When I sell a bunch of my art to some crazy rich lady, I’m going to build a moat around our house and hire a footman whose only job is to raise and lower the front drawbridge. He would also have a giant sword and armor, because that would look fierce.
5
THE FINAL DETAILS
“I have a question,” Lucy said to her dad later that night, after she’d gotten her brothers settled into bed. As always, she’d read Herb a chapter of The Penderwicks (the book they were reading aloud together), and then tucked his favorite stuffed pig under his pillow, just the way he liked. “So this food truck experiment of yours is supposed to last a month, right?”
“Ours,” Dad corrected.
“Huh?”
“It’s our experiment, Lulu,” Dad pointed out. “Not just mine. We’re doing this in Mom’s honor, as a family.”
“Okay…ours.” Lucy sighed, still not entirely convinced this was a sane or full-fledged idea that would actually stick. “You still haven’t explained how you’re suddenly able to take all this time off work. You never take vacation. Science conferences don’t count.”
Lucy thought about the only trips they’d taken after Mom died. For Dad’s work, they’d visited a couple of fun places, like San Francisco, San Diego, and San Antonio. But none of those trips had actually been any fun at all. When they got to San Francisco, they didn’t get to visit the redwood forest or traipse across the Golden Gate Bridge, as they’d all been hoping and expecting. Instead, the three Peach kids sat at a round table in a windowless banquet hall in a Ramada Inn, snacking on a platter of cookies while they colored pictures of famous monuments.
In San Diego they didn’t go to the world famous San Diego Zoo (like Dad had promised) or even so much as dip their feet in the ocean. Instead, they watched a documentary about zoo animals in a stale hotel room while their father oohed and aahed over chunks of soil someone had pulled out of the ocean floor. (Freddy had done some digging, and helpfully explained to his siblings, “Those long tubes of soil are called cores, and they help scientists understand climate change and other stuff.”)
When they drove into San Antonio, the Peach kids had pressed their noses against the glass windows, peering at the Alamo as they drove past on their way to the convention center that would host the Mysteries of Paleoclimate! conference. But they hadn’t stopped to get out and explore, so that trip had been another bust.
“Ah, yes,” Dad said, pulling his eyebrows together. “Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”
Lucy snapped, “You haven’t taken a single day off work in two years. Not since Mom died.” In the first few weeks after they lost Mom forever, it had seemed like Dad might be capable of handling everything. That he’d be willing and able to pick up the bruised and smushed remnants of their family and try to reshape them into something new. Because Mom had died from cancer, he’d said at the time, there was plenty of time for him to prepare. He’d been warned it was coming, and that was supposed to have made her death easier to handle.
Lucy had also had time to prepare; yet she never felt that made Mom’s passing any easier. In some ways, knowing what was coming had been worse—because she’d had all those months to worry about what was going to happen, and when. And then, after it actually happened and Mom was gone for good, Lucy was faced with the reality of the situation and the day-to-day absence that no one could have prepared her for.
Nobody had been able to warn her about all the days she’d forget, come home from school, and—for one passing second—think about sitting down to tell her mom all about her day. Then she’d remember, and that rock would drop in her stomach again, and she’d start the cycle all over.
But the hardest part was watching how Dad dealt with his grief in the first weeks after Mom’s death. It made Lucy feel like she wasn’t allowed to be sad. His way of coping made Lucy feel like knowing Mom was going to die should have made it all easier somehow.
Those first few weeks after the funeral had been awful. But then, about three weeks after she died, Dad disappeared, too. That’s when life got even worse. Dad’s sadness caught up with him, and he buried himself in work to hide from the reality of their situation and—poof!—evaporated from daily life altogether.
That’s when Lucy took over. Watching how her Dad unraveled in the months that followed, she had wished she was allowed to wallow and be sad, too. But Lucy had two little brothers that needed someone to take care of them, and no one else had volunteered to do the job. Their only real family—Great Aunt Lucinda, who was Dad’s aunt and the person Lucy had been named after—lived in a giant mansion across town, and she had the Peach kids over sometimes to play cards or eat brunch with her and her collection of small, naughty dogs. Aunt Lucinda was kind and fun and one of Lucy’s favorite people on earth, but she was also old, so it’s not as if she could do much to help. So Lucy had toughened up and dealt with the day-to-day stuff as best she could.
“Has it been that long? Not since your mother died? Really?” Dad blanched as this fact hit him square on. “Well, as you know, work has been crazy. But the thing is, I’ve been due for a sabbatical for quite some time now.”
“What’s a sabbatical?” Lucy asked, grabbing a container of strawberries out of the fridge. She washed them, then began to slice them into a bowl for the morning. Herb and Freddy loved having fresh-cut strawberries to put on their cereal. It was a sneaky way to get them to eat more fruit.
“Every few years, I’m granted a leave of absence from the university,” Dad explained, “to work on my research and writing and take a break from the everyday things that come up with teaching and my graduate students and so forth.”
Lucy looked up from the cutting board and cocked her head. “So let me get this straight: In theory, you could have taken a leave of absence from work anytime over the past two years? To have more time at home, and maybe take one of the fun family trips you promised, or even just be around for dinner a few nights a week?”
“I suppose, well…yes, I suppose that’s true,” Dad said, not seeming to notice Lucy’s tone of voice. “But I guess the good news is, I have that time now.”
Lucy nodded. That was something at least. It had taken nearly two years, but their dad finally realized how much he was missing. “I’m glad you finally decided to take the time.”
“To be totally honest, Lucy”—Dad cleared his throat—“I’m going to tell you something that I’d prefer you not share with your brothers. I—well, I wouldn’t want them to worry.”
Lucy stood totally still, strawberry in hand, waiting for whatever it was her father had to say. She hated secrets, but she’d found it was usually better to be in on one than to be the one left out. Though she wasn’t sure that was going to be true in this case.
“You see,” Dad said, refusing to make eye contact with her, “the head of my department felt now might be a good time for me to take a short break. She and I agreed that there’s never a good time to be away, but this is as good a time as any. She thought it would be best for everyone if I take this summer off to figure some things out.”
“So,” Lucy began carefully, as she tried to understand what her dad was telling her, “this is a forced sabbatical? Your boss made you take this summer off?” She paused and stared at him. “Are you still getting paid?”
“I am getting paid.” Dad nodded slowly. “And yes, I was asked to take some time off, but…” He shook his head, looking like he was at a loss for words.
Lucy set the knife on the counter and considered this new piece of information. The so-called Great Peach Experiment that Freddy and Herb were so excited about? It had only come up because their dad had basically been told he wasn’t allowed to go to work for the summer.
Dad hadn’t chosen this. A summer spent together, working toward a fun family goal, had been forced on him.
“So you didn’t have any choice in the matter?” Lucy asked. “You
’re only spending the summer with us because you literally don’t have anything else to do?”
Dad winced. “Now, Lucy, that’s not entirely fair. Don’t think of it like that. Let’s think of this trip as a kind of serendipity. I got the summer off, and I’m trying to make the most of it.” He sighed, dropped his elbows on the table, and rested his forehead in his palms. “The thing is, I realize we haven’t had much fun time together as a family these past few years. I see this summer as a chance to change that. And in the process, we can fulfill one of your mother’s dreams.”
Lucy heard what her dad was saying, but she was struggling to believe it. She was trying to be positive about this trip; really, she was. But it was very difficult to watch her brothers getting so excited about something, knowing full well that her dad was sure to abandon ship when the going got rough. As soon as he had the chance to disappear again, he would. She’d seen it happen, over and over again for the past two years. All the choir concerts he’d promised to be there for, the family walks on weekends, the weekly dinner as a family…none of it had worked out at all the way he’d promised it would. When it was Mom-and-Dad they had always been there, but now that it was just-Dad, there was always some excuse.
Still, she didn’t have much choice but to go along with this very risky whim. And if she really had to be a part of this family experiment, the least she could do was try to make the most of it. Maybe what Freddy told her and Herb earlier that night was true. Maybe, Freddy had said, if this experiment goes well, Dad will decide he wants to spend more time with us. Lucy could only hope her brother’s wish would come true.
She plucked a berry slice out of the bowl and chewed it thoughtfully. “Okay.” She sighed. “Fair enough. But here’s another question: Do you honestly think we can learn everything we need to know about running a food truck in the next few days? And be ready to compete in the Food Truck Festival in less than a month? I imagine it’s not a simple thing.”
Dad finally looked up and began to laugh. “Of course not! Your mom actually did a lot of research for us before she died,” he said excitedly. “I’ve just had to put her plans and idea in motion.” He then went on to tell Lucy that all those evenings she thought her dad had been busy working extra extra late the past few weeks, he had actually already been on his sabbatical. He hadn’t been at the lab; he’d been researching and completing all the necessary steps to get their food truck up and running. “I’ve already secured all the permits and licenses we need, and sorted out the other legal stuff,” he told her. He had also taken an online class on food truck management, shadowed a downtown food truck owner over the course of several busy afternoons, and ensured the truck he’d ordered was up to code.
“So glad you’re on top of everything,” Lucy grumbled, frustrated. Her dad had been lying to them for weeks! “Sounds like you’ve got all the most important stuff covered.”
“Thank you!” Dad said, beaming. “I really think I do!”
A moment later, Herb called down the stairs, “Can I have a glass of water? My throat is itchy.”
Lucy glanced at her dad, who was now hunched over his laptop and had—it seemed—suddenly gone deaf.
Herb yelled, “Helloooooo? Luuuucy?”
Lucy slid the bowl of strawberries into the fridge, then filled a plastic cup with water and one ghost-shaped ice cube. Just the way Herb liked it. Then she headed upstairs to tuck her brother in tight.
Dear Great Aunt Lucinda,
I’m sorry we didn’t have time to come over to say goodbye in person before we left. I wish you could have tasted a slice of your famous peach pie—Dad’s actually a pretty good baker. Who knew?? As soon as we get back from this food truck road trip, I’ll bring you a piece so you can taste it, and so we can get our Hearts tournament (vs. the boys!) going again. Say hi to the dogs. I miss them already.
Love,
Lucy
PS: I hope you find some other card-playing friends to fill in for me and my brothers while we’re gone—but don’t let them eat all that yummy chocolate your friend sent from Switzerland, ok??
6
BETTY’S PIES
First thing Monday morning, as soon as the truck was prepped and packed and their pie recipe perfected, the massive Peach Pie Truck rumbled out of the driveway, heading toward Betty’s Pies on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Though their dad wasn’t usually an off-the-planned-route kind of guy, Freddy had managed to convince him that it made sense to kick off their summer experiment by driving thirty minutes north so they could have a bellyful of Minnesota’s own world-famous pie-for-breakfast.
When they arrived at Betty’s, it took a ridiculously long time for their Dad to park the food truck in the restaurant’s lot. Freddy could tell Dad hadn’t gotten used to driving their new vehicle yet. First, he took the turn too tightly. Then he hit a patch of grass and bumped over a curb. Eventually he was in such a pickle that he had to back out of the parking lot and go at it again. This process went on for a good five minutes. By the time he finally managed to ease the giant peach beast around the corner, traffic had backed up on the highway and several cars were honking at him in a very un-Minnesota-nice way.
Inside the restaurant, Freddy couldn’t wait to share the results of some of the pie research he’d done that weekend. He told his family that Betty’s was famous for cream pies and crunch pies. “I say we try the turtle, coconut, maple walnut, French cherry, caramel apple crunch, and five-layer chocolate pie. A slice of each of those, and maybe we can also order some of the plain fruit pies, all to share?”
Lucy had her nose buried in one of the many books she planned to read during the trip, and barely looked up long enough to grunt out something that sounded like an approval. Herb and Dad both shrugged. Freddy had to pinch his own leg to keep himself from growling in frustration. It seemed to him that no one else in the family truly cared about this experiment’s success. Were the other Peaches planning to go into this summer adventure without any kind of game plan? What kind of entrepreneur, he wanted to scream out, just jumps into a business venture without doing some research, testing, and hypothesizing about what products would be most likely to sell?
Freddy had visited their mom’s lab plenty of times when he was little, and he knew that the scientists she worked with did all kinds of tests and experiments before they could move to the next step of a product’s development—that was the fun part, Mom had always said. Their food truck venture wasn’t that different from one of their mom’s experiments. He knew there must be a process they should follow, and he wasn’t even considered the smart one in the family.
When their pie order arrived, everyone took a slice and dug in. Then they passed the pieces left to right so they could sample each of Betty’s most famous creations. Freddy took notes as he ate, and began to brainstorm some fun flavor combinations they could try offering on the Peach Pie Truck menu once business was really rolling.
By the time they got to their fourth plate pass, Herb shoved his plate away and groaned. “No more pie.”
“Nonsense,” Dad said, pushing Herb’s plate back in front of him. “This pie is fantastic. Keep eating.”
Herb moaned. Lucy glanced up. She folded the corner of her page and set her book to the side just as Herb proclaimed, “My tummy hurts.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s important not to give up when the going gets rough,” Dad said cheerfully. Freddy caught Lucy glaring at their dad from across the table, but Dad was totally oblivious. He nudged Herb’s fork and nodded. “Come on, Herbie. We all need to do our part.”
“Mmmnnn,” Herb muttered. He poked his fork into the slice of five-layer chocolate pie and scowled. “Pie is poopy.”
“Dad,” Lucy said calmly, nibbling a chunk of crust, “don’t forget about Herb’s sensitive stomach. He always gets sick when he has too much sugar.”
“Only one way a sensitive stomach will get stronger: challenge it
,” Dad said, plopping a chunk of Old-Fashioned Apple into his mouth. “Put your belly to the test, Herb. Ignore the pain. Shove in a little more pie and force your tummy to tolerate it!”
“But—” Lucy began.
Before she could finish her sentence, Herb jumped up from the table. He raced across the restaurant, holding a fist in front of his face as he beelined for the bathroom.
“I think Herb’s gonna lose it,” Freddy said. Then he grabbed Herb’s half-full plate and drove his fork into the five-layer chocolate pie. With a shrug, he scooped up a huge bite. “More for me.”
From the Sketchbook of Freddy Peach:
PIES TO TRY
7
TRUCK TROUBLE
Though riding in the bright peach truck was hot (no air-conditioning) and deeply embarrassing (especially after their dad put on his giant, brimmed sun hat), Lucy found herself actually enjoying the drive from Betty’s Pies to Minneapolis. She was the only Peach kid tall enough to sit up front next to Dad, while her brothers had to wedge their bodies into the strange and uncomfortable-looking passenger seats behind them. Herb’s new pet mice were nestled into the only leftover space between the two back seats, looking confused and miserable inside their little glass fish tank enclosure.
Lucy had already decided she liked road trips. It wasn’t often that she got four and a half hours to sit and read without having to deal with one of her brothers’ messes or listening to them bicker about which shape of noodles she should cook for lunch. And this was the first summer since their mom got sick that Dad was making any kind of effort to spend quality time together as a family. Even though the time off had been forced on him, Dad had chosen to spend the time with them…and that was something.
For the past two summers, Lucy had been tasked with taking care of her brothers while their dad disappeared. But this summer, whether he’d realized it yet or not, Dad had become part of the equation again. And Lucy planned to make the most of her newfound free time while pursuing her summer reading goal.
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