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“You’re reading it.”
“Critically!” Ravi says.
“Maybe she reads it critically too.”
“I wonder if other versions of my mother read this crap,” Ravi says in annoyance. “I suppose there are versions of her that do every kind of thing. Like, there must be versions of her that aren’t even scientists and versions who don’t even know they have portals, just as there must be infinite universes where she doesn’t exist at all. There’s so much we don’t know about the multiverse yet. And you’ll notice I’m focusing on my mother, not me. I’m extremely uninterested in thinking about all the multiple versions of me.”
“Ravi.” Jane’s chest is tightening. Her eyes are tearing up; she can’t breathe. “Ravi,” she whispers. “Just stop.”
* * *
The first Mrs. Thrash has it in her head that she needs to send Jane to an alternate-dimension Tu Reviens in order to prove to Jane that there are alternate dimensions. She promises to send Jane to one of the more similar dimensions, where the house and its inhabitants correspond closely enough that she’ll be able to communicate, but not so closely that she doesn’t feel like she’s left.
“Though of course,” says the first Mrs. Thrash, “most of the universes I’m able to visit correspond rather well. My portal, as far as I’ve experienced, will only send me through to dimensions that have a correlating Tu Reviens with a correlating portal in their tower. And for this house to have been created elsewhere in recognizable form, nearly an infinite number of correlations between universes needed to have occurred across time. Add to that the necessity of my own existence—a theoretical physicist with the time, means, and necessary genius to discover and activate the portal—at any rate, you’ll see, my dear. You’ll be very comfortable in UD17. Despite the alien invasion.”
“Alien invasion?” Jane is still in bed. “It’s really not necessary. I’m happy to believe in alternate dimensions from the comfort of my own dimension.”
An hour of resting and breathing has gone by and Jane is feeling somewhat calmer. She’s even taken to petting the velociraptors, cautiously. Their names are Pinky and Spotty, they’re still nestled against her side, and they like to yip gently at Jasper and touch him with their snouts.
But when Mrs. Thrash talks, it brings on that airless feeling again.
“I can see you’re afraid,” says Mrs. Thrash. “Exposure is an excellent tool for learning to overcome fear. If you’re afraid of spiders, jump into a pit of spiders. If you’re afraid of the existence of alternate dimensions, go on a tour of alternate dimensions.”
Slightly hysterical, Jane decides that the best way to defend herself from Mrs. Thrash’s designs is to act like she accepts everything and isn’t afraid of anything. She sits up in bed. The velociraptors, disturbed in their sleep, yip in confusion. Jane directs the calmest expression she can muster at Mrs. Thrash and also at Ravi, who has, in fact, been arguing with his mother to leave Jane in her own dimension, with a quiet steel in his manner.
“I see your point,” Jane says, “but really, I’m not afraid. It just took me by surprise, is all, but now I’m one hundred percent on board. Of course there are alternate dimensions. Unfortunately, I don’t have time for any travel right now, because I need to be building umbrellas. You’re not an artist, so you might not understand artistic inspiration, but believe me, I’ve got no choice but to answer the call.”
“Umbrellas,” says Mrs. Thrash, sounding intrigued. “It’s true I’m not an artist. But I am a scientist, which may, in fact, be similar in spirit. I’m an inventor and an explorer. I understand the compulsion to follow where one is called.” The first Mrs. Thrash seems to make a decision. “Well then. I won’t stand in your way.”
Jane finds it unsettling that the first Mrs. Thrash imagines she could stand in her way. She suspects she’d be a fool to waste this reprieve. “Allons-y,” she says, then jumps up from the bed. At the resulting head rush, she steadies her hand on Ravi’s shoulder. Then she gives him a farewell pat and heads for the spiral stairs. Jasper thumps onto the floor and follows. Together, Jane and Jasper make their way down to the tower’s base.
The door to the tower is heavy and the threshold slightly raised. Jane stumbles a little as she enters the corridor, then feels a sturdy hand, strong on her arm. It’s Ivy, who’s holding her camera and looking upon Jane with concern.
“You okay?” says Ivy. She’s wearing black leggings and a ratty blue sweater and the ceiling lights burnish the edges of her hair to gold. She’s solid, real.
“Yeah,” says Jane. “Thanks. I’m a little disoriented,” she says, waving vaguely in the direction of the first Mrs. Thrash’s door.
“Oh,” says Ivy, in a different tone of voice. “Oh, god. Did she—did you—”
“What?” says Jane. “No. No! I just met her, that’s all. And her—pets.”
“I’ve heard about the pets,” Ivy says.
“I’m trying not to think about them,” Jane says.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“No, I mean, the fact is that I’d like to talk to you about it,” Jane says, realizing this to be true. Telling Ivy all about it would be a great comfort. “I’d love to, later, when my head is clear. I kind of—passed out when I saw the pets,” she says, pushing at her own forehead, “and I don’t feel like I’ve reassembled all my parts yet.”
“Can I bring you anything?” Ivy says. “Soup? Tea? Kumquats?”
“Kumquats?” says Jane in confusion. “You really have kumquats?”
“Mr. Vanders has a soft spot for them, so we keep some around when we can. But mostly I just wanted to tell you the word,” Ivy says, grinning.
Understanding, Jane counts the letters. “Plus, it has a q and a k,” she says. “High points.”
“Yep.”
Jane doesn’t want Ivy to feel like her servant. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “How’s the gala prep going? Need help?”
Ivy frowns down at the camera in her hands and Jane remembers the weird pictures she’s been taking. Ivy has secrets. Is there anyone in this house who doesn’t have secrets?
“You can come rescue me from it,” Ivy says, “later. We could go bowling or something, and talk about stuff.”
“Sure,” Jane says, just as the tower door opens again. Ravi emerges, the Monet under his arm.
“Hello, darling children,” he says.
“Don’t be a douche, Ravi,” says Ivy, with no malice.
Chuckling, he plants a kiss on her forehead. “Ivy-bean,” he says, “it’s nice to see the two of you getting acquainted. And you,” he says, leaning toward Jane. “You know where to find me if you decide you want company.”
Jane’s face is blazing with heat as he walks away. “Sorry,” sh
e says to Ivy, not sure what she’s apologizing for.
“Don’t worry,” Ivy says. “I’m used to it.”
“Why doesn’t he hit on you?” Jane says. “You’re gorgeous.”
Ivy turns away before Jane can fully appreciate the wattage of her sudden smile. “He knows better,” she says. “See you later, Janie.”
* * *
Back in her morning room, the umbrella Jane was working on previously—the self-defense umbrella in brown and gold—no longer calls to her. She’s sure it matters to someone that Philip was lurking around with a gun and Phoebe was making allusions to the Panzavecchias and Patrick seemed in on it, et cetera, et cetera, but who cares? Ravi’s mother has velociraptors.
This circumstance calls either for a project so dull that she forgets everything, or so weird and complicated that all her anxiety can flow straight out of her and into it.
What, she wonders, would a transdimensional umbrella be like?
It would need to be able to blend into any scenario, in any kind of world, without drawing attention to itself.
Jane has never made a plain black umbrella before.
The canopy would need to be perfectly curved, the tips at the end of each rib and the ferrule on top perfectly straight. A plain black umbrella won’t have any frills or furbelows to distract from her mistakes. All her umbrellas have mistakes.
It’s going to be a disaster.
What would Aunt Magnolia say to that? It might. But you’ll learn something from it, sweetheart. Why not try?
All right then.
As Jane trims the shaft with her lathe, the world starts to make sense again. Explanations offer themselves. Pinky and Spotty are obviously not velociraptors. After all, since when is Jane familiar with every species of animal currently living on Earth? Why shouldn’t there be a small, lizardlike sort of animal that the first Mrs. Thrash, being delusional, found in the Sahara, or the Amazon, or the great desert of Rajasthan, then convinced herself are transdimensional velociraptors? Earth lizards, yes. With feathers.
And what had she said? Something about the house in the other dimension being in danger of being “boarded by pirates.” Ridiculous. Pirates attack ships, Jane thinks, not houses, and houses aren’t things to be boarded like ships. Anyway, pirates are something out of a bad fantasy story. The pirates offer the most solid proof that the first Mrs. Thrash is making everything up.
