Free Mister Pepper's Secret by Marian Hailey-Moss Page A

was time to take
her dog Bubbles for a walk. As she got up to leave, Mia thanked
Mrs. Goldenrod for the tea and her spoon once again clattered to
the floor. Mrs. Goldenrod didn’t seem to notice the runaway spoon
and invited Mia to visit another time. She had so enjoyed her
company.
    On her way down the royal blue hallway and
stepping into the elevator, Mia’s thoughts were elsewhere. It was
unusual, to say the least, to meet someone who talks with furniture
and statues. Was it real or was it only Mrs. Goldenrod’s
imagination? Whichever it was, it made Mrs. Goldenrod happy. Mia
pressed the wrong button on the elevator and went to the lobby.
    A neighbor entered the elevator with her
little spaniel. “Hi,” said Mia a bit embarrassed. “I wanted to go
up and went down instead.”
    “Better than going sideways,” the neighbor
laughed.
    After that afternoon, Mia thought anything
might be possible—even sideways.

 
    2
     
    Mia talked to Bubbles, as they walked by the
Astor Court wall on Broadway. “After all, Bubbles, grandma Murphy
talks to herself. It’s just a hop and a skip from oneself to the
furniture. It may not be in fashion right now, but if people were
to chat with their furniture, it might be a good thing. Depending
on what was said, of course.”
    Bubbles was paying no mind to what Mia was
saying. She was sniffing in search for exotic smells. Yucky tidbits
were harder to find in snowy December weather. All Bubbles cared
about, in her terrier way, was that Mia was good to her—that she
went on daily walks, got three meals a day, and had a soft bed to
sleep on. Bubbles was a happy dog and felt that words only clouded
good smells, good food, and the good company of her beloved Mia.
Whether you put a word or a woof to it, to her, life was
very— good .
    “Of course, I do talk to you, Bubbles,” said
Mia. “I guess everyone has their specialty.”
    Bubbles pulled Mia to go inside. It was cold
and the sidewalk burned her paws with the salt that the doormen and
merchants sprinkled outside their doorways to melt the ice and
snow.
    They made it to the ninetieth street
entrance. Mia was stomping the snow from her boots, and Bubbles was
giving herself a shake, when Jack, the doorman, said: “There’s a
friend waiting for you in the garden, Mia.”
    That was strange! Who would want to wait in
the garden in this weather, she wondered.



She and Bubbles went to the garden door. Mia
couldn’t see anybody. But Bubbles did and pulling the leash from
Mia’s hand, she ran toward someone she knew. Thanks to Bubbles, Mia
saw in the middle of the garden, standing by two red chairs, her
friend Angelina in white: a white puffy coat, white hood, white
gloves, with—could it be?—silvery white wings that sparkled.
Angelina was the teenager who could work magic. She was a special
person, a high school student in the neighborhood, who had brought
mystery and understanding of animals into Mia’s life.
    “Hi there, Bubbles!” Angelina said, as she
patted her head, and tried to keep her from jumping on her clean
white coat.
    “Hi, Mia! I’m so glad you’re here.” Angelina
turned away as she spoke, holding her thumb up, and stretching her
arm full out as if she were measuring the space. Artists are known
to do that when they want to get a new angle of a subject.
    “Are you going to do a painting of the
garden?”
    “I’m looking for the best spot for Mister
Pepper to be placed.”
    “How did you know about Mister Pepper?” Mia
asked while trying to keep Bubbles on the ground.
     
    “Oh, Doris is my great aunt.”
    “Doris?”
    “Mrs. Goldenrod,” said Angelina. “And the
head of the garden committee is my cousin, twice removed.”
    Mia’s head was spinning. It had been an
unusual afternoon. First, a nice old woman talking to her furniture
and now with Angelina on the scene, there was bound to be another
surprise or two.



Angelina thought the dog statue should be
placed where it would have all the