The Mapmaker and the Ghost Read Online Free Page B

grew out of the middle of it, like a volcano. By contrast, her eyes were very small and close together, so small that it was hard to tell what color they were at all. She had a pair of white bushy eyebrows. Her ears were rather large and protruding. Her teeth were very crooked.
    It took Goldenrod a second to realize that she was gawking rudely. “Hello,” she finally said, a little embarrassed.
    â€œAre you lost?” the old lady asked.
    Goldenrod shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
    â€œThat’s good. It’s important to know where you are.”
    Goldenrod nodded. She was so excited, she didn’t quite know where to start. Should she ask the old lady why her house wasn’t on a street? Should she just sit and draw everything as quickly as she could?
    Before she had enough time to come to a decision, the old lady’s sharp eyes had noticed the sketchbook that was tucked beneath Goldenrod’s arm.
    â€œAre you planning on drawing something?” she asked.
    â€œWell…,” Goldenrod began and then paused. She still hadn’t told anyone about the map, not even in her phone call the night before to Charla, because she wanted the final product to be a big surprise. She had considered telling Birch, but then she was sure he would want to help—and even though having an assistant to aid with the measurements would be a huge time-saver, babysitting a little brother was definitely the opposite of an adventure; Meriwether Lewis certainly hadn’t brought his along.
    But there was something about the old woman, some funny way in which she stood stooped there, waiting with bated breath to see what Goldenrod would say, that made Goldenrod want to trust her. “I’m making a map, actually.”
    â€œA map?” the woman asked.
    â€œYup. It’s going to be the most accurate map of Pilmilton in the world. Every house. Every tree. Every shrub. Everything.”
    â€œWonderful!” the woman exclaimed. “What a splendid idea.”
    â€œThanks.” Goldenrod smiled.
    â€œWhat are you going to do first?”
    â€œWell … I think I’ll get a rough sketch of your house and this area.”
    â€œAnd what will you do after that?”
    â€œTake a few measurements. Make sure everything is drawn to scale,” Goldenrod said.
    â€œAnd after?”
    â€œThen I’ll have to go into the woods. That’ll be the hardest part, I think, what with all the trees …”
    â€œI was hoping you’d say that! Are you really going into the woods?” the woman asked.
    Goldenrod nodded.
    â€œIs there any way you could do me a tiny favor?”
    â€œWhat is it?” Goldenrod held her sketchbook limply at her side, all but forgotten at this point.
    â€œWell, at the very center of the woods, there is a certain bush, a rosebush. And it blooms very, very rarely: for three days only, once every fifty years. It blooms with the most magnificent rose you’ve ever seen. It’s a bright, bright shade of blue and smells just like a summer night.”
    â€œWhat does a summer night smell like?”
    â€œI can’t explain it, but if you smell this rose, you’ll know immediately what I mean. Anyway, I’m sure this bush is pretty rare. I’ve seen a lot of roses, and I’ve never seen anything like it.” The old lady glanced knowingly at Goldenrod and her own admittedly spectacular rose garden before continuing. “I have calculated that this bush is set to bloom Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of next week. And then that will be the last time it will bloom for half a century. I had planned to go in myself, you see, but, well …” The woman sighed deeply.
    â€œWhat?” Goldenrod asked a little breathlessly.
    â€œWell. You may have noticed, I’m pretty old.”
    Goldenrod didn’t know what to say. Would it be rude to agree with her or rude not to? In the end, she decided to side with