. Ask me about bikes and boats, or what kind of oil to use in your car, or even how to stuff a turkey, and I’m fine. Women, though, that’s another story. But I think I can help you out with your bicycle problem. Come with me out to the barn.”
From a spot behind some ancient, rusted farm machinery, Nick wheeled out an old single-speed bicycle—the kind with fat tires, a sturdy frame, and heavy metal fenders. With the sleeve of a long-retired flannel shirt, he wiped away a thick layer of dust and grime, revealing the gleaming red paint with SPEEDSTER emblazoned in gold letters across the top bar of the curvy frame.
“Wow. Is this an antique?” Nicholas asked.
“Hmm. Never thought about it, but I suppose it qualifies. Picked it up for ten dollars at a yard sale a few years ago, when my knees were in a little better shape. Put new tires on it, and it was ready to go.” He found an air pump and filled the tires, squeezing them between his finger andthumb until he was satisfied. “There you go. It’s a little late now, but tomorrow morning, we’ll get—” He stopped when he saw the disappointed look on Nicholas’s face. “Oh, right. Well, I suppose we have enough light to get started right now.”
Nicholas smiled for the first time since leaving Charlie’s yard as Nick wheeled the bike outside and leaned it against the long side of the
But Nicholas just kept walking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
N icholas spent the rest of the afternoon alone in the tower room. He told himself that he was there to search for another of his father’s secret hiding places (which he didn’t find), but deep down, he knew that he was the one doing the hiding this time. Charlie had injured his pride, and that hurt a lot more than his banged-up shoulder. At dinner, he barely spoke, and when he finished picking at his food, he went right back upstairs.
He was staring out the window at
Goblin
when he heard a knock at the spiral staircase. “What?” he growled.
“Nothing,” said Nick. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Nicholas leaped out of bed, feeling guilty. “No, comeon up. I’m sorry, I thought it was Hayley and Hetty bugging me again.”
Nick chuckled. “Not this time. They’re on the phone with your mother. You know, these stairs are getting easier. Maybe I’ll move in here after you go back to New York.”
“Really?”
“I don’t think so. For one thing, Pistol won’t come up here, and in the winter he likes to sleep at the foot of my bed. Keeps my feet warm.” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for Nicholas to sit, too. “Awful quiet today. You seem like a young man with something on his mind. Everything okay?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You know, all this talk about your dad—is it making you miss him? Because that would be a pretty natural thing to happen, I think.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I do miss him, but that’s not why I’m …” His voice trailed off into silence.
“Okay—I don’t want to pry. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. When Charlie gets here in the morning, we’ll give that first coat of paint a light sanding, and then lay on the second. If it’s a nice dry day, we might even get another coat on later in the day.”
From the look on Nicholas’s face when he mentioned Charlie, Nick knew something had happened.
“Um, yeah, I don’t know if she’ll be coming over tomorrow,” Nicholas mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Oh?”
“Uncle Nick, do you know how to ride a bike?”
Nick was caught off guard by the question. “A bicycle? Sure. Boy, I didn’t see that one coming. Right out of left field. Can I ask why?”
“I can’t. Ride a bike. Nobody ever taught me. So today, Charlie was going to, but then I busted, and …” He stopped to compose himself. “Why do girls have to be like that?”
“I’m afraid you’ve stumbled onto one of the great mysteries of the universe, son. Ask me about bikes and boats, or what kind of oil to use in your car, or even how to stuff a turkey, and I’m fine. Women, though, that’s another story. But I think I can help you out with your bicycle problem. Come with me out to the barn.”
From a spot behind some ancient, rusted farm machinery, Nick wheeled out an old single-speed bicycle—the kind with fat tires, a sturdy frame, and heavy metal fenders. With the sleeve of a long-retired flannel shirt, he wiped away a thick layer of dust and grime, revealing the gleaming red paint with SPEEDSTER emblazoned in gold letters across the top bar of the curvy frame.
“Wow. Is this an antique?” Nicholas asked.
“Hmm. Never thought about it, but I suppose it qualifies. Picked it up for ten dollars at a yard sale a few years ago, when my knees were in a little better shape. Put new tires on it, and it was ready to go.” He found an air pump and filled the tires, squeezing them between his finger andthumb until he was satisfied. “There you go. It’s a little late now, but tomorrow morning, we’ll get—” He stopped when he saw the disappointed look on Nicholas’s face. “Oh, right. Well, I suppose we have enough light to get started right now.”
Nicholas smiled for the first time since leaving Charlie’s yard as Nick wheeled the bike outside and leaned it against the long side of the
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