“I’ve got a baby wombat we could show him,” Dad said. “Just let me run out and get it.”

“This is no time for wombats,” Mother said. “Or aromatherapy.”

She reached the top of the stairs and strode down the hall.

“Mother, what are you going to do?” I scurried into Timmy’s room behind her.

Timmy was standing in his crib, holding onto the bars and shaking them like a prisoner, and howling with more determination than energy. I could swear I saw a look of satisfaction cross his face when we entered. He had an audience again. Then again, the poor kid was tired and cranky and no doubt getting more and more upset by his mother’s absence. He still had a long way to go before we cast him in a remake of The Omen. And I was pretty sure the fuss wasn’t really over Kiki.

“Timothy,” Mother said. “This Will Not Do.”

Timmy paused for a moment and cocked his head to one side in puzzlement.

“You will go to sleep now,” she said. “And while you are sleeping, Meg will find Kiki and bring him back, so he’ll be here when you wake.”

She gave him her gracious smile, with a little hint of the don’t-push-it glance.

Timmy considered for a moment.

“Promise?” he said.

“I promise,” Mother said. “Now lie down and go to sleep. I will wait here with you for news of Kiki.”

She sat down in the rocking chair, turned on the reading lamp, and picked up several books from the floor. After inspecting them, she opened a Dr. Seuss book and began reading it. Silently. She was rocking very slowly and waving one graceful hand to the soft strains of Mozart.

Timmy stood in his crib, watching for a few moments, then lay down, pulled a blanket over his head, and fell silent. After a minute or so, I heard his soft, slow breathing, and then a soft snore.

Mother looked up from her book.

“Well?” she said.

“Are you going to help me hunt?” I asked. “Since you promised results that I have no confidence we can deliver.”

“I will supervise from here. And keep an eye on Timothy.” She lowered her eyes to her book and turned a page.

Downstairs, muted celebrations were taking place.

“Your mother is a wonder,” Dad said.

“I could use a nap myself,” Rob said, with a yawn.

“I think I’m going to try some of that lavender,” Rose Noire said. “It’s also very good for headaches.”

“We still have to find Kiki before he wakes up,” I said, to muted groans. Everyone scattered and resumed the search, though most of them were so tired and frazzled they were searching places they’d already searched two or three times. I’d have tried to convince them to go home and get some sleep, but I was too tired to think straight.

“Maybe Kiki isn’t even in the house,” Michael said. “I can go search some of the places you and he went today.”