“Do you think there’s water damage?” Mom asked.
“There’s only one way of knowing,” Dad answered, looking up to the third floor. “When we moved to be by the water, I didn’t plan on so much of the water actually being in our house.” Last year they had had a plumbing problem that had flooded the whole top floor.
“That was just one other time,” Mom insisted.
“One time, but weeks of cleanup.” Dad bent down, starting to gather some of the sticks and small branches that littered the ground.
“I don’t want to know what Mother Nature is telling us now,” Ben grumbled.
“She’s telling us to stop worrying about little things and just deal with the big stuff,” Willa said in a bright, optimistic voice. Personally, Willa couldn’t believe that they had to deal with another setback, but she didn’t want her parents to feel discouraged.
“This is big all right,” Dad agreed. “A big mess.”
“I’ll go and check on the room upstairs,” Mom said. Her feet squished as she walked away.
“Ben and I can pick up the yard,” Willa volunteered. “We are here to help!”
Dad sighed. “Thanks, but I should check for broken glass and other stuff first.” He took another deep breath, checking out the damage. “But you’re right, Willa. In the big scheme, things aren’t that bad. How about you go look in on our neighbors? Start with Mrs. Cornett. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Good idea, Dad,” Willa replied. “Mrs. Cornett’s chickens are wacky enough as is. I hope they weren’t too scared during that storm.”
“They were probably running around like chickens with their heads cut off!” Ben said, laughing so hard he could barely talk.
“Ben, that’s gross,” Willa scolded. “And not very funny.”
“Maybe not to you,” Ben said. “Or the chickens.” He closed his lips tight, but giggles escaped out his nose.
“Good luck,” Dad said, patting their backs, as they walked off toward their neighbor’s house.
“You too!” Willa called.
Mrs. Cornett lived by herself. Her house was the next one down the road from Misty Inn. It wasn’t far, but there was a cluster of trees in between so you couldn’t see the little yellow cottage with lots of plants and flowers.
Willa hoped Dad’s suggestion was a sign that they weren’t that bad off, that they should take time to think of others. Of course, there was also the chance that Dad was just trying to get rid of them so he and Mom could sulk about the inn on their own.
Chapter 4
“I’M SO GLAD YOU KIDS came by,” Mrs. Cornett said. “That storm scared the eggs right out of my hens. I have more eggs than the Easter Bunny. I keep finding them all around the yard.”
Mrs. Cornett must have been up for hours. She had already made several dozen of her famous deviled eggs, and she was starting to “whip up” something else. Tan, white, and pale-blue eggshells were piled by the cutting board.
“She seems fine,” Willa whispered to Ben. They were in Mrs. Cornett’s kitchen, which looked like a diner from an old movie, with a shiny metal counter and tall bar stools. “No trees fell on her house. Maybe we should go home and help there.”
“Yeah,” Ben answered. “Maybe.”
“I tell you what, kiddos.” Mrs. Cornett reached for a big metal bowl as she spoke. “You herd up my loose hens, and I’ll make you some scrambled eggs. They’ll be fluffy. I promise you that.”
“It’s a deal,” Ben said, pushing himself off a stool.
“I don’t think eating a second breakfast is what Dad had in mind when he sent us over here,” Willa said under her breath, hoping Mrs. Cornett wouldn’t hear. Willa wondered how Mom and Dad were doing back at the inn.
“Chasing chickens sounds like fun. And you heard Mrs. Cornett,” Ben said. “She needs help. We’re doing her a favor.”
“You kids sure are,” the woman said. “I’m too old to chase those silly birds.”
Just a few minutes later Willa and Ben were outside, panting.
“Try to get Hattie,” Willa said, stopping to catch her breath. “She’s the ringleader.”
Hattie was a striking-looking chicken. Each of her bright white feathers had a black border, and her comb and wattle were cherry red against the yellow of her sharp beak. The kids knew it was sharp. Mrs. Cornett had the scars as proof. The hens were always escaping the coop. They often wandered over to the Dunlaps’ yard, and Hattie was the hardest to convince to go home.
Ben tiptoed behind Hattie as she pecked in the strawberry patch. The chicken didn’t seem to notice Ben. But as soon as he spread his arms wide for the capture, she jutted off, clucking and flapping her wings. The other chickens scattered, and Ben collapsed in the grass . . . smack onto an egg!
“Yuck,” Ben screeched. Raw egg dripped from his hand.
“You thought this would be fun?” Willa said, wiping sweat from her face. She leaned against the trunk of a fruit tree.
“I was wrong,” Ben admitted.
As soon as the chickens were back in their coop, Mrs. Cornett asked the kids to pick bush beans and peas from her garden. It was nearly lunchtime before they were done. After their meal of scrambled eggs, she sent them off with a basket of what they had harvested, plus some ruby-red radishes.
As they walked home, Willa noticed that despite all the wind and weather, the GRAND OPENING banner had remained in place. It didn’t even look battered. The letters were bold and bright.
Still, Willa had a bad feeling. The more she thought about it, the more she believed Dad had been trying to get rid of them so he and Mom could deal with the inn on their own. They could never finish without help. As she and Ben walked past the front porch on the way to the kitchen door, she could hear her parents’ raised voices through the open windows.
“But why are all the flashlights in the closet on the first floor?” Mom asked.
“It just makes sense to store them together,” Dad insisted.
“But what if the lights go out and we’re all on the third floor?” Mom said. “That’s where the guests will be.”
Willa grabbed Ben’s elbow before he reached the door. “We can’t just walk in. They’re arguing.”
“The electricity is back on,” Ben whispered, confused. “Who cares where the flashlights are?”
Willa shrugged. She guessed the quarrel wasn’t really about flashlights.
But now it seemed like things had quieted down. She looked at Ben, and he raised his eyebrows. Just as she was about to turn the doorknob, she heard a door slam. “And where are all the batteries?” Mom yelled.
“In the toy bin under Ben’s bed!” Dad called back.
“Why are they there?”
Willa and Ben sat down on the steps by the door. At least they had Mrs. Cornett’s sugar snap peas to snack on while they waited for the argument to end.
From where they sat, Willa and Ben could see inside the open barn doors. They could just make out Starbuck’s head as she nibbled from her hay net. They would both visit her later, but they had to have an important brother-sister discussion first.
They made a pact, a solemn promise, that they would do whatever they could to help Mom and Dad. They hated when their parents argued, even when it was about a silly thing like a flashlight—especially when it was about a silly thing like a flashlight!
They agreed they would take on whatever jobs they could, and they would not let their parents tell them not to help. It was their house too! They would be ready for the inn’s opening. It was Sunday, and the guests were coming on Friday.
All along, the plan had been to call the bed-and-breakfast Misty Inn and the restaurant the Family Farm. Willa had always liked the name of the restaurant. It sounded so cozy and welcoming. But at that moment, crouched on that narrow step, Willa didn’t think the house felt cozy or welcoming. They had less than a week, but Willa was going to do her best to make that name fit!
Chapter 5
MOM AND DAD NODDED AND smiled as t
he kids presented their plan at dinner that night. Their parents admitted things had been hectic. “We promise to give you a list of ways you can help,” Mom said. “But there are just some chores kids can’t do.”
“Or parents,” Dad added. “Most parents can’t replace a one-hundred-year-old window. We were lucky we found a carpenter who can do it this week.”
“You can have my room,” Ben offered out of nowhere, his cheeks turning pink. “For the inn, if you need it. I’ll clean it and everything.” He hadn’t even touched the sausage meatballs on his pasta. They were his favorite.
Willa watched as Mom and Dad looked at each other. She wondered what they were thinking. “That’s very sweet, Ben,” Mom said. “But we’ll be fine. It’ll all get done, and you can stay in your own room. This may soon be an inn, but it will always be your home, too.” Mom’s eyes were warm and kind when she looked at Ben, but her expression changed as she glanced down at her plate.
“I just remembered!” Willa yelled out. “It’s a teacher prep day on Friday, so we don’t have school. We can help right up to the moment the guests come!” Willa felt so relieved. She and Ben could really make a difference then.
Mom and Dad didn’t look so sure. “We’ll see,” Dad said. “Maybe all the work will already be done.”
“Maybe,” Willa said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, but she could tell her parents were worried, which made her worry too. After giving Dad a hand putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Willa sneaked out to the barn.
Starbuck and Buttercup were still in their stalls. Clouds had lingered in the sky all day, so the sun had not had a chance to dry the pasture. Willa first offered Buttercup a treat of carrot tops before heading over to spend time with Starbuck.
Starbuck nickered, stretching her neck for her own treat. The pony eagerly ate the green stems and rested her head over Willa’s shoulder. “Sorry, no actual carrots today,” Willa told Starbuck. “Dad’s saving up for the restaurant recipes.” Starbuck didn’t seem to feel cheated. She seemed content. It comforted Willa, hearing the even munching of the pony’s jaw, her easy breath.
Tomorrow was Monday. Willa had hardly thought about school, other than how no school on Friday would give her and Ben time to help. At the beginning of the school year, she and Ben had always been busy. They had wanted to try to finish their chores at home so they could hurry to Grandma Edna and Grandpa Reed’s farm to see Starbuck. Once the pony had come to live at Misty Inn in the fall, they had not had to rush around all the time.
“I hope we’ll have time for a ride this week,” Willa murmured. Starbuck sighed. It seemed to Willa that the pony understood how important the opening of the inn would be. Willa wrapped her arms around the pony’s neck. “I hope so,” she said again.
Willa and Ben were true to their word. They did extra chores every evening to get the inn closer to being ready. Because she had nice handwriting, Mom had Willa make a sign for the check-in table and place cards for all the guests at dinner. Just to get the hang of it, she practiced by making a card for both herself and Ben. Ben’s job was to roll the fancy silverware in the cloth napkins for dinner.
“Why are we doing this little stuff when there’s still a hole in a bedroom window upstairs?” Ben wondered as he lined up the napkin corners.
“Because we do what we can,” Willa said, admiring the new dining-room setup. There were now five wooden tables for guests to use while enjoying breakfast or dinner. The tables didn’t match, yet each had its own charm. It was starting to look like a real inn! But each day there were also little setbacks.
The carpenter had come to install the guest-bedroom window on Wednesday. The replacement looked as good as new, but the carpenter tripped on the porch steps on his way out. His foot went straight through a rotten board. “I’m all booked tomorrow,” he said. “But I can come back to fix it Friday morning.”
Willa and Ben passed the carpenter in the driveway as they got off the bus. After the man drove off, Dad collapsed on the front lawn. “As soon as he replaces the board, we have to paint it, and the paint has to dry before anyone can use the stairs.” He paused, his baseball hat pulled over his eyes. “Even if he shows up first thing Friday, that’s cutting it close.”
Mom bent down to pat Dad on the shoulder, but she only comforted him for a minute. “Okay, kids,” she then announced. “Out of your school clothes. You have a manure pile to move.”
“Do we really have to move the manure?” Ben asked moments later, holding his nose with one hand and a pitchfork in the other.
“You can unplug your nose,” Willa said. “It’s so old it doesn’t smell that bad anymore.” Willa knew what he meant—the job didn’t seem super important. Still, Willa was going to move every chip of manure from where they’d stacked it for months on the side of the field to the spot behind the barn, right where Mom had pointed.
Even if it wasn’t an important job, it was a big one. The wheelbarrow tipped over . . . twice. Ben lost his footing and ended up sitting in the stuff. Gross! And even though she thought she was careful, Willa had two boots full of dry horse poop before they were done.
“Why do we have to eat out here with the bugs?” Ben groaned when the family took a dinner break.
“It keeps the crumbs outside,” Mom had explained. “And the kitchen clean. Unlike you.” Ben half smiled, his teeth a bright white against his now-dirty skin.
Many blisters and drinks from the hose later, the brother-and-sister shoveling team was done. “I love Starbuck,” Ben said, putting the pitchfork back in the barn, “but I wish she could use a toilet.”
“We should clean up in the downstairs bathroom,” Willa said as they headed inside, “so we don’t track all over the house.”
They left their filthy boots outside and then crammed inside the little bathroom, elbows and feet barely fitting. “Use soap,” Willa reminded Ben. He picked up the bar and started to make suds. They watched as the bubbly water, brown with dirt, dripped from their hands.
They were almost finished when they heard footsteps. “Willa? Ben?” The door was flung open. “What are you doing in there?” Mom looked as if she had caught them in a trash dump.
“We’re washing up so we don’t make a mess upstairs,” Willa said, proud that she had thought ahead.
Mom looked like she was about to cry. “This was the one bathroom that I had cleaned.”
Willa looked around and realized that the bar of soap had been new, and the towel, now crumpled in Ben’s hands, had a fancy lace border on the bottom. Oops!
“Grandma wants to talk to you,” Mom said, and she placed her cell phone in Willa’s hand.
As Willa left the bathroom, she noticed a note pasted to the outside of the door.
CLEAN! DO NOT USE!
Thanks,
Mom
Chapter 6
“I REALLY DON’T KNOW, GRANDMA,” Willa said. “Ben and I wanted to stay home and help with the opening. Can we tell you tomorrow?” Ben tried to push in closer. “Okay, bye.”
“What’d she say?” Ben asked. He’d been standing by her shoulder, his ear tilted toward the phone.
“She wants to know if we want to go to Assateague on Friday,” Willa answered. “She’s doing a special vet check on the wild ponies.”
“Friday?” Ben asked. Willa nodded. Even though it was just a boat ride away, the Dunlap kids had not visited Assateague yet. To them, the tiny island that was the remote home of the famous Chincoteague ponies was still a mystery. Ever since Starbuck had come to live with them, they both felt like they had their own piece of the Assateague legend right there in their old red barn.
“What’s on Friday?” Mom asked, striding into the kitchen, her arms full of candlesticks.
“The opening of the inn,” Willa replied innocently.
“No,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Something to do with Grandma.”
Willa reluctantly told Mom about Grandma Edna’s invitation.
“Well, you have to go!”
Mom said. “It’s such a good opportunity.”
“But we want to stay here and help you and Dad,” Willa said.
“Yeah,” Ben chimed in.
“I think your dad will agree with me,” Mom said.
Willa suspected that Mom wanted them to go, but not just because it was a good opportunity. She glanced hopefully at the clock. “Well, it’s nearly bedtime,” Willa said all of a sudden, raising her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “And it’s a family rule that we can’t make big decisions after eight o’clock. I guess it’ll have to wait for tomorrow.”
Mom rolled her eyes.
Willa had always thought it was a silly rule, but she was thankful for it now.
The next morning on the school bus, Sarah begged Willa to go on the trip. “You have to,” Sarah said, grasping Willa’s hand. “Dad is taking me and Chipper. Kids hardly ever get to go to the roundups on the island. It’d be so much fun to be there together.”
Grandma had explained the details to Willa on the phone. The volunteer fire department of Chincoteague helped take care of the ponies. Three times a year a group of volunteers and local veterinarians gathered the wild ponies for checkups. The roundup in the middle of the summer included the great pony swim, when all the horses and ponies of the southern herd swam across the bay to Chincoteague.
The spring roundup was not as complicated. While the events of the pony swim took the entire weekend, this spring roundup would be done in a day. All the ponies would stay on Assateague.
“We can take our walkie-talkies,” Chipper said to Ben. The idea made Ben smile. Now that he knew Chipper would be there, he wanted to go more than ever. He glanced at Willa. He could tell she hadn’t decided.
“I’m not sure,” Willa tried to explain. “My parents never hired a server for the inn, and Dad might need to run some last-minute errands. They might need me.”
“You need a waitress?” Chipper asked, overhearing the girls’ conversation. “Katherine keeps telling Mom she needs a job. She wants to buy a car.” Katherine was the oldest of the Starling kids.
Finding Luck Page 2