The peach pit, p.4
The Peach Pit, page 4
Curious, Lucy climbed up onto the ledge and pushed up on the door in the ceiling with both hands. At first it wouldn’t budge. But when she stood up, stooped slightly in the cramped space, and pushed her shoulder against the little door, it creaked open. Finally, with a pop, it released and fell off to the side inside the open area overhead. Lucy stood up all the way and pressed onto her tiptoes to peek inside the hidden space above her bedroom. Her eyes went wide.
Through the little door was an attic. But not just any attic. This attic was huge, the size of the entire fourth story of the house, probably, and the beamed ceilings were surprisingly high. Dusty sunlight slivered in from filthy windows on each end of the room, making it easy for Lucy to get a good look around.
There were boxes upon boxes, piles and bins of what looked like Christmas decorations, some old toys and games, a few pieces of raggedy furniture, and a whole lot more. Lucy closed her eyes and said a silent thank-you to the universe. Because she suddenly had more than a reading nook in her closet; she had a whole attic to explore and make her own. Lucy was beginning to think Great Aunt Lucinda’s mansion might turn out to be even better than she ever could have imagined.
5
CLASSROOM TRADITIONS
Herb hopped off the school bus at his brand-new bus stop, which was just down the block from Great Aunt Lucinda’s mansion. It had taken a few days for him to get used to a new route home and to feel confident about where, exactly, he was supposed to get off the bus. But now that Herb was partway through the first week of third grade, he was feeling pretty good about his new routine. That didn’t mean he was feeling good about his family’s new house…just the routine.
Herb still didn’t like that they’d had to move, and he still thought Great Aunt Lucinda’s house was creepy. He’d loved his family’s old house, and he missed it. He wished he could go back, to visit at least, but with those college kids living there now, it wasn’t his anymore. Surprisingly, Herb also missed sharing a room with his big brother. But one thing that took the sting out of this move was the fact that school had started—at least Herb had something good to look forward to every day.
Like his big sister, Herb loved school. In fact, he loved school so much that he did extra math at the university where Dad worked (Freddy called this Herb’s “Tiny Genius” math class). With Dad now back at work—classes at the college had started this week, too—and Herb and his siblings back in school, things were as close to normal as they had been in a long time.
Except that for the Peaches, normal now meant living in a mansion.
That was not normal. Who lived in a mansion? None of Herb’s school friends, that was for sure. Only people in movies lived in mansions. Rich people. The Peaches had never been rich, and they were still not rich.
But actually, Herb had realized, they kind of had been millionaires…for a little while, anyway. Now they were more like ten-percent-millionaires. Herb had tried to explain his family’s strange story when it was his turn to speak in sharing circle that day. “When my mom was still alive,” he’d explained to his new classmates, “she worked as an inventor. Mom didn’t make very much money doing that because no one really liked any of her stuff, and also, some of it didn’t really turn out right or work the way it was supposed to. But before she died, Mom was working on these special things called solar clings. They’re these neat stickers that people can put on windows in their house, and they help collect energy from the sun—”
His teacher, Mr. Andrus, had cut in. “Do these solar clings work like solar panels on a roof?” he asked. “Or windmills? Those are both things that collect energy, and help to power things.” Mr. Andrus pulled up some pictures of solar panels and windmills on the smart board to show the rest of the class what he was talking about.
“Yes,” Herb said. “But Mom’s solar window clings are smaller. And they’re stickers. And they’re pretty, because they look like art. Solar panels are kind of ugly and boring.”
“Gotcha,” Mr. Andrus said with a grin. He nodded for Herb to continue.
“So anyway, this big company wanted to buy Mom’s solar clings and they paid her more than a million dollars for them. But she’s not alive anymore, so the money went to Dad. Since it wasn’t his invention and it’s not his money, Dad decided to donate almost all of it to cancer research and he saved some for me and Lucy and Freddy’s college. He kept a little bit for fun stuff, but not very much.” Herb’s classmates had stared at him, and Herb couldn’t tell if they were following along with the story. “So we’re not actually millionaires,” Herb had explained. “Not anymore, anyway. But we moved into a fancy rich-person house that my Great Aunt Lucinda gave us. Oh, and we also got to keep her four dogs and we’re opening a bed-and-breakfast.”
“You’ve had quite the summer,” Mr. Andrus said. Herb wasn’t sure why, but he kind of got the feeling that Mr. Andrus thought he was fibbing. When his new teacher got to know him, hopefully he would realize Herb almost always told the truth.
Herb opened his mouth to speak again, eager to tell his classmates about the baby mice he’d adopted that summer, and about the Peach Pie Truck, and the beach house they’d stayed at in North Carolina, and the Ohio Food Truck Festival. But before he could get any more words out, Mr. Andrus cut him off again to let another kid have a turn.
As soon as Herb got home from school that day, he called out for his big sister. “Lucy!”
No answer.
“Luuuuuuu-cy!” he tried again. Rudy the dog came careening around the corner and scratched at Herb’s leg.
When Lucy still didn’t answer, Herb hopped across the kitchen and pressed the fourth-floor button on the old-fashioned intercom. “Lucy!” he shrieked into it.
When he still didn’t get any answer, Herb pressed the second-floor intercom button, then the third-floor, then the fourth-floor again. The only response he got was from Freddy, who shouted back through the little speaker, “You don’t have to scream into the intercom, Herb!”
Freddy was allowed to bike to and from school and had somehow been getting home before Herb’s bus dropped him off every day. It was kind of annoying that Herb was always the last Peach kid home. But it was also nice, since it meant he never had to be in Great Aunt Lucinda’s haunted house alone. It was always different before, when he’d come by to visit their great aunt’s house as a guest. But now, the scary noises were his scary noises, and Herb couldn’t pop in the car and ride away from them at the end of the night.
So even though he hated getting home last most days, Herb wasn’t sure he’d ever want to be alone in this house. He was maybe starting to get used to some of the strange noises the house made (and Lucy had promised him Great Aunt Lucinda had been joking about the ghosts), but this didn’t make him any less creeped out. Some of Herb’s friends thought living in a mansion sounded really cool, but he’d come to realize it was actually very strange and kind of lonely.
Eager to talk to his sister (who was Herb’s very best friend and favorite person in the whole wide world), Herb raced up the wide staircase to the fourth floor. All four of the dogs raced after him. If it weren’t for the dogs, Herb would truly hate living in the mansion—but the addition of Great Aunt Lucinda’s four dogs made this whole situation a whole lot better. They were a lot of work, and Herb had to clean up a lot of messes that they made, but the work was worth it. The pack followed Herb almost everywhere he went, so he was almost never actually alone.
By the time he reached the very tip-top fourth floor of the house (the little half story that he and Lucy shared, just the two of them), Herb was out of breath and panting. He raced into Lucy’s room, but found it empty. Herb leaned over and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he stood back up, his sister had appeared, as if by magic.
Herb’s mouth popped open. “Where did you come from?” he asked.
Lucy glanced at her closet. Herb thought she looked a little guilty about something. She asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Herb said, “you weren’t here a second ago, but now you are.” Great Aunt Lucinda’s house was enormous, which made it hard for Herb to find people sometimes. But he was pretty sure Lucy must have been hiding from him somewhere, since he was almost positive she hadn’t been in her room when he first walked in.
Lucy laughed, but didn’t answer his question. Instead, she said, “How was your third day at school?” All four dogs hopped up onto Lucy’s bed, bouncing off the floor at almost the same time, reminding Herb of four little popped kernels of popcorn. Herb tumbled down on the floor, and they all immediately jumped back down again to nuzzle up beside him. Vix nosed her snout into Herb’s pocket, trying to snag a treat. Herb had been working on starting to teach the four dogs some manners and basic tricks, which meant he almost always had some fake-bacon treats tucked into his pocket. Herb was hoping that if the pack learned to be a little better behaved, he could take them to Birch Pond retirement community to visit Aunt Lucinda. But they had a lot of work to do before that could happen.
“My day was okay,” Herb said. He pointed at Rudolph, who usually went by Rudy. “Rudy, sit!”
Rather than sitting, Rudy dashed across the room and dragged Lucy’s T-shirt out from under her desk chair. He whipped his head from side to side, tossing the shirt around like a rag doll.
“Drop it!” Herb ordered. Rudy raced out of the room, set the T-shirt just outside the door, then turned and barked to signal that he was ready to play a game of chase.
“Not a great day?” Lucy asked, swiping Vix—short for Vixen—off the floor and cuddling her into her lap. Herb thought it was funny that Aunt Lucinda had named all four of her dogs after Santa’s reindeer. Their great aunt loved old Christmas movies and always enjoyed getting her house all dressed up for the holidays. She’d told Herb that having Santa’s reindeer as pets helped her keep the holiday spirit alive all year long.
Herb scrambled over to retrieve the stolen T-shirt, then sat down on Lucy’s bedroom floor and proceeded to put Rudy in the shirt. All the dogs seemed to like wearing human clothes; at the very least, they all tolerated it. And they all looked very cute in little costumes. “No, it was a pretty good day,” Herb said. “I really like Mr. Andrus. Today he told us about some of the special events he does during the year in his classroom. Once every month, he has this thing called Books for Breakfast where we all read the same book and then we get to come to school early one morning and eat muffins and talk about the book together—like a book club. Sometimes, he even invites the author to come and talk to us from his computer!”
“Wow!” Lucy said. “That sounds amazing, Herb.”
“The first book he picked for us to read is called Meet Yasmin! about a girl named Yasmin and it looks really good. It’s not very long.” Herb was excited about his teacher’s morning book club. He and Lucy had sort of done a book club that summer in the food truck, but it wasn’t quite the same as talking about a book with his teacher and friends. “Also, he started something called The Tournament of Books. He’s going to read us a picture book every single day this fall, and then we all get to vote for the books we like the best until we figure out the all-time class favorite.”
“I wish I’d had that guy as my teacher in third grade,” Lucy muttered. “That all sounds so fun!” She wrapped her hand around Vix’s mouth, since the little pup was now trying to chew and de-stuff Lucy’s stuffed duck. Lucy slept with the duck most nights, but was always willing to share it with Herb when he was feeling sad or lonely or scared. He’d borrowed the duck every single night since they’d moved into the mansion; it was strange sleeping in a room without Freddy’s deep breathing thundering out of the bunk above him.
“Yeah,” Herb said. “My teacher is pretty great so far…” He trailed off. The thing he hadn’t told Lucy about was the special Mother-Son Tea his teacher hosted each year the week before Thanksgiving break. It was a chance for all the boys in the room to bring their moms in and serve them at a fancy tea party. Mr. Andrus also hosted a Father-Daughter Sharing Feast for the girls in class, so they could invite their dads in for a special afternoon eating snacks together in the classroom.
The problem was, Herb didn’t have a mother anymore, and he felt weird going to the sharing feast with all the girls and dads…so what, exactly, was a guy like him supposed to do?
6
BUILDING PLANS
“Blug blid bluh blubber blumber blay,” Freddy announced through a mouthful of food at dinner on Friday night.
“Seriously?” Lucy snapped, glaring at him. “Can you maybe chew before you start talking?”
Freddy opened his mouth and chewed in a giant, exaggerated way—like a cow chomping its cud. Then he swallowed and blurted out, “What did the other plumber say? And the carpenter lady?”
Walter Peach took a sip of his sparkling water and delicately wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin Lucy had found in one of the built-in drawers in the mansion’s dining room. Freddy found the fussy napkins at Aunt Lucinda’s mansion icky and scratchy; they had always been more of a paper towel kind of family (or if it were up to him, Freddy would prefer to just wipe his dirty hands on his pants—that’s what pants are there for). “Well,” Dad began. “We have some issues.”
“Is it the broken faucet in the third-floor guest bathroom?” Herb asked.
“Or the leaky kitchen sink?” Lucy suggested.
“The busted window in my room?” Freddy suggested. He thought it was kinda cool, the way the wind sort of whistled through the cracks in his windowpanes. But he guessed it would be less fun when winter came, and each whistle would bring with it a gust of icy air. “The one that’s patched up with duct tape, or the other one that sort of rattles when it’s windy?”
“That gross rotted siding above the front porch?” Lucy added. “It’s starting to shed off the side of the house in chunks, like lizard skin.”
“That’s called molting. Some lizards eat their old skin after it flakes off!” Freddy said with a nod. “Did you guys know that lizards can break off a chunk of their own tail if it gets caught by a predator?”
“Are they worried about the peeling paint around all the windows outside?” Herb guessed, ignoring Freddy’s very interesting fun fact.
“Have they seen the patch that looks like a wet pee spot on the ceiling below the second-floor guest bathroom?” Freddy asked. “I bet that’s not good.”
Dad cringed. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Which one?” Lucy asked.
“All of those things and a whole lot more,” Dad said, sighing. “Have I even told you kids that the water in the shower in my bathroom and two of the guest bedrooms comes out sort of brown? Fixing plumbing issues in this house is pretty much going to use up all of our fun money, and possibly more. There’s no way we’re going to have this place ready for guests by Thanksgiving.”
Freddy shoved some more noodles in his mouth and said, “Don chay dat.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Herb agreed. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m just being realistic,” Dad said, shaking his head. “I know Lucinda is expecting us to have things up and running here in a matter of months, but I can’t see how that’s possible. We’re going to need to do a lot of the work on this house ourselves in order to afford everything. We can handle some of the painting, and the littler projects, but frankly, I don’t know as much as I’d like to know about plumbing and carpentry work.”
“Do you know anything about carpentry or plumbing work?” Lucy asked slowly.
“I’ve read a few books and watched some of those home improvement shows on TV,” Dad said. “I’m sure we can figure out enough to handle some of the basics. That will help cut costs, but it’s going to take time. And a lot of hard work.”
Freddy and his siblings exchanged a look. Their dad was not the kind of guy who should touch any plumbing pipes, or even so much as pick up a hammer and nails or electric drill, but how were they supposed to explain that to him? Dad was definitely a smart, capable guy…when it came to bookish stuff and futzing with his soil samples in the lab. When it came to practical stuff like building or repairing things (or even making dinner), he’d never really been a genius. Mom had always been the one who handled home repairs and assembled any furniture that needed building; after she died, Dad had hired people whenever they needed things done that couldn’t be ignored or put off indefinitely.
But if Freddy had learned anything during their Great Peach Experiment in the food truck, it was that their dad was actually somewhat willing to adjust and learn when he had no other choice—so maybe if Dad said he could take on some of the repairs himself, it was their job to believe in him and support his efforts. “I’m happy to help out,” Freddy offered. “I do a lot of the building at Cardboard Camp, so I at least know how to work a hammer.”
“That’s good,” Dad said. “Hammers have never been something I’ve ever really gotten the hang of.”
Again, the kids exchanged nervous looks.
“The place doesn’t need to be perfect by Thanksgiving,” Freddy pointed out. “We might not ever be some kind of luxury hotel, but the Peach Pit has charm. We’ve got that going for us.”
