CHAPTER 33

The following morning, Lucas stopped by the bookstore after swim practice. “Ready to go?” he whispered, helping himself to a trio of blueberry donut muffins.

I glanced toward the office, where my father was frowning at his computer. “Um, not yet,” I whispered back. “My dad hasn’t left for physical therapy.”

I continued tidying up Cup and Chaucer while Lucas killed time showing customers the crowdsourced photos of our suspects in the missing trophy case. It had been nearly two weeks now since the race, and it was hard not to get discouraged. We’d managed to narrow down our list of suspects a bit more—Reverend Quinn had vouched for his cousin in the baggy shorts—but we still hadn’t had any luck figuring out who was behind the theft.

The bell over the door jangled, and Officer Tanglewood strolled in. “How about a cappuccino, Nancy Drew?” He snagged a handful of muffins while I prepared his beverage. Taking a bite of one he asked, “Mmmmph mmmmph?” which I was pretty sure translated to “Did you kids solve the case yet?”

I shook my head. “We’re close, though,” which wasn’t necessarily true, but I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, which it did.

My father left shortly after Officer Tanglewood did. I waited until Belinda arrived and Aunt True was busy with a sales rep, then slipped out.

“What happens if your father finds out?” Lucas asked as we jogged down Main Street toward Lovejoy College.

“He won’t,” I told him with more confidence than I felt. I was skating on thin ice these days, as Grandma G would say, and I knew it. My luck had held this far, though, and we really needed to get a look at the Lovejoy papers.

As we passed through the iron gates that marked the entrance to the college, I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Erastus Peckinpaugh coming toward us on one of the paths crisscrossing the campus.

Uh-oh, I thought in dismay. If Professor Rusty let it slip that he’d seen me here, my name would be mud.

“I thought you were grounded, Truly.”

I nodded and crossed my fingers behind my back. “I’m just running a quick errand for the bookstore.”

“Well, when you see your aunt, would you please tell her not to forget we have an appointment with Reverend Quinn this afternoon at the church?”

Lucas looked surprised. “I thought my mom said the wedding wasn’t until this fall.”

My future uncle laughed. “We’re not getting married today, Lucas. It’s just some counseling that’s required for engaged couples.” He checked his watch. “Oops, duty calls—in this case my summer session class on American westward movement.”

He loped off again. Lucas and I continued on to the college library, where we found our friends waiting for us on the broad granite steps.

“Where have you guys been?” rasped Cha Cha, rising to her feet. “We’ve been here forever!”

“Sorry,” I told her. “We had to wait until my dad left.”

Calhoun texted his father to let him know we were all here, then led us inside past the security guard. While we were waiting for Dr. Calhoun, I crossed the spacious lobby to the famous statue of my possibly pirate ancestor, who was also the college’s founder.

“Time to give up your secrets, Nathaniel-Daniel-looks-like-a-spaniel,” I whispered. Just like in his portrait at home, his nose was the most prominent feature on his face—and the shiniest, thanks to generations of college students who rubbed it for luck before exams. I reached out and rubbed it too. We could use all the luck we could get right about now.

“I think it’s admirable that you want to learn more about our town’s history,” Dr. Calhoun told us a few minutes later as he steered us toward the stairs. “I’m impressed.”

We followed him into the basement and down a long hallway to a door marked ARCHIVES. Inside, we had to surrender our backpacks and sign an official-looking form that basically said we promised not to steal or damage anything, or quote anything or take pictures of anything without permission.

Lucas glanced around the room. “It’s kind of dark in here, isn’t it?”

“Natural light isn’t good for old documents and antiquarian books,” Calhoun’s father explained. “This area is climate-controlled. We have to keep it at just the right temperature and humidity levels to best preserve our college’s treasures.”

At the word “treasures,” my friends and I exchanged glances. Calhoun’s lips quirked up in a half smile. I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing—if his dad only knew what we were up to!

I recognized the archivist from the bookshop. She was a regular at our author events. She’d been at Amanda Appleton’s, and she often hung out at Cup and Chaucer after work and on the weekends.

“You’re the bookstore girl!” she blurted when he saw me.

“I see you’re acquainted with our archivist, Peregrine Butler,” said Calhoun’s father.

I looked at her with interest. Peregrine falcons were my second favorite bird, next to owls. I’d never met anyone named after one, though. The archivist didn’t look much older than most of the college students on campus. Her short, spiky hair sported a broad green streak, and she also had a nose ring and a tattoo that spelled out Dewey Decimal circling her left wrist like a bracelet. I liked her immediately.

“I’ll leave you in Dr. Butler’s capable hands, then,” Dr. Calhoun said. “I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need me.”

The archivist gave us a cheerful smile as he left. “Call me Peregrine, please. All this flurry of interest in Nathaniel Lovejoy! First Dr. Appleton, and now you kids. Of course, now that we know about a possible connection between Pumpkin Falls and the missing pirate treasure, it makes sense that people are looking into our town’s early settlers. Is that what triggered your interest as well?”

“Partly,” I replied. “That and the fact that he’s my ancestor, and I’ve always wanted to know more about him.”

Which was true, or at least true-ish.

“Well, let’s see if we can satisfy your curiosity.” Peregrine led us to a table at the back of the room, where she’d arranged an assortment of things for us to look at. Before we could touch any of them, though, we had to put on white cotton gloves.

“It’s just like cotillion,” said Scooter, waggling his fingers at me.

I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

There was a lot of stuff to examine. The selection of Nathaniel Daniel’s “papers” that had been set out for us included letters, account ledgers, deeds to his property, and his last will and testament.

“How are we supposed to read these?” Scooter complained, picking up one of the letters and squinting at the spidery script.

“I’m actually pretty good at deciphering old handwriting,” said Calhoun, who apparently had no end of hidden talents. “My dad has a bunch of letters that my great-grandparents wrote to each other during World War Two. They’re really interesting.”

“Great,” I told him. “You’re in charge of the letters.”

“I’ll take the account ledgers,” said Scooter quickly. “The numbers look easy to read.”

His sister agreed to help him, while Cha Cha and Lucas zeroed in on the deeds. That left me with Nathaniel Daniel’s last will and testament. I picked it up gingerly. It was old and fragile and looked like it would tear easily.

“That’s been transcribed.” Peregrine passed me two typewritten pages. “You’ll find this easier to decipher.”

“No fair!” said Scooter.

“You chose the ledgers, you stick with the ledgers,” I told him loftily. And settling into a chair, I started to read.

I, Nathaniel Daniel Lovejoy, being of sound mind, do hereby declare this document to be my last will and testament, the transcript began. Everything seemed pretty normal. He left his house—the one my family and I lived in now—and “all his worldly goods” to his wife, Prudence, except for a few bequests. There was money to help with the upkeep of the church, and some for the college, and even some to help with repairs on the covered bridge.

You wily fox! I thought. Nathaniel Daniel had covered his tracks well. Nobody in a million years would believe this public-spirited citizen was a pirate, which was likely just the way he’d wanted it.

There were also bequests of a few personal items. He left his gold pocket watch to his son, Obadiah, whose portrait I passed every day in the stairwell at home—and a harpsichord to his daughter, Abigail, whose portrait hung right beside her brother’s. My eyes drifted down the page. A copper teakettle to a cousin, a horse to his friend and neighbor John Wainwright, blah blah blah, the list went on. I was just about to hand the pages back to the archivist when my gaze landed on the last item. It was tossed in almost like an afterthought, only it wasn’t an afterthought.

It was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I sat up straight in my chair, every hair on the back of my neck at attention. And finally, to my beloved wife, Prudence, I leave a parting gift—my signet ring engraved with an eagle in flight.

That was the ring that Nathaniel Daniel was wearing in his portrait at home! The one that had been passed down to my grandfather and would someday belong to my dad!

I continued reading. May it serve to remind her of our courting days in the sunrise of our youth. Always remember, my love: Where the eagle flies, there lies the prize. Where the eaglet sleeps, harken to the deep.

Where the eagle flies. Gramps had told me once that eagles had nested on Cherry Island for as long as anyone could remember. Had they nested there in Nathaniel Daniel’s day too?

The clue fell into place as neatly as the final number in a sudoku puzzle.

To most readers, those words would seem just what they appeared to be—a sentimental gift from a loving husband to his wife. But they were likely much more than that. “The prize” had to be the pirate treasure, and Nathaniel Daniel was telling Prudence where she could find it! Where the eaglet sleeps. The eagle’s nest in the tallest tree on the island was the key.

“May I take a picture of this?” I asked Peregrine, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

She glanced up from her desk. “Of the will? Sure.”

I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and snapped photos of the transcript. Then I kicked Cha Cha under the table and cut my eyes urgently toward the door.

She got the message.

“Hey, you guys,” she said, setting a faded document back on the table. “I’m getting hungry. Can we break for lunch?”

The archivist looked surprised. “I told Dr. Calhoun I’d be happy to stay open as long as you need.”

“Thank you, but we’re starving,” I said, handing her back the transcript. “This is really cool, though. Maybe we can come back again another day?”

I practically bolted out the door. I grabbed my backpack from the security guard and ran up the stairs two at a time. My friends were right behind me.

“What’s your hurry?” asked Scooter.

“Look what I found!” I exclaimed, pulling out my cell phone and holding it up.

“ ‘Where the eagle flies, there lies the prize,’ ” Calhoun read aloud, and I explained my theory about the nest.

“It can’t possibly be the same tree,” scoffed Scooter. “Nathaniel Daniel wrote that will back before the Revolutionary War!”

“There are plenty of trees around Pumpkin Falls that have been here for hundreds of years,” I retorted. “My grandfather is always pointing them out. There’s even one in our yard. Why not one on Cherry Island, too?”

“I guess it’s possible,” said Calhoun, but he sounded doubtful too.

“I just know this is it,” I insisted. “This has to be the key to finding the treasure.”

Jasmine frowned. “Do you think Dr. Appleton figured it out too? She’s pretty smart.”

“She may have figured out the connection to Cherry Island, and she may have figured out the part about the tree, but she still doesn’t know about the cave.”

“At least we hope she doesn’t,” said Lucas.

“So what do we do now?” asked Scooter.

“We ‘harken to the deep.’ We have to go back to the island. We have to find the underwater entrance and get to the treasure before Dr. Appleton does.”

Cha Cha looked at me. “But we promised your aunt we wouldn’t go alone!”

“We’ll figure something out!” I called over my shoulder as I ran out the front door of the library—and smack-dab into my father.