She could check on her parents’ trip. She could read. She could play games on her tablet, post photos of Alfred the Goat to Instagram, call Jasmine.
Was the whole summer going to be like this?
Effie felt desperate. She needed something to do.
Operating on reflex, she pulled out her phone, opened Yelp, and found something surprising: Sadie’s Books, 240 W. Locust St. Books, coffee, stationery. OPEN NOW.
The one review—from somebody named Maureen—was five stars and wordy. It’ll be faster to go there than to read all this, she thought.
And she was right.
Penn Creek was so small you could ride a bike from end to end in five minutes—even if you weren’t that good on a bike yet. Three minutes after she put her phone away, Effie rode into the parking lot of Sadie’s Books.
On a street of vacant lots and run-down mobile homes, the freshly painted store looked almost magical. On either side of glass entrance doors were big, clean picture windows with colorful displays of bestsellers. Over the door was a professionally made sign that read SADIE’S in red cursive and BOOKS in black block letters.
The only vehicle in the parking lot was a blue van, so Effie was glad to see lights on inside, glad when the door yielded to her push, glad to hear the bell that tinkled as she crossed the threshold. All of a sudden she had a good feeling. Finding Sadie’s might be like finding a friend.
CHAPTER
11
Inside, the store was bright and busy with books and other interesting things. Old Motown music played from unseen speakers. In an easy chair by the front door sat a black-and-white cat, which raised its pink nose as Effie approached.
“Hello, cat.” Effie tickled it between the ears. “Are you in charge here?”
The cat didn’t answer, just washed its face. Effie could smell coffee. If there’s coffee, I bet there’re cookies or something else a hungry person could eat for breakfast, she thought. “Hello?” she called.
“Hello?” someone answered. It was a man, and he sounded surprised.
“Where are you?” Effie asked.
“Here,” said the man at the same time his head popped up from behind a counter.
Effie held out her hand. “I’m Effie Starr Zook,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you. Do you have any cookies? I have been riding my bike.”
“Pendleton Odbody,” said the man.
“Huh,” said Effie. Was this the man’s name? Or was he speaking another language, a language in which “Pendleton Odbody” meant “Yes, we have cookies,” or “Sadly, no cookies today.”
“I’m confused,” Effie said. “Is your name Pendleton Odbody?”
“It is now,” the man answered. He was broad-shouldered with a mass of black braids that tumbled to his shoulders. He was dressed in khakis and a long-sleeved button-down shirt made from the puckery fabric called seersucker. He wore square glasses with wire frames. He was black.
Effie herself was white. So were her aunt and uncle. So was Moriah’s family. So, now that she thought about it, was every other person she had seen since she’d arrived in Central Pennsylvania. This was something she had not thought about till now. Besides the abundance of green and the lack of crowds, it was another difference between here and where she lived in Brooklyn.
What’s up with that? she wondered.
But it probably wasn’t something to mention to Mr. Odbody at this exact moment. After all, they hardly knew each other. So what she said was, “Oatmeal cookies would be good. My uncle Ted says they are healthier than other kinds because they have fiber, and fiber aids the digestion. My uncle calls me ‘sprite.’ I don’t know why. I haven’t eaten breakfast.”
Mr. Odbody’s response was to raise his eyebrows, and Effie was afraid he might think she was the kind of person who only went to bookstores to eat. “I also like to read,” she added.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” said Mr. Odbody, “because I happen to carry books. And I have oatmeal cookies, too. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Effie thought coffee was gross, but Mr. Odbody dressed so nicely that she wanted to impress him with her maturity.
“That would be lovely,” she said. “And I brought money, just in case you were worrying that I might be penniless.”
“I wasn’t worrying,” he said. “Besides, I don’t mind extending credit to good customers.”
“How do you know I’m a good customer?” Effie asked. Then she remembered what Mr. Yoder had said about this being a small town and her mom and aunt being celebrities. “Oh—do you know my family?”
“Your aunt and uncle own this building,” he said, and when Effie looked surprised, he added, “They own quite a few properties in town. But I can’t really say I know them. I just send the rent check every month. Anyway, that’s not why I think you’re a good customer. I’m trusting my gut on that one.” He smiled.
Effie smiled back.
Mr. Odbody put two cookies on a plate and poured a mug of coffee. “Have a seat in our two-table café. Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Effie said, doing her best to talk the way her mother and aunt did. When he sat down, she asked, “Is it pleasant to work in a bookstore?”
“It would be more pleasant if I didn’t have bills to pay,” Mr. Odbody said.
Effie’s rosy vision of herself as benevolent fairy princess returned. “I can buy some books besides the coffee and cookies,” she said.
Mr. Odbody laughed. “The coffee and cookies are on the house. But I do keep my young readers section stocked. One of my best customers is about your age. She likes high drama—The Hunger Games, that kind of thing.”
“I’m reading Pippi Longstocking,” Effie said. “It has drama. There’s a pirate. Have you read any good books lately?”
“Anna Karenina,” said Mr. Odbody, “for about the tenth time. It’s about unhappy families.”
Effie remembered seeing Anna Karenina around her house when her mother’s book club was reading it. “That book is really long,” she recalled, “and it’s sad. Are you sad?”
“Not right this minute,” said Mr. Odbody.
Effie decided coffee tasted okay with sugar in it, and the cookies were delicious. While she ate, she asked Mr. Odbody polite questions about himself. He was thirty-five. He had been married once. Not anymore. No kids. Originally from Johnstown, Pennsylvania, which was in Cambria County, about seventy miles away. His grandmother—Sadie Pendleton—had lived on a farm near Penn Creek. He had named the bookstore after her because she loved to read. His favorite movie was It’s a Wonderful Life.
“My goodness,” he said at last. “I’m not usually such a talker. And now I’ve got books to unpack. You feel free to take your time, though, and look around. Let me know what you find.”
Sadie’s Books had an excellent selection of children’s classics. Effie pulled The Tale of Peter Rabbit from the shelf and reread it. Then she looked at her favorite poems from Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne. Next to a book she had read and liked, Saffy’s Angel, she found a series called The Exiles, written by the same author. Effie had a credit card with her name on it, and she always carried cash for what her parents called “incidentals.” She didn’t know if books counted as incidentals or not, but she paid cash for the paperbacks.
Mr. Odbody rang up the purchase. “What will you do with the rest of your day? Penn Creek must be dull compared to New York City,” he said.
“I’m not sure,” Effie said. “I have to check in with my parents. I guess you know about their trip. And maybe I’ll finish Pippi Longstocking.”
“Sometime you might want to go to the Museum of the Town of Penn Creek,” said Mr. Odbody. “It’s hardly the Met, but there is a room devoted to your great-grandfather. Most people say he put this town on the map.”
“He was a great man,” said Effie. “And Mr. Yoder told me that thing about putting the town on the map. Do you know Mr. Yoder?”
“Beards for America—BFA,” said Mr. Odbo
dy.
“That’s the one,” she said. “Will you vote for him for mayor?”
“Probably not,” said Mr. Odbody.
“My aunt says he’s worse than a rattlesnake,” said Effie.
“I don’t know about that,” Mr. Odbody said. “You’re pretty well informed for someone who’s only been in town a few days.”
“I ask a lot of questions,” Effie said.
“I noticed that,” Mr. Odbody said.
“I have one more, too,” Effie said. “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow?”
CHAPTER
12
It was okay.
And it was okay for her to come back the day after that and the day after that. In fact, Effie’s days settled into a happy routine. She spent her mornings at Sadie’s Books and her afternoons checking Sunspot I’s progress, chatting with Jasmine, reading, and taking walks around Zook Farm with Boris.
Her aunt and uncle she saw mainly at hors d’oeuvres time. Because she could tell they were worried about something—something to do with deeds and titles and all those boring grown-up words—she gave up pestering them with questions.
In fact, their conversations became what her parents would have called civilized. They talked about current events and books and movies. They talked about geography and the places her parents were visiting. Before they had settled down at Zook Farm, her aunt and uncle had traveled all over the world. If Effie named a place on the map, they had a story to tell.
As always, they were nice to her. Her uncle gave her two cherries; her aunt asked about her day. Did they listen when she answered? It was hard to tell. Anyway, they never asked for details, and somehow Effie never got around to mentioning Sadie’s. At first there was no particular reason for that. Later, she liked the idea of Sadie’s being something private. It wasn’t really a secret. It was just something she kept to herself.
Meanwhile, Mr. Odbody showed her how to work the cash register and the coffee machine, taught her the prices of the baked goods, let her read advance copies of new kids’ books and decide which ones he ought to stock. She fed the bookstore cat, whose name was Chop Suey. She let him nap in her lap while she read.
Sometimes when there were no customers, they listened to baseball games on the radio. Mr. Odbody had played in college, and Effie played softball. Mr. Odbody was a Pirates fan. Effie rooted for the Mets. They agreed to disagree.
“I feel bad that I can’t pay you when you’ve been so much help,” Mr. Odbody said one day.
“It’s a whole lot better than doing nothing,” Effie told him. “Besides, my family is well fixed.”
Mr. Odbody laughed. “That’s an expression you don’t hear much. But a person, well fixed or not, should be paid for her labor.”
“Can I ask you something?” Effie said.
“You always do,” Mr. Odbody said.
“How come you opened a nice bookstore in such a small town? Wouldn’t it do better in a city?”
“As I think I mentioned, my grandmother lived around here,” Mr. Odbody replied. “So I wanted to see what the town was all about. Also, I got a good deal on the space. This building started out as an auto garage, and then it became an antique store. For a long while, it was empty. Your aunt and uncle were happy to have me come in and fix it up.”
“Do you worry when there’s not much business?” Effie asked him.
Mr. Odbody shrugged. “Everyone worries,” he said, “but I have reason to believe that brighter times are just around the corner.”
Some days Sadie’s had more customers than others. Tourists stopped by, most of them city people who thought Penn Creek was picturesque. A frequent customer was Mrs. Patrick McMinty, the widow of the mayor who had died shoveling snow and also the “Maureen” who had written the review on Yelp.
Mrs. McMinty did not match Effie’s expectations about widows. She wasn’t weepy; she was talkative. She carried herself grandly, even though her lipstick was often applied unevenly, and her usual outfit was sneakers with baggy shorts and T-shirts bearing messages like VOTE GOP. If she was sad living alone, she kept it to herself.
Effie thought Mrs. McMinty must be about Grandpa Bob’s age—the age he would’ve been, that is, if he weren’t dead. Aunt Clare and Mom had been the only children of his first marriage, which broke up when they were little. As adults, they saw him only rarely. When he died, he was wed to Wife No. 5, and Wives No. 2–4 had given him additional children. He used to laugh when he said he could hardly keep track.
Grandpa Bob had put in an appearance at Effie’s christening—there was a photo to prove it. But with so many other grandchildren and step-grandchildren, he had never seen Effie again. Some years he, or the current wife, had remembered to send a birthday card.
Now Effie wondered if Grandpa Bob could have something to do with the bad blood. She knew for sure that he was born in Los Angeles and moved with his parents to Zook Farm when he was little. Putting all this together, Effie asked Mrs. McMinty if she had known him or his parents—her great-grandparents in other words, Gus and Effie Zook.
“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. McMinty was sitting at a chair in the bookstore’s two-table café. Effie had just refilled her mug of coffee. “Your grandfather, may he rest in peace, went to high school here with me. Of course he was several years ahead of me. He couldn’t wait to get away, to move back to California, and that is just what he did.”
“California is where my mom and my aunt are from,” Effie said.
Mrs. McMinty nodded. “But I used to see them sometimes when they came to visit their grandparents. My goodness, those girls were adorable.” She sighed. “So unfortunate about Gus and Effie’s marriage in the end.”
Effie’s ears perked up. Was this a clue to Effie the First’s sad photograph? “What happened to their marriage?”
Mrs. McMinty’s face froze momentarily. Then she took a quick sip of coffee. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. Forget I mentioned it.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Effie asked.
“Try holding your breath,” Mrs. McMinty said. “If you deprive your brain of oxygen, it will cause your memory to fail.”
“I never heard that before,” Effie said.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Mrs. McMinty said, “because I just made it up. Still, it stands to reason it might work.”
Effie agreed but didn’t test the theory. She didn’t actually want to forget what Mrs. McMinty had said. There is a secret in Penn Creek, she thought, and there is a conspiracy of grown-ups to hide it too. What is it they don’t want me to know?
Washing the dishes that day, she considered the clues. Her great-grandmother’s sadness was one. The bad blood between her family and the Yoders was another—especially added to Mr. Yoder’s admiration for Gus Zook. Now there was also Mrs. McMinty’s comment about something unfortunate in her great-grandparents’ marriage.
What did it all add up to, anyway?
Effie dried the dishes, then put the plates back on the shelf and the mugs back on their hooks. Wiping down the counter, she thought of something else. It was mysterious too, but probably unrelated.
Why hadn’t her aunt and uncle ever told her about Sadie’s Books or brought her here? Was it only another case of their not knowing what a kid might like?
Or was it part of the secret?
CHAPTER
13
The week before the Fourth of July, Mrs. McMinty came into Sadie’s carrying a flyer for the Penn Creek Annual Fourthfest.
Effie was behind the counter at the two-table café. “I can tack that up on our bulletin board,” she offered.
Mrs. McMinty thanked her. “Are you planning to go?”
“If my aunt and uncle will take me,” Effie said.
“It is not to be missed,” said Mrs. McMinty.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mr. Odbody came in from the storeroom with a carton of books, which he set down on his desk. “The tea is on the house today.”
“Don’t mind
if I do.” Mrs. McMinty made herself comfortable at a table. “But if you give your wares away, how will this place ever stay in business?”
“The important thing is to keep good customers coming back,” said Mr. Odbody. “Effie, do you mind getting the tea?”
“Sure thing,” said Effie.
“There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask.” Mrs. McMinty turned her chair to face Mr. Odbody. “Long ago, there was a woman by the name of Pendleton who lived in Penn Creek.”
“Was there?” Mr. Odbody was busy opening the carton of books.
Effie brought over a tray with hot water and tea bags. “Thank you, dear,” Mrs. McMinty said, “and yes, indeed there was. Here is the interesting thing. Like you, this woman was of the African American persuasion.”
From Mr. Odbody’s throat came a sound like a stifled belch, which soon became a coughing fit.
“Are you okay?” Effie asked. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
Still coughing, Mr. Odbody nodded. Effie got him the water. While he drank, Effie turned to Mrs. McMinty and said, “I don’t think ‘African American persuasion’ is the right way to say that.”
“I was trying to be culturally sensitive,” Mrs. McMinty said.
Mr. Odbody cleared his throat. “I believe we all share the same culture,” he said. “As for my skin, ‘black’ will do, even though ‘chocolate brown’ would be more accurate.”
“I think you are a very nice color, Mr. Odbody,” said Effie.
“I think you are a nice color too,” said Mr. Odbody.
“My great-grandmother was Greek,” said Effie. “It was a long time ago, but I take after her.”
“Heredity’s a funny thing,” said Mr. Odbody. “There’s no telling which ancestor a person might favor.”
Now Mrs. McMinty cleared her throat. Effie had already noticed she did not like to be left out of conversations. “As I was saying,” she went on. “There was this family here called Pendleton. Do you suppose you could be related?”
Effie Starr Zook Has One More Question Page 4
