Mabel entered the kitchen to hear the welcome sounds of cheerful humming and frying bacon.

She pulled her dull orange sweater around her as a draft floated through the old Museum walls. Melody Ramirez, Mystery Museum employee and housekeeper for Ford, sang to herself as she flipped bacon and buttered toast. She was wearing an old nightshirt of Ford's over some sweats, having slept here at the Museum last night after their crazy day yesterday.

Though "crazy day" might have been an understatement.

Yesterday, the Pines (Melody an honorary member) fought for their home against the insane and powerful Pacifica Pleasure, who had stolen it and kidnapped Dipper as part of some crazy scheme to make him fall in love with her. This obviously didn't work, but she had almost defeated them with her magical amulet that gave her the power to read minds, levitate things, and, as Mabel learned yesterday, create a huge astral projection bigger than a house that could squash anything in its way. Luckily, Mabel had managed to take the amulet from her, and she and Dipper had smashed it. They had won, and gotten their home back, but the effects of destroying Pacifica's amulet still chilled Mabel at the thought of it. The girl had completely lost it, started screaming at the top of her lungs and eventually collapsed. Gideon Northwest — the jerk who had pretended to be on Mabel's side only to betray her to Pacifica — had crept out of the woodwork and taken her home.

Now that Mabel thought about it, it was a wonder she had been able to sleep last night.

"Good morning, Mabel!" Melody said, setting a plate out in front of her. "You're the first one I've seen up so far."

"Morning," Mabel said, lowering herself stiffly into a chair. She had a plethora of bruises from yesterday, and they were all tender now that it was morning. "Dipper is up, he's just not downstairs yet. Have you seen Ford?" She wanted to ask him about the other crazy part of their day: last night, down in the secret basement.

"Not up," Melody said. "But when I went to check on him earlier he looked fitful. He wasn't moving or anything, but his face was all scrunched up. Made his worry lines stick out. He usually looks like that after a rough day."

Mabel frowned. "You've checked on him in his sleep before?" That just sounded weird.

Melody smiled and shrugged. "I usually come over early to make sure he's doing all right and start breakfast. I am legally his caretaker, you know. In case his old age catches up with him and he starts going batty. But that hasn't happened; he just overworks that big brain of his sometimes."

Mabel hadn't known that Melody was his caretaker. She just thought she cleaned the house, led tours of the Museum, made meals, and sometimes drove Ford places (sharing that job with Robbie, his other employee). Though, now that she thought about it, those did all sound like caretaker-y jobs.

"Is that bacon?" came a hopeful voice.

Mabel didn't turn, but she did hear Dipper's feet on the wooden floor as he bounced into the kitchen. He always had a lot of energy in the mornings. Mabel figured every time he slept, it recharged his energy meter which then slowly depleted throughout the day. It never depleted far, but he always seemed to be most hyper at the beginning of each day.

"That it is," Melody said, "and it's nearly ready. You get a good night's rest, Dipper?"

Dipper sat down beside Mabel and glanced at her before saying, "Yep!" Mabel realized he was probably wondering whether or not to tell Melody about following Ford down into the basement.

"That's good," Melody said, moving the pan of bacon around on the stove. "So what got you all up in the middle of the night last night?"

Well, that solved that dilemma.

"How do you know we were up?" Mabel asked.

"I heard you come down the stairs. First Dipper down, then Dipper up the stairs again, then both of you down."

"We woke you up?" Dipper asked. "But you were back in Ford's room. Right? And he slept on the couch."

Melody smiled. "Right. But this old building isn't exactly quiet, even in Ford's room."

"True," Dipper said.

"So what was going on?" Melody asked.

Mabel's eyes traced the spatula in Melody's hand. "Melody," she said, "did you know there's a basement?"

Melody frowned. "Here in the Museum? There's a basement?"

"Yeah!" Dipper said. "It's crazy, the entrance is behind the vending machine, and it swings open like a door and there's this creepy staircase — I saw Ford go down there last night so I got Mabel and we followed him — and he was down in this—"

"I should hope," came a stern voice, "you're not talking about last night."

Mabel turned to see Ford in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms folded. He looked like he had been awake for days, rather than asleep just minutes before. His grey hair was mussed up above his head, and Mabel could've run a finger across each of his wrinkles, the way they were sticking out. The expression behind those wrinkles was one Mabel did not want to antagonize.

"You said you would tell us what was going on in the morning," Mabel said carefully.

"I said we would discuss it later," Ford said, his voice hard. She knew she shouldn't have let him get away with that wording.

"Morning, Ford," Melody said, flipping the bacon before turning to him. "Is it true there's a basement in this building?"

Ford ran a hand down the side of his face and sighed. "Yes," he replied, eyes closed, "but it's private. I don't want any of you worrying about it."

"Too late," Dipper said. "Who's Lee?"

Ford swung his piercing gaze to his nephew. "No one you know. Now, drop this, and let's eat breakfast."

"You can't just pretend it doesn't exist, Grunkle Ford," Mabel said softly.

"Just because you are not in the know does not mean something doesn't exist," Ford replied, his voice getting even more tense. "I'm choosing to keep this to myself and I have every right to do so."

Dipper opened his mouth, but Mabel put a hand on his arm and shook her head. Ford obviously wasn't in a place to talk about this. She wouldn't let it go completely, but. . . they might as well drop it for now.

Melody served the bacon, along with some toast, and Mabel started eating mechanically. The food was delicious — greasy, crisp bacon with buttery, crunchy toast — but her mind was down in the basement, last night, trying to figure out everything she'd seen.

After a few minutes of tense silence (aside from occasional compliments to the chef), Dipper spoke up. "I know what all you grumpy gills need!"

Mabel looked warily across at her twin. What had gotten into his head now?

"What?" Melody asked.

"A party!"

Of course. Mabel couldn't find the words to tell Dipper how bad an idea that was.

"No," Ford said, and turned back to his food like the conversation was over.

"But the Mystery Museum hasn't been opened in days!" Dipper said. "Nobody knows why, but we know why, and we fought a giant magical girl to get it back. I think that deserves a celebration!"

"That's a great idea, Dip," Melody said, smiling.

No, it wasn't a great idea. Dipper didn't understand that parties never magically fixed things. They tended to make things worse. At least for Mabel.

"I'm not putting on a party," Ford said.

"You don't have to," Dipper said. "I'll plan it, and I'm sure Melody will help."

"Sure thing I will."

"All we need is a place to hold it. Like that big room in the middle of the Museum halls."

"That's my lab!" Ford protested. "This isn't happening."

"I don't know, Ford," said Melody, gesturing at him with her fork. "If we charge admission, this might just make up for the money you've lost the past couple days."

Ford was silent for a moment.

"Mabel, what do you think?" he finally asked.

Mabel froze. Why was he asking her? She thought he was mad at her! "U-um," she said, "I don't really like parties, but. . . Dipper always throws really good ones. . . and I bet Melody would be a great help too. . ." Oh, what the heck. This might not make things better for her, but it certainly would for Dipper. And who was she to deprive him of his fun after the week they'd just had? "And I can design the flyers."

Ford let out a long breath. "Fine," he said.

"Yes!" Dipper yelled.

"But," Ford cut in, "we're not doing it in my lab. You can temporarily rearrange the gift shop to make space."

"It's not nearly as big," Melody pointed out.

"My lab is off limits," Ford said firmly. "And so is everything else but the gift shop."

"The party room," Dipper said excitedly.

"I also get to choose when and how long it is. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Dipper answered, giving Ford a mock salute. His serious look dissolved into a grin. "Thank you, Grunkle Ford!"

"Yes, well," Ford grumbled, "I did lose money with this whole incident." He finished his last bite and stood up to clear his place.

Mabel figured it wasn't just about the money. Ford had to care about Dipper somewhere in there.

Dipper swallowed a bite of bacon and braced his hands on the table. "All right. Plans. Talk to me, people."

"Dance party," Melody said. "We'll move the merch out of the way, set up a food table and a DJ area, and use the rest of the space for a dance floor."

"Perfect!" Dipper said. "Wait, who do we know that can DJ? Robbie?"

Melody snorted. "Robbie may have a guitar, but I doubt he knows how to DJ. I've got you covered."

Dipper's mouth dropped open (and maybe Mabel's did too, but she wasn't about to admit that). "You're a DJ?" he asked in awe.

Melody shrugged and smiled. "I have some experience."

"All right!" Dipper cheered. "It's starting to come together. Music style?"

"Nothing from the radio," Mabel said immediately. "Or too popular. I hate that stuff."

Melody reached over to pat Mabel's shoulder. "Sorry, Mabes, we have to play stuff that people will recognize. If there's a song you really can't stand, though, let me know and I won't play it."

Well. . . Mabel didn't actually listen to the radio enough to know what was on it. She just knew she hated it.

"I'll play pop," Melody said, "and maybe some classic rock. And a couple line dances, if you think people will be interested in that. Who are you inviting?"

"Everybody!" Dipper replied. "Greyson, Candy, Robbie and all his friends, other kids or teenagers who want to come, and adults too if they're interested."

Melody nodded slowly. "What about Gideon Northwest?"

Mabel's heartbeat started pounding in her head.

"If you can get him here, I'm sure he'll bring a lot of other kids along. It'll—"

"No," Mabel said.

Melody looked confused, but Dipper's face had darkened as well.

"Why not?" Melody asked.

"Because Gideon was working with Pacifica," Dipper said. "He was here when she kidnapped me, and he didn't do anything to stop her. He stole the Journal from Mabel, and he almost tortured me for information."

The kitchen went silent as the good mood evaporated.

"I'm sorry," Melody said softly. "I didn't know."

"It's okay," Mabel said.

It wasn't okay.

"So, no Gideon," Melody said, "though he might show up anyway. Northwests make it a point to come to large gatherings."

"If he does show up," Dipper said darkly, "he'll get what's coming to him."

His promise hung in the air like a cloud of smoke. Melody cleared her throat and stood up, taking dishes over to the sink.

"So. . . ," Mabel finally said. "What should we put on the flyers?"

The black look left Dipper's eyes, and he snapped back into happy mode. "Something catchy, like — Mystery Mash!"

"Sounds Halloween-ish," Melody said. "I like it."

"And of course we'll put the time and the date," Dipper continued. Then he frowned. "Wait, didn't Ford say he got to choose when it is?"

Mabel and Melody nodded.

Dipper took a deep breath. Mabel, with instincts honed by years of experience, covered her ears. "Fooooooord!" yelled Dipper. "When can we hold the party?"

"Not for two days from now at least!" Ford's response wasn't as loud as Dipper's, but his voice carried across the Museum.

"How about — what's today, Wednesday? — Friday night from seven to ten?"

"Fine!"

Mabel's hands crept away from her ears as the shouted conversation ended. "You done?" she asked Dipper.

He nodded. "Friday," he said happily. "Seven to ten."

"And you're spending today here at the Museum," Ford called.

"Okay!" Dipper yelled back. Mabel slapped her hands to her ears, but it was too late. "Whoops," said Dipper. "Sorry, Mabel."

"Ford is right," Melody said. "We all need today to heal. Let's make the flyers, and then spend the rest of the day relaxing. Deal?"

"Deal," the twins said at the same time.

Mabel could use a day of taking it easy, especially with all these bruises she got from fighting Pacifica. But she found herself glancing at the empty doorway to the kitchen.

Would a day of rest make Ford more willing to talk about the secret basement?

She sighed. Probably not.

Why couldn't he just. . . trust her?