FOR ANNABELLE

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Sneak Peek

  Copyright

  “Mara! We’re going to be late!”

  Mara ignored her father’s call. She was painting the window trim in the attic bedroom, and was nearly finished.

  “Mara!” her father called again, a little more loudly.

  “You’d better go,” her mother said. “This can wait.”

  Mara set her paintbrush down and untied the strings of the apron she had on over her school clothes. “All right,” she said as she hung the apron on a hook. “But don’t do any more work until I get home. Promise.”

  “I promise,” her mother said. “I have to work on the plans for the Hudsons’ house today anyway.”

  Mara went over to where her mother was seated at her drafting table and gave her a hug. “I’m sure the house you’re designing for them is nice,” she said. “But not as nice as my house.”

  Her mother laughed. “Of course not,” she said. “I save all my best ideas for you.”

  “Mara!”

  “Coming!” Mara shouted as she took one last look at the huge dollhouse sitting on the workbench and reluctantly went downstairs.

  Her father was waiting by the front door, the car keys in his hand. Mara’s little brother, Jesse, was standing beside him, his backpack on and an impatient look on his seven-year-old face.

  “Sorry,” Mara said as she grabbed her coat from the closet and snatched up her own backpack. “We were working on the house.”

  “We’re going to be late,” Jesse said. “And I have a spelling test today.”

  “Which I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score on,” Mara said, putting her arm around him as they exited the house. “I’ll quiz you on the way to school.”

  As she predicted, he got every word right. Mara, however, realized that she’d left her math homework sitting on the desk in her room and her gym clothes on top of the dryer, where her father had left them for her.

  It was going to be that kind of day.

  “I’ll see you this afternoon,” her father called out the car window as Mara and Jesse walked into school. “Love you!”

  “Love you back!” Mara and Jesse shouted in unison.

  Once they were inside the doors of Crowleyville Central School, Jesse headed left to the second-grade classrooms while Mara turned right and went up the stairs to where the fifth-grade rooms were. When she got to homeroom, she found everyone standing around Krish Dhawan’s desk. Mara hung up her coat and put her things away in her cubby, then went to see what all the excitement was about.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she peered over the shoulder of her best friend, Olivia Winters. Krish had what looked like several small action figures set out on his desk.

  “I think this one is my favorite,” Krish said, picking up one of the figures and holding it out for everyone to see. “He’s called the Fishman of the Lost Lagoon.”

  Mara leaned over and picked up one of the other figures.

  “That one is the Werewolf Bride,” Krish told her. “Look at the flowers in her crown. They’re covered in blood.”

  “She’s cool,” said Mara. “And the perfect size to live in my dollhouse.”

  “Maybe if your dollhouse was a castle in Transylvania,” Olivia joked.

  “Where’d you get these?” Mara asked Krish.

  “This awesome new store,” said Krish. “Frightville. It just opened. It’s across the street from the grocery store, between Comicland and the Dirty Dog Wash-a-teria. They sell all kinds of weird stuff.”

  Before Mara could ask any more questions, Ms. Taggart came in. “All right, everyone,” she said cheerfully. “I hope you’re ready for a pop quiz on algae and fungi.”

  Mara handed the Werewolf Bride back to Krish and took her seat. Ms. Taggart passed out the quizzes, and soon the room was filled with the sound of scribbling pencils. Thankfully, reading chapter seven in her science textbook was the one thing Mara had remembered to do, and so she answered the questions quickly, although on the section where she had to label the parts of a mushroom, she had to guess on a couple.

  The rest of the class was a lecture about spores. Mara tried to listen, but mostly she was thinking about her dollhouse. She and her mother had been working on it for months. They’d started over summer break, drawing up the plans and then cutting the pieces and nailing and gluing them together. Now it was October. Everything had taken a long time because Mara wanted it to be perfect. And it was. Almost.

  The one thing she didn’t have for the house was someone to live in it. She’d been so busy building it, she hadn’t even thought about what kind of person might want to live in the house.

  The house was a big Victorian-style three-story, with a tower and an attic bedroom and all kinds of neat things her mother had designed. Mara wished she could live in a house like that too. Not that there was anything wrong with her actual house, but it was a little ordinary compared to the dollhouse. And an interesting house needed someone interesting to live in it.

  At lunchtime, Mara sat with Olivia and Krish and some of the other kids from her class. Mara used the opportunity to ask Krish more about the store where he’d gotten his monster action figures.

  “Do they have, you know, anything a little less creepy?” she asked.

  “What, you don’t want vampires and zombies living in your dollhouse?” Max Gershwin joked. “I think a haunted dollhouse would be awesome.”

  “They have all kinds of stuff,” Krish assured Mara. “You should just go check it out.”

  Mara decided she would.

  When her father met her and Jesse outside school that afternoon, she asked if they could make a detour on the way home.

  “Sure,” her father said. “I need to pick up a few things at the grocery store for dinner anyway. I’ll drop you and Jesse off at—what did you call it?”

  “Frightville,” Mara said.

  “Frightville,” her father said, chuckling. “Sounds like a convenience store for witches. Pick up some eye of newt for me, okay? I’ll add it to the goulash I’m making for dinner.”

  “Will do, Dad,” Mara said, looking at Jesse and rolling her eyes.

  A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of Frightville. Mara and Jesse got out of the car.

  “The grocery store is right across the street,” their father said, pointing to it as if they hadn’t been inside it a bunch of times. “I’ll be done in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere else, okay?”

  “Got it,” Mara assured him. “Can we at least take candy from strangers if we run into any?”

  “Only if it’s chocolate,” her father said, pretending to be serious. “None of those licorice drops or gummy pumpkins, though.”

  Mara laughed. “Okay, Dad,” she said as Jesse pulled her toward the store. “See you in a little while.”

  Mara pushed open the door to the shop. A low, moaning wail filled the air.

  “Welcome to Frightville,” said a creaky voice.

  At first Mara thought the greeting was part of the recording. Then a tall, thin man appeared from out of the shadows. He was wearing an old-fashioned black suit and a gray shirt with a black tie, and his silver hair was slicked back over his head. With his pale white skin, he looked like a character who had stepped out of a black-and-white movie.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Odson Ends, the proprietor of this establishment.”

  “I’m Mara,” said Mara. “And this is Jesse.”

  “A pleasure to meet you both,” said Mr. Ends, the corners of his mouth turning up in the barest hint of a smile. “May I ask what brings you into my little shop today?”

  “My friend Krish was here yesterday,” Mara answered. “He bought some awesome figurines.”

  Mr. Ends nodded. “I remember,” he said. “From the Monstertown collection. Very popular. Are you looking to get some for yourself? I believe I still have Count Fangtooth and Lady Wrappers, the singing mummy.”

  Mara shook her head. “They’re not exactly what I’m looking for,” she said.

  “Mara doesn’t play with monsters,” Jesse announced. “She likes dolls.”

  “I built a dollhouse,” Mara explained. “With my mother. Now I’m looking for someone to live in it. But I don’t want any ordinary old doll. I want something special. Something nobody else has.”

  “I see,” said Mr. Ends. “You’re in search of a unique tenant.” He tapped his chin and looked at Mara with eyes that she realized now were the color of thunderstorms. “I think I might have something you’ll like.”

  Jesse wandered off to look at something that had caught his attention, and Mara followed Mr. Ends as he walked through the store.

  “Every item in my shop is unusual, of course,” Mr. Ends said as they walked. “But some are more unusual than others. I keep my extra-special merchandise back here.”

  He stopped in front of an antique cabinet with glass doors. Behind the glass was an array of objects: carved wooden animals, old metal keys, a clock with the face of a clown, windup toys, what looked like a small brass telescope. Mr. Ends drew a skeleton key from his pocket and slipped it into a lock on the cabinet doors. He turned it. There wa

s a click, and then the doors swung open.

  “These objects are particularly unique,” Mr. Ends said. “Some people even believe they have a bit of magic in them.”

  “Magic?” said Mara. She laughed. “Like they can grant wishes?”

  Mr. Ends smiled. “Who’s to say? Why don’t you take a look and see if you find an inhabitant for your special house? There are several here that might be suitable. If you require any assistance, please ask.”

  He walked away, leaving Mara to examine the contents of the cabinet. Her eyes scanned the shelves, looking for dolls. She found one right away. It was a magician carved out of wood. His suit was black with gold buttons. He had a top hat on his head and a wand in his hand. He even had a painted-on mustache. He was neat, but he didn’t look like he belonged in Mara’s house. She set him back on the shelf.

  She looked some more, passing up a ballerina, a butcher wearing a stained apron and holding a cleaver, and a pair of twin boy dolls wearing matching blue shorts, red-and-white-striped shirts, and sailor hats.

  And then she saw it. Tucked into a corner, almost hidden behind a ceramic dragon, was another doll. It was a girl, about five inches high. Mara picked her up. Her body was made out of snow-white porcelain. She was wearing a dark red velvet dress, with tiny pearls sewn all around the collar. Her long black hair was tied back with a red ribbon, and when Mara ran her fingers over the hair, it felt real. Her face was painted on. She had brown eyes, pink cheeks, and a red mouth. Around her neck was a real gold chain with a tiny locket hanging from it. On her feet were tiny black slippers.

  Mara examined the doll more closely, and saw that the dress had pockets. Something was sticking out of one of them. Mara picked at it and pulled out a small envelope. Inside was a tiny piece of paper. The writing was too small to read, and she could only make out the beginning.

  “My dear Charlotte,” Mara read. She looked at the doll. “Is that your name? Charlotte?”

  She wondered who had made the doll. It looked quite old. Had it been made for another little girl? Someone like Mara, but long ago? Had she loved playing with her, maybe in a dollhouse of her very own?

  The more she looked at the doll, the more she liked her.

  “Do you want to come and live in my dollhouse?” she asked Charlotte.

  Of course, the doll couldn’t answer. Still, Mara imagined she heard a soft whisper in her ear. “Home,” said the voice. “Yes.”

  Mara smiled at the doll. “That’s settled, then,” she said.

  She put the paper in the envelope, and tucked it into Charlotte’s pocket. Then Mara closed the cabinet doors and walked back to the front of the store.

  “Did you find anything you like?” Mr. Ends asked.

  Mara held out the doll. “This one,” she said.

  Mr. Ends looked at her. “You’re very sure?” he asked.

  Mara nodded. “I think she’s perfect for my house,” she said. She pulled some money from her pocket and laid it on the counter.

  “Very well, then,” said Mr. Ends. “If you’re quite certain.”

  Mara nodded.

  Mr. Ends took the doll, wrapped her in white tissue paper, and slipped her into a black box, as if he were putting her to bed. Or into a coffin, Mara thought, wondering where such a morbid thought had come from.

  “Here you are,” Mr. Ends said, handing the box to Mara. “I hope the two of you become the best of friends.”

  Mara held the box in her hands. “Thanks,” she said.

  “One thing,” said Mr. Ends.

  Mara looked at him.

  “Every night when you put her to bed, be sure to say this rhyme.” Mr. Ends recited in a singsong tone:

  “Stay asleep, don’t walk around.

  Only in your bed be found.

  In the morning you can wake,

  but all night long stay tucked in safe.”

  Mara laughed. “What happens if I don’t say that?”

  “Just remember to say the rhyme every night, and there’s nothing at all to worry about,” said Mr. Ends.

  Jesse came over and pulled on Mara’s hand. “Dad’s here,” he said.

  “Don’t forget,” said Mr. Ends.

  “I won’t,” said Mara. “Bye.”

  She repeated the words to herself as she and Jesse went outside and got into the car. But by the time they were halfway home, she’d already forgotten them.

  “Do you want to read before you go to sleep?” Mara asked Charlotte.

  After dinner, she had finished putting the last touches on the dollhouse. Then she and her father had moved it into her bedroom, where it now sat on a table by the window.

  She had decided to put the new resident of the house in the attic bedroom, mostly because it was the one she would want to have if she lived there herself. It took up the whole top floor, and had its own bathroom with a big claw-foot bathtub to take long bubble baths in. There was a round window at one end of the room and the bed faced it, so that a doll could lie there and look out. Mara’s mother had even run power to the house, so the lamp on the nightstand turned on.

  The bed itself was brass, with a tiny handmade quilt that Mara’s father, who was handy with a needle and thread, had made out of pieces of her favorite clothes that she had outgrown. He had also made a nightgown for Charlotte, white with red ribbons at the wrists and around the neck. She was wearing it now. Her dress was hung up in the wardrobe that stood against one wall.

  Mara looked at the little bookcase that occupied one corner of the room, next to a comfortable armchair that a doll could sit in if she wanted to curl up and read. The bookcase was filled with miniature books, copies of some of Mara’s favorites. She and her father had made them out of pieces of paper glued together and bound with cloth tape, and Mara had drawn the titles and covers on the fronts to match the ones in her own bookcase. She looked at the row of books, trying to decide which one Charlotte would like best. She selected Tom’s Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce.

  “This is a really good one,” she said to Charlotte. “It’s about a boy and a magic clock and a door to a secret garden, only it turns out that it’s really all a …” She stopped. “Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you. You can read it for yourself.”

  She placed the little book in Charlotte’s hands, pulled the quilt up, and left her to read while she got into her own bed and picked up the book she was reading, Chasing Vermeer by Blue Balliett. She’d gotten it from the library the Saturday before, and was already halfway through the mystery about a missing painting and the kids trying to find out who stole it. She couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.

  A few minutes later, her mother appeared in the doorway. She walked over to the dollhouse and looked inside.

  “Charlotte looks cozy,” she said. “Oh, and I see she’s reading a good book.” She sat down on the edge of Mara’s bed. “I must have read that book to you a thousand times before you could read it for yourself.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Mara said. “It was probably only two or three hundred times.”

  “Well,” her mother said, “it was one of my favorites when I was your age, so I didn’t mind one bit. I still remember how surprised I was when I found out who Hatty really was.”

  “Shh!” Mara warned. “Charlotte just started it.”

  “Sorry,” her mother apologized. She stood up. “Don’t stay up too late,” she said. “Either of you.” She leaned down and gave Mara a kiss. “Good night.”

  “Night,” Mara said.

  Her mother left, and Mara went back to reading. Soon after, she yawned and her eyes started to close. Reluctantly, she set the book down and turned out her light. She left the one in the dollhouse on so that she could look at Charlotte reading in her little bed.

  “You heard Mom,” she said, closing her eyes. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  She drifted off to sleep. What seemed like only a few moments later, she was woken up by the sound of thunder crashing overhead and the whole house shaking. She sat up and looked around. Outside her window, lightning flashed. Rain pattered on the roof.

  Mara went to turn on her light, but nothing happened. That’s when she realized that the light in the dollhouse was also out. The storm had knocked out the electricity.

  Mara wasn’t afraid of storms, or the dark. She actually liked them. She enjoyed the sound of rain overhead while she was safe and dry inside. And although the lightning could be a little scary, it was also thrilling to see it light up the world outside and then count the seconds until the thunder answered with its low rumble, letting her know how far away it was.

 

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