The next morning, they woke up early to the sound of Robert and Peggy Holmes arguing vehemently with a strange man. They fussed about gardenias and Echinacea, and too-big feet and too-clumsy people who ought to be prohibited from occupying any office of the least amount of importance, as they were likely to ruin everything.
Shirley and Maya, still in their pyjamas, wandered down to investigate with Watson trundling reluctantly along behind.
When they got to the door Maya was the first out, and she shivered a bit in her blue and grey Winnie-the Pooh nightshirt as the cool morning air hit her.
Shirley, pushing her way out onto the front step, did too, before turning to see what all the fuss was about.
" . . . it took me a year to finally perfect that hybrid!" Robert was yelling, enraged, "Now look what you've done to it!"
"My Echinacea will never be the same," Gran mourned. Then, suddenly turning nasty, she snapped:
"And don't tell me you couldn't have avoided it! They are quite plainly visible in the floodlights- so what on earth were you doing in our garden?"
"I was just protecting you!" whined a man wearing a rumpled black suit, an earphone, and a healthy growth of stubble on his chin. "It's my job, isn't it?"
"Security agent," Shirley whispered to Maya. "From the Embassy."
"Are they usually English?" Maya inquired. Shirley, who had also noticed the broad, sharp, Manchester accent, shook her head.
"Maybe one in four," she hazarded, "but no more than that. The rest are usually Canadians- a few Americans, too, looking for a cushy job, but not finding it."
"So," Gran was saying angrily, "we're just supposed to let you run all through out gardens? I think not!"
"I'm afraid you'll have to pay for the damages," Robert said, gesturing with his coffee cup at the trampled plants, "and we would be obliged should you find yourself a replacement, and obtain another post."
"Yes, Sir." the man said sulkily, digging into his back pocket for a billfold. Robert extended his hand expectantly, and Gran looked up, spotting Shirley, Maya and Watson.
"Girls!" she admonished them, "it's chilly out here- get back inside, won't you, before you catch your death."
Shirley hesitated, and Maya leaned precariously out over the railing to inspect the crumpled mess that had been her grandmother and uncle's flowers.
"Shirley, you heard your grandmother," Robert addressed his daughter.
"But, just one-"
"NOW." Gran said firmly, so, reluctantly, the girls obeyed, a most baffled basset hound lumbering along behind.
"Mum, what happened out there with the plants?" Shirley asked Joanna, who was busy dicing away at Sawchuck tuna and green onions for a fish omelet.
"Oh, some fellow wasn't paying attention to where he put his feet," Joanna smiled. "The result was the -er- unfortunate demise of your father's prize gardenia hybrids."
"You never liked those hybrids, did you, Mum?" Shirley laughed, putting her arms around her mother's waist and hugging her.
"Well, no, now that you mention it!" Joanna smiled, returning her daughter's warm gaze. "But please don't tell him- he was only just perfecting them when I- left." She faltered over the last word, and a shadow flashed across Shirley's face.
Maya noticed and quickly jumped in, purposely upbeat.
"What was that fellow doing in the garden, anyway?" she asked, trying to sound light- hearted, both for her cousin's sake and for her aunt's.
"Heaven only knows," Joanna shrugged, returning to her vigorous chopping. "He's not going to be coming around here again, I can promise you. Robert might be upset, but Peggy is absolutely furious."
"He trampled her Echinacea." now Joanna's smile was rueful. "She's positively livid- she really adored that plant. I liked it too, actually- strangely enough."
Joanna Holmes did not like flowers or plants unless they served a purpose, as Echinacea did. Too much useless work, she claimed, when there was already so much else to worry about. But she never discouraged her husband or her mother-in-law, and Robert was not even aware of how she felt. Peggy, who knew, respected this, and kept her flowers away from her daughter-in-law's bedroom window.
"So, he's history, then?" Maya smiled. Joanna nodded, dumping the tuna and onion into a bowl, along with grated cheese and beaten egg.
"Most definitely. Now, why don't you two go upstairs and get washed and changed? It looks as if we're going to have six security men- minus one -to breakfast. Go on, now."
Shirley and Maya obeyed, unaware that Joanna was only half right. As it turned out, all of the security guards came- apparently Peggy and Robert had decided to extend an invitation to the plant-killer, even after what he had done.
So it came to pass that the Holmes family and six burly, unshaven, armed men were sitting around the massive, rarely-used dining room table, eating fish omelets and drinking orange juice.
Talk was of a very limited and interesting kind, to say the least.
"Did you see the look on the face of that guy we knocked down last week, outside of the ambassador's house?"
"I thought he was ready to take the nine of us on with his bare hands!"
"My, my- you young men must be very brave to deal with such dangerous people- and it must be so stressful! Are you, by any chance, familiar with the relaxation techniques of Adina Moreau . . ?"
"What a spectacular omelet you make, Mrs.Holmes! And so innovative, too, to use fish instead of ham. Perhaps you could give me the recipe?"
"Why, of course, Mr. Schroeder, I would be delighted."
"Does your wife cook, then, Mr. Schroeder?"
"Ah, no, Mr. Holmes, but I do."
Maya was flanked by the two Brits of the six men, one the plant-killer, the other, a very pleasant man with, as she put it, "piles of muscles."
"What part of England are you from, Miss Norton?"
"Good old London, Mr. Parker. And you are from Bristol area, aren't you?"
"Why, yes! Feels great to have someone tell where you're from just by your accent, aside from those stuff-shirts at the Embassy. Not, of course, meaning your uncle, Miss Norton."
"No, of course not . . ."
"And where did you get this one?"
"Er- it was given to me by the Security Chief, Miss Holmes, and I'm not so sure you should be handling it that way-"
Click-!
"There, you are- the lid was on backwards, that's all."
"So, that's how it works! How'd you know that, anyway?"
"Oh, I have one just like it upstairs somewhere. Dad gave it to me for my birthday last year. Oh, hey, Mr. Hart, do you want to see a really neat feature that's built into those night-vision goggles? If you switch them to 'daylight', you can . . ."
And so it went, until about ten a.m. when Joanna forcibly evicted the few remaining stragglers in order to clear away the dishes, Shirley, Maya and Gran helping.
"Mum, can we go to the Embassy with Dad today? Maya's never been there, and besides, after what happened last night, we'd both feel a lot safer."
"I haven't got a problem with it," Joanna smiled, "but didn't I hear you making plans to take Bo, too? I'd hate to think you'd forget to warn him you were leaving soon. Why don't you call him, and tell him to get ready?"
"I love having a mother!" Shirley exclaimed, giving a startled, pleased Joanna a whopping-big hug, and tearing off to find a phone, "they think of everything!"
Maya, left behind, grinned ruefully after her cousin.
"You know, there wasn't an e-mail she sent me or a phone call she made to me that she didn't talk about you," she told her aunt. "But when you finally came home, after all those years of hoping, she got scared. She was scared you'd have changed; scared she'd lose you again . . . scared you were just one more dream. But most of all, she was scared because she didn't remember how to have a mother. That's how she put it- she didn't remember how."
"To tell you the truth, Maya," Joanna admitted quietly, "I wasn't sure I'd remember how to be one. Everything I'd learned about her, since the day I first felt her kick inside me, to when she threw herself at me, kicking and screaming, and begging me not to leave her- what if I forgot something? Seven years apart is a long time for anyone, but it's an eternity for a mother."
"You're doing just fine, Aunt Joanna," Maya reassured her. Joanna's smile was wan, at best, as Peggy watched sympathetically from a distance.
"Am I? Sometimes, I wake up in the night, and for a second I think I'm still there- in Rwanda. Then I have to get up, and sneak into her room, and tuck her in. Or sometimes, I just stand there for a while, looking at her. You know-" her lip quivered, "just to make sure she's really mine again.
"There were nights in Rwanda where I used to think I heard her calling to me. When I could almost feel her little arms around my neck- when I'd be ready to do just anything to fell them again; hold her again. Sometimes-"
She broke off abruptly. "But that's neither here nor there."
Now Peggy approached, laying a gentle hand on Joanna's arm.
"She missed you, too, Joanna." she said, and there was something akin to gentle reproach in her soft, bright blue eyes- Shirley's eyes.
"She missed you, too."
Then she gestured slightly to Maya, and, with armloads of dirty dishes, they left the dining room, leaving Joanna alone to ponder this thought.
"Mum?" Shirley asked hesitantly, poking her head around the doorframe, "can I come in?"
Joanna looked up, startled. How much time had passed?
"Of- of course, Mouse. Sit down. We'll talk."
Shirley obeyed, sitting almost awkwardly beside her mum, facing her.
"What d'you want to talk to me about?"
"Well, it's something your father said to me a while ago, and something Gran said just now reminded me of it."
Joanna took a deep breath.
" He said that - that you never stopped hoping I was alive. Not once. You never stopped hoping. And I need to know, Shirley, is that true?"
Shirley thought of the journal she had written in almost daily since her mother had left, seven years ago. The journal her mother would likely never read. She took a deep breath of her own.
"Sort of," she said. "It's sort of true. Not the hoping part, though. I never stopped believing you were alive, because somehow, I just knew you were."
"How, Shirley? How did you know that?"
Shirley shifted, uncomfortable. She hadn't really had a heart-to-heart with her mother since she came home, and in actual fact, she couldn't have picked a touchier, more sensitive subject had she tried.
"I dunno. I just- I just knew. Sometimes, at night, I would dream you were there, talking to me. I'd see your face in my mind so, so clearly, and I could hear your voice in my head. There were times, at school, when I'd think I saw you- or in a crowded place, like a mall. I'd run over, sometimes, before I'd realize it couldn't be you. But I never once believed you were dead. I'd know, I thought, if you were dead. I knew you weren't, even when Dad and Gran didn't. And- I was right. You weren't."
"No," Joanna said, after a long pause, "I wasn't. I'm not,. And now I'm here, home, with you. Just like I wanted for so long . . ."
"And just like I wanted, too," Shirley pointed out, with a down to earth kind of frankness that made Joanna give a quick, little laugh.
"Yes, sweetheart, just like you wanted, too. I love you, Mouse."
"I love you, too," Shirley said, leaning forward to give her mum a tight, fierce hug,
Then Joanna stood, her arm around Shirley's shoulders, and led her daughter - how big and beautiful she'd gotten! - into the kitchen.
"So, is Bo coming?"
"Yup," Shirley breathed an audible sigh of relief at the mediocre topic- she didn't think she could have stood another serious one.
"He was glad we reminded him- we usually find something to do at the Embassy when we go."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"Mum!"
"I'm just asking!" Joanna laughed. "I'm a mother, after all. Well? Is he?"
"No. He used to be, a little while ago. It actually started when-"
"When Mrs. Sawchuck and I set you up. I thought it might. But why isn't he now?"
"When Nicole died- well, it just got to be too much." Shirley shifted, a bit uncomfortable.
"But you're still friends?" Joanna asked, genuinely concerned. "I'd hate to think that I-"
"No! You didn't split us up. We're best friends, first and forever." Shirley reassured her with feeling.
"That's alright, then," Joanna looked relieved. "Now, you'd better get a move on- it's almost eleven o'clock, and that's when your dad leaves."
"I know. I'll see you, Mum."
"I certainly hope so! Be careful, Mouse- I love you."
"I love you too, Mum. Bye!"
Then she was gone, a blur of blue and white, and Joanna was left in the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes, and an overwhelming sense of relief within her.
She had her daughter back.
* * *
The dark limousine that pulled up outside the British Embassy deposited not only a distinguished-looking diplomat and six, tough-looking Secret Service security agents, but three teenaged kids as well.
Well-dressed kids, for the most part, but still kids- not, overall, a common sight at the Embassy.
But of course, these kids were different. People knew Shirley and Bo, and greeted them. A few would recognize Maya from visits home, and say hi to her, too.
"So, you three are sure you can amuse yourselves, and keep out of trouble at the same time?" Robert asked, a tad nervous.
"Dad, we're not complete infants, you know," Shirley rolled her eyes.
"We'll be fine, Mr. Holmes," Bo promised. Robert still looked doubtful.
"Go on, Uncle Robert!" Maya laughed. "You'd think we were plotting to tap into the system, and destroy the work of decades the second your back was turned! We'll be perfectly all right, I promise. We'll probably just surf around on the Net until it's time to go. Now, go on."
He went, but very reluctantly.
The second he was out of sight, Shirley led Maya and Bo to one of many computers situated in a large, carpeted room. Sitting down in front of the screen, she gestured for them to pull up chairs on either side of her.
"This shouldn't take long- stats on diplomats and ambassadors are never hard to call up."
"You mean, you do this often?" Maya asked, raising her eyebrows.
Shirley didn't answer.
Maya didn't ask twice.
Selecting the program she wanted, she keyed in a few words and immediately a large, red, 'please wait' sign flashed onto the screen. Shirley, in return, flashed her friends a huge grin.
"We have contact!" she quipped softly, as the results appeared.
"Angelo Corelli," Bo read aloud. "Age, forty-eight. Nationality, Italian. Status, active ambassador, currently residing in Embassy housings in Redington."
He stopped reading, and, when the two girls shot him quizzical looks, he shrugged.
"I dunno- I just don't get what his point would be. I mean, why would a guy who has such a high status, both here and in his homeland, a great house, and a tax-free salary bother to fool around with an organization like T.R.A.C.E.?"
"Or with Daddy," Maya added. "I see his point, Shirley. I mean, what can we learn from this that you don't already know from what you printed off last night?
Shirley frowned slightly but said nothing. Instead, she stubbornly read down the whole screen before calling up the next results of her search, this time on Michael Grey.
Bo went through the same operations he had before, reading aloud softly, finally ending with a few dry comments made by Michael's co-workers back home in England about his superb integrity, and valuable contributions to the English government.
"Well, that was certainly a waste of time," Maya said in disgust, falling back in her chair. "Mr. Clean Record, if ever I saw him!"
"Maybe," Shirley said noncommittally. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, executing a series of commands. An Internet webpage appeared, and she typed a request for e-mail access.
An account box appeared, listing Shirley's name as Miranda Harris, and her e-mail address as one Bo didn't recognize.
"For more dangerous cases," she explained, in response to his puzzled look. "It's almost completely untraceable."
Then she set to work typing a brief greeting and a short, rather to-the-point message, at last forwarding the info about Corelli and Grey as attachments.
She signed herself 'City Girl', so even had she not headed it 'Cowboy', Bo would have known who it was for.
"I didn't know you kept in touch with Matt," he said. Shirley nodded; but for the faint, pink tinge to her cheeks, her expression was completely unreadable.
"We set this up a while ago. So far, I've helped him on five different cases, and he's helped me on six. We find it helps to talk the details over with each other- sometimes one of us will pick up on something the other missed the first time."
"What," Maya teased, "the great Holmes? Wrong? Surely not!"
"It's happened to you too, Miss Norton," Shirley returned calmly. "I could list at least four times you've asked me for my opinion- once, I even forwarded your e-mail to Matt. He helped you solve it, although I never told you."
"The Johnson trial." Maya stated it, not asked. "I knew it wasn't all your solution. I thought, maybe Bo- but that's neither here nor there. What do you think Matt will be able to do?"
"He has a critical mind," Shirley murmured, "He also has a key-pal whose father works for the Italian government, and I think he knows a woman in MI6. He can usually work something out of them without much fuss, and then he sends it to me, and we talk it over."
She clicked on the 'Send' button, and then logged off, spinning around in her chair to face her cousin and her friend.
"So- anybody up for a game of 'Scavenger Hunt'?"
