For Evan, Katie, and Sean
Chapter 1
TEN-YEAR-OLD WILLA DUNLAP BLINKED HER eyes, once, twice, three times. Was she really seeing what she thought she was seeing?
“Wow, Ben,” Willa said to her younger brother. “I’ve never seen so many people on our beach!”
Willa and Ben stood together on the shore gazing out at the ocean. Next to Willa, nibbling on a clump of marsh grass, was their gentle buckskin mare, Starbuck.
“It may be filled with people now,” Ben told his sister. “But in just a few days it will be filled with—”
“Ponies!” Willa cut in excitedly.
Willa and Ben traded a high five. It was the last week of July. To most it meant the middle of summer. But for those living on Chincoteague Island, it meant the world-famous pony swim.
Willa couldn’t wait to watch the wild ponies of Assateague Island swim across the channel to Chincoteague. Those who wanted an Assateague pony of their own could bid for one at the famous pony auction the next day.
“Do you think she remembers?” Willa asked as she patted the white star-shaped mark on Starbuck’s butterscotch forehead.
“Remembers what?” Ben asked.
“Do you think Starbuck remembers swimming with the other ponies from Assateague to Chincoteague?” Willa asked.
“You know what they say,” Ben said with a shrug. “A horse never forgets.”
“I think that’s an elephant.” Willa smiled.
She couldn’t wait for the pony swim in just two days. For the past ninety years, the world-famous event had taken place each summer. For Willa and Ben it would be their first.
Willa felt lucky to live on Chincoteague. A year ago the Dunlaps had moved from Chicago to the island where her mom grew up. Willa missed the city, but she loved the big old house her parents turned into an inn, her new friends, and most of all—having her own pony.
“I almost forgot something,” Willa said, clutching Starbuck’s rein to turn her around. “We promised Mom and Dad we’d help them today. Misty Inn is about to have a ton of visitors for the pony swim.”
“Okay,” Ben said as he slipped his foot into a stirrup, “but this time it’s my turn to ride Starbuck.”
Ben settled into the saddle. Willa took one last glance across the frothy white waters at Assateague Island. Then she, Ben, and Starbuck were on their way.
Willa walked her pony up the beach, then along the familiar trails leading to Misty Inn. Starbuck seemed to know the way too, and she picked up her pace closer to home.
When they reached Misty Inn, their frisky puppy, Amos, was waiting outside the barn door. Amos loved the barn and the horses more than anything.
“I’ll fill the water bucket,” Ben said as Willa led Starbuck to her stall. Willa caught the horse gazing into the next stall, where their guest pony, Buttercup, stayed. But this week Buttercup’s stall would be empty.
“I know you miss Buttercup, Starbuck,” Willa said. “But she has an important job this week—to help Mr. Starling in the pony roundup.”
Amos playfully jumped up at Ben as he carried a bucket of fresh water to Starbuck. “You do remember the pony roundup,” he asked. “Don’t you, Starbuck?”
Starbuck gave a little snort.
Willa was about to grab Starbuck’s currycomb when she heard her dad’s voice calling from outside. “Willa, Ben, Grandma Edna’s here!”
Willa and Ben exchanged surprised looks. It was the day of the pony vet check on Assateague Island. Grandma Edna was a vet, so what was she doing at Misty Inn?
“Hi, Grandma Edna!” Willa called as she and Ben raced over from the barn.
“Hi, yourselves!” Grandma Edna said. She stood next to Mom and Dad, her pickup truck nearby. A shopping bag hung from one hand as she petted a purring New Cat with her other.
Grandma Edna placed the bag on the ground to wrap her arms around Willa and Ben. She smelled like salt water and ponies, which told Willa one thing. . . .
“You were at the vet check today, Grandma Edna,” Willa guessed excitedly. “Are the ponies ready for the big swim?”
“Resting up and ready as they’ll ever be,” Grandma Edna said. “But right now I come to Misty Inn with gifts and news.”
“Grandma is being mysterious, kids,” Mom added with a grin.
“What’s in the bag, Grandma Edna?” Willa asked. “Something for Starbuck?”
“Or us?” Ben asked eagerly.
“Hold your horses, you two,” Grandma Edna joked, and then continued. “It’s just something I heard through the grapevine. Word has it some big-city travel critic will be staying at Misty Inn this week.”
“Travel critic?” Dad repeated.
“Does he or she want to write about Misty Inn?” Mom asked.
Grandma Edna nodded. “For some travel magazine, I heard. So you’d all better be at the top of your game.”
Willa’s eyes widened at the news. She had heard of movie critics, who wrote about blockbuster films, but never travel critics.
“Misty Inn has been open for months,” Mom told her own mother. “So we’re always at the top of our game.”
“Except the day the bathtub overflowed,” Ben said. He smiled guiltily.
“Edna, if we weren’t doing a good job,” Dad added, “the inn wouldn’t be booked solid with guests this week.”
“One of those guests will be the travel critic,” Grandma Edna said. She flapped her hand impatiently. “Oh, do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Who is the critic, Grandma?” Willa asked as she picked up New Cat and held him close. “What’s his or her name?”
“Wish I knew, honey,” Grandma Edna said. “Most mystery critics go by some made-up name. So nobody at the inn will know who he or she is.”
“Mystery critic?” Willa repeated as New Cat jumped out of her arms and scampered away. “You mean like a spy?”
Ben exclaimed, “Maybe he’ll have awesome gadgets and land in our pasture in a black helicopter!”
“Ben, there will be no spies staying at Misty Inn this week,” Mom insisted. “And if one of our guests happens to be a critic, we have nothing to worry about.”
“We’ll just do what we always do, kids,” Dad added with a wink. “I’ll cook mouthwatering meals for our restaurant, Family Farm, and your mom will run the inn like a tight ship as always.”
“With your help,” Mom said, raising an eyebrow at Willa and Ben. “Right?”
“Riiiiight,” Willa and Ben said together.
But deep inside Willa was a bit worried. What if this mystery critic found something terribly wrong about Misty Inn and wrote a bad review? Would Mom and Dad have to close the inn? Would they have to move back to Chicago?
Apartment buildings don’t allow horses, Willa thought. What would we do with Starbuck?
Grandma Edna interrupted Willa’s worries. “Now for the gifts. They’re just a few things to ensure a five-star rating from that mystery critic.”
Grandma Edna carefully pulled out items from her bag that Willa recognized from Miller Farm—a colorful tablecloth and two throw pillows, all embroidered with horse scenes.
“Just a few vintage things for the inn,” Grandma Edna explained. “You can display them to highlight the importance of the pony swim and auction this week.”
“Or impress the critic?” Dad asked playfully. “Thanks, Edna. They’re very nice.”
“They are nice,” Mom agreed. “But they’re old, too. You’ve had them at Miller Farm since I was a little girl.”
“I think they’re neat,” Willa said, reaching out to take the tablecloth and pillows from Grandma Edna. “The brown horse on the bigger pillow reminds me of Starbuck.”
“Now there’s a girl with good taste,” Grandma Edna
declared. “Amelia, Eric, I believe your daughter takes after me,” she said, getting into her truck and driving off.
Willa considered that a huge compliment. To many, Grandma Edna was the best vet on Chincoteague Island. And Willa was thinking of becoming a vet when she grew up.
With Ben behind her, Willa carried the treasured heirlooms into the house.
“Willa, did you hear what Grandma Edna said?” Ben asked. “There’s going to be a spy at Misty Inn.”
“Not a spy, a travel critic,” Willa corrected. She turned to Mom’s office computer, where the week’s guest list was open. “And it’s super- important, so we have to find out who he or she is so we can make sure this guest has an awesome time,” Willa said.
“But how do we know who the travel critic is when he or she has a fake name?” Ben asked.
“We’ll take a wild guess,” Willa said.
She and Ben studied the list. Most guests were checking in tomorrow, the day before the pony swim. Only one guest, an Anthony Fox, was checking in today, Monday.
“Fox,” Ben stated as he pointed to the screen. “That’s got to be him, Willa. I know it.”
“How?” Willa asked.
“Because he’s using the name Fox,” Ben explained, “and a mystery critic has got to be as sly—”
“As a fox,” Willa finished. “Good work, Sherlock. Something tells me we found our mystery critic.”
Chapter 2
“REMIND ME WHY WE’RE MUCKING the barn,” Ben said, “when we just cleaned it this morning? And why we had to change our clothes?”
Ben grunted as he swung a broom to dust cobwebs from underneath the loft.
“I told you,” Willa said, sifting through Starbuck’s bedding with a pitchfork. “Mr. Fox is checking in later.”
“But he’s sleeping in the inn,” Ben said, “not in the barn.”
“Mr. Fox might peek inside the barn to see how clean it is,” Willa explained. “Let’s hope he doesn’t peek inside your room.”
Willa stopped raking to glance out the barn door to the pasture. Amos was running circles around Starbuck as she grazed calmly.
“What do we do when Mr. Fox gets here?” Ben asked.
Willa quickly pulled a piece of paper from her pants pocket. “This morning, after we finished grooming Starbuck, I went upstairs and made a list.”
Willa was always making lists to organize her thoughts. And her family loved teasing her about them. This one was called Operation Mr. Fox:
1. Greet Mr. Fox by name.
2. Carry his bags to his room.
3. Make sure he has everything he needs.
“ ‘Everything he needs’?” Ben asked, reading over Willa’s shoulder. “What if he loves hot-fudge sundaes and wants a hot-fudge fountain right in the middle of his room?”
Willa rolled her eyes. “Ben, be serious.”
As she folded her list and slipped it inside her pocket, she heard the familiar crunchy sound of a car on the gravelly driveway.
Peeking outside the barn, Willa and Ben saw a dark-haired man stepping out of his car.
“Hello,” Mom greeted him, walking over from the inn. “Are you checking in today?”
“Sure am,” the man called back. “I’m Anthony Fox.”
Fox? Willa turned to Ben and whispered, “It’s him.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to get here until later,” Ben hissed. “What do we do?”
“The first thing on the list,” Willa whispered. “Meet and greet.”
“But our clothes are covered with mud and sawdust,” Ben called after Willa as she hurried out of the barn. “And maybe worse stuff.”
By the time Willa and Ben reached the car, Mom was busily talking to Mr. Fox. But they stopped when Willa called out, “Good afternoon, Mr. Fox. We hope you had a pleasant drive to Misty Inn.”
“Welcome to Chincoteague Island!” Ben boomed with a wave of his hand. “Home of the world-famous pony swim.”
“Um . . . thank you,” Mr. Fox blurted.
Mom curiously studied Willa and Ben, and then she said, “I was just about to help Mr. Fox with his bags.”
“We’ll do it,” Willa and Ben said in unison.
“Thanks, but I only have one duffel bag,” Mr. Fox said, pulling a medium-size bag from the front seat of his car. “I can easily carry it myself.”
Mr. Fox’s phone suddenly rang. When he answered, Mom whispered to Willa and Ben.
“Kids, Mr. Fox just told me he’s allergic to cats and dogs, so I’m putting New Cat outside. Make sure Amos doesn’t come into the house either, okay?”
Willa nodded. Her friend Kate from Chicago was allergic to pets, and it wasn’t fun. “Okay, Mom,” she said, but his allergies did concern her a bit.
Mom shot Willa and Ben one more confused look before walking back to the house. Mr. Fox was still on the phone, his duffel bag at his feet.
“I got it,” Willa said, snatching it up.
“No, let me,” Ben argued.
Mr. Fox ended his call just as Willa and Ben had begun a tug-of-war with his bag.
“Um . . . it’s got two handles,” Mr. Fox suggested. “Why don’t you both carry it?”
Willa grabbed one handle, Ben the other, and Mr. Fox followed as they carried it up the stairs to his room.
To Willa, Mr. Fox seemed young, more like a college student than a professional travel critic, unless . . . that was his disguise!
“You’ll be staying in the Blue Room,” Willa called over her shoulder halfway up the stairs. “You may notice the vintage horse pillows on the bed as well as the horse-themed tablecloth on the dresser.”
“You mean Grandma Edna’s?” Ben whispered to Willa. “When did you put those in there?”
“After I wrote my list,” Willa whispered back. “It was on my other list of things to do in the Blue Room.”
Once on the second floor, Willa used her free hand to open the door to the Blue Room. With a shy thank you, Mr. Fox stepped inside.
“Four-poster bed, antique furniture,” he observed. “Nice.”
“The flowers on the dresser are fresh,” Willa pointed out. “And the window has the most awesome view of the ocean.”
“You can watch the whole pony swim on Wednesday from the comfort of your room,” Ben added.
Mr. Fox started to answer, but instead of words, out came a loud, “Ah-chooo!”
As Mr. Fox sniffed and searched his pockets for a tissue, Willa turned frantically to Ben. “I forgot to put a tissue box in the room,” she whispered. “Go get one from Mom.”
“Be right back,” Ben promised. He waved through the door at Mr. Fox and said, “Spy—I mean bye!”
Still sniffing, Mr. Fox turned to Willa and said, “I’ll take my bag now.”
Willa handed the duffel bag to Mr. Fox, but not before dusting sawdust specks from the handle.
“Thanks for your help,” Mr. Fox said. He gave Willa one last smile before shutting the door.
So far so good, Willa thought to herself. She was about to go downstairs when another sneeze stopped her in her tracks.
Willa froze as several more sneezes exploded from behind the door. She was sure New Cat wasn’t under the bed and Amos was hanging out at the barn—so what was up?
“Ben!” Willa shouted down the stairs. “We need to get those tissues. Quick!”
Chapter 3
“REMEMBER, BEN,” WILLA TOLD HER brother the next morning. “We should recommend the seafood omelet to Mr. Fox, with fresh fruit salad and rolls on the side.”
Ben stood next to Willa in the kitchen. Both peeked into the Family Farm dining room as the guests ate breakfast. There was nothing suspicious about the other guests. So far Mr. Fox was their number one mystery critic suspect!
“What if he just wants scrambled eggs?” Ben asked.
“Then we ask if he’d like Dad’s scrambled eggs with mushrooms and chives,” Willa said. “Dad’s cooking is one of the best parts of Misty Inn, so we have to make sure Mr. Fox tri
es it.”
“And writes an awesome review,” Ben added with a nod. “Got it.”
Willa’s eyes searched the tables for Mr. Fox. Almost every table was filled with breakfast-eating guests most likely chatting about the pony swim tomorrow.
Willa was excited about the pony swim too. But right now all she could think about was the mysterious Mr. Fox. Where could he be?
“Why isn’t Mr. Fox having breakfast?” Willa asked.
“Maybe he overslept,” Ben suggested, “which would be a very good sign.”
“A good sign? Why?” Willa asked.
“It would mean his bed was nice and comfy,” Ben explained.
Willa thought Ben might have a point, but just then someone darted past them through the kitchen. Mr. Fox?! He had a crumpled tissue in one hand, his duffel bag in the other. Where was he going in such a hurry?
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fox,” Mom called after him. “I didn’t know you had such an uncomfortable night.”
Willa stared at Ben. “Uncomfortable night”? What did that mean?
By the time Willa and Ben stepped outside, they were too late. Mr. Fox’s car was zooming away from Misty Inn.
Starbuck stood in the pasture, her ears pointed in the direction of the car. It seemed even she knew something was wrong.
“I don’t get it,” Mom said. “New Cat wasn’t in Mr. Fox’s room. Neither was Amos. Yet he said he was up all night long sneezing.”
“What do you think it was?” Ben asked.
“Someone put your grandma’s old horse pillows and tablecloth in his room,” Mom explained. “I’ll bet it was your dad. He said he didn’t want them in the living room.”
Willa didn’t have to look at Ben to know he was staring at her. They both knew it was Willa, not Dad, who was guilty. She had put the vintage pillow and tablecloth in Mr. Fox’s room, not Dad!
Mom continued explaining, “Since Grandma Edna had them at Miller Farm, I’ll bet they’re probably coated with animal hair, dander, and feathers. Not a great match for Mr. Fox’s allergies.”
“Oh, Mom. Why would he ever have come to a farm?” Willa blurted. She was about to confess when Ben heaved a big sigh. . . .
Pony Swim Page 1
