Yours Truly

by Heather Vogel Frederick

  “I can’t pick it up until later this afternoon. And after that, Calhoun’s father is taking us to the Burger Barn over in West Hartfield.”

  “You just had burgers yesterday.”

  Scooter’s grin was audible. “Calhoun’s not the only one who never turns down a burger.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked this idea at all. Sneaking out of the house at night was not only way up on the list of things that I wasn’t any good at, but it was also guaranteed to get me a permanent spot in Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy’s doghouse if I were to get caught.

  “Oh, come on, Truly!” said Mackenzie, her eyes alight with excitement. “All we’re trying to do is help the Freemans—and Coach Maynard.”

  I hesitated. “I guess.”

  “Trust me on this one,” my cousin said. “I’m older and wiser, after all.”

  I shot her a look. “By a week.”

  “Kidding! Sheesh.”

  “We’ll meet by the entrance to the shortcut off Hill Street,” Scooter told us. “I’ll see you at nine thirty sharp. Bring flashlights.” He hung up.

  I shook my head. “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”

  My cousin shrugged. “If not, at least I’ll go home to Austin with an exciting story to tell.”

  “Yeah, about how I got grounded for life! You’re not the one who’ll have to face the music with my father if we get caught.”

  “We won’t get caught.”

  I looked over at the clock again. “Gramps should be calling any minute.”

  Grabbing the diary from its hiding place under my pillow, I crossed to my desk and sat down in front of my laptop. I didn’t have to wait long. A moment later I heard the alert tone that signaled an incoming call.

  “Truly!” cried my grandfather as his face flashed onscreen.

  “Gramps!” I cried back.

  We beamed at each other.

  “Your grandmother sends her love,” he said. “She’s sorry she couldn’t be here to talk to you, but she started a crafts class in the village, and today’s the first meeting.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like Pumpkin Falls,” I told him, and explained about Ella’s knitting class.

  “I’ll be sure and tell her that you’re with her in needlework solidarity.” Peering closer at the screen, Gramps added, “My goodness, is that Miss Mackenzie I spy?”

  My cousin leaned over my shoulder and waved. “Hi, Mr. Lovejoy!”

  He waved back. “Are you girls having a fun Spring Break?”

  We both nodded.

  “How’s that life list of yours coming along, Truly?”

  I told him about hearing the eastern phoebe and the song sparrow. “And guess what? I finally saw an owl!” I left out the fact that Mackenzie spotted it first.

  “Huzzah and wahoo!” Gramps gave me two big thumbs-up. “Congratulations, sweetheart! I remember my first owl like it was yesterday. What kind?”

  “Barred,” I replied.

  “Lovely. One of my favorites. Those beautiful dark eyes!”

  “I know! I could have watched him forever.”

  We beamed at each other again. My grandfather and I speak the same language.

  “So I e-mailed you because we found something,” I told him finally.

  “What kind of something?”

  I held up the diary.

  He looked puzzled. “A book?”

  “Not exactly.” I explained about the diary, and how and where Mackenzie and I had discovered it.

  “How extraordinary!” he exclaimed when I was done. “To think that it was hidden there all these years. Have you read it?”

  “Some of it. It’s kind of confusing, though, which is why I wanted to talk to you. Can I read you a bit?”

  “By all means.” He leaned closer to the computer screen, tilting his head in concentration as I read him the passages in question.

  “Wind is from the south, she says?”

  I nodded.

  “And she definitely mentioned a package?”

  I nodded again.

  “You need to show the diary to your parents right away!” The excitement in my grandfather’s voice crackled over the computer screen. “It sounds to me like Truly and Matthew were involved with the Underground Railroad!”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Where’s Mom?” I cried, bounding downstairs to the kitchen. Mackenzie was right behind me.

  “She must have gone out while I was feeding Bilbo,” said Lauren, coming through the back door.

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and shot off a text to my mother: WHERE R U?

  HEADING TO CAMPUS, she texted back a moment later. STOPPED BY BOOKSTORE TO SEE DAD.

  STAY THERE! HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING!

  NOT GOING ANYWHERE—CUSTOMERS COMING OUT OF THE WOODWORK. COULD USE YOUR HELP.

  “Come on, Mackenzie,” I said. “We’re going into town.”

  Hearing this, Pippa detached herself from the TV in the family room. “But Mom thaid you have to walk uth to Belinda’th!”

  I frowned at her. “Can’t you and Lauren go by yourselves?”

  Lauren shot me a dirty look. “Of course.”

  “But Mom thaid you’d do it,” Pippa whined, clinging to Mackenzie’s hand.

  “I’d like to see Belinda’s anyway,” my cousin said. “You’ve told me so much about it.”

  I sighed. “Fine.” And tucking the diary into my jacket pocket, I hustled everyone out the door.

  Belinda’s house was at the very end of Maple Street. A sprawling Victorian with a wrap-around porch, it was nearly as big as my grandparents’ house. Belinda was outside, bundled in her favorite old army coat and sweeping the front path in time to a melody we couldn’t hear. Seeing us approach, she paused and leaned on her broom.

  “Good morning, ladies!” she called, pulling out her earbuds. “You’re right on time.”

  I glanced down at her feet. The fuzzy slippers she was wearing were improbably pink. Belinda didn’t seem like someone who’d wear pink. Maybe this was a new look for her, now that she had a “gentleman caller.”

  Inside, we followed her down the hall to the kitchen, which smelled of something cinnamony baking in the oven. A trio of plates and mugs were set out on the counter, ready for a midmorning snack at Camp Belinda. Mackenzie drifted over to the wood stove. Half a dozen cardboard boxes were clustered around it in a semicircle. She peeked inside the closest one and squealed in delight.

  “Kittens!”

  “You were expecting maybe lizards?” I murmured, and she swatted my arm.

  “You could take one home with you,” said Belinda, who never gave up. “That little gray one, maybe? I have an extra airline carrier. It fits right under the seat.”

  Mackenzie gazing longingly at the contents of the nearest box.

  “Feel free to pick one out—I mean up,” Belinda added, tossing my sisters and me a wink.

  I had to get my cousin out of here, fast, or she’d be a goner. I grabbed her by the arm and steered her toward the door. “Sorry, but we can’t stay,” I told Belinda. “Mom says the bookstore is getting slammed, and she needs our help.”

  “I could come along too,” Lauren offered.

  I glared at her. I was still pretty angry about yesterday’s little spying episode. “No way. You need to stay here with Pippa.”

  “But—”

  “I need your help too, missy,” Belinda added hastily, noting Lauren’s mutinous expression. “And so do the kittens. Now that the Bake-Off has moved to the bookstore, Ethel Farnsworth said we could use the General Store to set up a kitten display. Cash in on all the tourists, you know.” She turned to me. “Tell True I’ll just be down the street if she needs an extra pair of hands. No reason Lauren and Pippa can’t handle Kitten Central on their own for a bit if need be.”

  The minute we were out of the house, I broke into a run. Mackenzie and I were breathless by the time we reached the bookshop. It was jammed, just like my mother had said.

  �
�I haven’t seen this many customers since our grand reopening during Winter Festival,” I told my cousin, scanning the crowd for my mother. Spotting her back in the children’s section, I made my way through the crowded aisles.

  “Can I show you something?” I asked.

  “Not now, honey,” she said. “Your aunt needs you up front.”

  She shooed us off, and Mackenzie and I maneuvered our way back through the throng to the sales counter.

  “Girls!” said my aunt, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. “Thanks for coming—it’s all hands on deck today.”

  She passed a tray of Bookshop Blondies to Mackenzie. “You’re on treat patrol—just walk around the store and pass these out, okay?” Turning to me, she said, “And if you could take over the cash register for these lovely customers, that will free me up for—well, for everything else.” She glanced around, frowning.

  The diary could wait. Taking off my jacket, I stuffed it under the counter and turned to the first person in line. “May I help you?”

  For the next hour, I did nothing but ring up sales. Tour bus after tour bus pulled up in front of the store, disgorging customers. Apparently, half the senior centers in Boston were offering midweek “sugaring off” tours, and Maple Madness in Pumpkin Falls was a priority destination.

  “Want to swap assignments?” asked my father, leaving his station at the front door and coming over to the sales counter. He added in a whisper that only I could hear, “I’ve had about enough of charm detail.”

  My father was in charge of ferrying the new purchases—and their delighted owners, most of whom were elderly ladies—back to the buses. He wasn’t the most sociable person on the planet, but he’d sucked it up and put his Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy game face on today.

  “I’ll take over for you, J. T.” Aunt True emerged from the back office. “You can take the cash register. I need Truly to do some restocking.” She handed me a hastily scribbled list. “Everything maple themed is selling like hotcakes, if you’ll pardon the pun. Grab as many of these titles as you can find and put them on the table near the door.”

  “Got it.”

  “Oh, and give Grace Franklin a call, would you? We can’t keep their merchandise on the shelves this week. See if they can bring over more of whatever surplus they’ve got in the barn store.”

  I hurried off to do her bidding. After I made the call to Freeman Farm, I gathered up cookbooks, coffee table books, travel guides, children’s picture books—whatever we had with even a vaguely maple theme—and stacked them on the big table with the new releases where they could easily be seen, and hopefully purchased.

  “Do you have a copy of Maple Country Mufflers?” asked a petite woman in a bright red sweatshirt. Emblazoned on it was a picture of a crown and the words KEEP CALM AND KNIT ON.

  I shook my head. “We sold the last one just a few minutes ago. Sorry. You could check across the street at A Stitch in Time, though. They had a few copies when I was there last night. Be sure and tell Mrs. Bellow, the owner, that I sent you!”

  Maybe that would win me a brownie point or two with Ella.

  “Aren’t you a helpful young lady!” the woman told me, reaching up and pinching my cheek. I stared after her in astonishment as she headed for the door.

  Mackenzie, who’d come by with a nearly empty treat tray just in time to witness this scene, burst out laughing. “The last time anybody did that to me, I was, like, six.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Is that all that’s left of the Bookshop Blondies?” said Aunt True in dismay. “Truly, could you see if maybe there are more in the freezer up in my apartment? I may need to bake another batch.” She lowered her voice. “These tourists are like locusts. It’s all I can do to keep them away from the Bake-Off table in the Annex. They keep lifting the plastic wrap and sneaking bites—I’m worried there won’t be anything left for the judges!”

  I dashed upstairs, making sure that Memphis was locked securely inside when I left Aunt True’s apartment. Today was not a good day for him to escape.

  A few minutes later I returned with the frozen Bookshop Blondies to find half the customers lining up to pose for pictures with Miss Marple, and the other half clustered around Augustus Wilde.

  “He came in looking for Belinda, and someone recognized him,” Mackenzie muttered. “Or maybe he told someone who he was.”

  I grinned. “That sounds more like Augustus.”

  “Either way, you missed a lot of fangirling.”

  “Believe me, I’ve seen it before.”

  Augustus had a very devoted group of readers, especially older ladies, among whom his colorful capes and shoulder-length silver hair were cause for heart palpitations.

  Aunt True flew into high gear arranging an impromptu book signing. I brought up another folding table and chair from the basement while she sat Augustus down with a pen and the half-thawed Bookshop Blondies. My mother herded the eager customers into a line, and Mackenzie and I scooped everything by Augusta Savage off the shelves in the romance section (and from Miss Marple’s Picks, where a couple of Augustus’s paperbacks had mysteriously appeared) and stacked them in front of our visiting celebrity. The books were snapped up nearly as fast as we set them down.

  Forty-five minutes later, the tour buses finally rolled out of town.

  “Whew!” said Aunt True, collapsing onto the old church pew that served as a bench by the door. “That was intense.”

  My mother turned to Mackenzie and smiled. “And here y’all thought Pumpkin Falls was a sleepy little town, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Too bad it isn’t like this every day,” said my father. “We’d be gazillionaires.”

  The bell over the door jangled, and we looked over to see Erastus Peckinpaugh come in. He smiled at my aunt. “Ready for our lunch date?”

  Aunt True’s cheeks turned pink. “Ready,” she replied primly.

  “Wait,” I told her. “Before you go, Mackenzie and I have something you all need to see.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “Shhhhhh!”

  “Shhhhhh yourself!” I hissed back.

  Scooter was driving me nuts. He was in full show-off mode again tonight, swaggering around in an attempt to impress Mackenzie.

  Who seems to be in the mood to be impressed, I thought sourly, casting a sidelong glance at my cousin. Her pent-up excitement had found an outlet in giggling over Scooter’s antics.

  Mackenzie had been wound up ever since the two of us had managed to sneak out of the house. Not an easy trick, given the fact that my father had radar that didn’t quit. Fortunately, he’d been worn out after the Maple Madness rush at the bookstore and had fallen asleep in front of the TV. As for my mother, the house could have burned down and she wouldn’t have noticed. When we left, she was still totally absorbed in another book about the Underground Railroad.

  My cousin and I had reached the rendezvous at nine thirty sharp, just as we’d all planned. Scooter and Calhoun were waiting for us, but there’d been no sign of Lucas, who was just now straggling into sight.

  “Sorry, guys,” he panted. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to get past my mom. I ended up climbing out my bedroom window.”

  “Whatever,” said Scooter. “Let’s go.”

  We followed him into the woods, using our cell phone torch apps to illuminate the muddy path.

  All of a sudden, a voice boomed out of nowhere: “WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING?”

  I jumped and let out a shriek. Mackenzie and Lucas did too. Scooter dropped his cell phone, along with a word that’s at the very top of Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy’s Ultimate No-No List.

  “Scooter!” I said, shocked, then turned around and shined my cell phone at—“Hatcher?”

  My brother grinned at me.

  “I thought you were Dad!” I said, smacking his arm. “You nearly gave us all heart attacks!”

  “I spotted you and Mackenzie sneaking out. What’s going on?”

  My friends an
d I looked at one another. What choice did we have? We were going to have to let him in on our secret.

  “Um, Operation Sugar Bush,” I said reluctantly, knowing even as I said the words that I was in for it.

  Which I was.

  “Operation Sugar Bush?” Hatcher’s voice shot up an octave. “What are you guys, the marines?”

  Squirming, I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could say anything, he continued, “Oh, wait—this is one of your ‘Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes’ things, right?” He smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. He’d teased me endlessly about my “dorky little club,” as he called it, back around Valentine’s Day when he’d found out about it.

  “If you must know,” I said hotly, “we’re going on a stakeout.”

  Scooter held up his camera bag. “We have surveillance equipment and everything.”

  Hatcher eyed the bag doubtfully. “Real surveillance equipment?”

  Scooter nodded.

  Calhoun did too. “I’ve seen it,” he assured my brother. “It’s legit.”

  That got my brother’s attention. His cocky grin faded. “So what’s the plan?”

  I explained about how we wanted to help the Freemans—and Coach Maynard—by seeing if we could get to the bottom of the sap thefts. “Franklin’s meeting us in the woods by their farm at twenty-two hundred hours,” I told him. “He’s going to help us set up the video camera near the scene of the crime.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” said Hatcher. “It might actually work.”

  “You’re not going to tell Dad, are you?”

  “Not if you let me come along.”

  “I want to come too!”

  I whirled around to see my sister Lauren emerge from behind a tree. I gaped at her. “What are you doing here!”

  She shrugged. “I saw you and Mackenzie sneak out, and then Hatcher did too. I wanted to see where you all were going.”

  “You need to go home on the double!”

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Lauren!”

  “I’ll tell Mom and Dad.”

  “You, you—weasel !” I sputtered. “If you do, I swear I’ll—”

  Mackenzie placed a hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Truly. I’ll keep an eye on her.”