I gaze helplessly at my desk. Piles and piles are letters are stacked neatly on the dark wood. My owl, Sonali, hoots reproachfully at me as I sit down. “Hush, you,” I tell her with a sigh as I pick up the post on the top of the pile. “I know I should have started earlier. But it’s just been so crazy, reuniting with Father, getting settled. I haven’t even had time to visit Ginny yet – the real reason I returned! Do you honestly think I have the time to read years-old letters?”
She blinks, unmoved, and dips her head into her water bowl.
I smile, although puzzled by the return address on the letter
in my hand. Why the devil would Ernie MacMillan be writing me a letter?
I wonder, and carefully tear the tip of the envelope.
As I scan the letter, my heart begins to be faster and faster with excitement. He’s offering to help me resurrect the Quibbler! I’m quite cross with Father for letting it fall so far from it’s usual standards. Just last night we were discussing how to bring it back to its former glory – and now this post from Ernie, declaring that he’ll fund our project and help us get back on our feet!
It is a fabulous, wonderful, brilliant evening.
I stand, placing a wet kiss on Sonali’s head, and eagerly run to my closet. I’m dressed in a loose plaid pants and an old t-shirt; it wouldn’t do to meet with the bloke who might be my future business partner dressed like this!
“Sonali – I need my hairbrush. And what do you think – when should I call? Shame on me for letting his letter go without reply for so long! He must think me terribly rude. I should call on him tonight. Yes – wonderful idea, darling. I’ll call in an hour or so – to give myself time to look presentable. Darling! This is so exciting!”
I curl my hand around the hairbrush and shout, “Father! I have wonderful news!”
Who knows what else is hidden in the bundles of parchment on my desk? Perhaps sifting through it won’t be so bad, after all!