The Cereal Murders
she wanted a planetary voyager for Christmas, and, of course, she is so gifted in science, why, one summer she built a time-travel machine with little electric gizmos right in our backyard... "
     
     
Arch rolled his eyes at me; Julian cleared his throat and looked away. I think Audrey caught the look, because she stopped abruptly and gnawed her lip. "Well, Arch, I'm sorry, but we probably can't," she said plaintively. "I mean, I can't authorize you putting up a false-back display, somebody might get hurt...."
     
     
Arch looked disappointed, but then piped up, "Can I see the secret closet, then? I know you have one, a kid at school told me."
     
     
"Uh, I suppose," Audrey said, hesitating, "but it isn't exactly The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Are you sure?"
     
     
Arch replied with an enthusiastic affirmative. Arch, Julian, Audrey, and I unloaded the supplies and rode down to the first floor. In Business Books, Audrey carefully pulled out an entire floor-to-ceiling shelf. In back was a small closet. Arch insisted on being closed into it.
     
     
His muffled voice said, "Yeah, it's cool all right! Now let me out."
     
     
This we did. Satisfied, he returned to the fourth floor with us and minutes later was stringing snow peas to go in the stir-fry under Julian's direction.
     
     
As I heated oil in the electric wok, Arch said, "Did you do stuff like that during the summer when you were nine, Mom? Make a time-travel machine?"
     
     
Julian snorted. I replied, "The only thing I did during the summer when I was nine was swim in the ocean and eat some- thing called fireballs."
     
     
Arch pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded, considering. Finally he said, "Okay. I guess I'm not too dumb."
     
     
I gave him an exasperated look, which he returned. The oil was beginning to pop, so I eased in the marinated beef. The luscious smell of garlic-sauteed beef wafted up from the wok.
     
     
"Thank you, thank you," gushed Audrey. "I don't know what I would have done without you, I've just been so stressed lately - "
     
     
"No problem." I tossed the sizzling beef against the sides of the wok until the red faded to pink. When the beef slices were just tender, I eased them onto a platter and heated more oil for the broccoli, carrots, baby corn, and snow peas, an inviting palette of emerald, orange, and pale yellow. When the vegetables were hot and crisp, I poured on the oyster-sauce mixture, then added the beef and a sprinkling of chopped scallions. I served the whole hot steaming mass with the rice to Arch, Audrey, and her staff, who exclaimed over the fresh veggies' crunchiness, the tenderness and rich garlic flavor of the steak.
     
     
"I love to feed people," I replied with a smile, and then wielded chopsticks into the goodies myself.
     
     
On the way home, Julian ate a cheese sandwich he'd brought, pronounced himself exhausted, and lay down in the back seat. He was snoring within seconds. Arch rambled in a conspiratorial tone about the upcoming weekend, skiing, the amount of loot he'd collect trick-or-treating at his father's condo, being able to see more constellations in Keystone because it was farther from the lights of Denver. He wanted to know, if I hadn't read C. S. Lewis when I was his age, had I at least liked to look at stars? Did I wait until it was dark to see Polaris, and could you see a lot of stars, living near the Jersey shore? Like in the summertime, maybe? I told him the only thing I looked forward to on summer evenings when I was his age was getting a popsicle from the Good Humor man.
     
     
"Oh, Mom! Fireballs and popsicles! All you ever think about is food!"
     
     
I took this as a compliment, and laughed. I wanted to ask him how school was going, how he thought Julian was doing, how life was going in general, but. experience had taught me he would interpret it as prying. Besides, he spared me the trouble as we chugged up the last portion of Interstate 70 that led to our

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