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and dry. He could wait to hear that she wasn't
about to dress like the inmates in this asylum.
    Meanwhile, she'd call the airlines and use her lawyer
voice to demand that they find her luggage and return it to
her. Mom would be proud of her for taking action, being
firm, and for Keelie thinking of herself as a lawyer.
    She'd use the lawyer voice to keep the "mundane"
clothes, too. No way she'd play one of Oz's little Munchkins.
    Her father went downstairs and she jumped up to examine her new home. Temporary home, she reminded herself. The main living area was an airy, open room. Wind
chimes hung from the four huge wooden beams that
crossed the ceiling. The white walls were hung with tapestries full of unicorns and flowers. Two areas were curtained off, carving out private rooms. One had the curtain pulled
back with a tasseled silk rope. A tall, wood bed was inside,
its high mattress covered with colorful pillows. A homely
paper sack was on the floor next to it, a red hand print
clearly visible on the yellow cloth spilling from the top.

    She walked around, not touching anything, her eyes
jumping from one thing to another, trying to take it all in
at once. It was like walking into a fairy tale house.
    A sense of belonging and freedom welled up inside of
her, although this was the total opposite of her California
home. Mom preferred the dark cherry wood furniture that
had belonged to her Grandmother Jo. The huge pieces
had always seemed so oppressive, and they had not been
friendly. She avoided it, preferring her own bedroom's
chrome and fiberglass retro look.
    The tinkling chimes made a constant music, a soothing song. She smiled. Mom would have called it drafty.
    Keelie noticed a cluster of framed photographs on a
corner table. She walked over and picked up a frame with
hearts carved across the top. Keelie, age six, grinned back
at her, proud of her missing teeth.
    All the photographs were of her. He had every school
photo taken of her since she attended kindergarten, including last year's ninth-grade picture.
    She spun around as the door reopened behind her.
    "Keelie, I'll be in a meeting by the front gates until
late, and then we can talk," said Dad. "If you're hungry,
grab something from the fridge. Don't wander off. It gets
dark fast."
    Keelie spun on her bare feet. "You're going back to work? I just got here." She wanted to be alone, but it
seemed unfair of him to desert her. Of course, he was good
at it. He'd had practice.

    "I want to spend time with you, too, but there's a Faire
vendor's meeting."
    "I'm so sorry Mom picked such an inconvenient time
to die," she shouted. She froze, shocked. She wasn't an
out-of-control freak. What was happening to her?
    He looked stunned. "No, Keelie, that's not what I
meant at all."
    Her face hurt from holding back the latest round of
tears. "Just go, okay? I need time alone." She sobbed and
swallowed hard to stop the next sob from bubbling up.
    "When you get dressed, you can go explore," he said.
"There's lots to see, although everyone's closed up. Stay
away from the Shire." He sighed. "You can stay up here,
too, if you wish. Ms. Talbot said that you'd be here next
week, so I'm not ready for you, but since you're here, we
have to make do. It's my responsibility to care for you, and
that includes financially, with my business. That's what I
meant, Keelie. You're not a burden or an inconvenience."
    He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek.
She accepted the kiss but didn't look at him. She really did
need time alone-her stomach rumbled-and some food.
She was hungry and confused.
    After he left, she found the little bathroom behind a
plank door. A huge claw-footed bathtub with a hand-held
shower took up most of the room, along with a gleaming
porcelain sink, the bowl painted with twining green leaves.
She found fresh towels in a basket and lavender-scented soap in the tub. This was more like it. It reminded her of
the bathrooms at