Would they truly find Grand’s clue so soon? The pocket watch struck one o’clock but continued to chime, stirred by the tinkling song of an invention that remained unseen. They waited. They watched. No automaton bird swooped from the trees. No mechanical fish leapt from the placid River Île. Aside from the duet of devices, all was normal.
Which was most unusual.
Clara pushed back her wooden chair. “Where is it coming from?”
Together, they abandoned their table. Wandered about thepremises, looking high and low. Thankfully, the other Stork and Spoon patrons dined inside, and the few people ambling down the street paid no mind to their odd behavior. For the moment, there was a chance of locating Grand’s invention without drawing unwanted attention.
“I think the sound is coming from the stork nest, ducky. Give me a moment to investigate.”
Investigatehow, exactly? Clara turned to witness Mum’s rapid ascent from chair to table to tree. Forget unwanted attention. They’d do well now not to make the papers. She hastened to the base of the trunk and planted a hand on either hip. “Mother, come down before you break your neck!”Or make yourself a front-page headline.
Hiking her skirts well above her ankles, Mum scaled the plane tree and perched on a thick branch adjacent to the Stork and Spoon’s roosting platform. She grasped another limb and peered into the occupied nest. “Be not alarmed, Mother Stork. I shan’t plunder your majestic plumage. Oh, oh! How wonderful!”
Mum beamed Clara a flushed smile. “Mother Stork is with child.”
Somehow Clara managed not to roll her eyes. “Congratulations, you’ve discovered an egg in a nest. Now, for heaven’s sakes, come down.”
“There are four eggs, actually.” Mum swung her boots in midair like a child on a swing. “You may be interested to know that one of the eggs is covered in fragments of white porcelain.”
Clara’s fists slid right off her hips. “Grand wouldn’t.”
Mr. Arthur laughed. “Wouldn’t he, though? Drosselmeyer’s a logical sort of fellow. Where else would he lay an egg but in a nest?”
“It’s hatching!” Mum squealed as she peered over the nest. “The porcelain is cracking, and a brass bill is poking through. Ah me, the miracle of life is a wonder.”
The stork inspected Mum with beady black eyes and clapped its pointed bill together, questioning her presence with a loud clack, clack, clack.
Clara gulped. If the stork took offense, this precarious situation could take a tumble. She turned to Mr. Arthur. “How are we to retrieve the egg without the stork attacking us?”
Mr. Arthur shifted the crutch under his arm. “We won’t be doing the retrieving. Your mother will. Mrs. S. knows the most about animals, and I think she’s more than up to the task. In any case, she’s already up the tree.”
“But what if the stork perceives Mum as a threat? That bill looks dreadfully sharp.”
“Don’t fret, ducky. I’m well versed on bird calls and avian customs. Perhaps if I can imitate Mother Stork’s manner of communication, she’ll perceive that I am friend rather than a predator.” Snapping two branches off the tree, Mum proceeded to whack them together in mimicry of the stork’s bill-clattering.
The stork rose on legs orange and gangly.
“See, Mother Stork has granted me permission to enter her home.” Mum laid the branches upon the platform and clambered to stand on the tree limb.
Clara gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to dash to Mum’s aid and holding fast to the promise she’d made Grand.Lord, she’s in your hands.Please don’t let her fall.
With a few tottering steps, Mum traveled from the tree limb to the nest platform. Once there, she retrieved the egg, holding it aloft as proof of success. “Warmest gratitude for your hospitality, Mother Stork.”
The stork mounted to the air with a mighty flap and kicked Mum off the platform.
CHAPTER
22
Clara gasped, knocked flat on the cobbles by the human anvil that was her mother. Aches permeated her every joint and muscle. My, but she was going to feel this rescue come the morrow. And the morrow after that.
“A more foolish stunt I never did see!” White petticoats parted to make way for Mum’s outrage. Bonnet missing and coif in shambles, Mum glowered from where she sat on Clara’s person. “What do you mean, diving in the way like that?”
In the way?Is that what Mum called swooping in to break her fall? Foolish though it might’ve been, she had expected a measure of gratitude for saving her mother’s neck. “Who else was to catch you, I wonder?”
“Oh, I don’t know, ducky. How about the big, strong man you shoved out of the way?” Mum flung her arm to the right.
What? Clara rolled her head to the side and locked eyes with Mr. Arthur. Oh ... that man. Heat saturated her cheeks. Had she truly shoved him? There seemed no otherexplanation for his being sprawled on the stone pavers like a tin soldier cast aside by an ungrateful child.
