Tales of Gloomsdale #1: The Hidden Attic

Chapter Twelve

Matt woke up early on the day of his mother's birthday. It took a while for him to remember while he glanced groggily out at the pale morning sky. Then as he caught sight of the gleam of bronze out of the corner of his eye, he sat straight up in bed and glanced to the side.

He quickly remembered what day it was while carefully taking the antique necklace out of the box he had dumped it in. He didn't have time to find wrapping paper, so he just kept it stored inside the box and hoped it wouldn't break. He tried to get back to sleep, but he couldn't. He played with his Nintendo for a while before heading downstairs.

As he approached the kitchen, he stiffened at the burning aroma that reached him. He stifled a groan as he remembered how Mr. Davis was making breakfast for his mother, hoping he hadn't already burned it all while running to the kitchen.

"Matt! There you are." He glanced up to see Willow standing by the stove, staring desperately at him while trying to avoid looking at the smoke. Matt groaned. Of course. "Can you help us?"

Mr. Davis glanced over in alarm as well, his terror quickly turning to relief as he saw who it was. "Oh, it's just you, Matt."

"So much for making breakfast for Mom," Matt quipped.

"It's not that bad," Mr. Davis insisted, turning back to the stove. "We just need to start the tea over. The rest of it turned out pretty good. The toast might be a little burned and the eggs might be a little runny, but–"

Matt groaned. "I can't believe you messed it up."

"We did not!" Willow protested. "Well... maybe. It was mostly my fault. I offered to help, and Dad let me." She sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am a disaster at cooking."

"Well, uh... you're not that bad," Matt said. "I'm sure Mom will still appreciate it."

"It's the thought that counts," Mr. Davis agreed. "But I really did want to do something nice for her, to make up for breaking her necklace."

As the smoke receded, Matt walked over to observe the countertop. He was surprised to see that Mr. Davis was right, it wasn't as bad as it looked. They had only burned the tea, which Mr. Davis quickly dumped into the sink, and part of the kettle. Matt couldn't help noticing the similarity to the silver teapot under his bed, only much less nice-looking.

"I thought she'd like this," Mr. Davis admitted, sadly observing the black burn marks across the bottom. "It's nice... but now, it's ruined. I guess we'll just have to put the tea in regular cups."

"That's probably a better idea," Willow agreed. "It'd probably spill all over the bed if we served it like that."

"But she'd still love it," Mr. Davis argued.

"Wait here," Matt instructed while beginning to leave. "I have an idea."

He still wasn't sure about it, but he hurried to his room and pulled the teapot out from under his bed. He admired the silver antique briefly before returning to the kitchen.

Mr. Davis turned to stare at him. "What's that, Matt?"

Willow's eyes widened in surprise. "It's, uh... a teapot. I think," Matt said.

"It's even nicer than the kettle," Mr. Davis said, gripping the handle and opening the top. "Actually, I think it's nicer than anything in the kitchen. Say, where did you get this?"

Just as he was about to pour tea inside, Willow stopped him. "I don't think we should use this."

"Why not?" Matt demanded.

"I, uh... just have a bad feeling," Willow said. "It might break. Look, it's already kind of cracked."

"Oh, Willow, it's fine," Mr. Davis insisted, pouring tea inside the pot. "She'd love this. It's almost as fancy as the necklace she used to have."