Freddy didn’t answer. He looked sideways at JoJo.
“JoJo, you gave it to Freddy, didn’t you? Without asking.”
JoJo didn’t answer either. Instead, she hopped onto Andy’s lap and said, “Nancy made this.” She lowered her head so he could see the crown.
“Very cute,” Andy said.
“It’s a Bun Crown,” JoJo went on. “It’s Nancy and Bree’s business. They want to be millionaires. Nancy is going to take me to Paris.”
Nancy scowled. Yes, she’d said that. But it sounded silly, hearing JoJo say it.
Then JoJo pulled off her crown, handed it to Andy, and said, “Want to buy it?”
“Andy, don’t listen to JoJo—”
“No, wait.” Andy examined the crown. “This is cute. And it’s my little cousin’s birthday in a couple of weeks. How much is it?”
“It’s a dollar ninety-nine,” Nancy said shyly. “But honestly don’t feel like you have to buy one.”
Andy insisted, and after placing two brand-new dollar bills in Nancy’s hand, he packed up his guitar and took off.
“Wait.” Nancy followed after him. “I forgot! I owe you a penny.”
Andy was already out the front door. He didn’t even turn around. With a backward wave, he told Nancy to keep the change and jumped into his truck.
So Nancy double-backed to the kitchen and ran out the side door. Wait till she handed Bree one of the two crisp bills. It was beyond thrilling, even if she did have to thank her little sister for it.
Maybe, just maybe, the Bun Crown was going to make them millionaires!
The ad for the Bun Crown went up on Facebook, and soon twelve orders had come in.
Unfortunately, there were problems. After making more crowns, Bree ran out of the gold-foil chocolate-bar wrappers.
“Can’t your dad get more?” Nancy asked.
“Nope. But I bet we can find gold foil—or something just like it—at the crafts store.”
Problem solved!
After lunch on Saturday, Nancy’s dad took them downtown. Between them, Nancy and Bree had seven dollars and change. That also was a problem. The supplies at the crafts store came to over eleven dollars. Eleven dollars and eighteen cents, to be exact.
“Um, Dad, could we borrow three dollars and—” Nancy paused to count up all their coins. “Um . . . actually, maybe four dollars?”
“Ladies, you caught me at just the right moment. I’ve been searching for a growth opportunity like the Bun Crown to invest in.”
Nancy had no idea what her dad was talking about. Still, she figured the answer was yes since he took out his wallet.
“Thanks, Dad. We’ll pay you back as soon as we get paid for the twelve orders.”
An hour later, the girls had everything set up again on the work table in Bree’s garage. Bree wrote a list of people who had ordered the Bun Crown. As soon as they finished making one, Bree checked off a name.
“We are so professional!” Nancy said, and they high-fived each other.
After an hour of Bun Crown production, however, there was yet another problem. They had no more jewel stickers.
So it was back to the crafts store, this time with Bree’s mom, who loaned them more money. The Gem Brite stickers the girls had been using cost three dollars a package. There were cheaper jewel stickers for sale but Bree and Nancy agreed that only the finest would do for the Bun Crowns.
By the end of the afternoon, twelve golden, bejeweled Bun Crowns gleamed before them. As soon as they finished, they presented one to Mrs. DeVine, who had bought a Bun Crown for Jewel. Since no parent was free to chauffeur them around town, Nancy and Bree had to wait until Sunday to make all the deliveries.
All their customers were delighted with the Bun Crowns and every single person insisted on the girls keeping the change when they tried to hand over a penny. Bree and Nancy arrived back at the club with a stack of dollar bills. A real wad of money. Altogether they had made twenty-four dollars. Nancy couldn’t take her eyes off it. “We are going to be rich, rich, rich.” She pictured herself gazing down on Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
“Remember, we still have to pay our parents back,” Bree said.
Nancy wished Bree hadn’t brought that up so soon. “I know. But before we do, let’s look at all our cash a little while longer.”
Sadly, after repaying the loans, the pile of dollar bills had dwindled. That meant it was much, much smaller. Their expenses had added up to a lot more than either Nancy or Bree had realized. If they counted in the money of their own that they’d spent, all that was left over was three dollars and twelve cents. And that was going to be split between them.
Nancy, discouraged, blew out through her lips. “I can’t believe it. So much hard work and only a dollar and fifty-six cents for each of us.” She tried looking on the bright side. At least now they had enough supplies to make lots more Bun Crowns. So when more orders came in, the money would be all theirs.
“I think maybe we made a mistake with the price,” Bree decided. “It was way too low. If we had charged two ninety-nine, we would have made so much more money.”
Nancy sighed. “Why didn’t we figure that out sooner?” Forget about getting rich quick—they weren’t even getting rich slowly.
On Wednesday, Nancy’s class got to watch a movie, an educational kind called a documentary. That meant nothing in it was made up. This one was about the Gold Rush. Near the end, photos of miners in long beards and dirty clothes flashed, one after another, on the screen while an actor off camera read aloud a letter. It had been written by a miner to his wife. He was miserable!
“With the money I laid out for equipment and paying rent to sleep in a tent, I’m poorer now than before.”
The miner had staked a claim. That meant he—and nobody else—could look for gold in a certain plot of land. It had cost him a lot to get the claim. And it was all for nothing.
“I have not struck gold, although a fellow nearby did. Nuggets the size of peas. He’s rich. Yet I have nothing to show. I am so sorry to have let down you and the little ones. I thought I would have a fortune by now.”
Nancy knew how the prospector felt! Of course, she didn’t have a family to support. And she had made a little money. But although Bree checked every day on Facebook, no new orders had come in for the Bun Crown. Nancy found it a little hard hearing how wealthy other kids were getting.
Clara was making a bundle from her biscuit stand. One day she came in wearing silver sequined sneakers. “I bought them with money from my biscuit business.”
Mr. Dudeny had overheard Clara. “It sounds like your idea is really taking off.”
Clara beamed.
Later, Mr. D. asked Clara to tell the class more about her business. He didn’t have to remind her this time about speaking loud and proud.
“I started out selling biscuits from a stand in front of my house,” she said. “But now people are calling and placing orders. One lady ordered two dozen.”
Mr. Dudeny explained that Clara was successful because “there is a demand for the product she’s selling—great homemade biscuits.”
Robert was also making lots of money teaching lasso tricks. He had five students coming once a week for three dollars an hour.
“How is the way Robert is earning money different from Clara?”
Right away, Clara said, “I’m biscuits and he’s lassos.”
Mr. Dudeny didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that answer. “Anything else that makes their businesses different?”
Nancy cupped her hand in her chin and pondered. She thought about her guitar teacher, Andy. Then, since nobody else’s hand was up, she raised hers. “Well, Clara is making something. Robert isn’t. He’s teaching something he’s good at.”
“Exactly!” Mr. Dudeny said. “Clara is providing a product and Robert is offering a service. They are two different types of businesses. So, Robert and Clara, are there downsides to being successful and making money?”
Na
ncy was surprised when both of them shouted, “Yes!”
Robert said that he used to relax after school by playing video games for an hour. “Now with my lasso classes, I can’t.”
“And I missed my little cousin’s birthday party because of that big biscuit order that came in last Sunday,” Clara said.
Mr. Dudeny nodded. “Robert and Clara both have had to give up some fun, some leisure time. Being an entrepreneur is hard work.”
“You can say that again,” Robert said.
It turned out that Lionel was one of Robert’s new students. As soon as the last bell rang, he came over to Nancy and asked, “Is it okay if we cancel checkers today?” Lionel and Nancy had a weekly after-school game. “Robert has to go to the dentist after school tomorrow. So he wants to switch my lesson to today.”
“Okay,” Nancy replied, a little disappointed. Then she and Bree hopped on their bikes and rode off. Since there was no homework for tomorrow, they decided to hang out in their clubhouse and read the latest Nancy Drew books that they’d checked out from the library.
“We’re not rich. But we certainly have plenty of leisure time,” Nancy pointed out.
Just as they turned onto their block, they saw Mrs. DeVine standing by the front gate to her house. The moment she spotted Nancy and Bree, she started waving frantically. Jewel was yipping and racing around her ankles.
“You’ll never guess!” Mrs. DeVine said. “A week from Sunday, Antiques in Your Attic is coming to town! They’re taping a show.”
Nancy and Bree were way more than surprised. They were flabbergasted.
“I’ve been checking the show’s website every day. Today they just put up the schedule of cities for the new season. We’ll be one of the first shows on air.”
Nancy and Bree stared at each other. They both knew what the other was thinking. Nancy Drew could wait. This called for tea!
Five minutes later, Nancy was sipping mint tea from a china cup. It was part of Mrs. DeVine’s best tea set, with tiny blue flowers. There was a matching teapot, a pitcher for cream, and a sugar bowl with tiny silver tongs for picking up sugar cubes. “You should bring the tea set to Antiques in Your Attic,” Nancy suggested.
“And that too.” Bree was pointing at a silver tray with slices of cake on it. Mrs. DeVine’s initials were engraved on the tray. Her initials from her first marriage.
“I plan to do a thorough search of the attic,” Mrs. DeVine told the girls. “I’ve forgotten half of what’s up there. Mostly junk, but you never know.”
Nancy had little doubt that Mrs. DeVine would turn up some antiques. It was going to be harder finding anything valuable at the Clancy home. The Clancys didn’t even have an attic to search through. At dinner that night, Nancy asked, “Do we own any antiques?”
The answer (as she figured) was no.
Nancy told her mom and dad about the TV show coming to the arena outside of town. “It doesn’t even have to be an antique. Something rare would be good. Something that’s one of a kind.”
“Rare and one of a kind? You’re looking right at her.” Then Nancy’s dad leaned over to kiss her mother.
“Be serious, Dad. Mrs. DeVine is going to take Bree and me to the show and I need to bring interesting stuff.”
“Okay. What about my comic books? I’ve always wondered what they’re worth.”
“Superb.”
“And that poster.” Her mother pointed to the one in the den. Nancy knew it was from a rock concert that her parents had gone to on their first date. The band was called Pearl Jam. “That might be worth something.”
While they were clearing the table, the phone rang.
It was Bree.
“I started writing you a secret message, but it was taking way too long. Have you looked for antiques yet?” Bree didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she started telling Nancy what she was bringing.
“Vintage perfume bottles from the nineteen twenties and thirties.”
Nancy knew the ones Bree meant. They sat on Bree’s mother’s dressing table. Nancy also knew, from watching the show, that vintage meant almost an antique.
“And,” Bree went on, “my mom has her grandpa’s army uniform with his canteen and dog tags.”
“Oh, you’re so lucky!” Nancy tried not to feel jealous. “They love old soldier stuff.”
After dinner Nancy searched through her house. Besides the poster and comic books, she decided on a green vase with red dots. It looked like it had measles. But often really ugly vases ended up being worth a lot.
What also turned up was the teardrop necklace. It was on the floor of the den by an armchair. Nancy blinked. For a moment she thought she must be looking at a twin of the one she was wearing. Then her hand flew to her throat. No necklace! Sacre bleu! It had fallen off again.
This time Nancy’s mother did not try to repair it herself. She took it to a jewelry store and a few days later, they picked it up.
“This necklace is so pretty,” the man behind the counter said. He slipped it into a little Ziploc bag. “And with this new clasp, you can feel safe wearing it for another fifty, sixty years.”
Nancy giggled. In sixty years, she’d be older than Mrs. DeVine!
When school let out on Friday, Bree and Nancy asked who was planning to go to the arena the next day.
“What for?” Nola and couple of other kids asked.
Nancy and Bree turned to each other. They were shocked. Hardly anybody knew about Antiques in Your Attic coming to town to film a show. And hardly anybody was interested.
“Oh, that’s the show my grandpa watches. Bo-ring!” Grace said.
“No, it’s not! Bree and I are going and I bet we’ll have a thrilling time,” Nancy insisted.
“My house is filled with antiques. They’re in every room,” Grace went on.
“Do you have an antique toilet?” Lionel wanted to know.
“I mean, duh. Of course not.” Then Grace turned back to Nancy. “I might let you take in something of mine if you don’t have any stuff that’s worth money.”
“I have plenty of stuff. I don’t need yours,” Nancy replied.
That evening her father picked out his ten best comic books. Her mom rolled up the Pearl Jam poster and packed the vase in Bubble Wrap. Later on, Nancy and Bree sent many messages back and forth discussing what to wear. They wanted to look grown-up. Mature. Nancy ended up deciding on a purple smock dress she’d worn to her cousin’s bar mitzvah. And of course the teardrop necklace.
The next morning on the dot of seven, Mrs. DeVine picked up the girls. Half an hour later they joined a long line that inched toward the entrance to the arena. Thousands of people had shown up. There were people carrying rugs and tables and lamps. Old sofas and armchairs; dolls and dollhouses, paintings—lots of them—and statues of all sizes. One family lugged in an elephant made entirely of white string. It was almost the size of a real elephant. It barely fit through the door.
Mrs. DeVine laughed. “Oh lord, an actual white elephant.” A white elephant, she explained, was something very rare but totally useless. “Where do you suppose they keep it?” Then she winced and rubbed the back of her foot. “Whatever possessed me to wear high heels?”
It took over two hours just to reach the entrance to the arena. Inside, they could see huge signs for different categories—Jewelry, Musical Instruments, Furniture, and many more. The signs hung like flags from the ceiling, and under each one sat an appraiser, someone who knew all about that category and could tell how much each person’s stuff was worth. Nancy recognized several of the appraisers from watching the show.
“Over there. Under Toys,” she exclaimed. “It’s the man with the ponytail who always wears a giant bow tie.” Sure enough, he was wearing one that day.
Once they were inside the arena, guys in red T-shirts that said Antiques in Your Attic stopped each person. They took a quick look at what everyone had brought in and steered them to the right line.
“More lines!” wailed Mrs. DeVine.
Oh! So the measles vase was just plain ugly. Not ugly and valuable.
“We’ll call each other every ten minutes to stay in touch,” Mrs. DeVine reminded the girls. Then they showed her that their cell phones were fully charged and listed Mrs. DeVine’s phone number.
The Pop Culture line was fun. Behind Nancy were a father and his son. They had a bunch of movie posters from old horror movies. Creature from the Black Lagoon. I Was a Teenage Werewolf. Night of the Living Dead. It was lucky Bree wasn’t on this line. She couldn’t stand the sight of anything bloody or gruesome.
Nancy showed them her rock-concert poster and the ten comic books. “Cool!” the dad said. But Nancy could tell he wasn’t impressed. Neither was the appraiser.
“I’m afraid that the concert poster has just sentimental value for your parents,” he said. “And some of the comic books”—the man was leafing through one about Superman—“well, if they were in better condition, then maybe . . .” He stopped talking because another appraiser showed up needing to speak to him. She was holding a Minnie Mouse watch. Nancy recognized her too because on TV she always looked like a walking jewelry store. She wore necklaces, tiaras, earrings, bracelets, and pins. Why, there were even pins on the back of her dress.
While the two appraisers whispered over bent heads, Nancy texted Mrs. DeVine to say she was done. After that, Nancy wasn’t sure where to go. She already knew her stuff wasn’t valuable. Should she leave the Pop Culture table? She fiddled with her necklace nervously. Finally she said, “Thank you very much for your expertise.” Then she quickly gathered up the comic books and concert poster.
Nancy Clancy Seeks a Fortune Page 3
