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Authors: Joyce Magnin
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dish around a bowl of tomato soup.
“It looks good, Luna. You make good soup. Just like Mason.”
I triangled my sandwich and joined her at the table, but just like Ruby Day, I had yet to taste my food. I couldn’t stop looking at the shoebox. But I knew I couldn’t take it away and open it without her permission. She could easily fly into one her fits. It had to be her idea.
“Are you going to show me what’s in the box?”
Ruby Day shook her head and slammed her palm onto the lid. “Can’t, Luna. I changed my mind.”
Ruby Day and I talked about Aunt Sapphire for a little longer while we ate. It turned out that Ruby Day’s family had money—lots of it.
She said they made money in textiles. I had to look that up because Ruby Day said she knew the word, not what it meant.
“Then how come you never got any of the money?” I asked.
“Because it was put away.” She patted the box. “Sapphire put my money away for the rest of my life.”
“It’s in the shoebox? Aunt Sapphire put all your money in the shoebox?”
Ruby Day laughed so hard she snorted tomato soup out her nose. “Noooooo. Uncle Charles took the money.”
“Uncle Charles?” I wanted to ask more questions but Ruby Day’s hands shook as she ate her soup. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out through her nose. I watched her ball her little hands into fists, and I grabbed them both before she could start hitting herself.
“You don’t need to do that. I promise I will get this ironed out—somehow. But you might need to show me what’s in the box.”
She snatched it off the table quicker than a mousetrap. “No. I can’t do it right now, Luna Gleason. I can’t do it.”
CHAPTER 12
A bad thunderstorm blew into town that night, the same way Aunt Sapphire blew into our lives—out of nowhere. Ruby Day didn’t like storms, and I expected her to come into my room to wait it out with me. But she never showed up, even though the wind whipped around the little house and made the shutters bang against the clapboard. It was scary even for me. Every so often, lightning split the sky and lit up my room for just an instant, but still long enough to see the pictures on the walls.
Mason’s walls were covered with pictures of his favorite jazz musicians cut out from magazines, and, well, to be honest, their faces flashing on and off all night was a little bit creepy. Thunder rolled so close overhead I could almost feel the weight of it.
I think I even missed Delores that night, Delores and the twins. Loud, nasty thunderstorms were definitely easier to get through with sisters around.
The next morning I found Ruby Day asleep in the living room on the floor. She had curled up on the rug near the hearth. The shoebox was next to her, and a slew of pictures were spread out all around her on the floor. A large ball of wadded-up masking tape had been tossed into the fireplace. Her glasses were in the shoebox, and I had the impression she ripped them off her face and tossed them in there because something made her angry.
“Ruby Day.” I shook her shoulder slightly. “Wake up now, Ruby Day.”
She stirred and looked around. I placed her glasses on her face. “Ruby Day. You’re in the living room. You fell asleep out here. How you slept through that storm, I’ll never know.”
But from the looks of the photographs strewn around, I figured she had her own storm to get through.
She rallied a bit more and sat up on the couch. “I’m … I’m sorry, Luna. I was looking.”
“Looking for what?” I sat next to her. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
She reached down and snagged a photo from the floor. “This is a picture of me—back … there.”
I held the black-and-white image of a young woman standing outside a large house. It had columns andlong windows, a wide wraparound porch, and a lawn that must have been ten sizes bigger than Mama and Daddy’s. “Is this you?”
Ruby Day nodded. “Before Mason.”
“You look
“It looks good, Luna. You make good soup. Just like Mason.”
I triangled my sandwich and joined her at the table, but just like Ruby Day, I had yet to taste my food. I couldn’t stop looking at the shoebox. But I knew I couldn’t take it away and open it without her permission. She could easily fly into one her fits. It had to be her idea.
“Are you going to show me what’s in the box?”
Ruby Day shook her head and slammed her palm onto the lid. “Can’t, Luna. I changed my mind.”
Ruby Day and I talked about Aunt Sapphire for a little longer while we ate. It turned out that Ruby Day’s family had money—lots of it.
She said they made money in textiles. I had to look that up because Ruby Day said she knew the word, not what it meant.
“Then how come you never got any of the money?” I asked.
“Because it was put away.” She patted the box. “Sapphire put my money away for the rest of my life.”
“It’s in the shoebox? Aunt Sapphire put all your money in the shoebox?”
Ruby Day laughed so hard she snorted tomato soup out her nose. “Noooooo. Uncle Charles took the money.”
“Uncle Charles?” I wanted to ask more questions but Ruby Day’s hands shook as she ate her soup. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out through her nose. I watched her ball her little hands into fists, and I grabbed them both before she could start hitting herself.
“You don’t need to do that. I promise I will get this ironed out—somehow. But you might need to show me what’s in the box.”
She snatched it off the table quicker than a mousetrap. “No. I can’t do it right now, Luna Gleason. I can’t do it.”
CHAPTER 12
A bad thunderstorm blew into town that night, the same way Aunt Sapphire blew into our lives—out of nowhere. Ruby Day didn’t like storms, and I expected her to come into my room to wait it out with me. But she never showed up, even though the wind whipped around the little house and made the shutters bang against the clapboard. It was scary even for me. Every so often, lightning split the sky and lit up my room for just an instant, but still long enough to see the pictures on the walls.
Mason’s walls were covered with pictures of his favorite jazz musicians cut out from magazines, and, well, to be honest, their faces flashing on and off all night was a little bit creepy. Thunder rolled so close overhead I could almost feel the weight of it.
I think I even missed Delores that night, Delores and the twins. Loud, nasty thunderstorms were definitely easier to get through with sisters around.
The next morning I found Ruby Day asleep in the living room on the floor. She had curled up on the rug near the hearth. The shoebox was next to her, and a slew of pictures were spread out all around her on the floor. A large ball of wadded-up masking tape had been tossed into the fireplace. Her glasses were in the shoebox, and I had the impression she ripped them off her face and tossed them in there because something made her angry.
“Ruby Day.” I shook her shoulder slightly. “Wake up now, Ruby Day.”
She stirred and looked around. I placed her glasses on her face. “Ruby Day. You’re in the living room. You fell asleep out here. How you slept through that storm, I’ll never know.”
But from the looks of the photographs strewn around, I figured she had her own storm to get through.
She rallied a bit more and sat up on the couch. “I’m … I’m sorry, Luna. I was looking.”
“Looking for what?” I sat next to her. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
She reached down and snagged a photo from the floor. “This is a picture of me—back … there.”
I held the black-and-white image of a young woman standing outside a large house. It had columns andlong windows, a wide wraparound porch, and a lawn that must have been ten sizes bigger than Mama and Daddy’s. “Is this you?”
Ruby Day nodded. “Before Mason.”
“You look
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