Holly's Heart Collection One

by Beverly Lewis

  “There’s only one mystery, and I’m looking at him,” I said, dashing off down the sidewalk, my tablet and book under my arm, my backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Holly!” he called after me.

  Danny had to know what I meant. Billy and Andie and everyone in Dressel Hills seemed to. I had every right to be upset.

  I walked faster. “I know exactly who wrote the letter from Hawaii,” I said. “I have to get home and tell my mom. See ya.”

  Then I took off running, leaving Danny-cold-fish-Myers behind without a clue.

  SEALED WITH A KISS

  Chapter 15

  I ran all the way home. Past the village ski shops and down the narrow street of my childhood. Away from Danny.

  Carrie and Stephanie were sitting on the front-porch swing sipping lemonade. Their soft giggles mingled with the creaks of the swing. When I reached them I was out of breath, but I couldn’t wait another second to ask Stephie the question burning inside me. “Did…your brothers…go to Japan?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And…Hong Kong?”

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  “What about Hawaii?” I asked, catching my breath.

  “Last week,” she said sheepishly.

  “The night you were here for supper, right?”

  Stephie nodded, her chin-length hair bouncing.

  “The night Mr. Tate announced his plans to marry Mom?”

  “Uh…yeah,” she said, her brown eyes growing wide.

  “You talked to your father on the phone long-distance that night when you went back to the Millers’ house, didn’t you?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Uh-huh,” she said in a squeaky get-set-for-tears voice.

  I picked Stephie up off the porch swing, twirling her around and around, squealing, “Yes!”

  We fell into a heap on the redwood floor of the porch, nearly knocking over the pots of Chinese-red geraniums. Mom poked her face out the door, obviously puzzled.

  “Perfect,” I said when I saw her. “You’re just the person we need to talk to.”

  “Before you do, have you seen those silly letters anywhere?” she asked, holding the screen door open a few inches.

  “Oh, those.” I reached for my backpack. It had landed topsyturvy under the porch swing. “Here.” I handed them to her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Holly Meredith…”

  “Before you get upset, Mom, I have some news that’ll make your hair stand up and boogie.”

  Carrie and Stephie giggled, even though I was certain Stephie knew what I was about to announce.

  “Here, Mom, you need to sit down first,” I said, taking her arm and guiding her to a chair like she was a helpless invalid. I stood back and made a pretend drum roll in midair. “Are you ready for this?”

  “Tell us!” Carrie shrieked.

  “This announcement is all about true love,” I said. “For…I am quite certain that Uncle Jack’s in love with you, Mom.”

  Stephie and Carrie began jumping up and down, giggling.

  “Please, girls,” Mom said, insisting they sit down. “Now, Holly, what on earth are you saying?”

  I began to unravel the tale of two letter writers. “One was a teenage boy who got the ball rolling as a practical joke with two anonymous letters to you, after overhearing a description of Mr. Tate’s lack of hair.”

  “Bald Tate,” said Stephie, no doubt repeating the term she’d used to her brother Stan on a long-distance phone call.

  Mom looked completely lost. “Will you please slow down, Holly?”

  “Okay,” I said. “But think about it…remember the long- distance call I told you about? It must’ve been Stan disguising his voice, pretending to check up on the letter he’d mailed from Japan.”

  Mom leaned forward, listening more carefully.

  “And after that phone call came the third letter, surprising us with new handwriting…. A different person. Another writer!”

  “We know all this,” Mom said, pushing a strand of blond hair away from her face.

  “Yes, well, Stephie ate supper with us the night Mr. Tate told us his plan to move us to the mountains and start a bee farm,” I said, eyeing Stephie. “Later that night, she talked to her father in Hawaii.”

  Mom looked disturbed. She started to speak. “Oh, Holly—”

  “There’s more,” I interrupted. “The best part is this. What Stan started as a joke turned out to be a way for Uncle Jack to take up where Stan left off, with his beehive joke…and the ‘sweet thoughts of you’ sign-off. Stephie, tell my mom I’m not making this up.”

  “Well?” Mom said, leaning over to look into the freckled face of her sneaky little niece. “Did you play spy-kid at our house?”

  “I leaked the info,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “You told your daddy about my plans with Mr. Tate?” Mom asked.

  “Daddy said to tell him if you were dating anyone. And if you were happy. That’s when I told him about the marriage license and the log cabin. And…you know, stuff like that.”

  “Why do you think your daddy wanted to know about these things?” Mom asked, holding the lemonade glass without drinking.

  “Because nobody, except Carrie, was very happy about Mr. Tate. Especially you, Auntie Susan.”

  I watched Mom’s expression. “Don’t you see, Mom?” I said. “All of us knew it but you.”

  “Well,” Mom said. “No sense fussing over the past.”

  “I agree,” I said, tickling Stephie. “What else is Uncle Jack planning?”

  “More secrets,” Stephie said, giggling so hard she fell over.

  I started to say, “Fab—”

  “—ulous,” Carrie finished for me. “Just fabulous!”

  “Isn’t this the most amazing and romantic thing?” I said.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Mom said, pouring lemonade for me. “It’s just three silly letters.”

  “That’s what you think,” Stephie said and started giggling again. Her chestnut hair flew around her little head as she danced around the porch, almost bumping Mom’s geraniums.

  It was obvious Stephie knew more than she was telling. Much more! What was Uncle Jack up to…really?

  SEALED WITH A KISS

  Chapter 16

  Wed, August 25, I wrote in my journal.

  My life isn’t even half as exciting as Mom’s! On Sunday we found out that Uncle Jack is her secret admirer, and I just learned that she and Mr. Tate ended things over the phone. Yes! That’s all great, but it’s been three long days since Danny and I had our dumb fight. Should I call him or wait for him to make the next move?.

  Closing my journal, I sat at extesk and stared out the window. Waiting for Danny could take forever…it could be Christmas before we got things worked out. Worked out? We weren’t even really clicking.

  Besides that, there was Kayla Miller—forever smiling at Danny, always sneaking around corners.

  I sighed, slumping down on my window seat. Bearie-O flopped against me. Compared to Mom’s relationships, my friendship with Danny was a joke.

  Another letter showed up in the mailbox today…for her ! Postmarked Seattle. I tried holding it up to the light in my room, but it was no use. I couldn’t see through the envelope.

  “I know who it’s from,” Stephie said, sneaking into my bedroom and coming up behind me. “It’s from my daddy!”

  “Someone should teach you some manners,” I said, hiding the letter behind my back. “Still spying, I see.”

  She rolled her eyes and zipped her lips shut, throwing away the “key.”

  When Mom arrived home, she snatched up the letter and disappeared into her bedroom like a squirrel hoarding a precious acorn. I wasn’t surprised later when she said—with a twinkle in her eyes—that I would not be reading this one.

  On Friday a dozen pink roses arrived for Mom before she got home from work. I sneaked a look at the card. It said: From your not-so-secret admirer. Now, here was a guy Danny Myers c
ould take lessons from.

  Then, to top things off, Uncle Jack called after supper.

  “What’s up?” I asked as Mom hung up the phone.

  “Uncle Jack and the boys are back in town. He invited me to spend tomorrow evening with him,” she said, acting like it was no big deal.

  “And?”

  “He said to dress very casually.”

  “Where’s he taking you?”

  “He was very secretive about it,” Mom said, seeming to enjoy the mystery aspect most of all.

  “So how casual is very casual ?” I asked.

  “I guess I’ll have to investigate my wardrobe.” She gave me a hug before dashing up the stairs.

  “But this is your first date with Uncle Jack,” I called to her. “Shouldn’t you wear something wonderful?”

  She shrugged it off. “Oh, you know your uncle,” she said offhandedly. But her smile gave her away.

  I took the phone downstairs to my “office” and called Andie. “Mr. Tate and Mom really are through, just like I thought,” I said. “It’s so cool, and now my uncle’s taking her out.”

  “You’re kidding. Your uncle and your mom on a date? How weird is that?”

  “They’re not related,” I said. “Not by blood, anyway.”

  “He was married to your dad’s sister, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Aunt Marla died six months ago.”

  “Speaking of guys and girls, how are things between you and Danny?” she asked.

  “Not so good,” I said. “Last Sunday, he started putting down the kind of books I like. I got fed up and told him off.”

  “You did? Whoa, Holly, that’s not a good way to win friends and influence people.”

  “No kidding.” I was beginning to feel sorry about the blowup.

  “So what else is new?” she asked.

  “Well, Lucas owes me a letter. I should be getting a story to review from him soon.” I didn’t tell her about the picture I’d sent with my gloriously grown-up hairstyle.

  “Better hope Danny doesn’t find out about Lucas,” she warned.

  “Oh, Lucas is no competition in that department—the guy’s a junior in college, for goodness’ sake.”

  “That old!” she said. “You never told me that. Are you really sure it’s smart to be writing to a guy so much older than you?”

  “We’re just critiquing each other’s work, Andie. It’s no big deal.

  Anyway,” I said, “would you miss out on a chance to find out more about your favorite author?”

  There was a pause. “Maybe not,” Andie said. “Well, gotta run.

  Bye.”

  When I hung up, I heard giggling just outside my “office” door. I sneaked over, listening, then opened the door quickly. Carrie and Stephie ran screaming in opposite directions.

  “What’s with you two?” I demanded.

  Carrie played the innocent while Stephie kept laughing, crouching behind the sectional.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?” I said. “This better never happen again.”

  “Or what?” Carrie asked, eyes shining.

  “Yeah.” Stephie peeked over the sofa. “Or what?”

  “That’s it…I’m telling Mom,” I said, stomping up the steps.

  When I found her, Mom was in her room, staring blankly into her closet. Nope, she wasn’t in the mood for tattling. “Solve things with your sister and cousin the best you can,” she advised.

  “But, Mom,” I whined.

  “This is Stephie’s last night here,” she said. “Can you endure the kid stuff till tomorrow at noon when Uncle Jack comes to pick her up?”

  “Only if you can keep her and Carrie out of my life between now and then,” I said, frustrated.

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered.

  I could see she was too preoccupied with picking out just the right very casual outfit for her date with Uncle Jack.

  Clumping off to my room, I complained to my journal instead.

  When the mail arrived the next day, I hit the jackpot. Three letters! One from my pen pal in Italy, one from Daddy in California, and one from Lucas Leigh. I sat on the porch and tore open Lucas’s letter, reading it first.

  Dear Holly,

  Thanks for your recent letter and picture. I hope you don’t mind that I passed your story on to my aunt, Marty Leigh. She has some comments to make about it, and she’d like to make them in person. She’s scheduled to go on a book tour to promote her hot new kids’ series, and—believe it or not—we’ll be in Dressel Hills at the Explore Bookstore on Labor Day. Would you like to meet us there around 12:30 for lunch? If I don’t hear differently from you, I’ll assume it’s a go.

  My aunt wants to discuss with you the possibility of including “Love Times Two” in the first issue of a new teen magazine she is starting, called Sealed With a Kiss. Interested?

  Looking forward to meeting you, Holly!

  Lucas W. Leigh

  PS: I’ve enclosed a photo of myself you may keep.

  I stared at the picture. Lucas Wadsworth Leigh was the bestlooking college guy I’d seen in my entire life. Could it be he wanted to take me to lunch nine days from now…right here in Dressel Hills? And what was this about maybe becoming published?

  My heart pounded as I scooped up the other letters and dashed inside the house to the phone. I punched Andie’s number.

  Br-ring! Please be awake, Andie. I need you!

  Br-ring! It rang again.

  “Hello?” Thank goodness she answered.

  “Andie,” I said. “I’m desperate for your expert help. Can you come right over?”

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is this about Danny?”

  “Worse, er, better—oh, just get over here. I’ll tell you then.” We hung up.

  On the way to my room, I brushed past Stephie and Carrie sitting on the stairs. “Watch it,” Carrie said.

  “Yeah,” Stephie said, carrying her overnight bag down to the living room.

  Good, I thought. Stephie’s leaving. One less snoop around here.

  Carefully closing my door, I wished there was a lock on it for private occasions. That wasn’t all I wished. I wished I’d told the truth. I’d led Lucas to think I was much older.

  I sat very still on my window seat, contemplating my dilemma. A very famous author wanted to talk about publishing me in her new teen mag. Would she still want my story when she found out I was only thirteen and a half?

  Leaning over, I brushed my long hair down, hoping to put it up the way Danny’s mom had a week ago. Getting my hair into a French twist was the least of my worries. What kind of clothes should I wear to meet none other than Marty Leigh and her nephew—my own pen pal?

  I tore through my closet and found absolutely nothing.

  SEALED WITH A KISS

  Chapter 17

  “You told him what?” Andie said, plopping herself cross-legged on the floor in my bedroom.

  “It’s not what I said. Just what I didn’t say,” I moaned, sticking my head out my bedroom door and scanning the hall for kid-sized snoopers.

  “You’ve gotta be warped right down to your split ends, Holly Meredith.”

  I leaped onto my bed. Andie just sat there on the floor, her eyes boring a hole in me. She was right. There was no easy way out of this mess.

  “C’mon, Holly. You know you have to tell Lucas the truth.”

  “You sound like me talking to you,” I said, sorting through his letters for the zillionth time. I found the first letter Lucas W. Leigh had ever written to me. His penmanship was nearly as good as Danny’s mother’s.

  Andie crawled over to the bed. “What’re you doing?”

  “Analyzing his handwriting.”

  “What for?”

  “To see if he’s accepting and…” I hesitated.

  “And what?”

  I sighed. “Forgiving.”

  Andie held Bearie-O close to her. “What’s the big deal? Give the guy a call and tell him the truth. If he’s as smoot
h as you think, he’ll laugh it off. If not, forget it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” I rolled over and propped myself up on my elbows. I told her about his aunt’s interest in my writing. “Think about it—Marty Leigh has plans for my story, ‘Love Times Two.’ ”

  “You mean our story,” Andie said. “Remember, it’s about me, too.”

  I ignored her. “I made a wish, Andie. And it’s starting to come true.”

  Her eyes bugged wide. “What wish?”

  “It probably sounds stupid, but I made a wish on the last letter I sent Lucas,” I said, remembering the magical moment.

  “What sort of wish?”

  I took a deep breath, eyeing my friend. “Don’t laugh, please?”

  “I promise.”

  “The wish was about writing to Lucas, hoping it might lead me to the truth about my stories. If I have any writing talent.”

  “So you’ve been using him because of his author-aunt,” she stated flatly.

  “It’s just that if I could somehow know I had true writing talent, I’d work day and night to write as well as Marty Leigh.”

  “That I’d like to see. Holly the Sleepless Author,” she said, making fun.

  “Anyway, if I blow things now and tell the truth about my age, maybe he and his aunt won’t—”

  “Won’t want to bother with a kid writer,” she interrupted me.

  “Right. So…I have a plan. Will you help me?”

  “Help you continue this charade?” She was twisting a dainty curl around her finger.

  “I just want to try to look as old as I did in the picture.”

  “What picture?”

  “The photo booth snapshot I had taken after Danny’s mom did my hair last Saturday,” I explained.

  Andie frowned. “This just gets worse and worse.” She sighed. “Why don’t you just call Mrs. Myers? I’ll bet she’d be happy to help you look exactly the same way again.”

  That wasn’t funny. “Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to her or to—”

  “I know, I know…to precious Danny,” she said.