So that’s what they did, and Margaret had been right. It did go quickly. And because Margaret was a smart lady, she sorted the items as they went. Vases and colored jars were in one spot while clear jars were put in another.
Libby stepped down off the stool and took everything in. There were only five clear jars, and none of them really looked like jars you’d put peaches in. They were too small — more like jelly jars.
“She said the jar wasn’t anything special,” Libby said, picking up one of the small jars and examining it. “Just a clear, old Mason jar. But it didn’t matter what it looked like; it was special to her for other reasons.” Libby looked at Margaret. “That’s exactly what she said.”
“I’m sorry it doesn’t appear to be here,” Margaret said. “Are there other friends of hers you can check with?”
“Yes,” Libby said as she leaned back against the counter. “Franny and Eloise were also mentioned. I guess I’ll have to see if one of them has it.”
“Well, let’s sit down and have our tea, shall we?” Margaret said. “I think you’ll like the biscuits I made yesterday. Light and buttery with a hint of cinnamon.”
“Did you know they call them cookies in America?” Libby asked as she returned to the table. “My friends at summer camp told me that in America, a biscuit is a dinner roll.”
“Oh yes,” Margaret said. “I remember that from the time I traveled there a number of years ago.”
Margaret began to tell a story, but Libby wasn’t listening. She was staring at the words “Good luck” on the saucer.
She took a sip of her tea. It didn’t taste lucky at all. In fact, it tasted a lot like disappointment.
After a few months at Bennett Memorial, her new school, Libby finally felt somewhat at home there. She’d gotten used to wearing the school uniform, which consisted of a kilt, a white blouse, and a Bennett blazer. She’d even grown comfortable with being around much older students (mostly, she just chose to ignore them). Some of her classes were pretty challenging, but she liked all of her teachers, so that made them tolerable. For the most part.
On Monday, Libby found Cedric during lunchtime, like he’d asked her to do. Normally he ate with his best friend, Louis, but today he sat by himself.
“Hi,” Libby said. “Where’s Louis?”
“He’s at home, sick,” Cedric said as he munched on an apple. “Do you want to sit with me, instead of the group of girls you usually eat with?”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Did you find the jar you were looking for?”
Libby sighed as she set her tray down, before she plopped down in the seat across from Cedric. “No. She only had five clear jars and none of them were the type I’m looking for.”
Cedric shook his head. “You should have worn my lucky trousers.”
It made Libby smile. “They wouldn’t have helped, since she doesn’t have the jar. So now I have to visit Franny. I think I’m going to do it this weekend sometime. But the thing is, I don’t know Franny very well. She was a neighbor of Grandma Grace’s, but we never visited her the way we visited Margaret. Maybe they weren’t really friends, just people who lived next door to each other.”
“What if she didn’t even like your grandma?” Cedric asked. “That would be really awkward for you.”
“But Grandma Grace was a nice lady. I think everyone who knew her liked her. Besides, if she gave flowers to Franny, that must mean they were friendly with each other.”
“I suppose,” Cedric said as he set down his apple core. “Hey, the grand opening of The Sweet Retreat is on Saturday. Do you think you and your family could come? I know it’d mean a lot to my parents. They’re really nervous about the whole thing.”
Libby looked down at the table, her mind frantically trying to come up with an excuse. Finally she decided it might be best to keep her answer vague. “I can probably come. I don’t know about my family, though. I’ll have to check.”
“All right,” he said. “To be honest, I’m not that excited about it. Louis invited me to go with him and his dad to Kent Comics. It’s a comic book shop over in Orpington. I really want to go, but my parents said I have to be at the sweetshop all day long.”
Libby wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she simply said, “Sorry.”
“It won’t be so bad if you come and keep me company for a while,” Cedric replied. “I bet my dad will let us sample some of the sweets. Have you ever heard of chocolate frogs?”
Libby knew he was hoping to get some weird reaction out of her. But the words chocolate frogs just made her feel even more anxious about the big secret she was keeping from him. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve heard of them. They’re Rebecca’s favorite, actually.”
“Oh,” Cedric said. “Sorry. Sore subject. Maybe you could ask her to come along with you? Buy her some chocolate frogs and patch things up between the two of you.”
“I don’t think so,” Libby said as she picked at her shepherd’s pie. “I mean, I feel like what’s going on between us is too big for chocolate frogs. I don’t even know what it is that’s going on, exactly. That’s what’s strange. Things are just … different between us. She’s changed. Or maybe I have. I’m not sure.”
“How can anything be too big for chocolate?” he said. “Chocolate makes anything better. Doesn’t it?”
“I wish,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too. Then I could just make sure my mum and dad had lots of chocolate on Saturday, and I could go along with Louis to the comic book store.”
“You really do like comic books a lot, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes. I might like them even more than sweets,” he said as he reached into his lunch bag and pulled out two chocolate truffles. “If you can believe that.”
“Why do you like them so much?” she asked. “Comic books, I mean?”
“I think it’s because the story comes to life in such a unique way because of the artwork. I can see the story really clearly in my head. And the stories are really exciting, with lots of action. I like that.”
“Is that what you want to do when you grow up? Write and draw comic books?”
“I think so. If I’m good enough.”
Libby didn’t know what she wanted to do when she grew up. Her aunt and uncle often talked about her taking over Mr. Pemberton’s Olde Sweetshop someday. She’d told them that would be awfully weird, since her last name wasn’t Pemberton like all the other owners of the shop. They said it didn’t matter. Maybe not, but what did matter was that Libby thought working at the sweetshop the rest of her life sounded completely boring.
Of course, now, with a second shop in town, who knew what might happen. What if The Sweet Retreat put Mr. Pemberton’s out of business?
“Are you all right?” Cedric asked Libby. “You look a little pale.”
“I just had a terrible thought about something,” Libby said. “It’s too terrible to even talk about. Sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Cedric said. He passed one of the truffles across the table. “Here. This should make you feel better.”
Libby popped it into her mouth. The delicious chocolate melted in her mouth and she let herself enjoy it for a moment.
“Do you feel better?” Cedric asked her.
She smiled. “I do.”
Cedric threw his hands in the air, a big grin on his face. “See? What did I tell you? Chocolate is the solution to everything.”
If only, Libby thought.
When Libby got home from school, Dexter was sitting on the chair by the front window, watching for her, like he did every day. She walked in and Dexter jumped from the chair and ran over to her, dancing around to let her know how happy he was to see her.
“Come on,” she said. “You want a treat?” This was another phrase Dexter understood completely.
“Hi, Lib,” Aunt Jayne said when Libby walked into the kitchen. “How was school today?”
“Fine, I guess,” Libby said as she got a treat out of the
box. She threw it across the floor and watched Dexter chase after it.
“You don’t sound very convincing about that,” her aunt said.
Libby couldn’t stop thinking about the grand opening on Saturday. She’d told Cedric she would come, and there didn’t seem to be any way to get out of it now. Unless she pretended to be sick, and she didn’t like the idea of going that far.
Dexter took off toward the entryway, due to the sound of the front door clicking open and then closed. Libby looked at her aunt, confused, since her uncle didn’t usually get home this early. Aunt Jayne gave her a little shrug, indicating her confusion as well.
“Oliver?” Aunt Jayne called. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” he replied. A second later, he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “I closed the shop early today. I’m not feeling very well.”
Aunt Jayne scowled. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”
“Horrible headache,” he replied. “Think I’ll go lie down for a while.”
“You should take some aspirin first,” Aunt Jayne said. She hurried to the sink and filled a glass with water. Then she went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of pills.
“You know, we have to do something,” Uncle Oliver said, leaning up against the doorframe. He looked really tired to Libby. And maybe a little bit sad.
His wife gave him a funny look. “We are doing something. You’re going to take these pills —”
“No. I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean, about the grand opening on Saturday. We can’t let them walk all over us.”
She handed him the water and pills and said, “Don’t worry about that now. Go lie down.” She glanced over at Libby, a concerned look on her face. “We’ll discuss it later.”
After Uncle Oliver swallowed the pills, he handed the empty glass back to his wife. “Time is running out,” he said. “We simply must figure out what we’re going to do about this.”
Libby could practically taste the tension in the room. She couldn’t remember a time when her uncle seemed as stressed as he did right now.
“Maybe we should have a sale,” Libby said, trying to sound cheerful. “A really big sale. Like, the biggest sale we’ve ever had. Make the candy so cheap, there’s no question as to which sweetshop they should visit that day.”
Aunt Jayne crossed her arms and smiled. “Yes, we’ve talked about a sale. The problem is a grand opening sounds so exciting. It’s hard to compete with that. We need a name or a phrase that makes people really sit up and take notice.”
“That’s easy,” Libby said.
Her uncle chuckled. “It is? Well, please, do tell.”
“The shop’s been around for fifty years, so call it a fiftieth anniversary sale. And give everyone a fifty percent discount.”
He groaned. “Fifty percent? I’m not sure we can —”
“Oliver, I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Aunt Jayne said. “What a wonderful way to remind the community of our history. And to celebrate that as well.”
Uncle Oliver reached back and scratched his head, something he seemed to do when he was lost in thought. Finally he said, “You know, you’re right. Both of you. We should celebrate being in business for fifty years. It’s a big deal. I’d have to get an e-mail sent out to our mailing list tonight. And update our website. I don’t know if there’s time to run an advertisement in the paper. Jayne, would you mind giving them a ring?”
“Of course,” Aunt Jayne replied.
“I could make posters to hang in the shop windows,” Libby suggested. “On bright, colorful paper.”
“Perfect,” Uncle Oliver said. “I’ll need both of you to work on Saturday, for the entire time we’re open. Is that all right with the two of you?”
Now Libby’d done it. She’d gotten herself backed into a corner with no way out. How could she go to the grand opening of The Sweet Retreat if she had to work all day? And what would she tell Cedric when she didn’t show up like she’d promised she would?
“Mr. Pemberton’s belongs to all of us,” Aunt Jayne said as she put her arm around her husband. “Your problems are our problems, and we’ll help any way we can. Right, Lib?”
She was so anxious thinking about Saturday, that Libby’s mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. “Right,” she managed to say as she went to the sink to get herself a drink of water.
“Oh,” Aunt Jayne said. “Libby, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot. A letter came for you today. It’s there, on the counter.”
“Think I’ll take it to my room,” Libby said after she picked it up and read that it was from her camp friend Hannah.
“Thanks for the encouragement and ideas, love,” Libby’s uncle said to her. “I feel much better now that we have a plan. Do you have time to do the posters tonight, so I can hang them in the windows tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ll do them after I finish my homework.”
Both her aunt and uncle smiled at her as she turned to leave. She wished she could feel as relieved as they looked. It felt a bit like two countries about to go to war, while she was stuck in the middle, trying to keep the peace.
When she got to her room, she plopped down on her bed and read Hannah’s letter.
Dear Libby,
Happy almost Thanksgiving! Wait, why am I saying that? People in England don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, right? Okay, forget I ever said anything. Thanksgiving is a big deal to my family. My daddy would probably say it’s because we have a lot to be thankful for, even though I think he just says that since that’s what you’re supposed to say. Between you and me, I think it’s because we all really like to eat. My grandma always makes my favorite kind of pie — banana cream. Yum! I’m telling ya, I love banana cream pie the way a grizzly bear loves fish. I’d eat it every day if I could. Great, now I have pie on the brain, which is not very fun when I have to wait over a week to eat some.
Last time you wrote to me, you said things were strange between you and your best friend, Rebecca. I hope by now things have gotten better between you. I know with one of my friends, when something isn’t right between us, I try to lighten the mood with a joke. Or even a silly prank. Something to make her laugh, you know? Like my daddy always says, laughter is the best medicine.
Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you, me, Caitlin, and Mia all lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school? Wouldn’t that be awesome? I can’t wait to see you all again next summer. I think on January first, we should start counting down the days.
Right now, I’m counting down the days until Christmas. I think something BIG is going to happen. I overheard my parents talking, and although I didn’t hear everything they said, it sounded like they are finally, FINALLY going to get me my own horse. Isn’t that exciting? I’ve wanted my own horse since I was like five years old. I’m already thinking about names. Hopefully this will be the best Christmas ever.
Please write me back and tell me what’s happening over there in jolly old England. I miss you! And I will eat lots of pie for you on Thanksgiving, don’t you worry about that.
Your Cabin 7 BFF,
Hannah
As she folded up the letter, Libby realized she’d had a grin on her face the entire time she’d been reading. Not only that, for approximately one minute and twenty-seven seconds, she had forgotten about the sweetshop war and the missing jar.
That was why camp had been so fun. Good friends, good times, and no real life to worry about. She reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her camp journal. She turned the pages until she found the one she was looking for.
Q of the Day: If you were stranded on a desert island, what’s the one object you’d want to have with you?
One object? That would have to be a freezer, filled with my grandma’s pies. She makes the best pies! Don’t even try to tell me that a freezer full of pies doesn’t count as one object, because it totally does. Just like an apple tree filled with apples is one object. Right?
Your Cabin 7 BFF,
Hannah
Libby had laughed when she first read it, and she laughed again now. The best medicine, for sure.
Bennett Memorial was a bit too far from home for Libby to ride her bike, so Aunt Jayne took turns giving rides with three other parents. But on Thursday, she told Libby she’d pick her up after school and take her shopping for some new shoes, which she desperately needed.
Libby ended up getting two pairs, since the store was having a sale. The school uniform rules were very clear — girls had to wear black shoes with no more than a one-inch heel. She’d chosen some super cute Mary Janes for school and blue-and-neon-pink Nike trainers for other times. She was most excited about the new trainers, since they’d be perfect for walks in the park with Dexter.
Once they were back in the car, Aunt Jayne said, “Before we head home, I need to stop at the pet store right around the corner here. Dexter’s just about out of food.”
“Can I pick out a new toy for him?” Libby asked. “Or a bone. Something? Sometimes I worry that he must be bored.”
“Well, a dog’s life isn’t particularly exciting, is it?”
“That’s why I like taking him on walks,” Libby said. “Dogs deserve to have fun too.”
Her aunt laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”
Libby cleared her throat as she realized this was the perfect opportunity to bring up the dilemma she had about Saturday, without actually discussing the real dilemma. “So would it be all right if I took a break on Saturday, during the anniversary sale, so I could take Dexter for a walk? He’s gotten quite used to going for a long one with me on Saturdays. I’d hate to disappoint him.”
Aunt Jayne turned into the parking lot of the pet store. “I think we’ll have to wait and see how things go. If it’s terribly busy, like we hope it will be, we’ll need you to be climbing that ladder for us, helping to get the jars down while we weigh the sweets and complete the transactions.”
“But if things slow down at some point, then I can go?” Libby asked as her aunt parked the car.