CHAPTER 19

HELP! I texted Aunt True later that day, when dinner was over and Sirena finally relented and gave us our “shell phones” back. GOT TIME TO TALK?

I’d barely pressed SEND before my phone rang in response.

“What’s up?” my aunt asked.

“Carson Dawson, that’s what!” I paced the back lawn, fuming as I filled her in on our morning at the beach. What I’d thought would simply be a funny story to share had exploded into a looming disaster.

“Don’t worry,” she said when I was done. “I’ve got your six.”

That was military speak for “I’ve got your back.” If anyone could fix this, it was Aunt True. I had no idea how, or if it were even possible, but I felt better just hearing this.

“So what else did you do today?”

I gave her the rundown. Aunt True was particularly interested in Zadie and Lenore.

“Wow, they’re helping Sirena and her daughter choreograph your routine?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied. “The stuff they have us doing is actually pretty sweet. Not that I want to perform in public,” I hastened to add. “Especially not on TV. Oh, and we’ve been watching some of their old Esther Williams movies, too, like Million Dollar Mermaid.”

“Is that the one where she wears a gold swimsuit and crown and dives off a really high platform?” Aunt True is a “cinephile,” as she puts it—which is a fancy word for someone who is a big fan of movies.

“Yeah.”

“I love that one!”

“I liked it too. And Easy to Love. They’re kind of corny, but all the water ballet scenes were amazing, and Zadie gave us the behind-the-scenes scoop. Did you know that Esther Williams was pregnant when she did most of those water-skiing stunts?”

I could practically hear Aunt True’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s amazing! Wait until I tell Rusty!”

“He likes Esther Williams?”

“Rusty is a man of surprising depths. So what’s on the schedule for tonight?”

“A book signing.”

“Really? At Sirena’s?”

I explained about the Brewster Store, and Saga of a Ship.

“That new book I sent you?”

“Yeah.” I was just about to tell her my theory about Nathaniel Daniel and Cherry Island, when she interrupted.

“Oops, gotta go. Hair ball.”

Memphis, my aunt’s cat, was a feline conveyor belt for hair balls. Everyone in my family was used to Aunt True dropping everything when one appeared, which they did with alarming regularity.

“Okay. Bye!” I replied, but she’d already hung up.

I made a detour to Whelk to grab my copy of Saga of a Ship, then headed back to Mermaid HQ to meet up with the group that was heading to the Brewster Store. Zadie and Lenore had decided to join Mackenzie and Cha Cha and Jasmine and me, as had the ladies from Sand Dollar. Meanwhile, the four high school girls plus Hayden and her mother had opted for Sea Siren Night. Somehow Hayden had gotten it into her head that she might be able to sing on TV during the revue and get discovered by some big Hollywood talent agent. If you asked me, though, which nobody ever did, the only thing that was going to be discovered was the fact that she was a pain.

The staff at the Brewster Store looked happy to see us.

“Sirena!” cried the woman behind the fudge counter.

“Monica!” cried Sirena.

The two of them leaned in and made air-kissy noises.

“I see you’ve brought a crowd,” said Monica. “We’re gathering upstairs, ladies. Treats are on their way.”

“Fudge, I hope,” murmured Cha Cha, eyeing the display behind the glass counter. “Mermaids love chocolate.”

We took up the entire first two rows. A scattering of people were seated in the back, some with copies of the book in hand, others who were probably just there for the free treats. After working at Lovejoy’s Books, I could scan an audience like a pro.

“How nice of you all to come!” The author made the rounds, shaking hands. I’d seen her type before. She was wearing what Hatcher called an I-am-an-artist outfit—the kind a person wears when they want to make a statement, like Augustus Wilde and his purple cape. In Amanda Appleton’s case, her statement seemed to be, I may have been a pirate in a previous life. Oversize white shirt? Check. Wide black belt with a gold buckle? Check. Large gold hoop earrings? Check. All she needed was a red bandana and an eye patch to complete the outfit. “Are all of you together?” She peered at us from behind a pair of big, black-rimmed glasses, her blue eyes alert.

“We are indeed,” Sirena answered.

“A family reunion?”

“You might say that.” Zadie gave her an impish smile. “We’re sort of a seafaring family.”

“You’ve come to the right place, then!” enthused Dr. Appleton. “I have a salty tale to tell, so let’s get started.” She turned to face the audience. “The main question every author is asked is, ‘Where do you get your ideas?’ With Saga of a Ship, I didn’t get the idea, it got me.” She nodded at my cousin and friends and me. “When I was about your age, girls, I was walking on a nearby beach one day, and I spotted something in the sand. At first, I thought it was a piece of trash. For some reason it caught my attention. When I leaned down to take a closer look”—she paused dramatically, reaching inside the neckline of her shirt to draw out what looked like a slightly squashed fifty-cent piece on a silver chain—“I realized that I’d found something special.”

“A piece of eight!” said Jasmine. “Just like at the pirate museum.”

“That’s exactly right,” Dr. Appleton told her. “It’s a Spanish coin called a ‘cob,’ worth eight reales—hence ‘piece of eight.’ Its shape is somewhat irregular, since they didn’t have the equipment to make perfect coins back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They just sliced off pieces of a silver rod instead and stamped them by hand. This one was minted in Bolivia in the early 1700s.”

She handed it to Monica, who passed it around so that we could all take a look.

“This one coin was all it took to shape the course of my life,” Dr. Appleton continued. “I was hooked, and from then on pirates and pirate treasure have been my great passion. And since I live here on Cape Cod, it was only natural that I developed an interest in the wreck of the Windborne. Fortunately for me, I have friends and colleagues who share my interest, including one who built a whole museum devoted to it! Isn’t that right, John?” She smiled at a man with a gray beard and a Jolly Roger T-shirt seated in the back row. Skipper John Dee! I thought as he smiled and waved back.

Dr. Appleton went on to explain her research process, and how, in order to try to track down the history of the ship, its crew members, and their tragic fate, she’d sifted through all sorts of stuff called “primary source material.” I was pretty sure I’d heard that term before. Professor Rusty, maybe? No, wait—it was that research assistant of his with the weird hair: Felicia Grunewald, the one we’d seen at the road race. She’d used the term over Spring Break, when we were trying to figure out my ancestor’s connection to the Underground Railroad. It meant original letters, diaries, newspaper reports, and stuff.

“Most of my research starts at the library,” the author continued. “One of the most exciting primary sources I came across recently was a letter that had been accidentally filed with another document, and thus overlooked by previous scholars. It was written to Isaiah Osborne, the ship’s carpenter who survived the wreck only to be caught and hanged as a pirate. We already knew from Isaiah’s testimony at his trial that after he washed ashore, he’d entrusted his share of the treasure to a shipmate he called Dandy Dan. The two had split up and run in opposite directions, planning to meet up again later. This letter mentions Cherry Island”—I nudged Mackenzie when I heard this—“and names a date for the two to meet, but of course Isaiah never made it to the rendezvous.”

Someone in the row behind us raised a hand. “Finding the pirate treasure would be a big deal, right?”

“Oh yes,” Dr. Appleton replied. “A very big deal indeed.”

“A real career maker,” added Skipper John Dee. “Just like finding the Windborne was for me.”

“Would you get to keep the treasure if you found it?” someone else wanted to know.

The author pursed her lips. “It would depend on where it was found. Many states have so-called ‘finders keepers’ laws, but they are interpreted differently. In this case, the statute of limitations would have long since run out for heirs to claim it, so I suspect that yes, I would get to keep it.”

I blinked. So even if Dandy Dan were actually my relative, Amanda Appleton would get to keep his treasure? That hardly seemed fair.

“Whether or not you got to keep it, finding it would still be very good for book sales,” Monica pointed out, and Dr. Appleton nodded.

No kidding, I thought. Forget guerrilla marketing—Skipper John Dee was right. Finding the lost pirate treasure would definitely be a career maker. Dr. Appleton wouldn’t need Augustus Wilde–style tactics. All the publicity would send Saga of a Ship rocketing to the top of the best-seller lists. She’d be on the cover of every magazine and newspaper, and interviewed on every news show on TV, including Carson Dawson’s Hello, Boston!

Monica glanced toward the stairs. “It looks like the refreshments have arrived. Why don’t we take a five-minute break, and then I’m sure our speaker will be glad to answer any other questions you might have.”

Cha Cha’s hand shot up. “My only question is, are you serving fudge?”

Monica laughed. “Of course!” she replied, setting off a stampede for the refreshments table.

“Oh man,” I said a few minutes later, reaching for a second piece. “This is really good. You know, fudge would make a great signature treat at our bookshop. I’m going to talk to Aunt True about it.”

“Mmmph mmm,” replied Cha Cha, which I was pretty sure meant “great idea.”

Mackenzie looked over at me. “Are you going to ask about Nathaniel-Daniel-looks-like-a-spaniel?”

“Um,” I replied. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” The discussion about the “finders keepers” laws had made me uneasy. I wasn’t so sure now that I wanted to share my hunch.

Mackenzie and my friends went back to their seats. I headed for the drinks at the end of the table and poured myself a lemonade. It was obvious that Dr. Appleton was as obsessed with pirate treasure as I was with birds. Telling her that I might have a clue about Dandy Dan’s identity and the treasure’s whereabouts would be like somebody telling me they knew where I could go to see a great grey owl—the world’s largest owl, and so notoriously hard to spot it was nicknamed “Phantom of the North.” If I ever heard of the whereabouts of one, wild horses couldn’t keep me away. I had a feeling it might be the same for Dr. Appleton if I told her about Dandy Dan. So the question was, did I really want a professional treasure hunter sniffing around our little town? What if I wanted to find out more about Dandy Dan first—and maybe hunt for his treasure myself? With the help of the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes, of course.

In the end, I didn’t have a choice.

“Excuse me, Dr. Appleton?”

I looked over to see Mackenzie’s hand waving in the air. She was going to let the cat out of the bag! I scrambled back toward my seat, but it was too late.

“If you thought you might know who Dandy Dan was,” she asked, “how would you go about figuring out for sure?”

Dr. Appleton went completely still. Behind her glasses, her blue eyes focused intently on Mackenzie.

“It’s just that we think he might be my cousin’s ancestor,” Mackenzie continued. “The one who founded Pumpkin Falls.”

I slid into my seat and clamped my hand down hard onto her knee.

“Ouch!” She looked over at me and frowned, yanking her leg away. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Pumpkin Falls?” Amanda Appleton cocked her head, alert as a chickadee. No, not a chickadee, I thought, watching her. A hawk, maybe. Or a falcon. Definitely a predatory bird.

“No!” I whispered urgently, giving Mackenzie a look that Hatcher would have recognized instantly. It was the one that said, Warning! Danger! Red Alert! DEFCON Three!

Unfortunately, my cousin and I didn’t share the Lovejoy sibling shorthand.

Mackenzie nodded. “It’s a little town in New Hampshire.”

I did my best impression of a ventriloquist and forced two words out of the side of my mouth: “Shut. Up.”

“You might go the library and try to do some research yourself, I suppose,” said Dr. Appleton, trying but failing to sound casual. She couldn’t hide the rising excitement in her voice. “Or you might consult an expert like myself.” She ventured a reassuring smile. “I’d be happy to offer some advice.”

I’ll bet you would, I thought grimly. Forget predatory bird—how about pirate, plain and simple?