2

  Bee-bee determined that Olive and Arthie didn’t need to know that she had completely recovered. Not when tom pie was on the line. It was her first time having a favorite food, and Bee-bee couldn’t tear herself from the opportunity to fill her belly over again. To throw the old couple off her scent, she made sure to complain about her back every once in a while.

  But now was not the time to complain. Bee-bee was enthralled to wield the tom pie paddle. She hefted, with the paddle, a circle of dough smeared with tomato sauce. She chewed her tongue and aimed the paddle for the mouth of the oven.

  “Right in the center,” said Arthie. “Like I showed you. Pull the paddle all at once so that the pie slides off.”

  Bee-bee charged. She stood on tiptoe, held the paddle above her as flat as she could keep it, and made her best guess. She watched the silhouette of the paddle against the light of the red hot oven as she pulled it out. It came out empty!

  “Excellent,” said Arthie. “Set the paddle down, and begin the timer.”

  Bee-bee beelined for one of the low tables, which were perfect for her stature. She lay the paddle down, and she inverted an hourglass. For its duration, while the humans chatted, Bee-bee locked in on the falling sands. Her eyes were as wide as they’d ever gone, and she clutched the table edge with all her might when the last grains heaped the pile of sand.

  Bee-bee, ready for battle, armed herself with the paddle. The humans stood from where they had sat themselves.

  “Here we go,” said Arthie.

  “Careful now,” said Olive.

  Bee-bee charged the oven, raised the paddle flat and high above her, and shoved the paddle into the oven’s maw. She tipped it, but felt no extra weight.

  “A little deeper,” said Arthie.

  Bee-bee adjusted her grip, clamped her tongue between her teeth, and shoved the paddle deeper. When she tipped the paddle, she felt the weight of the tom pie.

  “You got it!” said Olive. “Oh, be careful!”

  Bee-bee retreated from the oven. She grunted under the burdened paddle. After turning nearly full circle, she set the tom pie down onto one of the low tables.

  “Quickly!” said Arthie.

  Bee-bee beelined for the bowl of powdered cheese. Cheese dust rose from her bowl and freckled the air as she bolted to the fresh, steaming tom pie. With a good fistfull, like Olive had demonstrated, Bee-bee dusted the tom pie.

  It was Olive’s idea to divide the very first tom pie that Bee-bee baked all on her own and to eat it on the front steps of their house. Bee-bee was too excited to sit and eat. She could only pace as she devoured slice after slice. Human passersby eyed her as she stuffed her face, and she eyed them back. Didn’t they ever see a goblin enjoy tom pie before? Geez.

  After gobbling the last slice, Bee-bee looked at Arthie and Olive expectantly—surely they had room for another one? Bee-bee felt she was now a master at baking tom pies! Sure, they’d had to help her out with the recipe, with kneading the dough, with stretching the dough, with spreading the sauce, but those were small things. She was still a master. But both Olive and Arthie seemed a tinge sad.

  Bee-bee felt it too. There was no more tom pie. Her shoulders slumped. She gazed at her toes. She sighed all her air.

  “I know,” said Olive, and the old woman stood to give her a pat on the back and a one-armed hug. “I know; it’s time. We’ll tie up a knapsack for you so that you can make tom pie wherever your home is.”

  Bee-bee cocked her head. She searched her memory. Time? What was it time for? Bee-bee gasped. They were throwing her back out into the world! Oh, no! Her time of tom pies and comfortable beds and kindness was at an end!

  “There, there,” said Arthie, and he knelt level with Bee-bee. “We’ll miss you too. What a wild thing for a goblin to grow on an old man!”

  They guided her inside, and they fulfilled their promise. They gave Bee-bee a knapsack of flour, tomatoes, and a jar of powdered cheese.

  “I suppose you don’t know your way,” said Olive.

  Bee-bee, gaze on her toes, shook her head.

  “You said you came from the sea? Must be the west sea. It’s years closer.”

  Bee-bee shrugged.

  “Has to be,” said Arthie.

  “I just need to find a stream,” said Bee-bee. “All streams lead to rivers, and all rivers lead to the sea. It’s the first thing a goblin freebooter learns.”

  Arthie and Olive gave Bee-bee directions out of the city and to a main road where a stone bridge shaded a wide stream. There were many rights and lefts and straights to make, and Bee-bee nodded at every direction they gave her.

  The sun was at zenith when they parted with last hugs. Bee-bee, nearly dragging her knapsack, sauntered away along their first direction. At her first right, she turned and felt herself longing for Olive and Arthie to bake her another perfect tom pie. Olive was crying, and Bee-bee knew that the old woman felt the same way she did about tom pie.

  Bee-bee took the right, and as she went, the corner building’s corner put the old couple out of sight.

  Bee-bee found herself wondering if she looked forward to reuniting with her goblins again. No, she was too sad to look forward to it. Living with the old couple had been the height of her life so far. If she could, she would make tom pie forever. Oh, why did she have to go?

  Bee-bee couldn’t find it in her to lift her gaze. She watched her toes grip the cobbles as she traversed square after square. She looked for signs every once in a while, but reading wasn’t one of her skills. She could only guess which markings resembled which sounds, and the names of streets Olive and Arthie had carefully told her started to morph into new sounds in her memory.

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  The farther Bee-bee traversed the city, the busier the thoroughfares were. Humans milled about, not in any line or anything remotely organized—not like goblins in line to bail sinking ships. Some humans strolled down streets, others ran, still others walked tangled arm in arm.

  She found herself unable to continue gazing upon her toes. More and more magnificent buildings commanded her attention. She raised her head to take in the massive buildings. Why, they were taller than sloops! Some of them had several stories. Plants grew all around the houses. Such beautiful buildings! Oh, why did she have to go!

  Bee-bee, with her head tilted back, with her eyes on roofs at staggering heights, and with her nose up, caught scoopfuls of smells. Her nostrils flared when she smelled creamed milk, fried dough, grilled cheese, meat and pepper…. Oh, how wonderful human-made food smelled! Oh, why did she have to leave!

  A growl shook Bee-bee’s belly. Well, yeah, she wanted tom pie as much as her belly did! She patted it reassuringly. When her belly growled again, she considered that it might not be such a bad idea to see if anyone else was making tom pie nearby. After all, Olive and Arthie did leave her a few coins to help her journey through the city.

  Smells were coming from the right, so Bee-bee did her best to memorize the shapes of the letter on the street sign. She bolted between humans, and she followed the smells. Almost every smell led her to a kiosk manned by a human where other humans waited in line to purchase something which was definitely not tom pie. Though some foods did peak her curiosity, Bee-bee felt heartache for tom pie.

  Some human somewhere was roasting tomatoes. Bee-bee could smell it!

  Feet slapping the cobblestones, Bee-bee took another right at a thoroughfare where the scent of roasted tomatoes seemed strongest. She scooped the air with nostrils as wide as she could make them, and she turned down street after street until the sounds of the city began to dwindle and fewer humans walked the streets. The cobblestones were at some point more spread apart, and the buildings were smaller.

  The scent was getting stronger! Bee-bee narrowed her eyes, and she focused on following the scent which most certainly was coming from tom pies. She ignored everything else. So focused was she that she tripped on cobblestone edges, tripped on tree roots which had exhumed, nearly ran into humans, and twice bumped into the wall of some human’s house. But, oh, the smell of tom pie was getting stronger!

  Bee-bee trod on, eyes nearly closed in concentration. The smell was so strong that she could taste it like it was wetting the air. Her mouth watered, and she swallowed and licked her lips. Bee-bee rammed a door, nose first, and her eyes watered from the sting. This was it! The smell of tom pie was coming from this building!

  Rubbing her nose, and straining to see beyond the blear, she knocked on the door. Footsteps scuffled on the other side, a bolt was unlocked, and the door creaked open.

  “Bee-bee!” said Olive. “Arthie! Bee-bee’s returned! Is everything the matter? Oh, what happened? Why are you crying? Come in!”

  “Is everything all right?” said Arthie’s echo.

  They guided Bee-bee by the elbow while she rubbed her eyes. They sat her at the couch in their sitting room just inside. Bee-bee asked them what they were doing there. After hearing her recount her adventure, they explained to her that she had made a complete circle.

  “Well, you have quite the nose,” said Arthie. “Olive and I decided to make a couple of tom pies to celebrate having cared for a wonderful little goblin. Amazing that the smell brought you back.”

  “We’ll draw up a map for you this time,” said Olive.

  Bee-bee’s stomach growled long and low. It sounded to Bee-bee like her stomach was trying to say something, that it was doing its best to survive without tom pie, and it didn’t know how long it could make it in this new empty life.

  “Since we’ve got some freshly baked tom pie,” said Olive, “Why don’t we all sit and eat.”

  “Yes,” said Bee-bee. “Oh, we should eat.”

  Bee-bee could not figure out how it was possible for these tom pies to be better than any she’d ever had, but they were. While Olive and Arthie employed themselves with sketching out a complicated squiggle of the city, Bee-bee devoured slice after square slice. She swung her feet. Her heels beat the base of the couch. She hummed an improvised melody.

  Olive and Arthie had a few slices too, of course, and Bee-bee gave them all her attention when they explained the map to her. She was to start in one place, follow the line, and end at another place where a stream was supposed to be.

  Bee-bee sighed. Oh, why did she have to leave! Freebooter goblins didn’t make tom pies. She was fooling herself in thinking she could bake tom pies on a sloop with hundreds of goblins and a captain that would never give her a break.

  Arthie rolled up the map, and Olive opened the front door. She stood over the threshold for a moment before returning.

  “It’s getting late,” said Olive. “I have a proposition. Why don’t you spend another night with us? We’ll bake another tom pie in the morning for a farewell breakfast. Then you can have the whole day ahead of you for your journey.”

  “How about that?” said Arthie. “Would you like that?”

  Bee-bee’s heart raced. Tomorrow she would eat another tom pie! Oh, what a proper situation!

  Bee-bee nodded as hard and as fast as she could. For all the things she wanted to say, to convey, it all came out in a jumble. She then bolted up the stairs to the room where she had lately spent her nights. She leapt on the bed, and so determined to bring about the event of a tom pie as soon as possible, willed herself to sleep.

  Her plan worked perfectly. The smell of tom pie reached her in dreams, and she woke the next morning. Just like that, she had manipulated time. She launched herself down the stairs, and then down another flight to the basement, which used to be a rathskeller. The oven was grumbling with heat, and Arthie’s face glowed from the heat as he fetched a tom pie from within. He set in on the table, fetched a second tom pie, and then fetched a third! Oh what a number to have! One for each of them! Bee-bee could have her own tom pie all to herself before she left. Oh, why did she have to leave today?

  Olive opened the windows near the ceiling. She opened the door at the top of the stairs which led directly to the street, and warm morning air filtered in. She laid a blanket outside, and they ate in the shade of a tree until every crumb of crust had been accounted for.

  “What a pleasure it’s been getting to know you,” said Olive. “We’re going to miss you dearly.”

  Arthie seemed like he wanted to say something, but his lips and his chin only trembled instead. He smiled at her, and his eyes smiled at her.

  With a drawn out goodbye, Bee-bee set off again through the city. She gave them one more last look, took her first right, and opened her map.

  She followed it best as she could. The dotted line was easy to follow for a while. Whenever she turned, she turned her map the same way. Whenever savory smells invaded her, she blew her nose a few times in succession, and she concentrated on her map.

  There were times when she couldn’t take a right, times when she couldn’t take a straight, and times when she couldn’t take a left. Bee-bee, feeling crafty, tried to circle around, which meant that she had to take a few detours. During a particularly long detour, there was a smell which she tried to ignore. She tried very hard to ignore it. With all her will, she tried to pretend the smell didn’t exist.

  Bee-bee, nose to the air, with her map crinkling beside her, followed the smell of freshly baked tom pie. The cobblestones beneath her feet were suddenly farther apart, the buildings were smaller, and they began to seem familiar to her. Bee-bee stayed focused on following her favorite scent in the world.

  She just needed a belly full of tom pie again. Then she could ask for directions and consult her map once more. Bee-bee approached a very familiar door. Confused, she knocked.

  Footsteps shuffled on the other side, a bolt was unlocked, and Olive opened the door.

  “Bee-bee! What happened?”

  “Who is it?” said Arthie’s echo.

  “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “I think it’s the tom pies,” said Bee-bee.

  “Well, same as yesterday, it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay another night. Oh, you silly thing.”

  “I’ll try again tomorrow,” said Bee-bee. “After more tom pie?”