It was a beautiful morning—not too hot, not too cool. People say it always rains near Seattle, and yeah, it rains, but not every day. The goats were ready for some exercise, so after they tried to knock each other off their playhouse, they came over and let Oma and Eli pet them while I clipped their leashes onto their collars.

It doesn’t take long to get to Maple Falls, even with goats trying to jump in your wagon and a ghost shooing them out and telling them to behave. A few people stared at us, but that might have been the goats, not Oma. They didn’t stop driving, so we couldn’t ask.

“Guess what, Mr. Z.?” Eli yelled across the lawn. “HD glued the lid back together, and I can see the ghost now too!” He and Rodgers jogged over to Mr. Z.’s chair, and Rodgers stuck his face in Mr. Z.’s bag of carrot sticks.

Hammerstein strained toward Mr. Z., and I pulled the wagon and followed him over.

“Hallo,” I said, nodding to Mr. Z. “The silicone sealant worked great, thanks.”

“Hallo, HD. Hallo, Eli,” Mr. Z. said, nudging Rodgers’s face out of the bag so he could give Hammerstein a carrot stick too. “I am glad to hear it.” He stood up and leaned over the crock, examining the lid. “Yes, very good work, HD.”

“Mrs. S. wanted to come too,” Eli explained. “We already made her sauerkraut, so we have to be careful not to spill it, but she didn’t want to stay home by herself.”

“It is a pleasure to see—er, to spend time with you again, Mrs. Schenk,” Mr. Z. said. “HD, I believe Ms. Stevermer will be attending the lecture today. Perhaps Mrs. Schenk would like to meet her?”

“Who?” Eli asked.

“The writer who collects ghost stories,” I told him. “That would be great. Oma, you’d like to meet her, wouldn’t you?”

“Does she make sauerkraut?” Oma asked.

“I think you should ask her that yourself,” I told her.

Mr. Z. checked his watch. “Shall we see if she has arrived, then, and find our seats?”

So we followed Mr. Z. to the chairs they’d set out for us, where we’d have a good view of the presentation through the open doors, away from the petunias.

Mr. Z. went into the rec room. He came back with Ms. Stevermer, followed by the older lady who’d been asleep last time. Both were carrying plastic chairs.

The older lady put her chair down on the lawn, sat down carefully, and promptly fell asleep.

Ms. Stevermer put her chair down too, and Hammerstein head-butted it. It fell over. I set it back up for her. “Nice to see you again.”

“And you as well,” she said as Rodgers climbed up into her chair. She looked over at the crock. “Have you brought your great-great-grandmother to see the presentation? That was very thoughtful.”

“She wanted to come,” Eli said, lifting Rodgers down. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Eli. Hey, Mrs. S., did you bring your pencil?”

Ms. Stevermer shook his hand. “Ah, very clever! Perhaps I have one here….” She rummaged around in her purse, brought out a metal pencil box shaped like a sarcophagus, and opened it.

Hammerstein butted Mr. Z.’s hand, to see if he had any more carrot sticks. Mr. Z. handed him one, then took Rodgers’s lead from Eli, who was helping Ms. Stevermer and Oma get to know each other, and led the way over to the chairs.

We sat down, and Mr. Z. gave Rodgers another carrot stick too. “How is your project coming along, HD?”

“Well, I haven’t got much done yet—we’ve been busy helping Oma make her sauerkraut,” I told him. “But we’re going to Uncle Gregor’s after this. Eli and I want to start setting up the GOAT Obstacle Course, and Eli has his recital to practice and his solo to figure out, and I need to sort out Uncle Gregor’s basement, so I can buy my components.” I sighed. “I don’t know….It just feels like a lot right now.”

“I see,” Mr. Z. said, nodding. “This is a complex situation. And what do complex situations call for?”

“A plan,” I said.

He nodded. “Now, focus on one project. Say, building your computer. What is the goal?”

I sat up in my chair a little straighter. “I want to build my own computer from scratch, with money I earn myself, and enter it into the county fair so everyone can see what I can do.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Z. said. “What are your resources?”

“Well, we’ve got three of the best minds in the business working on this problem: you, me, and Eli,” I said, starting to feel a little better. (Mr. Z. always says our minds are our best tools for any job.) “I’ve got a job so I can earn the money, and Mom and Dad said I could spend most days at Uncle Gregor’s until I’m done sorting things, as long as I check in.” We both know time is an important resource too.

“Very good,” Mr. Z. said. “I wonder if perhaps you have a new resource now too?” He nodded at Oma’s crock.

I hesitated. “I think Oma knows more about sauerkraut than computers.”

“You may be right,” he said. “But perhaps she knows the things you are sorting, if they came from her family?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Grace said I could come make a list of exactly which components I want, and how much they cost, and she’d help me make sure they’ll all work together. So when I’ve sorted through half the boxes, I’m going to go do that.”

“How many boxes are there?” Mr. Z. asked.

“Fifty-two,” I told him with a sigh. “I only have to do the boxes, not the chain saws and furniture and stuff. But it’s still going to be a while. In the meantime, Harry’s been saving articles on computer builds for me, and I’m making a list of the steps we talked about too.”

Mr. Z. smiled at me. “A solid plan, and one that will work well, I think.”

“I hope so,” I said, throwing a carrot stick up in the air for Rodgers to catch.

“I think she’s starting,” Eli hissed, and we all got ready for the crow scientist’s presentation. Eli and I made notes and everything.

FACTS ABOUT CROWS, ACCORDING TO THE CROW SCIENTIST:

• They use tools.

• When walnuts get ripe, they put them in driveways so cars will run over them and crack them open.

• When someone messes with a baby crow, they tell the whole neighborhood of crows about it, and then every time that person goes anywhere, they get yelled at by crows they haven’t even met.

• They protect other crows, even against eagles and other birds way bigger than they are.

• Someone did an experiment where different people wore the same mask on different days and the crows recognized it. When one of them wore the mask upside down, the crows turned their heads upside down to check it out! (How do you even wear a mask upside down? Do you have to cut more holes in it or something? Mr. Z. said we could ask her afterward, but she was already gone when we got Rodgers and Hammerstein untangled from my chair.)

Afterward, Ms. Stevermer came over to me. “HD, it has been such a pleasure, communicating with your great-great-grandmother! Thank you for introducing us.” She hesitated. “She has invited me to continue our discussion at your uncle’s house, but I thought that I should check with you or your parents, to be certain that’s okay.”

Oma floated over. “HD, I am going to teach Ms. Stevermer how to make sauerkraut!”

Mr. Z. cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could call your father, HD, and if he agrees, I could come also. Then Ms. Stevermer and I could both visit with your oma while you work.”

That seemed reasonable. “What do you think, Oma? Is it okay if Mr. Z. comes too?”

“Yes, yes,” Oma said, rushing back for her pencil.

“She says that’s fine,” I told Mr. Z.

“Very good,” he said. “Then, if your father agrees, we will meet you at your uncle’s house in one hour? And if he feels a different day would be better, I will call and let you know.”

“That works,” I told him. If we left now, we’d have time to walk there, get the goats settled, roll Oma inside, and have lunch before they arrived. And find some more pencils.

---

By the time they got to Uncle Gregor’s house, Eli and I had eaten our sandwiches and drawn some plans for the GOAT Obstacle Course. I took Mr. Z. out back to show him where we’re going to build the course, and he approved the first couple of steps of our project plan and gave me some more ideas.

Eli got Ms. Stevermer a glass of water, and Oma shared her pencils and paper.

Then Eli and I went downstairs to work, and left them to it.

It was funny: Uncle Gregor’s basement wasn’t spooky at all anymore. Eli said that was because it wasn’t haunted now: We’d already met the ghost and now she was upstairs haunting the kitchen instead. But I felt like it wasn’t so much about her, really. It was something about me, and how I saw things now.

All those dusty boxes of cookbooks and paint cans and nylons with a hole in them were just sad, stuck down there where no one could use them. But I knew I could fix all that, eventually.

After an hour or so, I had sorted a whole stack of boxes into piles, and Eli had done his routine almost perfectly two times in a row. We took a break for Popsicles.

“Mrs. Schenk, is your pickling crock a family heirloom?” Ms. Stevermer was asking.

No, it is new, Oma wrote. My grandson chose it for my birthday. We were going to make sauerkraut together.

“Wait, what? I thought you made sauerkraut all the time!” I said.

Yes, but in an old crock, not nearly so nice, Oma wrote.

“I see…” Ms. Stevermer looked up from her notes. She studied me for a moment, then closed her notebook. “Thank you for introducing me to your oma,” she told me. “It’s been quite fascinating.”

“I’m glad we could help you with your research,” I told her.

“I wish you the best of success with your sauerkraut, and whatever the future holds for you,” Ms. Stevermer told Oma’s pencil. “Do let me know if you have time to talk again.”

Certainly, Oma wrote. And after we make sauerkraut, we can make sauerruben!

“I’m afraid I really must be going, though. You’re sure I can’t give you a lift?” Ms. Stevermer asked Mr. Z.

“No thank you,” he said. “I will call Eleanora when we’re done visiting.”

As she left, I put the box I was carrying on the kitchen table. “Oma, could you tell me if these are important or not?”

“In a minute…,” she said, still writing something to Mr. Z.

I pulled the first thing out of the box, and she looked up, then crowded over to see. “My apron!” she cried, and hugged the faded cloth.

I grinned; Mr. Z. had been right, sort of. Maybe that old apron wasn’t a treasure to anyone else, but it was to my oma. I knew which pile it was going into now.

“What about these?” I asked, holding up two rolling pins.

Oma examined them. “This one is mine—it is perfect for cookies! That one I’ve never seen before. Probably it would not work well.”

I nodded. “Okay, what about these? Do you know who any of these people are?” I held up a stack of photos.

Oma snatched up the top one, and sank slowly down near her crock, staring at it.

Mr. Z. watched the photo float down. “HD, perhaps your oma and I will make a list of these photos together,” he said quietly. “When she is ready.”

“Okay!” Eli said. “Can we go start the obstacle course now?”

“Oma, are you okay?” I asked her.

Slowly she nodded, smiling, even though I could see the ghost tears on her cheeks. “Go, go, have fun,” she said.