Mabel and Friends Book 5: Tinker Fixes Everything (Almost) · Prairie Junction — the virtue is Work
Tinker the raccoon ran the fix-it workshop at the edge of Prairie Junction.
He could fix anything — sleds, skates, lanterns, bells, boot straps — and fast.
Just one job he kept putting off: his own front step.
Wobble-wobble.
The first snow came Tuesday — all at once, Kansas-style.
Tinker opened his door — and blinked. Half the town was lined up outside.
Dottie: the diner's hand-bell. Mr. Abernathy: his store lantern. Mabel the field mouse: her sled. Grandma Armadillo: the strap on her sewing basket. Mayor Goodwin: his sleigh bells.
Last came Willa the opossum: squeak… squeak… squeak.
"Morning, everybody!" called Tinker. "Come on in — and mind the step!"
Dottie stepped up. Wobble-wobble. Clang!
Mr. Abernathy stepped up. Wobble-wobble. Poof!
Mabel stepped up. Wobble-wobble-CREAK. She tipped, and landed — very neatly — in a snowbank.
"I'm okay! It's soft!"
Tinker pinned up his list, every job in order.
"Bell. Lantern. Sled. Strap. Bells. Wagon. Six jobs."
"Seven," said Tinker, pointing at the step. "That one's first."
Above the workbench hung Grandpa's old card:
"Okay, Grandpa," said Tinker. "All the way."
Fixing a step is not fast. Not fancy. Nobody lines up to watch.
Tinker pried off the old board, swept underneath. (Three screws. One marble. Last spring.)
He braced the new board with his big clamp, rock-still. He hung his lantern on a hook underneath, so the dark down there glowed gold.
Bolt. Bolt. Bolt. Bolt.
"Measure twice," said Tinker, like Grandpa always said.
"Bolt once," said Tinker, and did.
"Done." Tinker knocked twice. Tock. Tock. Solid as a drum.
"Only one test good enough," said Tinker, "and I'm it."
He climbed up… loaded his toolbox on his back… breathed… and STOMPED, careful and Tinker-sized.
THUMP.
No wobble. No creak. The step PASSED.
"Do it right —" hollered Tinker.
"ALL THE WAY!" hollered everybody.
Then the workshop hummed.
Dottie's bell: re-hung — clang like a church on Sunday.
Mr. Abernathy's lantern lid: snug, true, twice as bright.
Mabel's runners: sanded smooth as ribbon. "Measure twice," said Tinker, crossing off the sled.
Grandma's strap: stitched and buckled twice around.
Nobody skipped. Nobody forgotten.
One job left: Willa's wagon. Squeak… squeak… squeak.
Tinker oiled the axle. Smooth. Silent. Fixed!
"…While I'm at it — a bell? So folks hear you coming?"
"A bell!" said Willa.
Ding-ding, out the door.
Next morning: "It dings," said Willa, "but it doesn't honk."
Tinker added a horn. Honk!
Willa came back. A flag. Flap-flap!
Willa came back. An umbrella, for shade.
Willa came back, slower. Cupholder. Snack tray. Tiny umbrella for the tray.
By Friday: bell, horn, flag, two umbrellas, cupholder, snack tray, pinwheel, kite.
Eleven minutes, just down the driveway.
"It doesn't squeak," Willa panted. "I can't pull it!"
Tinker crouched. "What did you bring it in for?"
"The squeak."
"And the squeak is…"
"Gone. The rest is just heavy."
"Do it right," said Tinker, looking up at Grandpa's card, "means finished when it's right. Not when it's fancy."
Off came kite, pinwheel, tray, cupholder, umbrellas, flag, horn.
"One thing can stay. Your pick."
Willa pointed. "The bell."
Ding-ding — home it rolled, light as a sled dog.
One name left on Tinker's list.
Mayor Goodwin had waited all day, no complaints — holding doors, passing tools, waiting some more.
Now his sleigh bells got polished till they shone like tiny moons, and hung back snug, straight, all the way on.
Ding. Ding-ding.
Then Grandma Armadillo arrived with cocoa for the whole line.
"Your grandpa fixed my porch step his first winter here — said his saying with every bolt."
Cocoa finished. List finished. Step solid as a drum.
"Mabel — how's that sled?" She was already sitting on it.
Down Junction Street — Dottie clanging, Mr. Abernathy's lantern swinging gold, the Mayor's sleigh bells jingling, Willa dinging back —
— and Mabel took winter's first sled run, whooping past the Meeting Tree, smooth as ribbon.
Behind them, the workshop glowed.
And not one body wobbled crossing the step to say goodnight.
Find the lost marble! The very same little lost marble is hiding in every picture in this book. Can you find all twelve?
For grown-ups: Tinker’s story is about work — doing a job thoroughly, and finishing the boring part too.