Chapter One
P.T. Barnum was completely exhausted. He hadn't had anything to eat since six this morning, and it was late afternoon. He slumped against the chair in his office. No matter how fun it was, running a circus was hard work. He was almost done with the paperwork he had to do and then he would head home. He sighed. P.T. had never been good at sitting still, at a desk, doing paperwork. Normally, it was the job of Phillip Carlyle, his business partner and friend. Phillip was good with numbers and papers. Phillip was also gone at his parents' house. He had told P.T. that he was going to try and smooth things over with his parents, but he should have been back by now—it had been a week. P.T. pushed the papers aside and stood up. He could finish them tomorrow morning. He grabbed his hat and coat and walked outside.
When he got to the door, he had to knock because he had forgotten the key. Anne Wheeler, a smiling, caramel-skinned young woman answered.
"Hi P.T.!" she said.
"Hey Anne," P.T. said. "How are you? Have you heard anything from Phillip?" Anne's smile vanished and she shook her head.
"Nothing since last Wednesday, when he left," she told him. "Anyway, come on inside. I made coffee cake." She offered a weak smile as she stepped inside.
The house was big enough to fit all the circus performers, with a big main hall with a kitchen off to the left. The whole circus, minus the animals, lived here, so they needed plenty of space and were always adding new rooms. P.T. hung his coat in the front hall and walked towards the kitchen and the promise of Anne's famous coffee cake. He served himself a big piece for a late lunch and walked outside.
Later that evening, after dinner, Anne mumbled something about going to bed early and left during the middle of War, her favorite card game. Lettie looked after her, a puzzled expression on her face.
"What was that?" she asked, directing the question towards W.D., Anne's big brother. W.D. shrugged and resumed playing cards with one of the albino twins, the greatest card players in the whole circus. Lettie still looked confused, but decided not to press the issue, as W.D. was very intent on winning his game. P.T. grabbed Anne's cards and asked Lettie if she wanted to keep playing. Lettie agreed and they finished the game, Lettie beating him after an hour and a half of playing. Around eleven, when everyone else had gone to bed, P.T. was still awake, reading the news. He heard something that sounded like crying from Anne's room and walked over to investigate. When he knocked on the door, Anne said, "Come in," so he gently opened the door. P.T. was surprised to see the lights on and Anne sitting in bed crying. He walked over to see what was the matter, asking Anne if anything was wrong. Anne sniffled in reply. P.T. sat on the bed next to her and put his arm around Anne's shoulders.
"What's wrong?" he asked Anne again. Anne turned to look at him, trying to calm down enough to talk.
"I'm worried," she finally managed.
"About what?" P.T. asked her. Anne took a deep breath.
"It's Phillip," Anne said quietly. "I haven't heard anything from him since last Wednesday, when he told me he was going to try and smooth things over with his parents. It's not like him to just disappear, and no one else has seen him since then either." Anne blew her nose with her handkerchief.
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," P.T. told her, "but for now you should try to get some sleep—it's pretty late." Anne nodded, and P.T. stood up to leave.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked one more time. Anne nodded, so he stepped outside and closed the door, heading upstairs to go to bed.
Very early the next morning, Anne woke up to a loud noise. At first she thought it was just thunder, since it was raining hard, but the noise continued persistently. She checked the watch she kept on her bedside table—it was 5:30 in the morning. She sighed and laid back down, but she heard the noise again. It almost sounded like someone knocking on the door. She got up, opened the door and walked out of the room. The knocking continued, louder in the front hall. Anne unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal a very wet, tired Phillip Carlyle.