Ben’s grin spread even wider. “Coordinates. Latitude and longitude.”
“The location of the ‘current Magda Alessandri’!”
Ben nodded. I screamed and threw myself into his arms.
“Clea?” Mom called.
“Coming!”
Knowing there was a good chance we’d be away from the house for a while, I grabbed a duffel bag and tossed some clothes inside. I also threw in some makeup.
There was no reason I had to look like a fugitive just because I’d be acting like one. I rummaged through my purses and grabbed any cash I had. I was sure Larry Steczynski’s black AmEx would cover us, but I liked having my own money, even if it was just a little bit. The last thing I threw in was my cribbage board with the secret coordinates inside.
Mission accomplished, we raced downstairs and into the foyer just as everyone was leaving. Rayna beamed as she hugged everyone good-bye and accepted their wishes for a long and happy relationship. Sage looked dazed.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“I think your mother just arranged peace in the Middle East while brokering a marriage deal for Rayna and me.”
“I’m not surprised. How many kids are you having?”
“Four. But we can’t start until she’s twenty-six, three years after the wedding. Oh, and we’re honeymooning at the minister’s beach house in Tel Aviv.”
“That’s nice. I’ll have to pop in for a visit.”
Sage just shook his head, still shell-shocked.
“Piri forgive you yet?” Ben grinned.
“I don’t think so. She put an inch of garlic on everything she served me.”
“Don’t take it personally. There’s lots of garlic in Hungarian food,” I assured him.
“Including my chocolate torte,” Sage added.
“Okay, you can take that personally,” I admitted.
Mom was the last of the politicos left in the house, and she turned to me with a sad pout on her face. “I can’t believe I barely got to see you and now I’m leaving!”
“I know! Here—we’ll walk out with you. We’re leaving too.” I didn’t want to be anywhere near the house for even a second after the Secret Service left.
“You didn’t even get any of Piri’s desserts,” Mom lamented as the five of us walked out the door. “She made Hungarian butterhorns with apricots. Your favorite.”
“Were there any left?”
“I think a few. You may have lucked out,” Mom said.
“I’ll get ’em.” Ben tried to walk back inside, but Piri blocked his way.
“NO!” she screamed. “Never turn back when you leave the house. Very, very bad luck.”
“It’s fine, Piri,” Ben assured her. “I just want to grab the cookies.”
“I’ll get them. You come here and look in the mirror. Give a dirty look, then everything’s better.”
“I would, I swear, you know I would, Piri, but we’re kind of in a rush. I’ll just grab the cookies.”
As Ben pushed past her and went inside, Mom hugged both Rayna and Sage, who apparently was going to be like a son-in-law to her. Ben loped out with the butterhorns, and everyone climbed into Rayna’s car, then Mom and I gave each other one last hug.
“I have a big recess in April,” she said, holding my arms and looking into my eyes. “Let’s take a whole week and go someplace, just the two of us.”
“I’d love that,” I said, willing myself not to well up. Mom couldn’t take that. We ducked into our respective cars and drove away.
“Butterhorn?” Ben asked, holding out a bag full of the pastries.
“Well, you did condemn yourself to bad luck just to get them for me,” I said, “So absolutely!”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed, “they’d better be worth it.”
“Mmmm, completely worth it,” I said with my mouth full. “The rest of you have to have some of these.”
“Hmmm,” Sage mused, examining his, “no garlic. I’m not entirely sure my taste buds will know how to handle this.”
“Um, you guys,” Rayna asked, “where am I driving?”
“Excellent question—let’s find out!” I pulled the cribbage board out of my duffel bag and handed it to Sage, pointing out the longitude and latitude notations on the back. “Where is that?”
Sage took out his phone, then entered the coordinates. “Interesting.”
“What?” I asked. “It’s not Antarctica, is it? I didn’t pack a parka.”
“The coordinates are for a building called ‘Shibuya 109’ in Tokyo.”
“Shibuya 109?” Rayna asked. “The mall?”
Shibuya 109 was indeed a mall, but that couldn’t be right … could it? Then I had an idea.
“Sage, can I see your phone?” I asked. He gave it to me and I surfed to a listing of all the stores located there.
Amazing.
“You’ll never believe this, Ben,” I said. “There’s a store in Shibuya 109 named ‘The Little Door.’” Ben’s eyes went wide. “‘The Little Door’ … like what Grant wrote under the coordinates!”
“Exactly!” I said. “Could that be where Magda works?”
“Magda?” Sage asked.