by Megan Atwood
She entered in the safe’s combination—the year the orchard first started—and swung open the door.
The safe was empty.
Sarah gasped. She put her hand in the safe and felt all around. There was nothing in it. All the money was gone.
Sarah shrieked and yelled, “WHAT IN THE HOLY . . .”
Olive, Peter, and Lizzie came rushing in.
“Sarah, are you okay?” Lizzie asked.
Sarah shook her head. “No. No, I’m not okay. Look.” She pointed to the safe. Lizzie bent down, looked in, then stood straight up, her face white as a sheet.
Olive asked, “What’s going on?” She bent down and looked inside the safe. “Is there normally stuff in there?”
Sarah groaned. “Oh, only all our money. You know. Something small like that.”
Olive’s eyes got huge behind her glasses. Peter made an O with his mouth. Lizzie squeaked.
“All of it?” Olive asked.
Sarah didn’t even answer. She slumped against the metal table. She and Lizzie looked at each other, fully, maybe for the first time in weeks.
Lizzie said, “That means . . .”
Sarah just nodded.
Olive asked impatiently, “That means what?”
Sarah didn’t understand why SHE was impatient. So she answered back just as impatiently, “It means that we can’t have a zombie hayride after all.”
Olive pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh. That’s all. I thought you meant you knew the thief. Because we’ve been robbed and that’s the big deal, you know.”
Sarah stood up straight. “Duh! I was just jumping ahead to what it actually means for us.” Even Lizzie looked at Olive like she was from a different planet.
Olive looked at both of them. “It just doesn’t seem like it’s that—” But Peter elbowed her and gave her a look. She gave him a look back. Finally, she seemed to get it.
“Oh, this is something you’ve wanted for a long time so it’s a big deal to you,” Olive finally said.
Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she saw Lizzie give a sad smile to Olive. For the first time, Sarah wondered if Lizzie was sad that she and Sarah had grown so far apart. And then was sad that they wouldn’t have the zombie hayride to bring them back together.
Or worse. They wouldn’t be able to run the ice cream stand at all anymore. Even though it had been uncomfortable for her for two weeks, the thought of it being taken away made her shiver.
Lizzie said, “We have to . . . ,” but she trailed off.
Sarah knew she was thinking they had to tell Lizzie’s parents. But an idea was growing in her head. “I don’t know, Lizzie. Maybe not.”
Olive shook her head and half-smiled. “People say this to Peter and me and now I think I get it: ‘You know, the rest of us can’t read your minds!’ ” She looked genuinely amused. Sarah looked at Lizzie. Olive went on, “You guys do that, you know. Lizzie will start a sentence and not finish it, and then, Sarah, you’ll answer her like she did. We don’t know the rest of the sentence. We’re over here, left out.”
Sarah gaped at them. She clenched her fists. “YOU feel left out? YOU—” she started.
But Lizzie interrupted. “Sarah, what did you mean? What are you thinking?”
Sarah closed her eyes and breathed. She tried to imagine what it was like for Olive and Peter, the way her mom had told her to. She tried to hear what Olive had just said, that they thought Lizzie and Sarah had a special relationship. That part felt good. So maybe there was something to work with here. . . .
“Listen, you guys,” Sarah said. “We need to tell Mr. and Ms. G about the money. But not yet. I say we do a little investigation of our own first. If we can’t find the money in the next day or so, we tell your parents, Lizzie. But we have to give this a shot. What do you think? We can”—she swallowed a little—“work together to find the culprit.”
It was quieter after Sarah’s speech than she’d hoped. She shifted on her feet. Lizzie chewed on her finger.
But Peter smiled. “Yep. I think that’s a great idea.”
Olive shrugged. Then a shy smile grew on her face. “We should definitely get the scoop on what happened!”
Sarah groaned, but she also laughed a little. That was a little funny, anyway. Not too bad for a new girl. Who saw everything wrong. And was a know-it-all.
Lizzie was still quiet.
“Lizzie?” Sarah was used to interpreting what Lizzie meant, but this type of quiet was a new thing. Finally, Lizzie stopped chewing her finger, her face more determined than Sarah had ever seen it.
“We are DEFINITELY a team,” Lizzie said. She looked at Sarah when she said it. “Always. Let’s do it.” Then she smiled so big, it made every single one of them smile back.
After some conversation, they had all decided it was probably Beckett. He was the only one who had asked about how much money the stand made.
Everybody was convinced except Lizzie.
“It has to be him,” Sarah said. “He probably snuck back there while we were getting our ice cream. Who else could it be?”
“Lots of people,” Lizzie said, crossing her arms.
Sarah groaned and bit back about a thousand things she wanted to say. Things like “I think you just like him.” And “I don’t think you’re being smart about this.” And “I really want your T-shirt.”
Olive pushed up her glasses. “Lizzie, remember, he is the only one who asked any sort of questions.”
The four of them were sitting cross-legged on top of a picnic table that stood by the creek in the orchard. Sarah had grabbed a handful of long grass and was tying each stem into knots. Peter stared straight up at the trees—Sarah thought he was probably counting leaves. She’d done that a few times herself.
Lizzie shook her head. “I just think he was curious! He thought the orchard was interesting, that’s all.”
Sarah threw the piece of grass twisted in a knot and watched the breeze take it. Poor Lizzie. She was totally in love. Sarah tried to make her voice soft. “Do you really think most kids are interested in an orchard?”
Olive piped up, “Well. To be fair, we were.”
Sarah looked at her and she shrugged. Olive added, “But I don’t think most kids would be, Lizzie, sorry.”
Lizzie jutted her chin out and Sarah thought, “Uh-oh.” Because when Lizzie did that, it meant “I’m not going to listen” and “You can talk all you want, but I’m right” and “Sure, I’ll lend you my T-shirt.” The last part might have been Sarah making things up.
Sarah sighed. “Okay, let’s say that boy from yesterday was just asking questions because he liked orchards. Then why would he care about how much money we make?”
Olive nodded. “Right. Lizzie, we don’t have to accuse him or anything. I have a different idea.”
Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. She wondered if Olive was going to boss him around until he confessed. Or move into Hanoverville and take over an ice cream stand there and make everyone like her better and steal his best friend.
“What was his name again?” Olive asked.
Peter elbowed Olive and pointed at the tree and they shared a private laugh. Clearly an inside joke. Sarah had to admit this was a little annoying and was a lot like her and Lizzie—or like they used to be. She’d always thought she and Lizzie could be twins. Even though Lizzie had pale skin and was a little short and marshmallowy, where Sarah had beige-brown skin and was beanpoley.
Lizzie said, “Um, his name is Beckett McIntyre.” She blushed.
Peter said, “He told us his last name?”
Olive shook her head at him and for a minute, maybe Sarah actually liked Olive. She didn’t want Lizzie to be embarrassed. Because the boy most definitely had not said his last name. Which probably meant Lizzie had asked Gloria about him after he’d left.
The blush on Lizzie’s skin got deeper.
Sarah cleared her throat. “So what’s your plan, Olive?”
Olive nodded excitedly and pushed up her
glasses again. “Okay, how about this? He stole a bunch of money, right? So maybe he’s spending it in town. We can ask the businesses if there have been any big spenders. Or, if we can find him, we can follow him. Maybe there’s a perfectly good reason he asked questions. Or maybe he just bought himself something great.”
“What if he spent the money already?” Peter asked.
Lizzie shook her head. “He didn’t take it.” Her chin was still out.
Sarah ignored her comment and said, “There probably hasn’t been enough time to spend it.”
Lizzie hopped off the table, startling Sarah so much, she dropped all the grass she was holding. It slipped away through the cracks in the picnic table.
Lizzie said, “Okay. We follow him. But after a little bit, I think we need to just ask him. Maybe he even has an idea of who could have taken the money.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, but Lizzie caught her, so she tried to make it look like she was doing eye exercises.
“Are you okay?” Olive asked her. “Your eyes are looking weird.”
Sarah just nodded and cleared her throat.
She jumped off the picnic table too. “Okay, deal. Tomorrow we’ll go into town and try to pick up the trail of Beckett McIntyre. We can start the investigation then.”
Olive patted Lizzie’s shoulder. “He might still be good boyfriend material, Lizzie.”
Lizzie’s face got so red, Sarah thought she might explode. All Sarah’s goodwill toward Olive disappeared. Sarah glared at her.
But Olive said, “What? Oh, for Pete’s sake. Can we just say it? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Lizzie likes Beckett McIntyre.”
Lizzie flopped back down on the picnic table bench and covered her face with her hands. “Do not,” Sarah heard her say.
Peter chuckled and sat down next to Lizzie. He patted her shoulder. “Listen. He’s DEFINITELY cute.”
Lizzie dropped her hands and looked at Peter. Sarah knew that look meant “Are you kidding?” and “Are you making fun of me?” And, probably, “That shirt WOULD look good on Sarah, you’re right.”
Peter grinned at her. Lizzie grinned back. “Yeah, he is.”
Sarah’s jealous feelings flared and she couldn’t help herself. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute. Is this a plan or what?”
Lizzie smiled at her, her embarrassment seemingly gone. “Yes. Let’s go follow Beckett McIntyre.”
CHAPTER 8
Peach Ice Cream Scoops with Mango Bits and Chopped-Up Almonds. Plus Some Sour Cherry Candy Bits That You Never See Coming.
T he next day, the four of them met up and biked into town together. After only half an hour of wandering around, looking for their suspect, they got a miraculous break.
Beckett McIntyre.
Lizzie had spotted him about a mile away, going into Annabelle’s Antiques and Bait, carrying a huge package under his arm. Sarah could hardly believe it.
The four of them raced to the shop. They dropped their bikes behind the building, trying to be as quiet as they could. Sarah pointed to the back door—she knew it was always open. She’d helped Ms. Henderson carry things through it during the day more than once. She made motions with her hands that were supposed to look like sneaking in. But Olive, Peter, and even Lizzie just looked at her with confused expressions. She sighed and whispered, “Let’s sneak in here.”
“Ohhh,” Olive and Peter said together. Lizzie gave her a thumbs-up. They slowly opened the back door and snuck into the shop. Each of them went a separate way, taking up different positions around the store. Beckett stood, talking to Ms. Henderson, at the counter near the back. Sarah caught a word here or there, but mostly she just heard a steady mumble as they talked. All four of them pretended to look at stuff whenever Ms. Henderson or Beckett moved their heads. When they weren’t moving their heads, all four of them trained their eyes on him.
Suddenly, Beckett turned and moved toward the front door. Sarah cleared her throat and everyone immediately looked busy. But Lizzie was stuck at the front. She grabbed a newspaper from a rack by the door and raised it to cover her face. After Beckett went by, she slowly lowered the paper and caught Sarah’s eye. Sarah knew Lizzie’s look meant “CLOSE CALL.” The newspaper was upside down.
Olive and Peter put down the 1950s bar glasses they’d both pretended to inspect and Sarah stepped out completely from behind a rack of old, fragile-looking dishes that made her nervous. The three of them moved toward the front door to talk to Lizzie. Sarah didn’t think their cover had been blown. Or she hoped it hadn’t, anyway.
Lizzie slumped in a chair near the front display window. “Ugh,” she said. Sarah knew that meant “That was close! I need ice cream now.” She just assumed the last part.
“Can I help you kids?” a voice behind them said. All four of them jumped. Lizzie clutched the paper so hard, it crumpled.
Sarah turned around and put on the smile she used for grown-ups. “No, thank you, Ms. Henderson.” Weirdly, Annabelle Henderson would not answer to her first name, even though her store had it in the title. She’d always been a little eccentric. Besides the Regency dresses, there was a rumor that she used a chamber pot . . . but that always made Sarah and Lizzie collapse into giggles when they talked about it.
The shopkeeper smiled at Sarah. “I have your ice cream shop flyer up! Haven’t gotten there myself yet, but I plan to. How has business been?”
Sarah said, “Oh, really good. Nothing at all bad has happened.” Lizzie squeaked and Olive elbowed her. Peter smiled the fakest smile Sarah had ever seen. Sarah cleared her throat.
“Uh, Ms. Henderson, do you know the boy who just walked out?”
Ms. Henderson nodded. “Yes, that’s Beckett. He goes to the private school just a town over.”
Peter said, “What does ‘a town over’ mean?”
Sarah shot him a look and he shrugged and went on, “It’s just, that’s not really a measurement. . . .” But at the look on Sarah’s face AND the look on Olive’s face, Peter stopped talking.
Sarah took a deep breath and continued. “Have you noticed that he’s really . . . steal-y?”
Lizzie squeaked again and Sarah looked down. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it, she realized.
Ms. Henderson furrowed her brow. “Um, steely? Do you mean having good resolve and a strong backbone? Indeed he does. He’s a wonderful young man. He enjoys coming in here and looking for vintage reporter doodads. He likes those sorts of things. He also generously offered to help me with various and sundry tasks when I was unable to do them myself.”
Olive pushed her glasses up. “Has he bought any really expensive things lately?”
Ms. Henderson laughed. “No, my dear, I don’t think so. Not here, anyway. Not a whole lot that’s expensive.” She looked at them all suspiciously. “Why so many questions? In civilized cultures, one does not ask so many questions, my dears. Nor does one pry.”
Lizzie got out of the chair. “Sorry, Ms. Henderson.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Sarah said, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and pulling her out after her. Lizzie would get told what do to all day unless Sarah got her out of there. Lizzie grabbed Olive, who grabbed Peter, and they all beelined out of the store.
“Thanks, Ms. Henderson!” Sarah called. “I think my mom has something on hold for you at the library!” But by then the four had tripped through the front door and started running and giggling. Sarah, for just a second, forgot to be mad.
When they’d gotten well away from the store, Sarah squinted and put her hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. It was so bright, she couldn’t really see anything. She certainly didn’t see Beckett. Her shoulders slumped.
“Did we lose him already? We JUST found him!” She huffed in frustration.
Peter said, “Didn’t Ms. Henderson say he looked for reporter stuff in the store?”
Lizzie nodded. She was still holding the newspaper in her hands and was smoothing it down nervously.
“And?” Olive asked, pushing her glasses up
and squinting at Peter.
“Maybe that’s a clue to where he’s going. Where do aspiring reporters go?”
Sarah had to admit that was really smart. But maybe not that helpful. But then Lizzie, looking to the left, said, “The coffee shop.”
Olive pushed her glasses up again. Her nose looked as sweaty as Sarah’s felt. Sarah really wished she was in the ice cream stand about now, with cold, delicious ice cream. She bet Lizzie was miserable in the heat.
“Why the coffee shop? Do reporters go there a lot?” Olive asked.
Lizzie pointed. “This one does.”
And sure enough, through the window of Dinah’s Diner (and Bait), Sarah saw Beckett in line. All four of them stared, not sure what to do next. But just then, he turned around and everything happened at once.
Lizzie squeaked and dropped to the ground. Sarah dove around Ms. Henderson’s building into a patch of weeds. Olive said, “Oh, oh!” and did a sort of dance in place. And Peter just closed his eyes. They heard a bell jingle and Sarah watched as Beckett threw a confused look their way and then kept walking down Main Street.
Sarah got up and brushed the weeds off her knees. A dandelion was stuck to her skin and she plucked it off. She walked back to Lizzie and Peter and Olive. “Whoops . . . ,” she said.
Olive looked distressed. “Do you think he saw us?”
Lizzie, Peter, and Sarah all looked at her. She cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Peter said, “We should follow him—he’s going into another store. This time that hardware store—and I think it sells bikes!” He pointed, and sure enough, Beckett had his coffee in one hand and his other hand on the door of Hakeem’s Hardware Plus Bait store. He opened it and walked in.
Lizzie said, “How will we . . .”
Sarah translated that to “He’s totally going to see us.”
