Amelia Bedelia Means Business

by Herman Parish

  “You folks at home take it from me, Ted Daily. Amelia Bedelia’s lemonade may be a sweeter deal than you’ll get at Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama!”

  Amelia Bedelia was thrilled! Her dad was right. Being on the news was great! Her lemonade was going to be famous, and maybe, just maybe, she’d make enough money to buy half of a new bike.

  That’s when the camera began to jiggle up and down. The cameraman could not hold it steady because he was laughing so hard.

  Back at the diner, Pete said, “Looks like an earthquake at Wild Bill’s!”

  Doris covered her mouth with her hand and gasped, “Gracious! Amelia Bedelia’s sign makes Wild Bill’s cars look like lemons.”

  Pete shut his eyes and shook his head.

  Back at Wild Bill’s, Ted Daily turned around to see what was so funny. He looked at Amelia Bedelia’s sign, too, and doubled over with laughter. Then Wild Bill himself came out to see what was going on. Amelia Bedelia was so impressed to see him in person. He was a real celebrity!

  “Howdy, fellas,” said Wild Bill. “What can I do for you? Are you in the market for a new car?”

  Ted and his cameraman tried not to laugh, but that just made it worse.

  “What’s so funny there, fellas?” asked Wild Bill.

  Ted pointed to Amelia Bedelia’s sign. He was laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

  “Lots of Lemons!” read Wild Bill. “That’s a sweet idea on a hot day like this.” Then the joke dawned on Wild Bill, too.

  “Lots of lemons?” he bellowed. “Lots of lemons? I don’t sell lemons. My cars are the best! My cars are not lemons!”

  “Of course not,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Cars are cars. Lemons are lemons.” She handed him a glass of her lemonade. “Here,” she said. “My treat!”

  “I’m not gonna stand for this!” he said.

  “You don’t have to,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Have a seat. That’s why I brought chairs with me.”

  Wild Bill bent down to look at Amelia Bedelia eye-to-eye. “Little lady,” he said, “are you mockin’ me with your lemonade?”

  “Oh, no, sir, you’re famous,” said Amelia Bedelia. She pointed at the TV camera. “Everyone knows you.”

  Wild Bill looked straight into the camera. “Is that thing on?” he asked. His face turned from white as a ghost to red to white again. He strode toward the camera, took off his cowboy hat, and used all ten gallons of it to cover the camera lens. Television screens all over town went dark.

  Back at the diner, Doris and Pete and the policeman stared up at the blank screen. “Be glad you’re not Amelia Bedelia right now,” Doris whispered to Pete.

  Like Diana’s pink slip, the aftermath of Amelia Bedelia’s lemonade stand fiasco was not at all pretty. Amelia Bedelia took cover in the car showroom until the grown-ups sorted things out.

  The TV station agreed to run Wild Bill’s commercials for the next three months for free. Amelia Bedelia’s parents agreed that she would not sell any more lemonade for thirty days, and then—if she still wanted to run her lemonade business—she would stay a mile away from Wild Bill’s.

  Back home, Amelia Bedelia faced a new worry. “What am I going to do with fifty bags of lemons?” she moaned. “I’ve got five hundred lemons!”

  “Well, you know what they say,” her dad said. “If life hands you lemons, you make . . . uh, you make . . .” His voice trailed off. He stopped before he said that dreaded word, “lemonade.”

  “You make what?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “What do you make?”

  “You make the best of it,” said her mom.

  Amelia Bedelia’s dad looked very relieved, for some reason. Her mom continued, “You can make lemon squares, lemon marmalade, lemon tarts. . . .”

  “Oh, Mom, lemons are tart to begin with,” said Amelia Bedelia. “They’re born tart.”

  “Yes,” said her mom. “That’s why a lemon tart is so tasty. You know what? I’m craving lemon tarts right this minute. Let’s make a big batch!”

  Amelia Bedelia’s mother gathered the ingredients, got out her tart pans, and showed Amelia Bedelia how to make lemon tarts. Amelia Bedelia added extra lemons to the recipe—she had tons to use up, after all!

  Amelia Bedelia and her mother and father each ate a slice of lemon tart as soon as they had cooled. As her dad savored his last bite, he squeezed his eyes shut and shivered. “Wow,” he said, “that was one tart tart!”

  Bingo! Amelia Bedelia knew exactly how she would use up all of her lemons. She would make lemon tarts for everyone she knew, adding extras lemon to make them extra tart and extra special!

  The next day, Amelia Bedelia got right to work. She discovered a small tart pan in the pantry. It was perfect. With just a little bit of help from her mom, she baked a dozen bite-sized tarts. She packed them carefully in her lunch box and put that in the basket of her miserable, rusty, beat-up bike. Then she headed off to Pete’s Diner.

  As she took a shortcut through the park, Amelia Bedelia saw the pink-slip lady sitting on the same bench as before. Only now, instead of having just one dog, she was surrounded by at least a dozen dogs of all shapes and sizes and colors.

  “Hello, Pink-Slip Lady,” Amelia Bedelia called out as she rode up.

  “That’s me!” said Diana, laughing. “And you must be that famous lemonade lady I saw on television, right?”

  Amelia Bedelia parked her bike next to Diana and the dogs.

  “Guess what? I took your advice,” said Diana. “I started my own business, too. Here it is.” She opened her arms to the dogs.

  “I loved walking my own dog so much that I decided to do it for a living. Now I’m a professional dog walker and trainer. See how well behaved they are?”

  “Wow,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Can they do tricks?”

  “Sure,” said Diana. “But usually I need treats to inspire them, and I’m all out. I’ll have to pack more tomorrow.”

  “Do they like the taste of lemons?” asked Amelia Bedelia. She took out her lunch box and gave Diana a tart to taste.

  “Amazing,” said Diana. “It’s so little and yet so tart!”

  “I make a very tart tart,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Do you think the dogs would like them?”

  Diana broke off a piece of lemony tart and put it on top of Buster’s wet nose. He didn’t move.

  He just sat there with the tiny piece balanced on his nose.

  “He doesn’t like it,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “No,” said Diana. “I’ve trained him well. Watch this.” Diana snapped her fingers. Buster sat up, flipped the piece of tart into the air, opened his mouth, and gulped it right down. He wagged his tail happily.

  “He does like it,” said Amelia Bedelia. She looked over at the other dogs. They were looking at Buster and at Amelia Bedelia, then at Buster, then back at her. “What about them? Can they try a tart, too?”

  “How many do you have?” said Diana.

  Amelia Bedelia set aside enough tarts for Pete and Doris. Then Diana showed her how to make the dogs sit and lie down and roll over and jump into the air. When the tarts were all gone, the dogs gazed at Amelia Bedelia and wagged their tails wildly.

  “Look at them,” said Diana. “You made lots of furry friends today. They’ll never forget your tarts or you.”

  “Thanks, Diana,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I love dogs.” She patted them all one last time, got back on her bike, and waved as she rode away.

  “Hey, Amelia Bedelia!” Diana called. “You should start a new business. You could call it Tart Tarts!”

  Amelia Bedelia tried to ring the bell on her handlebars to let Diana know that she loved her suggestion, but it was broken and didn’t make a sound.

  On her way to Pete’s Diner, Amelia Bedelia took a detour by Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama. He wasn’t there, so she left a tart for him with a note. She wrote:

  I’m sorry again about the sign. Here is one lemon I hope you’ll like.

  Yours truly,

  Amelia Bedelia

 
When Amelia Bedelia walked into Pete’s Diner, people turned to look at her.

  I’m embarrassed, she thought. I hope they weren’t here when I stepped on that piece of pie. Then she heard whispering.

  “That’s her!”

  “Her? Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure.”

  “It’s that little lemonade lady.”

  Amelia Bedelia began to blush. She was so happy to finally see Doris. Doris gave her a huge hug.

  “Hi, Amelia Bedelia!” she said. “We saw you on TV. You’re a big star now!”

  Amelia Bedelia was still blushing and had started to explain what had really happened when Pete came out of the kitchen.

  “Look who’s here,” he said. “Step on any pies lately? Or did you come back here to kick our coconut cake?”

  Amelia Bedelia sat on a stool at the counter. “I came to apologize,” she said. “You gave me my first job, but I didn’t do a very good job at it.”

  Pete took a plate of hot french fries from a passing waiter and set it down in front of her.

  “Oh, yummy!” said Amelia Bedelia. “But I don’t have enough money to . . .”

  “Relax,” said Pete. “It’s on the house.”

  “Whose house?” she asked. “On your house?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “They’re on the counter and they’re on me . . . I mean, they’re free.”

  “Thanks!” said Amelia Bedelia. She put her lunch box next to the plate of fries and dug in.

  “What’s that for?” asked Pete. “Did you bring your own lunch?”

  “No,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I have a present for you and Doris.” She opened her lunch box and took out her last two lemon tarts.

  Pete took one look at the tarts and declared, “Time for a coffee break!” He poured two cups of coffee while Doris put the tarts on plates and got two forks.

  “Wow! They look terrific,” said Doris.

  “They taste even better,” said Pete.

  “Do you really like them?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “You bake such delicious brownies—they’re famous!”

  “Hah!” said Pete. “A great lemon tart takes a lot of skill. My brownies are a dime a dozen.”

  “A dime for a dozen?” said Amelia Bedelia. “That’s a good deal!” She dug deep down in her pocket, pulled out a nickel, and put it on the counter. “I’ll take six brownies, to go.”

  Doris chuckled. “Coming right up, hon,” she said. “You’re a better businessman than Pete!”

  “Keep your money, Amelia Bedelia,” said Pete. “Just bring me two dozen of your little lemon tart tarts every day. I’ll pay you fifty cents apiece.”

  Doris did the math quickly in her head. “That’s twelve dollars a day!” she said. “Do you think you can do it?”

  Amelia Bedelia thought it over for at least half a second. Then she gave Doris a thumbs-up and Pete her firmest handshake ever. “You’ve got a deal!”

  Amelia Bedelia headed for home. She felt great. And she had baking to do! She cut through the park, pedaling as fast as she could. She sped up when she saw the policeman. Then she flew past Diana and the dogs. The dogs began to bark and pull at their leashes. Amelia Bedelia looked over her shoulder and waved at them. That was when she ran into Suzanne Scroggins. Literally.

  Both girls were thrown off their bikes. Both bikes crashed to the ground. Amelia Bedelia rolled across the grass and came to a stop at the edge of the flower bed. Suzanne skidded down the sidewalk.

  Amelia Bedelia dusted herself off, then went to see if Suzanne was okay.

  “Are you all right?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “I guess so,” said Suzanne. She pointed at Amelia Bedelia’s elbow. “You’re bleeding.”

  Amelia Bedelia pointed at Suzanne’s knee. “So are you.”

  “Why did you run into me?” Suzanne demanded. “Are you trying to wreck my bike?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “It was an accident.”

  Amelia Bedelia remembered that Doris had tucked a napkin into the box of brownies. “Here.” She gave the napkin to Suzanne. “Wipe your knee.”

  Suzanne looked in the box and said, “Ewwww, gross. What’s that?”

  “They used to be six brownies from Pete’s Diner,” Amelia Bedelia said, laughing. “I must have landed on them when we crashed. They got smushed into one big chocolate pancake.”

  Suzanne smiled. “That’s a good thing. It looks like they broke your fall.”

  Amelia Bedelia tore off a piece of the big brownie and ate it. “They still taste great. I’d love to have this pancake for breakfast. Here, try some, Suzanne.” She gave her a piece.

  “Call me Suzi,” said Suzanne. “Wow—this is yummy!”

  Suzanne said good-bye to Amelia Bedelia and got back on her bike. But when she tried to pedal away, the wheel made a scraping sound.

  “Uh-oh,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “No problem,” said Suzanne. “The bike shop where we got it is right by the park entrance. Do you want to come with me and see if they can fix it?”

  Amelia Bedelia and Suzanne walked their bikes over to the bike shop. It was called The Spokes People. While the owner of the shop, whose name was Marcus Smith, repaired the wheel, they wandered among the rows of bikes for sale. Above her, hanging from the ceiling, Amelia Bedelia saw a beautiful bike. It was just like Suzanne’s, but it was red. “One day, that will be my bike,” she vowed.

  “If either of you ladies wants to get a new bike,” Marcus said, “here is your chance.” He tapped a poster on the wall behind him. It read:

  “Listen to this,” said Suzanne as she read the poster. “‘Decorate your bike for the parade. This year’s theme is individuality. The winner can select the bike of her dreams from The Spokes People.’”

  Amelia Bedelia was excited but wary. So far, signs had given her nothing but problems. Maybe this poster would change her luck. She did have one question. “What kind of decorations can we put on our bikes?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Good question,” he said. “Since the theme is individuality, I guess you can do whatever you want. If I were you, I’d use plenty of imagination and be as original as you can.”

  He spun the wheels on Suzanne’s bike. They turned smoothly. “All done,” said Marcus. “And it’s on the house.”

  “Whose house?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “Your house or Pete’s?”

  “Huh?” Marcus asked.

  “Thanks!” yelled Suzanne, as she and Amelia Bedelia rode off together.

  “Good luck, ladies!” called Marcus.

  As she rode home, Amelia Bedelia got more and more excited about the contest. She told her mom and dad all about it.

  “When I win,” she said, “I’ll get a free bike, and you won’t have to pay for half.”

  “That’s nice, honey,” said her mom. “We’ll add the money we would have given you to your college fund instead. We’re so proud of you. You’re doing a great job trying to earn your half!”

  In her excitement, Amelia Bedelia had forgotten all about baking tarts for Pete’s.

  “Hey, I got a job!” she announced. “Pete liked my tarts so much that he wants me to bake two dozen a day. He’ll sell them at the diner.”

  “Congratulations!” said her mom. “Lots of people go to Pete’s. Did you know that the mayor eats at the diner every day? If he likes your tarts, your business could be a big hit. The best advertising is by word of mouth.”

  “Mom’s right,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father. “You know, winning a contest is a long shot.”

  “Dad, I’m decorating a bike,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Not playing basketball.”

  “Hey,” said her dad, “I have an idea. Why don’t you decorate your bike like a giant lemon tart? You’ll attract more customers and make more money. Then you can buy your bike. That’s a sure thing.”

  “You sure that’s sure?” said Amelia Bedelia. She turned to her mom. “What do you think?”

  “That’s a tough one,”
said her mother. “I can see Dad’s point of view. But I also see that you want to try and win the contest.” Amelia Bedelia’s mother smiled. “That means there’s only one way to settle this. Get ready, you two.”

  She took a quarter out of her purse and flipped it high in the air.

  “Tails!” shouted Amelia Bedelia.

  “Heads!” called out Amelia Bedelia’s dad.

  Heads it was.

  So Amelia Bedelia took her dad’s advice. She worked on her bike right up to the morning of the parade.

  Both sides of the front wheel looked like giant lemon slices. Both sides of the back wheel looked like giant lemon tarts.

  On her back, Amelia Bedelia wore a sign that looked like a mouthwatering slice of tart. On the slice she had written, TRY A BITE! Next to the word “bite,” she had cut out a big toothy bite. It was a great white shark–size bite.

  To top it all off, Amelia Bedelia constructed a papier-mâché lemon to cover her helmet. She had painted it yellow. It even had a stem and bright green leaves that fluttered in the breeze.

  “If I were you,” said her dad, “I would take along some lemon tarts and hand them out to people as samples. That way you can peddle your tarts all over town.”

  Her dad chuckled to himself. Amelia Bedelia guessed that he must have made some kind of joke about being on a bike and selling tarts. She didn’t have time to figure it out. And from the way her mom was shaking her head and rolling her eyes, it surely wasn’t worth understanding, anyway.

  Amelia Bedelia rode her bike to the town square, where the parade was assembling. Suzanne was already there. When Amelia Bedelia saw Suzanne’s bike, she was speechless. She felt exactly the way she felt the very first time she saw T.H.E. BIKE.