Absolutely Truly

by Heather Vogel Frederick

  I started upstairs, then paused, listening to the murmur of my parents’ voices. Something was clearly up. I snuck back downstairs, flinching as I stepped on the squeaky stair tread. The portrait of the original Truly gave me a disapproving look.

  “Yeah, I know,” I whispered to her. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

  Tiptoeing down the hall, I peeked through the crack between the kitchen door and its frame.

  “Did you get any dinner?” my mother asked my father. “I can fix you a plate of leftovers, if you’d like.”

  “True and I ordered pizza,” my father replied. He shrugged his jacket off and flung it over one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Though heaven knows we shouldn’t have spent the money.”

  My mother leaned back against the sink. “Is everything okay?”

  “Okay?” My father gave a short laugh. “It’s a mess, Dinah. A real mess. I don’t know how my parents kept the business afloat this last year, even with the bank loan.”

  I drew back, feeling guilty for listening but unable to pull myself away.

  A chair scraped against the floor and I heard my father sit down. “They borrowed some money a while back to help the bookstore through what they told me was ‘a dry spell,’ ” he went on to explain. “The note’s coming due soon, and I’m not sure how we’re going to pay it.”

  My mother murmured something I didn’t catch.

  “The accountant doesn’t hold out much hope,” my father told her, “but True seems to think we can turn things around. She wants to give it six months, but I just don’t think it’s worth it. Realistically, it will take every extra cent we have to keep the bank from foreclosing on the loan. We’re stretched pretty thin as it is. Even with my pension and the insurance money and all, we still have college for the kids to save for, and we’re dipping into savings for your tuition—”

  “I’ll drop out,” my mother said quickly.

  “You will not. Better we just admit this whole thing has been a mistake, and call it quits.”

  “I’ll get a part-time job, then.”

  “On top of a full load of classes plus the kids? C’mon, Dinah.”

  “I’m willing to give it a go if you are,” my mother told him. “I know you, J. T.—you’ve never backed away from a challenge in your life. You’ll have a hard time forgiving yourself if you don’t give this your best shot.”

  My father was quiet. Seconds ticked by. Then, “Six weeks,” he said finally. “I’ll give it six weeks.”

  I turned and crept back upstairs to my room, where I lay in bed awake for a long time.

  What if six weeks wasn’t long enough?

  CHAPTER 10

  “Family meeting tonight,” my mother announced at breakfast the next morning.

  There were only five of us at the table. Danny was long gone, of course, and so was my father.

  “What’s up?” asked Hatcher, pouring himself some more orange juice.

  I knew exactly what was up. The bookstore, that’s what. I looked over at my mother, wondering how she’d answer.

  “Nothing to worry about” was all she said, though. Checking her watch, she changed the subject. “I’ve got to run. Sorry I can’t drive you again, but my first class starts in fifteen minutes. Hatcher, you know the way, right?”

  My brother nodded. Not that it was even remotely possible to get lost in a town the size of Pumpkin Falls.

  “Good,” my mother continued. “Be sure and lock the house when you leave.”

  “What about Miss Marple?” Lauren passed a toast crust to the dog, who was lurking hopefully under the table.

  My mother’s face fell. “Is she still here? Your father was supposed to take her with him to the bookstore!”

  “We can drop her off on our way to school,” Hatcher told her.

  “Will you have time?”

  He nodded. “No worries, Mom. We’ve got your six.”

  That’s military-speak for We’ve got your back.

  She looked chagrined. “Guess we still have a few wrinkles to work out with this new routine.”

  After breakfast, I shooed my sisters upstairs to brush their teeth, then headed for the mudroom.

  “Back in a sec,” I told Hatcher, who was packing our lunches.

  I threw on my jacket and boots, grabbed the plastic container filled with sunflower seed, and bounded out the back door. The glare from the sun on the snow-covered yard made my eyes water. Wading through the drifts over to the nearest feeder, I filled it to the brim, then quickly made the rounds to the other ones. Excited twittering and the rustle of wings in the pine trees that fringed the backyard signaled that my efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. When I was finished, I watched for a moment as chickadees and cardinals began to swoop in for their breakfast. I was tempted to linger, but I’d be late for school if I did.

  “Time to go!” Hatcher called, as I stomped the snow off my boots back in the mudroom.

  I helped him bundle my sisters into their warm things, and then we left, locking the front door behind us.

  “I’m blinded!” Hatcher cried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in mock horror at the bright sunlight. “Help me, Lauren! Help me, Pip!”

  He staggered down the front steps and flopped onto his back in the nearest snowbank, making my sisters giggle. I zipped my jacket all the way to the top and pulled my hat farther down around my ears. It might be sunny out this morning, but it certainly wasn’t warm.

  Hatcher and I swung Pippa between us while Lauren and Miss Marple trotted along behind. At the bottom of Hill Street we took a shortcut across the village green, following the narrow footpath that had been trampled in the snow.

  Miss Marple broke into a trot as we reached the other side, dragging Lauren behind her down Main Street. A couple of blocks later, she stopped abruptly in front of Lou’s Diner.

  My sister tugged on the leash. “C’mon, Miss Marple,” she said, but Miss Marple ignored her and sat down on the sidewalk instead.

  A moment later the bell over the door jangled and a large balding man in a white apron poked his head out. “There you are,” he said, not to us but to the dog. “You’re running late this morning, aren’t you?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a donut hole. “Here you go, milady.” He tossed it to Miss Marple, who caught it neatly and gulped it down.

  “No fair!” cried Pippa, her pink glasses sparkling in the sun.

  “You want one too, do you?” The man in the apron grinned at her. “Hang on a sec.” He disappeared back inside, reappearing a minute later with a small white paper bag. “Don’t expect this kind of treatment every morning,” he warned, handing it to Pippa with a wink. “Gotta save some for the paying customers. I’m Lou, by the way. You must be the Lovejoy kids. Welcome to Pumpkin Falls!” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “I’d better run, it’s cold out here!”

  The bell over the door jangled again as he went back inside.

  “I like Lou,” said Pippa, helping herself to a donut. She held the bag out to Hatcher and Lauren and me, and the four of us munched on our treats as we continued down Main Street. I paused in front of the window of the Pumpkin Falls Patriot-Bugle.

  Under a big banner proclaiming PUMPKIN FALLS THEN AND NOW! was this week’s front page, alongside a front page from 1912. Old and yellowed, it sported what looked like an identical picture of the frozen waterfall, along with an equally overexcited headline.

  “I can’t believe what a big deal they’re making out of the stupid waterfall,” I said.

  “It is a big deal,” Lauren insisted. “Annie Freeman said that Ella Bellow said that a TV news crew might be coming up from Boston to film it.”

  “Oh, well, if Ella Bellow said it, then it must be true,” I replied.

  “Who’s Ella Bellow?” asked Hatcher.

  “The postmistress. She came by last night while you were upstairs doing your homework. Mom says she’s the biggest busybody in town.”

  “Whatth a buthybody?” asked Pipp
a.

  “Somebody who sticks their nose into other people’s business,” I told her.

  My little sister raised a pink mitten to her own nose and pondered this as we headed for the bookstore. The door was locked, and Pippa skipped over to the window and peered in, then knocked on the glass. A minute later Dad emerged.

  “You brought the dog,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I guess I forgot.” He took the leash from Lauren, who bent down to scratch Miss Marple behind the ears. Then Pippa had to pat her and give her a good-bye kiss, too, of course.

  “You’ll be late for school,” my father said, tugging on the leash. Miss Marple glanced sorrowfully back at us as the two of them disappeared inside.

  “I think she’d rather stay with us,” said Lauren.

  “Daddy doethn’t like Mith Marple,” added Pippa sadly, slipping her mittened hand into mine.

  Hatcher and I exchanged a glance. Silent Man didn’t seem to like much of anything or anybody these days.

  “He isn’t used to her yet,” my brother told her.

  We made it to school just before the bell rang.

  “Hey,” said Cha Cha as I slid into my seat.

  “Hey back.”

  “How was the tutoring session?”

  I made a Toot Soup noise.

  She grinned. “That bad, huh?”

  Between the stuff going on with my dad, the bookstore, and the mystery envelope—now stashed in my backpack—I was practically bursting to talk to someone. A real, live in-person someone, not just an onscreen-Mackenzie-who-was two-thousand-miles-away. My mother was juggling way too much right now and didn’t have time for me, I wouldn’t see Hatcher again until tonight at suppertime, and Cha Cha was right here. It was time to abandon stealth mode.

  “What do you know about Ella Bellow?” I asked her.

  “The postmistress? Why?”

  I filled her in on Ella’s unexpected visit last night.

  “She’s always fishing for gossip,” Cha Cha said, wrinkling her nose. “My mother says she has ears like a fox. Eyes, too. She doesn’t exactly read the mail at the post office, but she sure keeps close tabs on the return addresses, and she watches who gets what from whom. I got a check for my birthday from my aunt Sylvia in New York last fall, and Mrs. Bellow knew about it before I did!” She gave me a sidelong glance. “So, was she right? Is the bookstore in trouble?”

  I told her about the conversation I’d overheard in the kitchen between my parents.

  “Six weeks, huh?” she said when I was done. “Then what happens?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. There’d be no reason for us to stay in Pumpkin Falls without the bookshop, but we’d sold the house in Austin, and there was no job there for my father anyway, so I doubted we’d move back to Texas. Where would we go? What would we do? I got a pit in my stomach just thinking about it. “And there’s more, too,” I said, thinking of the envelope. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  Before I could continue, Ms. Ivey clapped her hands. “If you’d open your social studies books to chapter seven, we’ll continue our review of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.”

  “We can talk more during study period,” Cha Cha whispered.

  Ms. Ivey crossed the room to our desks. “Truly,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. I coach girls’ basketball here at Daniel Webster, and we’d love to have you on the team.”

  Why is that just because I’m tall, everybody assumes I play basketball?

  “There are several other players you’ve probably met, including Jasmine Sanchez and Amy Nguyen,” she continued. “Think you’d be interested?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, Ms. Ivey, but I’m a swimmer.” At least I would be, if my father ever let me try out for the team. I didn’t tell her that, though.

  My teacher gave me a rueful smile. “Too bad. I know you’ll have fun swimming, but we could really use a player with your height.”

  “Truly Gigantic,” whispered Scooter as Ms. Ivey went back to her desk, careful not to let her hear him this time.

  I ignored him.

  “Lucas is on the swim team too,” Cha Cha told me.

  “Really?” I glanced over at Lucas, sizing him up. I never would have pegged him for a swimmer. Those toothpick arms didn’t exactly scream, Michael Phelps.

  The next hour couldn’t pass quickly enough for me. Now that I’d decided to abandon stealth mode, I couldn’t wait to spill the beans to Cha Cha. Fortunately, Ms. Ivey paired the two of us up for a research project on the First Amendment, which gave us an excuse to sit together in the library during study period.

  “So what’s going on?” Cha Cha whispered.

  I glanced around. Jasmine and Franklin were at the table nearest to us, but they were busy talking and laughing, and from what I could tell weren’t paying us the least bit of attention. “This is,” I replied, pulling the envelope from my backpack and passing it to my new friend. “I found it stuck inside an old copy of Charlotte’s Web at the store yesterday.”

  Cha Cha opened it and read the letter inside. “Wow! It’s kind of like finding a message in a bottle.”

  I nodded.

  Cha Cha read the note again. “Those look familiar,” she said, pointing to the numbers beneath the quote.

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied. “They remind me of something, but I don’t know what.” She picked up the envelope and inspected it. “Wouldn’t you love to know who this was meant for, and who sent it? Or didn’t send it, I mean. Too bad it was never mailed. A postmark would have given us a date at least.”

  I grabbed the envelope back. “Cha Cha, you’re brilliant!” Heads swiveled in our direction, and I quickly lowered my voice. “Stamps are issued on a specific date—my brother Danny used to collect them.”

  Cha Cha grinned her catlike grin. “Now who’s brilliant? We can stop by Earl’s Coins and Stamps after school. They should be able to help us.”

  Ms. Ivey crossed the room toward us. I whisked the envelope and letter underneath my notebook.

  “How are you girls progressing?” she asked.

  “We’re off to a bit of a slow start,” Cha Cha admitted.

  Our teacher steered us to some books and websites, and the rest of the study period passed in a flurry of actual study.

  Cha Cha and I didn’t have a chance to talk at lunch, because there were too many people around and because Franklin Freeman, who didn’t usually babble as much as his little sister, went on and on about the record cold snap, clearly worried about what it could mean for his family’s maple syrup harvest.

  “If the January thaw doesn’t arrive soon, it’s really going to affect the flow,” he said.

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but everybody else at the table nodded sympathetically.

  This entire town is obsessed with weather, I thought. And frozen waterfalls, and maple syrup.

  After lunch, it was time for science class again, where it turned out our frog reprieve had only been a temporary one.

  “Saddle up, cowboys!” said Mr. Bigelow. “It’s showtime!”

  I explained to him about how I’d already dissected a frog earlier this year back in Austin, but if I was hoping that he’d let me ditch the lab and go to the library instead, no such luck.

  “Terrific! You’ll be the expert, then.” He steered me to the table where Jasmine and Cha Cha were sitting. Franklin and Lucas were stationed on one side of us; Scooter and Calhoun on the other.

  “You ladies are the roses between thorns,” quipped Mr. Bigelow. He trotted off, returning a moment later to place a tray containing a dead frog on the table in front of us.

  “Eew!” squealed Jasmine, recoiling, and Cha Cha mimed sticking her finger down her throat.

  “Courage!” our science teacher told them, plopping trays with more of the limp green specimens in front of the boys.

  As soon as Mr. Bigelow’s back was turned, Scooter grabbed h
is frog by one of its hind legs, then leaned over and dangled it in his sister’s face.

  Jasmine shrieked and batted it away. “Scooter!”

  Both the dead frog and Scooter were back in their proper places by the time Mr. Bigelow turned around.

  “Is there something I need to know about?” he asked, frowning.

  Scooter blinked at him innocently, his face as devoid of expression as the frog’s.

  “Just that—oh, forget it,” said Jasmine. “Brothers,” she muttered to Cha Cha and me as our teacher walked away.

  “Tell me about it,” I replied. “I have two of them.” Picking up the lab instructions, I began to read them aloud. “Too bad there isn’t an app for this,” I grumbled when I was finished.

  Cha Cha surreptitiously whipped out her smartphone and tapped on the screen. “Um, actually, there is.”

  Jasmine’s dark eyes lit up. “We should totally use it!”

  Mr. Bigelow materialized behind us like a genie summoned from a lamp. “No, you totally shouldn’t,” he said, plucking the cell phone from Cha Cha’s hand. “You know the rules—you’re doing this old-school, ladies.”

  “But why should some poor frog sacrifice his life for us?” Jasmine protested. “It’s inhumane!”

  “It’s for a worthy cause,” Mr. Bigelow countered. “Try and think of him as a little green hero, sacrificing his life for science.”

  “A little green hero who smells revolting,” Jasmine said, making a big show of holding her nose. She picked up a scalpel with her other hand. “This is just gross.”

  Behind us, there was a loud thud. We turned around to see that Lucas had fallen off his lab stool onto the floor. His face was nearly as green as the frog on our tray.

  Scooter and Calhoun burst out laughing.

  “Shut up, you guys! It’s not funny!” cried Cha Cha.

  Mr. Bigelow rushed over and helped Lucas sit up. “Deep breaths, now, son,” he said, bending him forward so that his head was between his knees. “You’re okay—you just fainted.”

  While Lucas was recovering, Cha Cha rummaged in her backpack.

  “Maybe this will help,” she said, holding up a bottle of Sassy Lassie perfume.