Page 50 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

Despite Alexander’s words not easing much of his worry, Elliot nodded in agreement. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” Twylah said. “And while you’re figuring it out, I’m going to take you under my wing. Alexander tells me you haven’t had a very happy life, baby.” Elliot glanced up at her, surprised to see warmth pouring out of the screen, aimed at him. He’d never felt so welcome in all his life. Elliot had known hardship; now he had an ever-expanding family. He had Periwinkle and Arthur Price, Mrs. Peppercorn and Mayor Rivera, and even had Professor Plum again. Now, he was being given a chance at finding a real mother. One who might actually care for him the way he always wanted Mother to care for him. Most of all, he had Alexander Davenport.

“No ma’am, I haven’t.”

She nodded. “That ends tomorrow. When you get here, I’m coming over, and I’m going to give you a proper welcome.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much it means.”

“I think I do,” she argued. “And I think you deserve every bit of the love I plan to send your way. Go on, now. You boys get ready. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

As Alexander and Ms. Twylah said goodbye, Elliot rubbed his tummy, trying to picture a future with Alexander Davenport. He could see their family so clearly. Walking her to the small schoolhouse Elliot spotted on his island trek last time he visited. Taking her to Twylah’s Sugarplum Treats for a post-school snack. Maybe they could even take her to the beach on the west side of the island. Elliot was rather fond of swimming despite the cannonball fiasco, and he couldn’t wait to give it another go.

Once the call ended, Elliot and Alexander packed their things and rested together on the bed until it was time for dinner. Alexander received a text message alerting him the helicopter would arrive in an hour. As Alexander gave the room a final once-over to ensure nothing was left behind, Elliot headed to the dining hall, hoping to find Mrs. Peppercorn and avoid Mother.

The dining area practically screamed, “Classy!” As Elliot wandered around, searching for his friend, tables were piled high with seafood towers and endless glasses of wine. He’d never partaken in spirits before, and he thought he might like to indulge one day. Maybe once they reached the island.

Mother was nowhere to be found, but Mrs. Peppercorn was unmissable. She was sitting in Mother’s designated seat, and Elliot wondered if Mrs. Peppercorn may have shoved Mother overboard again, just to assume her identity. She was taking to the role quite well; maybe too well.

“The man of the hour,” Mrs. Peppercorn announced, standing and holding her arms out wide like Jesus on the cross.

“Hello, Mother,” Elliot greeted. It still felt silly for him to refer to her as Mother, and in all honesty, he couldn’t believe the other passengers were buying her lies so easily. Then again, with the constant look of lust clouding their vision, maybe they were simply overlooking the absurdity and focusing on their new bountiful beaus.

Once Alexander finally caught up with Elliot, they took a seat with Alexander next to Elliot, who sat next to Mrs. Peppercorn. As he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, Mrs. Peppercorn grabbed his hand and softly brushed her thumb back and forth against his skin.

“I handled it,” she whispered.

“Handled what?”

“The Mother situation. I’ve got it handled. You boys can relax for the rest of the trip.”

“Mrs. Peppercorn, I’m not sure what you’re saying. What do you mean, you’ve handled it?”

Mrs. Peppercorn looked around the room; her eyes narrowed as if she was attempting to search out potential eavesdroppers. “She sleeps with fish.”

“Come again?”

She darted her eyes to Beau’s glass of rosewater. Mrs. Peppercorn grabbed a lemon wedge, held it over the glass, and made eye contact with Elliot. “Ms. Broussard”—she released the hold she had on the lemon wedge and let it fall into the rosewater, her gaze dropping slowly with the lemon for emphasis—”sleeps with fish.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. “Dear God. You’ve killed her?”

Her eyes bulged. “Of course, not. Where in the world would you get an idea like that?”

“You said she sleeps with the fishes.”

Mrs. Peppercorn rolled her eyes. “Actually, I said she ‘sleeps with fish’ because she does. I rendered her unconscious and sedated her with my sleeping pills. There’s a little goldfish beside her bed. I named him Fish, because he’s a fish. She sleeps with Fish.”

Elliot blinked at her. “Then what was all that business with the lemon wedge?”

Mrs. Peppercorn stared at him like it was the silliest question she’d ever heard. “Mayor Rivera enjoys lemon in his rosewater. There’s nothing wrong with being helpful, sweetie.”

Elliot arched an eyebrow. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re toying with me.”

Her cheeks darkened. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Who can say?” She stared longingly at the fish filet on her dinner plate and sighed. Someone squeezed Elliot’s shoulder, and when he looked over, Alexander was smiling down at him. Mrs. Peppercorn continued. “Oh Elliot, her goldfish was just the cutest little thing. You’d love him. After I tied Ms. Broussard to the bed, he and I spent a little time together. It was sweet. We had a moment. I may ask her if she’s terribly attached to Fish the fish once she wakes up. Granted, if she treats her fish anything like she treats her sons, I can’t imagine her giving a dang one way or the other.”

Alexander groaned. “Priorities, Mrs. Peppercorn. You drugged her?”

“I just said I did, didn’t I? Goodness, baby, are you losing your memory like our Elliot did? I wonder if the residual effects of an automaton’s reprogramming are contagious. That’s something I’ll need to ask the Creationist about while I’m still masquerading as Mother.”

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