Moira relieved Peter of his raincoat and hung it with the children's coats on the unicorn-head rack. Following Liza and Nana, they moved along the hallway toward the living room. A stairway curved upward before them toward a balcony and hall. Arched entries opened off the living room in several directions. Peter glanced about, taking it all in, remembering.
Through the opening leading into the dining room he could see Uncle Tootles down on his hands and knees searching for something.
"Lost my marbles," the old man was muttering to himself. "Have to find 'em. Lost, lost, lost."
Tootles glanced up suddenly to see the others staring at him. Crawling out from under the table, he rose to his knees and smiled brightly at Maggie. She smiled back. He beckoned, and she approached. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a crumpled paper flower, displaying it abruptly, as if he had produced it by magic. He handed it to her, and she giggled. Rising, he turned to Jack and made a modest bow.
Jack backed away, feigning interest in a ceramic pot with tigers painted on it.
"I thought he was back in a home," Peter whispered in Liza's ear.
The maid shook her head. "Broke Miz Wendy's heart, that. She couldn't stand it. After all, he was her first orphan, wasn't he?"
Moira called to Peter. She was standing in front of an old, well-preserved grandfather clock. The clock bore the face of a smiling moon.
"The man in the moon, Peter," she said. "Remember? He used to look down on me from so much higher up."
Peter stared at the clock, thinking of Uncle Tootles instead, missing the warm look Moira gave him.
There was a movement on the stairs behind them, and they turned. Granny Wendy was descending, slowly, regally, her eyes sweeping past them all to fix on Peter. He straightened without realizing it, a puzzled look in his eyes, a hint of a smile or maybe a frown crossing his face. Granny Wendy was tall and slim, crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes and mouth, her hair gray, but her eyes so vital that she might have been any age and not the ninety-two years she had actually lived. She was wearing a comfortable white dressing gown belted at the waist, with purple ribbons at the sleeves and throat and a sprinkling of lace on her breast.
Jack and Moira stood wordlessly with Liza and stared up at her. She was conscious of them, of Moira as well, but she never took her eyes from Peter.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. "Hullo, boy," she whispered.
Peter took a step forward, trying to make himself taller, straighter, younger for her, trying to be things he had given up trying to be for anyone else a long time ago. "Hullo, Wendy," he whispered back.
Then suddenly he seemed to remember himself. "Gee, I'm sorry we're running so late. I'm up to my ears in this new deal, and, well, it's just one thing after the other and…" He was so flustered he could not seem to stop talking. He was aware of his children looking at him.
Wendy held out her arms. "Oh, never mind all that. Come here, Peter, and give me a squdge."
Peter went to her immediately, and they embraced. Her arms came about him and held him with a strength he did not expect she possessed. His own hug was tentative, uncertain.
"Oh, Granny. Gran. It's so good to see you," Moira greeted, and gave Wendy a hug of her own.
"My Moira." Wendy patted her granddaughter's slim back. She stepped away and looked down at the children. "Well. This lovely young lady can't be Maggie, can it?"
Maggie beamed. "Yes, it can. And know what, Great-grandma? I just played you at school in our play!"
Peter frowned, but Wendy smiled encouragingly. "And don't you look just the part, too." She turned to Jack, cocking her head slightly. "Can this giant fellow be Jack?"
Jack blushed, flustered and pleased all at once. "I'm s'pposed to congrat'late you on your orphan hospital, Great-granny." The words tapped coming out of his mouth, spilling in a jumble.
Wendy ruffled his hair gently. "Why, thank you, Jack." She brought both children together before her, a hand on the shoulder of each. "Now, mind you, there's one rule I insist be obeyed as long as you are in my house. No growing up. If you are, stop this very instant!"
Jack and Maggie laughed, charmed and relieved. Wendy bent to hug them both, laughing as well. She glanced up suddenly at Peter. "And that goes for you, too, Mr. Chairman of the Board Banning."
Peter smiled uncomfortably. "Sorry, too late."
Wendy broke from the children and came back to him, tucking his arm firmly under her own, wheeling him toward the living room. "Important businessman, are you? And just what are you doing these days that is so terribly important, Peter?"
Her bright eyes fixed and held him once more, mesmerizing, depthless. He found himself squirming to find a reply. "Well, you see, I, I, well…" He gave up and spat it out. "I'm doing acquisitions and mergers, and recently I've been dabbling in land development, ah, and…"
Behind him, Jack made a sound like a cannon being fired. "Yeah, Dad blows 'em right out of the water."
Wendy glanced down at the boy, then smiled at Peter. "So, Peter," she said softly, and her eyes were almost sad, "you've become a pirate."
In the Nursery
Night settled down about number 14 Kensington, a gradual darkening of the afternoon light, a quieting of sound into a restful hush, a fading of that day toward the beginning of the next. As Peter paused to stare out the hallway window thick flakes of snow shone like bits of silver in the glimmer of the streetlights.
He shuffled his feet on the worn carpet and stared down thoughtfully at his polished shoes. He could see them by bending forward a bit, he discovered. He pushed at his stomach and sighed.
He passed down the hall toward the sound of laughter coming from Granny Wendy's bedroom. Peeking in, he discovered Wendy dressed in an elegant silk gown of rose and mauve with lace sleeves and trim. She was seated at her dressing table, composed and smiling as Moira bent close to hook the buttons of her sleeves. With a glint of mischief in her eyes, she moved her arms just so, foiling Moira's attempts. Moira slapped her hands gently, and they both laughed. It was as if no time had passed since they had last been together, as if the bond between them was as strong today as it had been in Moira's childhood.
A new burst of activity rose from behind him, and Jack and Maggie came tearing down the hall with Nana in pursuit. Charging past their father, the children raced into Wendy's room, leaped from the bed to the love seat and back again. Nana, too large to gain the bed, raced around the carved wooden posts, barking.
Maggie caught sight of her father and called out, "Daddy, Daddy, come play with us!"
Peter smiled and began fumbling with his tie. "Later, sweetheart." He took a step into the room and caught Moira's eye. "Slippery shoes." He motioned down to them, scuffing at the floor. "You haven't seen my gold cuff link, have you?"
Moira gave him a look. "In here?"
"I think I might have dropped it earlier."
He moved into the room, searching, then bent down on his hands and knees to have a look underneath the bed. Instantly Maggie vaulted onto his back, yelling, "Giddyup, horsey! Ride, ride!"
Peter glanced up stoically. "Maggie, be of some help, please?"
Maggie leaped down and rushed away. Peter went back to looking, finding nothing beneath the trailing edges of the bed's quilted comforter, not even a dust bunny. He backed off and worked his way around the end of the bed and over to an easy chair.