A Tiny Problem

Chapter 12: All's Well that Ends Well

Long before he ever came into view, Finn knew from the cheerful tune he was carrying that Roxton had found Marguerite. I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. This kind of thing seems to happen all the time here. It was not the kind of thing that happened in New Amazonia.

In the treehouse, Veronica looked up from her sketchpad and saw them come through the gate. As she waited for the elevator to reach the ground, she wondered what to say to the heiress. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, and both were far too proud to go in for sentimental apologies.

"You're back!" She beamed. She was genuinely elated. "It's good to see you both."

"It's nice to be home." Marguerite's quiet voice offered from inside Roxton's vest.

Veronica understood that the words had been chosen carefully, but there was no trace of bitterness. They were both ready to close the chapter on their quarrel. There was no need to say anything else. To be honest, she preferred it this way, and she suspected Marguerite did, as well.

From across the compound, Challenger motioned enthusiastically for them to join him, although the gesture strained his injured shoulder terribly. Veronica had applied a generous layer of her foul-smelling ointment, but the raptor bite still hurt like the dickens. I really should be using a sling, he thought, but he did not want it to slow him down. He had just put the finishing touches on the reversal mechanism (which he was now, rather confusingly, calling the de-diminution beam) and offered to allow Marguerite to choose from among the crystal specimens they had collected.

She did. And then everyone took their places as they attempted, once again, to reverse the shrinking process. Veronica noted that Finn was looking at Roxton, whose gaze was fixed squarely on Marguerite. She, in turn, was watching Challenger as he focused on priming the lever of his device. He gave a nod, indicating that it was time.

A familiar flash blinded all of them for an instant, and when they turned to Marguerite as one to gauge whether the procedure had been a success, each was agape. To their astonishment, the experiment had worked far better than anticipated, and the heiress had been instantly returned to her original height. Her makeshift sarong, however, had been ripped to shreds in the process.

Finn and Veronica looked at each other, incredulous, as the oblivious Challenger collected his measuring tape and took a step toward Marguerite.

"Now, my dear, would you be so kind as to hold still for a moment while I record some measurements?"

As he continued advancing toward Marguerite, who was still recovering from the ringing in her ears, she swatted his arm as she tried to cover herself. Finn and Veronica finally erupted into unrestrained peals of laughter.

"Roxton, give me your shirt!"

He was in no hurry to comply. Instead, he took the opportunity to admire a certain mole on her lower back that he very rarely had the chance to see in broad daylight. Marguerite, meanwhile, was mortified. She had been humiliated quite enough over the past few days. She would not allow herself to be poked and prodded in the altogether. Roxton, too, quickly reached the limit of his patience. In fact, as Challenger continued to scrutinize Marguerite, he found he was becoming uncomfortably jealous.

"Good heavens, you've got no clothes on!" Challenger finally came to his senses as Marguerite swatted his arm for a second time.

Realizing that he had made the situation rather awkward, Challenger turned his back and stammered an apology. Before Roxton could unsling his braces to remove his shirt, Marguerite, having had enough, decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. She sprinted for the elevator and managed to pull the lever before any of the others had time to follow her.

On the balcony above Marguerite emerged moments later, wrapped in her dressing gown.

"Marguerite, send down the elevator," Roxton called impatiently from below.

"No, I don't think I will. I've had quite enough cheek from you—the lot of you!" This, she decided, was how she would get her own back. She had disabled the elevator. "You can spend the night on the ground for all I care." She fully intended to enjoy a quiet afternoon on her own in the treehouse. Perhaps I'll take a nap, she thought to herself, or take a bath. Then again, why not both?

"Marguerite! Marguerite!" She ignored their angry pleas.

"Professor," Finn asked, turning to Challenger, "how come Marguerite's clothes shrank at the same rate as her the first time, but this time her dress was ripped to pieces?"

Challenger, who had been wondering this himself, noted that it was an excellent question.

"Well, Finn, I think there are at least seven possible explanations, although I'm not yet sure which is the most plausible. First, it is possible that the dress, having never been subjected to the original diminution beam, did not react the same way to the reversal as Marguerite herself," he began.

Roxton and Veronica looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They could feel a lecture coming on.

"Second, it is also possible that the increased timeframe of the reversal process triggered an unforeseen reaction with the non-conductive fabric."

Marguerite had no interest in listening to his remaining explanations, but she was happy to leave the others to his musings. She delighted as she heard Roxton and Veronica groan. Challenger was cooperating perfectly—if inadvertently—with her revenge. She turned back into the treehouse and selected a record for the gramophone. It was a waltz she had played for herself many times, but it evoked the most exquisite memories. More importantly, perhaps, Challenger's lecture was drowned out entirely by the familiar notes of the Berlin Philharmonic. When it was over, she reluctantly rose from her seat, lifting the needle carefully so as not to scratch her favorite recording. After disappearing to her bedroom for a moment, she returned to the railing, smiling victoriously as the others looked up at her in annoyance.

"Alright," she acquiesced, "I'll send down the elevator. But only after you unshrink these."

With that, she tossed them a neatly folded hamper. Fashioned from another of her many scarves, it contained her shrunken apparel. Roxton caught the bundle and unwrapped it, carefully fishing out a lacy camisole, which he dangled from his index finger. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"The sooner you stop pawing through my knickers and unshrink my laundry, the sooner you can come up!"

There was an emphatic round of laughter, above and below.

The End.