CHAPTER FOUR: THE WOMAN WHO KEPT THE FIGURES

Megan insisted that Helen call Nadia before either of them touched the soil.
Helen resisted until Megan carried the axe into the locked garage.
“You can walk away now,” Megan said.
“Or you can finally speak to someone you’ve avoided for decades.”
Helen took out an old phone with a cracked corner.
Her hands moved slowly over the contacts.
Nadia answered on the fourth ring.
“Helen?”
“It’s me.”
A long silence followed.
“You must be desperate,” Nadia said.
Helen swallowed.
“The harbor is for sale tonight.”
“I know.”
“Everett came to Alder Street.”
“I know that too.”
Helen looked at Megan in alarm.
Nadia’s voice grew harder.
“I have been warning people about that exhibition for six months.”
“You never contacted me.

”
“You never answered any of my letters.”
Helen sat very still.
“I changed apartments.”
“You changed your story,” Nadia replied.
“There is a difference.”
Megan held out her hand for the phone.
Helen reluctantly passed it over.
“My name is Megan Cole,” she said.
“I own the yard where Helen buried a mechanical part.”
“Is the maple still there?” Nadia asked immediately.
“Yes, but Helen damaged it.”
“Don’t let her dig.”
Megan looked at Helen.
“Why not?”
“Because she put the wrong thing in the ground.”
The words stunned Helen more than any accusation could have.
“What do you mean?” Megan asked.
Nadia explained that the original drive assembly had been dismantled after a failed performance at a hospital fundraiser in 1992.
Only three pieces were removed from the theater that evening.


Helen carried the brass cams, Iris carried the painted harbor panels, and Nadia took the tiny figures and balance weights.
The full mechanism could not run without all three sets.
“Helen buried her pieces,” Nadia said.
“But she did not realize I had changed two of the cams before she left.”
Helen leaned toward the phone.
“You changed them?”
“I made a choice that night,” Nadia said.
“A choice you should have known about.”
“You let me spend thirty years believing I had the original drive.”
“And you let me spend thirty years believing you sold my figures.”
The conversation went silent.
Megan felt as if she had been handed the middle pages of a book without the beginning.
“Why change the cams?” she asked.
Nadia took a breath.
“Because Solomon tried to perform The Last Lantern without us.”
“And?”
“He added a motor that spun the harbor much faster than we designed.”
The moving buildings struck one another during rehearsal and snapped several figures.
Nadia replaced two working cams with harmless duplicates so Solomon could not repeat the performance immediately.
“I meant to return the real ones when he agreed to give us proper credit,” she said.
“Then everything fell apart.”
Helen rubbed her forehead.
“You told me the pieces were broken.”
“I told you he had broken our show.”
Nadia’s voice softened for the first time.
“I didn’t know you would bury your set without checking it.”
Megan looked at the tree.
The buried tin might contain beautiful craftsmanship, but it was not the essential original that Everett claimed he needed.
“Where are the real cams?” she asked.
“I kept them,” Nadia said.
“And I have spent the last two years rebuilding the mechanism in my workshop.”
“Then why is Everett looking for this tin?”
“Because he doesn’t need the machine to run,” Nadia answered.
“He needs something that looks convincing beside it.”
Megan understood.
“He wants to sell a complete original that isn’t complete.”
“Exactly.”
Nadia explained that the auction catalog described the exhibit as a sole creation of Solomon Morrow.
His former apprentice, Everett, was presenting a reconstructed version as the original touring theater.
The sales pitch required visible evidence of age.
Old worn components would provide that appearance, even if they were replacements.
“A collector can inspect a scratch and believe an entire story,” Nadia said.
“What about the children who saw the show?” Megan asked.
“What about the people who built it?”
“That’s why I’m coming tonight.”
Helen sat upright.
“You’re coming?”
“With the real figures and a working miniature harbor.”
“You could have told me.”
“Helen, you still haven’t asked why I stopped trusting you.”
Helen went pale.
Nadia’s voice was steady.
“When I arrive, you are going to tell Megan what happened to the last performance.”
The call ended.
Megan looked at Helen.
“I think you owe me more than an explanation about a tree.”
Helen nodded without lifting her head.
“Then I should tell you what happened when the lighthouse stopped moving.”