“Who knows what the next month brings?” asked Mr. Benedict. “I say let us eat cake now!”
Constance shook her head bemusedly, though clearly she was delighted, and as she clambered back into her chair she handed him the little box he’d sent for.
“It was the three cheers that reminded me,” said Mr. Benedict, opening the box and shaking out three birthday candles. “I’d forgotten to put the candles on the cake.”
“Three birthday candles?” Reynie said. “Three birthday candles? Constance is only two years old?”
“Two years and eleven months,” the girl said defensively.
The children gaped.
“But . . . but . . . ,” Sticky began, then closed his mouth and shook his head.
“Why, that explains everything!” Kate said, with a feeling of great relief, as if a nagging question had finally been answered, though she’d never realized she’d had the question in the first place.
Reynie laughed with delight. “So that was what Mr. Benedict meant when he said you were more gifted than anyone realized. I thought he was just referring to your incredible stubbornness!”
“Who’s stubborn?” Constance said, frowning.
“A toddler,” Sticky murmured to himself. “No wonder she was always so sleepy, so cranky, so stubborn. She’s two!”
“I am not stubborn,” insisted Constance, who had overheard. Then she corrected him: “And I’m almost three.”
The next day, although the house once again teemed with agents and rattled with the noise of a thousand phone calls, Mr. Benedict found it necessary to abandon the projects for a time and attend to important matters of a more personal nature. He tracked Sticky down in an upstairs hallway, where Number Two was rubbing Sticky’s bald head and nodding.
“Yes, I concur,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your hair is definitely coming back.”
“Finally,” Sticky said.
Number Two noticed Mr. Benedict and frowned. “What on earth are you doing out of your chair? Why didn’t you call for one of us?”
“I apologize, Number Two. I was distracted by an urgent matter and will return at once. Sticky, will you please accompany me? I have something to discuss with you.”
“Make sure he sits down, Sticky,” Number Two called after them.
Together they went into Mr. Benedict’s office, where Mr. Benedict obediently sat at his desk and said, “Sticky, I won’t beat around the bush. Your parents are here.”
“My — my parents? Here?” Sticky said, glancing around as if expecting to see them hiding behind furniture. It was only a nervous response. He had no idea how he felt about the news.
“I’ll explain,” said Mr. Benedict. “Let us begin with what you already know. After you ran away your parents did, for a time, get caught up in the sudden downpour of riches. In fact they made so much money they were wealthier than most people, wealthier by far than they had ever been. Though they did look for you, their efforts grew halfhearted —”
“You’re right,” Sticky interjected miserably. “I know this part.”
“Not entirely, my friend. Their efforts were halfhearted, I say, but this, more than anything, was because they were afraid of you.”
“Afraid? Of me?”
“Indeed, they were afraid of their inability to give you a proper home. When you ran away, Sticky, your parents were bitterly ashamed. You were already so much smarter than they were, and they had already made such a terrible mess of things. If you wished to run away, then perhaps — or so they thought in their anguish — perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps you were better off without them.”
“Better off?” Sticky echoed, remembering that long-ago phrase of his father’s, the phrase he’d partly overheard. He’d thought his father meant they were better off without him.
“These were their thoughts at the time. You must also realize they were being influenced by Curtain’s hidden messages. ‘The missing aren’t missing, they’re only departed,’ remember? A most pernicious message indeed. And yet despite this, Sticky, your parents became perfectly morose. Despite their desperate hopes that the money would help them forget you, they soon understood no amount of riches could fill the hole you’d left in their lives. They realized they needed you, even if you didn’t need them. And so they’ve spent all their money looking for you, in fact have gone deeply into debt and are now quite poor.
“It may also interest you to know,” Mr. Benedict continued, “that your parents began their search before we disabled the Whisperer. So determined were they to bring you back, you see, their minds began to resist the broadcasts. Only a powerful love could have mounted such a resistance.”
Sticky was having trouble taking it all in. “And they found me? You didn’t call them?”
“They found you. I could have kept you hidden, perhaps. But once I was convinced of how earnestly they sought you, once I had grasped their true feelings, I allowed you to be found.”
“So you think I should go with them.”
“It’s what you think that matters, Sticky.”
“Well, but how do they seem to you?”
“Quite wretched, I should say, and sick with longing for their lost child. They made a terrible mistake and will always regret it. When I told them you were safe, your parents’ relief overwhelmed them. They wept and wept. Nor had they stopped weeping when I took my leave of them. I believe they’re still weeping, in fact — I saw Rhonda bringing fresh tissues.”
Sticky’s eyes brimmed with tears. “And they really said they needed me more than I needed them?”
“That appears to be their take on the matter. What is your own opinion?”
The tears spilled over and ran down Sticky’s cheeks. “May I see them?”
“You had only to ask, my friend,” declared Mr. Benedict, rising to shake Sticky’s hand. His eyes shone with emotion. “They’re waiting for you in the dining room.”
Sticky flew from Mr. Benedict’s study toward a reunion so joyous and tearful and, eventually, so full of happy laughter, that soon the dining room was crowded with all Sticky’s friends, and with Milligan and Rhonda and Number Two, and even a few unfamiliar officials drawn by the commotion. It was a splendid, uproarious, spontaneous celebration, with hugs and handshakes and kisses all around, and eventually Milligan produced the remains of last night’s birthday cake and Rhonda whipped up a frothy fruit punch. Even the officials, at first irritated by the delay in their investigations, got caught up in the frenzy, and before long they had shed their coats and ties, one of them had put on a record, and dancing broke out.
This had been going on for some time when Number Two suddenly looked about for Mr. Benedict. “Mercy!” she cried, and flew from the room. She found him exactly where Sticky had left him after their warm handshake; only instead of standing Mr. Benedict was sprawled facedown across his desk, papers scattered all about, snoring like a freight train with an expression of pure happiness on his face.
“Mr. Benedict is adopting Constance, eh?” Kate said to Reynie. “That’s good news. And a good fit, I’d say. He certainly enjoys her lame jokes.”
They had completed their snow fort and were building up a supply of snowballs for the coming attack. Across the courtyard Rhonda, Constance, and Sticky were engaged in the same activity. Peeking over the top of the fort to observe the other side’s progress, Reynie said, “Yes, everybody’s finding their family, it seems. You have Milligan. I’m to have a mother and a grandmother. Constance gets two sisters and a father —”
“Two sisters?”
“Oh, yes, it turns out Mr. Benedict adopted Number Two and Rhonda long ago. Though Rhonda believes it’s more apt to say they adopted him. In fact, I think that’s how Mr. Benedict put the question to Constance: ‘Would you be willing to adopt us as your family?’ Constance told him she’d have to consider it, but was inclined to accept.”