The boy pressed the button to allow access to the building. In a few moments there was a knock at the door. The banker bustled in and smiled at the group.
"Happy Birthday, Violet!" he said unbuttoning his coat. "I rushed over as soon as my work at he bank was complete." From under the jacket he procured two packages wrapped in bright paper. "Here, this is from me." He handed the first to Violet. "And Mr. Snicket sent this to the bank; said he didn't want you to get it before your birthday."
Violet opened the first present and thanked Mr. Poe kindly for the dress, even though it was a bit too pastel for the girl's tastes. She wondered if Isadora would like to borrow it. She was about to set Lemony's package aside, but everyone clamored for her to open it right away. As she pealed back the paper, she was surprised to see a book by Maya Angelou called Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well. She looked up at Quigley, a bit confused. The boy just smiled and looked down.
"Hey," said Duncan, "Is that the book that your poem came from, Quigley?"
"I think so," said Quigley. "What a coincidence."
"Oh, I'm so jealous!" said Isadora. "I don't have that one. Can I borrow it?"
"Of course," said Violet, "but not tonight. There's a poem I want to look at closer." She smiled back at Quigley.
"Well," interjected the banker, "that just leaves one matter." This was the announcement at everyone was anticipating. "Violet, since you are eighteen, you stand to inherit the Baudelaire fortune." He pulled one more package from under his coat, a large beige envelope. Duncan wondered how much the banker could fit under that gigantic overcoat and weather or not he should buy one for himself. "These documents allow you to sign the money over to whomever you wish. I assume it will be to you and your siblings, but you don't have to rush. It's Friday night, which means that the bank won't be open until Monday. Take your time and read the papers carefully. Once you have taken control of the fortune, I will be happy to act as your advisor, but the money will be yours to use entirely as you wish. I must admit, I am a bit nervous about all of this. It's a lot of money for anyone, let alone a girl of eighteen, but you children have proven to be responsible and resourceful. I'm sure everything will be fine. I must be on my way now. I'll see you, Violet, in the bank on Monday." Then the banker erupted into a fit of coughing.
Violet nodded and Mr. Poe waved and walked out. The children could hear his coughing as he walked down the hall to the stairwell.
For a long while the others stared at the oldest Baudelaire in silence. They knew that whatever decision she came to about how to spend the money; their lives would never be the same. Eventually someone started talking, but not about money, banks or documents. The discussion was about school, the weather and other mundane topics. Violet was distant at first, but eventually joined in the chatter that lasted long into the evening. Finally she looked at the clock and realized that it was well past Sunny's bedtime, then looked at the child who had fallen asleep, her head in Klaus' lap. Violet nodded to her brother, who picked up his little sister, placed her in bed and removed her shoes. He then tucked the blankets carefully around her and kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room.
The talk of school and VFD training became more forced until; finally, Quigley asked the question they had been avoiding.
"What will you do, Violet?"
"Well I suppose I'll sign one third of the fortune to Sunny, a third to Klaus and one third to myself. An even split seems only fair."
"We figured that," said Isadora, "but what will you do with the money? You probably won't want to live here anymore."
"I really haven't given it much thought," Violet answered truthfully. Between graduating and preparing to work full time at V.F.D., Violet hadn't had much time to think about the future. And on this night she had been trying to determine what Quigley meant by his present and poem. "How about you, Klaus?"
"Oh, I guess I've though about it, but my ideas are more daydreams than actual plans. Besides, I'm still too young to live alone, so I'll either follow you or stay here under the guardianship of Mr. Snicket and Justice Strauss."
"You're right," Violet agreed. "There's no reason to change things right away. I know Mr. Snicket says this phrase is silly, but I really need to sleep on it."
"Speaking of sleep," injected Duncan, "I'm getting pretty tired. Why don't we clean up and get to bed."
Violet tried to grab some dishes from the table but was stopped by Isadora, "Oh no you don't. The birthday girl does not have to do the dishes. You go to bed, we'll handle this."
Violet smiled graciously, picked up the jewelry box with the poem from Quigley and the book from Lemony and disappeared into her room.
In spite of being the first one to bed, Violet was the last one to turn off her bedside lamp. Sunny didn't mind because she was already asleep, and Isadora was used to it. There were many nights when one or the other teenage girl would stay up late reading a V.F.D. manual, a book of poems, or the life of some famous inventor.
On this night, Violet had tied up her hair, pulled the sheet up over her and, in the dim blue light that filtered through, was trying to decipher Quigley's code. She had opened Maya Angelou's book and was comparing it with the handwritten version.
In the seventh line Quigley had written, "and I don't believe We're wrong." It should have been I'm instead of We're. Violet copied I'm into the margin of the boy's note. In the second line of the third measure, he had written, "can make it out away alone." It should have been here not away. She wrote here next to I'm. In the third measure of Quigley's poem, she found them instead of you, is instead of are, anybody instead of nobody and if instead of it. Finally, in the last measure, to boy had written unaided instead of alone.
Violet looked down at the words she had written. I'm here. You are nobody it alone." She bit her lower lip; that didn't quite make sense. Maybe he wasn't using the Verse Fluctuation Declaration exactly as it was typically used. What if instead of changing entire words, he just changed parts, since was pretty difficult to find a poem with the exact words you wanted to use. Since he only changed the first part of nobody to any, maybe he only intended to use the first part of the word. Violet crossed out nobody and wrote no above it. Instead of changing the entire word it, he had only changed the t to f. She crossed out it and wrote t.
"I'm here. You are not alone." That was better. Violet sighed as she reread the phrase. The expression, you are not alone can be either reassuring or terrifying depending on weather it is said by an enemy or a friend. I once received a similar note and jumped from my two-story balcony to land on the Holstein that was waiting to gallop me away to safety.
Of course Violet did not have to evacuate the apartment, since Quigley was not an enemy. As he was, in fact, a dear friend, his sentiment was very dear to Violet. She remained staring at the paper long into the night before, at last, tucking the poem under her pillow and turning out her lamp.
Just before dozing off she heard the sound of movement in the bedroom. At first, this seemed odd because she was sure Isadora had already fallen asleep, but she concluded that the triplet much have gotten up to get a drink or use the restroom and continued to drift into a contented sleep.
Incidentally, Isadora concluded the same thing about the eldest Baudelaire when the same noises jostled her from her dreams.