Free Warped (Maurissa Guibord) by Maurissa Guibord Page A

store counter. He wore a puzzled expression as he hung up the phone.
    "Tessa." He brightened and smiled at her. "It seems there's been some kind of a mix-up with the items from that auction." He nodded to the phone. "That was a lawyer who represents the estate. He says that old book and the tapestry were never supposed to be part of the lot I bought. The owner wants them back."
    Tessa stared at him. "But they can't do that! Can they? You paid for them."
    Her father ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "I know, I know, but just listen.... He seemed very upset about the whole thing. He began by offering to pay me the full amount of what I paid for the entire lot. But he only wants those two items back. Apparently the owner, a Ms. Lila Gerome, is moving to England. The book and the tapestry have been in her family for generations. I get the impression she's kind of a demanding woman, a bit eccentric, and loaded. So get this," he said, lowering his voice.
    "What?"
    "I told him I'd already taken the book to be appraised and you'd taken a liking to the unicorn tapestry. That's when he got really worked up. Guess how much he offered me?"
    Tessa shook her head.
    Her father grinned. "Ten thousand dollars." He stood up and did a little shuffling dance step.
    Tessa's gaze traveled up as she thought of the tapestry hanging on the wall in her bedroom. "Wow," she said in a flat tone.
    Her father's smile faded. "I thought you'd be thrilled, Tessa. Ten thousand dollars would cover a good chunk of your tuition for college this fall."
    "Yeah," she answered slowly. It was a lot of money. But the thought of selling the unicorn tapestry left Tessa with a sudden feeling of ... she wasn't sure exactly what.
    "What did you tell him?" she asked.
    Her father threw his hands up with a perplexed look. "I didn't really have a chance to tell him anything. He said he's on his way here. Driving from New York. He'll be here tomorrow morning. If it was an honest mistake, I think we should give them back. Don't you?"
    "I--I guess so," Tessa answered. But she wasn't so sure.
    "Well, it didn't sound like the fellow was taking no for an answer. I'm going drive down to Portsmouth and pick up the book from the appraiser.
    "Polly should be able to handle the counter. Just give her a hand if things get busy. I'll bring home some supper."
    After her father left, Tessa went up to her bedroom and closed the door. She walked over to the tapestry. She wondered how old it was. She hadn't given it a lot of thought before, but it must have been made hundreds of years ago. Weird to think that a real person, living so long ago, had made this. And now it was here, in her room.
    Now someone was going to waltz in and take it away, Tessa thought angrily. She bet that lawyer had just realized how valuable the tapestry and the book were and wanted them back. Maybe he even wanted to sell them himself. It would probably end up in some locked display case in a mansion somewhere. Maybe even a museum. It wasn't fair.
    Tessa felt a stab of sadness and knew: she wanted to keep the tapestry. She was meant to have it . The weight of the feeling brought sadness but also a fierce burst of pride; her gaze drifted over the tapestry. Then she noticed it.
    A loose thread was dangling from the bottom. It was a single strand of silver, drifting in the air like a piece of a spider's web. Tessa caught it and twined it around her finger. She hesitated for a second. It was only a tiny thread; she wouldn't damage the tapestry. Besides, it was the kind of thing that would drive her crazy. She tugged. It didn't snap off. Pretty strong for something so fragile-looking .
    She stepped back and pulled harder. The thread, rather than breaking, drew out of the tapestry in one long, glittering trail. As it came out, Tessa felt a blaze of heat run from her fingertips, race along her arm and rush through her, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in its wake.
    Before Tessa could react, a deep rumbling noise