Welcome Back, Cipher
(June 15, 2016)
10: Surprise!
It went down like this:
A little past seven that evening, Lorena interrupted Stanford, who was in the room he used as an office when he was in the McGucket house, sitting at the computer: "Dear, we have to go to the house right now."
"Mm?" Stanford asked. He was transcribing his older Journals into digital form, editing them on the fly into better and clearer language than his original jotted notes. "Why?" He didn't even look away from the screen.
Smiling at her preoccupied husband, Lorena said, "Because Dan says there's something we have to see. Right now."
Ford was murmuring as he typed—he was a four-fingered typist, twice as fast as a two-fingered one. ". . . Weaknesses: Leaf-blowers (MP). Dan? I'm sure you can handle it, dear. Probably wants to ask about arranging furniture. Where was I?"
"Not furniture, Stanford. It's some kind of anomaly," Lorena said. She didn't sound exasperated, because she wasn't. She had known going into the marriage that her husband was a genius but absent-minded. In fact, so far on that day, he'd given no sign at all of realizing his birthday had come round. In a louder voice, she warned, "Dan says we may have to abandon the building."
"Hmm? Abandon? Anomaly?" Stanford saved the file and stood up, his expression concerned. "That sound rather dire. You stay here. It may be dangerous. I'll get my anomaly detector."
And yet five minutes later, and carrying the small case with his field equipment, Ford climbed into the Lincoln's passenger seat, muttering, "I hope it's not something we'll have to file an insurance claim about. That's incredibly difficult where the paranormal is involved." And only when Lorena parked in front of the new house did he say, "Um—you drove. Didn't I intend to come here alone?"
"No, dear," she said. "Let's go inside and see what's up."
And it went down like this:
At the moment when Lorena parked the car, Mabel dialed her great-aunt Sheila's number and passed the word: "The Lincoln is in the grease pit!"
She said, "I understand," and turned to Stanley, who was relaxing in front of the TV, watching Celebrity Cartoon Fight Club. "Stanley, Stanford needs your help."
"Tell him to go whistle," Stan grumbled. "Didn't even wish me a happy birthday! The ingrate!"
The TV said, "Coming up next: a grudge match between Muttley and Scooby Doo."
"Stanley," Sheila said, "your brother needs your help."
"Hey, I got a dog in this fight!" Stan said. "What does Poindexter want, anyway?"
"They're moving a really heavy sofa, and apparently Stanford insists he can lift it by himself, and Lorena's worried he's going to hurt himself."
"The putz! Tell her to make him keep his shirt on. I'll be there as soon as I put on my shoes. Where are my shoes?"
"Right in front of the recliner. We're coming, Lorena."
"Look, just don't start supervisin', OK? I hate it when somebody tells me I'm doin' it wrong. OK, let's go if we're going."
On the tube, Scooby was growling at Muttley: "Roor roing rown!"
Stan cast a longing look at the TV and used the remote to switch it off.
"Guys," Wendy said, meeting Lorena and Ford on the front porch, "Dad wants you to wait right here for just a minute until he knows it's safe for you to go upstairs."
"What's happening?" Ford asked. "And why is the living room dark?"
"All the lights suddenly went off just like that," Wendy said. "Just hold on. He'll yell in a minute."
Someone tapped on Ford's shoulder, and he looked around, startled. "Stanley!"
"Yeah, yeah, where's the couch?"
Ford frowned. "What couch?"
Rolling his eyes, Stan snapped, "The heavy one!"
"Why? It's in the living room, but the lights are out."
Stan did a double take. "You got a couch with lights?"
Ford scowled at him. "What are we talking about?"
Putting his hands on his hips, Stan said, "I dunno, Poindexter. Only my half of the conversation's making sense!"
Manly Dan's voice rang out from somewhere in the house: "Come on!"
Stan recognized the voice at once. "Hey, Brainiac, if Dan's here, you don't need—"
Sheila pushed him. "Oh, go in!"
"Surprise!"
When the twins walked through the door, the lights came on—and thirty-six guests, crowded into the living room, all yelled at once. Stanford blinked and then said, "Why—Stanley, today's our birthday!"
"Oh, ya think? What gave you your first clue?" Stan asked.
A banner draped across the room read HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MYSTERY TWINS!
"Mabel's work," Stanford said, grinning. The combination of brightly-colored letters, stars and rainbows, all sprinkled with glitter, was unmistakable.
"Right you are!" yelled Mabel. She and Dipper wheeled out a cart with Melody's enormous cake on top—three layers, with white frosting and green piping. And at the top, where a wedding cake would have had a bride and groom, was a replica of the Mystery Shack made out of graham crackers and pretzel sticks.
And a chunky blue candle shaped like a six blazed brightly next to another shaped like a nine.
"You guys sure don't look sixty-nine!" Toby Determined yelled. And that was true. They actually looked like a couple of guys at, or nearly at, fifty, courtesy of having taken a few sips from the Fountain of Youth.
"Clean livin'!" Stan said with a grin. "That's what does it for me. No idea about my brother, though!"
"Happy birthday, Uncle Stan and Uncle Ford!" Alex and Wanda said in unison.
"Thank you all—" began Ford.
From the next room—a den—came the sound of a piano. From the keyboard, Pacifica called out, "Everyone, sing!"
Then everyone sang the Happy Birthday song, and Ford and Stan blew out the candles to great applause, and then Dipper opened the sliding-glass door on the deck and the delicious aromas of steak and roasting corn drifted in.
A banquet followed. No use to catalog the food, except to say it was plentiful and tasty. Everyone ate enough and more than enough, and everyone loved Melody's cake and Mabel's decoration of it.
Out on the deck, Soos attracted an audience as he told stories of how the Shack was doing these days and of the headaches of owning a small business. Tad Strange apologized for not bringing the Sev'ral Timez boys, but they had a gig over in Portland that was too important to miss. "Aww," Stan said. "That's too bad! But I understand." The moment Tad turned away, Stan looked up toward heaven and mouthed, "Thank you!"
It was, one would have to say, a successful surprise and an enjoyable party. The town combined it with a housewarming—Lazy Susan, for example, gave both twins a set of stainless-steel cooking pots, and Mr. Poolcheck gave them both a set of barbells and a certificate to the town fitness center, and—but you get the idea. Dipper, with some diffidence, gave them each an inscribed and autographed copy of his book; Mabel gave them each a gorgeous sweater—her knitting skills had developed over the years and now she was an expert—Stan's maroon, with the fish-shape in gold, Ford's a beautiful blue with a gold six-fingered hand symbol.
Lots of laughter, lots of reminiscences (except when anybody ventured too near a memory of Weirdmageddon, a circulating Tyler was quick to murmur, "Never mind all that!" Gideon was there—his gift was a certificate for car care to each Stan, good for one year of maintenance service at his daddy's garage—and he said anxiously, "Stanley, I hope we can get beyond our former differences. Heck, I was a little crazy."
"And you're not now?" Stan asked. Then he said, "I'm kiddin'! Yeah, of course, I think we all been through enough to forgive and forget."
Tyler cleared his throat.
Off in the corner, Mr. Gleeful was in earnest conversation with Dipper's and Mabel's parents, trying to convince them that right now was the best time to trade in that little SUV, oh, my, yes indeed.
Eventually some of the guys went up the hill and next door with Stan to try out his pool table. The ladies collected in one room and chatted and laughed. Ford made the rounds and at last settled in the dining room, drinking a cup of coffee. Mabel and Dipper wished him a happy birthday again.
"Thank you both," he said. "Stanley is a lucky man—he's known you longer than I have."
"Three months!" Mabel said, laughing.
"Well, I envy him even that," Ford said. He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning shyly. "I—my upbringing made me reticent about—it's hard to—could I just say I love both of you?"
Mabel kissed his cheek. "Of course you can, you great big genius dummy-dum!"
In an equally shy tone, Dipper said, "We, uh, we love you, too. We couldn't ask for a better pair of grunkles than—"
Someone started playing the piano in the den.
Not Pacifica—she and Danny were off in a corner talking with Gideon.
The opening chords broke into a melody.
Stanford stiffened, his eyes wide with shock. Dipper looked through the door into the den, where the piano had its own spot.
Little Billy sat at the keyboard, playing a little below the correct tempo, as if his piano lessons hadn't quite progressed that far. Dipper didn't know the song, but it clearly was a melody.
However, Stanford recognized the tune instantly, and he turned pale.
"We'll Meet Again."