Absolutely Truly

by Heather Vogel Frederick

  “Pay for it?” the older woman screeched. The furry heads popped out again, their round kitten eyes wide in alarm. “What part of ‘swap’ don’t you understand?” She peered at my father more closely. “Say, aren’t you Walt and Lola’s boy?”

  I’d never heard my father called a “boy” before. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

  “You’re the delinquent who broke my garage window with a slingshot!”

  My father reddened. “That was a long time ago, Miss Winchester,” he replied stiffly. “And as I recall, I saved up my allowance to pay for the repair.”

  Aunt True was smiling broadly by now. I could tell she was enjoying this.

  Our visitor sniffed. “Don’t know as I remember it that way.” She stuffed the paperback into a plastic bag. “I’d say this makes us even.” And with that she and her kittens stalked out.

  Aunt True laughed so hard her knees went weak. She collapsed on the bench by the door, gasping for breath.

  My father shook his head in disgust. “Whose idea was it to have a mystery swap? What are we running here, a charity?”

  “Calm down, J. T.” said Aunt True, wiping her eyes. “It’s just a used paperback. And it was a book emergency, remember? With a side of kittens.” She dissolved in laughter again.

  “We’re the ones with a book emergency, especially if we just let our inventory walk out of here,” my father told her. “This is a business, not the public library.”

  Beside me, I heard Lucas suck in his breath.

  “No more stalling, Truly,” my father said curtly. “Say good-bye to your friends. I want you in the office on the double.” He spun on his heel and left.

  As Aunt True started out the door, Lucas turned to Cha Cha and me, his pale face alight with excitement. “I know what the numbers on your mystery envelope mean.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Telling Lucas about the envelope turned out to be a good idea.

  Except for the fact that I could barely concentrate on my math tutoring afterward. I stared blindly at the open book in front of me, my shoe woodpeckering against the metal base of my chair.

  Across the room, my father threw down his pen. “You’ve got ants in your pants this afternoon, Truly!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Try and focus, would you?”

  “Yes, sir.” I wondered just how well he’d be able to focus if he was on the brink of solving a mystery.

  “They’re library call numbers,” Lucas had told Cha Cha and me. “See?” Reaching into his backpack, he’d pulled out a copy of Your Government and You and pointed to the sequence of numbers across the sticker on the book’s spine.

  Sure enough, although the numbers were completely different from the ones on my letter, the pattern was the same.

  Cha Cha had frowned. “So whoever wrote the letter was sending the person it was meant for off to find another book?”

  I’d nodded. “It’s like a scavenger hunt! We need to go the library.”

  The problem was, none of us could. My father would have been breathing fire if I hadn’t shown up for my tutoring session in about thirty seconds flat, Cha Cha was due over at her parents’ dance studio to fill in for the receptionist again, and Lucas’s mother was probably having a cow because he wasn’t there yet. So we’d agreed to meet at the library after dinner.

  I chewed the end of my pencil nervously and glanced at the clock. The other problem was, my mother had scheduled that family meeting tonight. This narrowed my brief window of time even further for making it to the library before it closed. I felt like I’d explode if I had to wait until tomorrow.

  I sighed and stared again at the worksheet in front of me. Math is usually something I enjoy, but word problems? Puh-leez.

  My father pushed back from his desk a little while later and came over to check my work. “You can do better,” he told me, pointing out a couple of errors.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied glumly.

  Suddenly, there was a loud squawk from out in the store. “J. T.!” shouted Aunt True. “Come quick!”

  My father bolted out the office door. I was right on his heels, grateful for an excuse to ditch the word problems.

  We found my aunt over by the travel section. “Would you look at this?” she said in amazement. She was kneeling on the floor by the basket of books I’d been looking for earlier, holding up the copy of Charlotte’s Web. For a second I wondered if maybe she’d found another letter inside, but that wasn’t what she was excited about. “It’s an autographed first edition!” She showed us the inscription, which read: To my nifty little neighbor Bee, from Andy White.

  “Who’s Andy?” my father asked.

  “That was E. B. White’s nickname,” Aunt True told him.

  Dad stared at her. “And here I thought the place was on fire or something from all the fuss you were making.”

  Aunt True scrambled to her feet. “Don’t you understand? Some autographed first editions go for thousands of dollars!”

  My eyebrows shot up. There were people willing to pay that kind of money for an old book?

  “Really?” Now my father sounded excited too. “We might be able to pay off the bank loan if that’s the case—or at least make a serious dent in it.”

  Aunt True looked over at me. “Were you the one who found this book, Truly?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, when I was scanning stuff in the Annex.”

  “You just may have saved the day.” She kissed me on the cheek, then waltzed happily toward the front of the store. My father and I followed her. “I’m going to do a little research and see if I can come up with a value for it, then we’ll put it in the rare books cabinet for safekeeping.”

  The rare books cabinet was a locked, glass-fronted bookcase by the sales counter. There wasn’t much in it these days—I guess anything of value had long since been sold to help keep the store afloat.

  As Aunt True disappeared into the office, there was a knock on the front door.

  “Does everyone in Pumpkin Falls have a book emergency today?” my father grumbled, going to answer it.

  This time it wasn’t a desperate customer, though; it was my mother.

  “Big news!” she announced as she came in. The rest of my family was right behind her. “I have a job!”

  Pippa did a pirouette. “Mommy ith going to be a danther!”

  “No, honey, I’m just working at a dance studio,” my mother corrected. “Big difference.” She turned to my father. “I saw an ad in the Patriot-Bugle this morning and answered it.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You’re going to be the receptionist at the Starlite?”

  My mother looked over at me, astonished. “How on earth did you know that?”

  I explained about Cha Cha, and she laughed. “See? It was meant to be.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle it, Dinah?” my father asked.

  “It’s only part-time, and it’s just until the dance studio’s regular receptionist gets back from maternity leave,” she told him. “And guess what? As one of the perks, Pippa and Lauren get free dance lessons.”

  Hearing this, Pippa spun around the room again.

  Lauren plopped down on the floor near Miss Marple and opened her latest book—she’d moved on from Laura Ingalls Wilder to The Borrowers. Danny and Hatcher made a beeline for Aunt True’s cookies. I watched, waiting for the fireworks, but my brothers scarfed down the cookies without so much as a peep. Their stomachs must be made of iron.

  “Where’s True?” my mother asked. “I can’t wait to tell her.”

  My father gestured toward the office with his right hand. Only it wasn’t his right hand any more, of course. It was a hook.

  Pippa spotted it and froze. Her eyes widened, and I could see Dad’s jaw muscles tighten as she ducked behind my mother and started to cry. It just kills him when Pippa does this.

  My parents have tried, they really have. And so have Danny and Hatcher and Lauren and me. But no one has been able to convinc
e Pippa that the hook isn’t a big scary thing. So Dad’s just given up wearing his prosthesis when he’s at home. He keeps it in a gym bag and carries it to and from the bookstore every day. It’s only temporary, Mom says, insisting that Pippa will get used to it. Plus, Dad is scheduled to get his new more permanent prosthetic arm soon and everyone’s hoping she’ll like that one better.

  “What’s all the commotion?” asked Aunt True, emerging from the office. “Another book emergency?”

  My mother shook her head. “Not exactly. More of a Pippa emergency.” Lowering her voice to a whisper that was barely audible over my little sister’s wails, she explained the situation.

  Aunt True crouched down beside Pippa. “Well, my goodness, and here I thought there was a hippopotamus loose in the store!”

  The wails subsided into hiccups.

  “I’ve seen a hippopotamus, you know,” Aunt True continued. “Back when I lived in Tanzania. And I’ve seen lions and zebras and crocodiles, too.”

  Pippa peeked out from behind my mother.

  “Speaking of crocodiles, do you know the story of Peter Pan?”

  My little sister nodded, sniffling. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “We went on the ride at Dithney World.”

  “And do you remember the crocodile?” Aunt True asked her.

  Pippa nodded again. “Tick-Tock.”

  “That’s right. And what did that crocodile do?”

  Pippa’s forehead puckered as she thought about it. “He thwam after Captain Hook.”

  Aunt True smiled. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Tick-Tock wasn’t afraid of silly old Captain Hook, was he?”

  Pippa shook her head.

  I could see where this was going, and so could my father.

  He frowned. “Really, True?”

  “Come on, J. T.,” Aunt True coaxed. “Where’s your sense of humor?”

  A corner of his mouth quirked up. I could tell he thought it was funny, even though he was trying not to.

  “And you don’t have to be afraid either,” Aunt True told Pippa. She motioned to my father, who heaved a sigh and reluctantly waved his prosthesis. “See? You can pretend you’re Tick-Tock, and that’s just silly old Captain Hook.”

  “Thilly old Captain Hook,” Pippa repeated. She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she wasn’t crying anymore either. A moment later, she started running around the store shouting “Tick-Tock! Tick-Tock!” as my father gamely let her chase him.

  “Thanks, True,” said my mother, watching them.

  “Tell her about your job, Mom,” I urged, and she did.

  “That’s fantastic, Dinah!” said my aunt, then showed her the first edition of Charlotte’s Web. “What a red-letter day for the Lovejoys! I’d say this calls for a celebration—I’m taking us all out to dinner at Lou’s.”

  My mother hesitated. “We have a family meeting scheduled.”

  “You can have it at the restaurant,” said Aunt True. “Nobody’s cooking tonight.”

  “Are you sure, True?” Mom asked. “There are rather of a lot of us.”

  “Really?” said Aunt True, blinking in fake surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  I was beginning to really like Aunt True.

  After my aunt locked Charlotte’s Web away in the rare books cabinet, we trooped over to Lou’s and crammed in around the diner’s biggest table. Lou had to bring over a couple of extra chairs to fit us all in. I took it as a good sign that Pippa asked to sit next to my father.

  “Don’t see big families like yours much these days,” said the restaurant owner.

  Like clockwork, our heads all swiveled toward Dad. This was his cue to leap in with a comment about the Magnificent Seven. But Captain Hook’s smile had vanished and Silent Man was back.

  Mom quickly spoke up to fill the awkward silence. “We love having a big family! I’m one of seven kids, myself.” She chattered on to Lou for a couple of minutes, then Lucas’s mother came over to take our order.

  I looked around the crowded restaurant. I guess if you’re pretty much the only restaurant in Pumpkin Falls, you’re going to be busy most of the time. The tables and booths were filled with a mix of college students, older people, and local families. I spotted Amy Nguyen and her brother and parents in one of the booths, and Lucas, who was sitting at the end of the counter by himself, eating a cheeseburger and doing his homework. He waved shyly, and I waved back.

  Danny and Hatcher launched into a recap of their wrestling practice for Dad while Mom and Aunt True started talking about some novel they were both reading. Lauren was still buried in The Borrowers, so I helped Pippa color her place mat until Mrs. Winthrop returned with our food.

  As she set a small plate of greens and dressing in front of my father, I waited for him to say, “Oh, a honeymoon salad!” the way he always used to. He’d grin in anticipation, waiting for the waiter or waitress to ask what he meant by that. Then he’d waggle his eyebrows Groucho Marx-style and say, “Lettuce alone!” It always got a laugh.

  Now, though, he just picked up his fork and started to eat.

  “You’re Truly, right?” said Mrs. Winthrop, handing me my fish and chips. I nodded. “I want to thank you for helping Lucas out today after school. Those bigger boys can be a bit—rowdy.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Lucas said something about going to the library with you later for a project you’re working on?”

  I nodded.

  “Would you mind walking him home afterward?” his mother asked, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. “It’s just that, you know, it’s dark and the roads and sidewalks are icy.”

  “Don’t you worry,” my mother told her. “Truly will see your son safely home.”

  “Thanks.”

  I watched her walk away. I was wrong about Mrs. Winthrop being a blue jay. She was pure mother hen.

  “So what was that all about?” my mother asked. I explained about the snowball fight earlier, and she smiled at me. “That was very kind of you, sweetheart.”

  “All hail Saint Drooly,” said Hatcher in a robot voice, sticking French fries in his ears. He turned to Pippa. “Frankenfryenstein. Want. Ketchup.”

  Pippa giggled. Not to be outdone, Danny wedged a pair of fries between his upper lip and teeth. “Yessssss,” he said, affecting a fake accent. “Fangs a lot, Truly—Count Spudula approvessss.”

  “Boys,” warned my mother, but it was too late. Lauren was oblivious, of course—too engrossed in her book to notice—but Pippa laughed so hard that milk squirted out of her nose. This startled her and made her cry again, and when I reached for some napkins to help clean her up, I knocked over my water glass, making an even bigger mess. My father shot me a black look as some of the liquid pooled over the edge of the table and onto the leg of his pants.

  “For heaven’s sake, Truly!” he snapped.

  “But it was Pippa’s—”

  “Don’t answer back.”

  I slumped in my seat. “No, sir.”

  Mrs. Winthrop brought over some paper towels. As she and my mother started to mop up, the door to the diner opened and a figure in black came in.

  “Oh, great,” muttered my father. “Just what I need to make my evening complete.”

  It was Ella Bellow.

  Spotting us, she made a beeline for our table. Her lips thinned in disapproval as she surveyed the lake of watery milk. “Waste of money, taking children to restaurants,” she observed, shaking her head. “Especially when there are so many of them.”

  “It’s my money, and I don’t consider it a waste,” Aunt True replied. “Can we help you, Ella?”

  Pippa’s tears instantly ceased. She looked up. “Ella Bellow?”

  I felt a prickle of misgiving.

  The postmistress gave my little sister a fleeting smile, but her gaze was riveted to the hook at the end of my father’s shirtsleeve.

  “Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” said Hatcher under his breath.

  My mother
elbowed him sharply. “It’s nice to see you again, Ella,” she said politely. “And now if you’ll excuse us, we were about to have a family meeting.”

  “Of course,” said the postmistress, steering herself to the closest table. She took a seat with her back to us, but it was obvious that she was all ears.

  My mother leaned forward and whispered, “I vote that we take our dessert back to the bookstore and have our meeting there.”

  “Mom’th whithpering becauth Ella Bellow ith a buthybody,” said Pippa in a loud voice. “Right, Truly?”

  The postmistress’s back stiffened. The nearby tables went dead silent. Aunt True choked on a bite of cheeseburger, except her coughing fit sounded suspiciously like laughter to me.

  “Truly!” my mother whispered furiously. “What did you tell your sister?”

  “It’s not my fault!” I whispered back. “And anyway, you were the one who said it first!”

  My father glared at me. “Truly Lovejoy, don’t you dare speak back to your mother.”

  “Truce!” said Aunt True weakly, waving her napkin like a white flag. Her eyes were watering and she was trying hard to suppress a smile. “All in favor of family harmony, especially in public places”—she tipped her head toward our neighboring eavesdropper—“raise their hands.”

  Hatcher and Danny raised their hands. So did I.

  Mrs. Winthrop, who looked like she was trying not to smile too, finished cleaning off the table.

  “Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Aunt True continued. “How was your day, Dinah?”

  “Fine up until now,” my mother replied.

  “Look at the bright side,” my aunt told her. “It can’t get any worse, right? But, seriously, any interesting classes?”

  Mom nodded. “Yes, all of them. I especially like my American History for Educators class. Professor Rusty is so interesting.”

  Dad’s eyebrows snapped to attention. He looked over at Aunt True. “I didn’t know Rusty was back in town! How long’s he been teaching at the college?”

  Aunt True suddenly seemed very interested in rearranging her silverware. “Six months or so. Mom mentioned something about it before they left for Africa.”