Libby's Sweet Surprise

  “Thank you.”

  “I guess I didn’t see it the last time I was here because I was too busy eating cake.”

  Eloise chuckled. “Cake day was pretty exciting. I can see how you might have missed the garden.”

  They walked over to the patio, where there was a table and four chairs. “Have a seat, dear, and I’ll get us some ice water. Unless you’d prefer some tea?”

  “Water’s fine,” Libby said.

  “The yard is completely fenced,” Eloise said, “if you’d like to let your dog loose.”

  “Are you sure it’s all right?”

  She waved her hand as she approached the back door. “I’m sure. He’s a little thing, he won’t do any harm.”

  Libby let Dexter off his leash so he could have some fun exploring. A minute later, Eloise was back with two glasses of water, napkins, and a plate with some muffins. “It’s not cake, but close,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Libby?” she asked as she leaned back in her chair and took a long sip from her glass.

  “I’m looking for something of Grandma Grace’s, and I think you might have it.”

  “Me?” she asked with a look of surprise.

  “There was a canning jar a friend of hers brought over from America a long time ago. It was filled with peaches. After they ate the peaches, her friend wrote a poem about friendship, and Grandma Grace stuck it in the jar. But when she went looking for it recently, she couldn’t find it. She thinks she may have put some flowers in it and given it to a friend. I’m trying to find it, because it was really special to her, and, well, I want to read the poem.”

  “She didn’t give it to me,” Eloise said as she picked up a muffin and took a bite.

  “But I’ve checked with the other two friends she mentioned, and they don’t have it either.”

  “Maybe it got thrown out,” Eloise said. “Sad to consider, I know, but it very well could be that it’s just … gone.”

  “I don’t think so,” Libby said, trying to convince herself as much as Eloise. “It was really special to her. Are you sure you don’t have it? Maybe she gave it to you and you’ve forgotten?”

  Eloise shook her head. “No. I’d remember something like that. The only time she gave me flowers was when I was ill, and they weren’t in any kind of vase. Just wrapped together with a rubber band, and then we put them in one of my vases. I remember that quite clearly.”

  Libby wanted to ask her to check, just to be sure, but it didn’t seem like Eloise had any doubt at all about the jar.

  Eloise narrowed her eyes as if she were concentrating very hard. “You do know that even if the poem was in the jar, it most likely wouldn’t be there now, right?”

  Libby gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? Why not?”

  “If Grace put flowers in the jar for a friend, either she would have put water in the jar before she delivered them, or the friend would have put some in once she received the flowers. Do you understand what I’m saying? The poem would have been ruined, if no one had noticed it was there.”

  Libby’s mouth dropped open. Of course Eloise was right. Why hadn’t Libby thought of that?

  “Oh dear,” Eloise said as tears filled Libby’s eyes. “I’ve upset you. Here, have a lemon poppy seed muffin. They’re quite good, if I do say so myself. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Libby wasn’t sure there was anything that would be able to do that.

  Monday morning, Libby went looking for Cedric before school. She had to make things right with him. She just had to. He was the only one who knew about her search for the jar and the poem, and she thought she might burst if she didn’t tell someone how badly things had gone over the weekend.

  She found him standing against the wall, waiting outside his first period class.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello.”

  “Did everything go all right on Saturday?” she asked.

  “You would know the answer to that question if you’d come by like you said you would,” he said as he picked at a bandage while holding his books against his chest.

  “What happened to your finger?”

  “I was helping my mother slice some cucumbers for a salad.”

  “Ouch,” Libby said.

  He continued to look at his finger, and Libby wondered if he was doing it on purpose, to avoid having to look at her. “Why do we have to eat salads anyway?” Cedric asked. “They taste like nothing. Like a whole lot of nothing with some goopy stuff poured on to try and make the nothing taste like something.”

  Libby smiled. “I’m sorry about your finger. And I’m sorry I didn’t make it on Saturday. My aunt and uncle wouldn’t let me go.”

  He stared at her quizzically. “What do you mean, your aunt and uncle? Were you visiting them?”

  “That’s who I live with,” Libby explained. “My parents were killed in a car crash when I was little.”

  “That’s horrible,” Cedric said.

  “It was,” Libby said, leaning up against the wall next to Cedric. “But my aunt and uncle take good care of me. They’re just a bit strict sometimes. Like, I can’t have any electronics of my own until I turn thirteen.”

  “What, no phone?” Cedric asked.

  Libby shook her head.

  “No computer?” he said.

  “Nope,” Libby said.

  “That’s really horrible.”

  Libby laughed. “Anyway, was the grand opening a huge success? Did you have a lot of people?”

  “I thought we did,” Cedric said. “But my parents were disappointed. They think that other sweetshop in town with the old, stuffy name stole the customers away with their anniversary sale.”

  Libby gulped. Now was the time. She should tell him. Right now. She took a deep breath and tried to say the words, but nothing came out. How could she do it, she wondered. How could she tell him the truth and have him view her as one of the people responsible for possibly ruining his parents’ dream? After all, if it hadn’t been for the anniversary sale at Mr. Pemberton’s, The Sweet Retreat probably would have had lots of business. In a way, his parents’ disappointment about the grand opening was Libby’s fault, since it’d been her idea to have an anniversary sale in the first place.

  Shame filled her. She didn’t want Cedric to know the truth, about any of it. She wanted things to stay exactly as they were.

  Cedric turned and looked straight at her. “What’s your favorite kind of candy?” he asked, changing the subject slightly. Libby felt relieved.

  “Um, my favorite? Why do you want to know?”

  “You told me Rebecca’s favorite kind, but you’ve never told me yours. I think I’ve tasted just about everything in the shop now, and I’m really curious what your favorite is. I actually have a guess, and want to know if I’m right.”

  “What’s your guess?”

  “Gobstopper,” Cedric said.

  Libby shook her head. “Nope. Why do you think it’s that one?”

  Cedric shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s kind of simple and old-fashioned? You seem like a simple girl who likes simple things.”

  “Wait,” Libby said, crossing her arms. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. What do you mean, simple?”

  “I don’t mean anything bad by it. Honest. It just seems to me that you’re not someone who needs or wants fancy things. Take that jar you’ve been looking for. Nothing fancy about it, right?”

  Libby’s face drooped. “Right. The jar. I have bad news about that.”

  “You do?” A boy walked by and slapped Cedric on the shoulder. Cedric glanced up, waved, and then looked back at Libby. “What happened?”

  Traffic was picking up in the hallway. Libby glanced at her watch and saw that she only had a minute before the bell would ring. She spoke quickly. “One of the ladies, Franny, died, and her daughter was sure it wasn’t in her house. The other lady, Eloise, said she doesn’t have it either. But w
hat’s even worse is Eloise told me if Grandma Grace did give it away to someone with flowers, the poem wouldn’t still be there, because the water put in the vase to keep the flowers fresh would have destroyed it.”

  “Maybe your grandma noticed the piece of paper and took it out before she gave the jar away,” Cedric suggested.

  “But if she noticed the poem,” Libby argued, “she would have realized it was the special jar and not given it away at all. Do you see what I mean?”

  “Except it doesn’t seem like she gave it away if her three friends don’t have it,” Cedric said.

  Libby shook her head, confused.

  “Where are you going to look next?” Cedric asked.

  Libby sighed. “I think I need to see if I can get into Grandma Grace’s house and search for it there. Maybe she just didn’t look hard enough.”

  The bell rang and the door to Cedric’s first period class opened.

  “I should get to class,” Libby said.

  “Do you want to meet at the park later?” Cedric asked. “After school? I need to walk Goldie, since she didn’t get out much this weekend.”

  “Sure,” Libby said. She waved and turned to leave. “See you then.”

  “Wait. You didn’t tell me what your favorite kind of candy is.”

  Libby smiled. “Keep guessing. It will be fun to see how long it takes you to figure it out.”

  Libby told herself that when Cedric figured it out, when he guessed correctly, that would be when she’d tell him. About Mr. Pemberton’s. It would be the perfect opportunity.

  A small voice inside of her whispered that she shouldn’t wait. That it might take Cedric a really long time to guess, and it wasn’t right to keep the truth from him. But Libby shook her head, trying to shake that voice away.

  More time was exactly what she needed, for it would give The Sweet Retreat a chance to take off and do well. Once that happened, it would be much easier to tell Cedric about her family’s business. After all, she couldn’t bear to have him think of her, specifically, as the enemy.

  It made her shudder just thinking about it.

  When Libby got home from school, she grabbed Dexter’s leash, told her aunt where she was headed, and took off. She didn’t even take the time to have a snack. It seemed Cedric had forgiven her for not making it to the grand opening on Saturday, and she didn’t want to do anything else that might upset him.

  She and Dexter walked around the park, looking for Cedric, but he wasn’t there yet. As she walked by a girl sitting at a picnic table, the girl looked up from whatever it was she was working on and said, “Hello. Don’t you go to my school?”

  Libby didn’t recognize the girl. “I don’t know. I go to Bennett Memorial.”

  “Yes,” the girl said. “We’re in choir together.”

  Libby felt bad for not recognizing her, even though it was a big class. She was about to apologize for it when the girl asked, “Do you want to sit with me for a few minutes?”

  Libby shrugged. “All right. Just until my friend gets here.”

  After Libby sat down, the girl said, “I’m Sabrina, by the way.”

  “I’m Libby. And this is Dexter.”

  “He’s cute,” Sabrina said with a smile. “I was drawing him. See?”

  Libby leaned in to take a look at the tablet of paper on the table. She had indeed sketched a picture of Dexter. “Wow. You’re a really good artist.”

  “Thanks,” Sabrina said. “I have another pencil, if you’d like to draw too.”

  “Sure.” Libby put Dexter’s leash on the ground and stepped on it, so she’d have both hands free. Dexter settled down in a spot on the grass and seemed perfectly content.

  Sabrina reached into her bag and got out a drawing pencil and another sketch pad. “I always bring two, just in case I run into a friend.”

  Libby began to draw the trunk of a tree as she looked out at one in the park. “My friend Cedric, who I’m supposed to meet here, loves to draw too. He makes his own comic books.”

  “Nifty,” Sabrina said.

  Libby looked up. “Did you just say nifty?”

  “Yes,” Sabrina said. “I love that word. How come we don’t say it much anymore? Everyone says brilliant or splendid, but I like nifty.”

  Libby watched Sabrina as she continued to work on her picture of Dexter. Sabrina had short brown hair and pretty brown eyes. She wore green overalls with a pink tee underneath. She looked a bit old-fashioned and trendy all at the same time. In fact, she looked exactly like someone who would love the word nifty.

  “So, you like to draw too?” Sabrina asked.

  “Yes,” Libby said.

  “My mum thinks I’m strange because I always have my nose in a book or a pencil in my hand. She tells me, ‘Go outside. You need fresh air. Children need fresh air.’ ”

  “So you come here and draw?” Libby asked. “That’s pretty smart.”

  “As long as the weather’s nice. It’s not as fun when it’s pouring.”

  “What kind of books do you like to read?” Libby asked.

  Sabrina looked up from her drawing, her eyes big and round. “Mysteries. I can’t get enough of them. I love trying to figure it all out. Put the pieces of the puzzle together or whatever.”

  “I have a real-life mystery that I’m trying to solve right now,” Libby said. “I think it must be much more fun to read about a mystery rather than try to solve one yourself.”

  Sabrina put her pencil down. “Oh, you have to tell me. Maybe I can help you solve it. Please?”

  Libby put the final touches on her tree and then set her pencil down too. She looked around, wondering if she’d missed Cedric while she was busy drawing. But she didn’t see him or Goldie anywhere. “All right. I’ll tell you.”

  And so, she told Sabrina the entire story of the jar and the poem. How she’d learned about it by reading her great grandmother’s journal, and then how she went looking for it at the three places Grandma Grace thought it might be.

  “I bet it’s in her house,” Sabrina said after Libby had finished her story. “When she moved, it got put in a strange place, and it’s just a matter of finding it.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking,” Libby said, resting her chin in her hands. “I guess I have to figure out how to get into her house. Like, should I ask my aunt and uncle if they can take me there, or do I try to sneak in?”

  “No one is living there now?” Sabrina said.

  “Nope.”

  “Are they going to sell the house?”

  “I don’t know,” Libby said. “I haven’t heard them say anything.”

  “I think you should try to sneak in. That way you can look anywhere and everywhere without worrying about it. All you need is a window you can open that you can crawl through, right?”

  “What if someone sees me?” Libby asked, trying to imagine crawling through a window. “Or even worse, what if I get stuck?”

  “I could go with you,” Sabrina said.

  Libby took a deep breath. “I need to think about it. I’ll let you know at school in a couple of days, how’s that?”

  Sabrina nodded. “All right. I understand.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get home.”

  Libby handed the art supplies back to her. “Thanks for letting me draw with you.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you think your friend is coming?”

  Libby looked around the park again. The sun was setting low in the sky and it was getting chilly. “I don’t think so. Guess I’ll head home too.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t show up,” Sabrina said. “I loved hearing about your mystery.”

  Libby wasn’t sure what Cedric’s absence meant, exactly, but of all the things she felt about it, glad wasn’t one of them. It was nice getting to know Sabrina, of course. But she worried all over again that he was upset about her not showing up on Saturday.

  Maybe this had been payback?

  Libby found Cedric at school the next day.

 
“You didn’t come,” Libby said as she watched him fight with a pile of books in his locker. “To the park. I waited for you for quite a while.”

  Cedric turned around and faced her. “Oh, you actually went? I didn’t think you’d show up, so I didn’t go.”

  Libby crossed her arms and scowled. She’d been right. He’d wanted to pay her back for not showing up at the grand opening. “That’s not very nice, Cedric. I already told you I’m sorry I couldn’t make it on Saturday. Why did you have to make me feel even worse?”

  He looked down at his feet and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t very nice. I got home and I was tired and all I wanted to do was sit and draw, so that’s what I did.”

  “If you’d come to the park, you could have sketched with me and Sabrina.”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “Who’s Sabrina?”

  “I met her yesterday. She goes here too. She’s a really good artist.”

  “Well fine,” he said as he went back to his locker. “See? You didn’t need me there anyway.”

  There was something in his voice that made Libby feel bad about being so annoyed with him. He sounded down. Sad, maybe. “Is something wrong, Cedric?” Libby asked. “You’re acting a bit strange, and I think I’m worried about you.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about me.” After he had his books, he shut his locker door and turned to face her. “We may be living on the streets soon, eating the sweets we couldn’t sell, but we’ll be fine.”

  Libby felt a little knife stab at her heart. “Cedric, what’s going on? Tell me. Please?”

  The bell rang. He shook his head. “I have to get to class. See you later.”

  She didn’t want him to go to class. He should stay so they could work things out. Whatever was going on, she wanted to try and help him. But of course he didn’t stay. School was about to start. And so, Libby went to class like she was supposed to and hoped that soon, they would get the chance to talk some more.

  * * *

  In choir class later, Sabrina was waiting for Libby.

  “Hi,” she said, patting the chair next to her. “I saved you a seat.”