The January thaw lingered for three more days after my dramatic rescue, or what everyone in town was calling “a truly big splash.”
That was the headline that had appeared on the front page of the Pumpkin Falls Patriot-Bugle the morning after my rescue. I was mortified at first, but the publicity really gave our bookstore a boost. The news wires picked up the story of the brave wounded-warrior-turned-bookseller who’d saved his daughter, and while Dad isn’t thrilled being in the spotlight—he’s been giving interviews to the media right and left ever since—he’s definitely happy about the effect that the rescue had on our store’s bottom line.
The Winter Festival Committee gave me an honorary blue ribbon for the Polar Bear Swim, which I pinned to the bulletin board above my desk, and Principal Burnside held a special assembly at school. He commended Calhoun and Lucas for their part in the rescue, and me for what he called my “valor and panache” (I think that’s another way of saying “bravery”), even though, as he pointed out sternly, we had absolutely no business being at the covered bridge in the first place without adult supervision.
Lots of people have been stopping by the bookstore to meet Dad and check up on me, both locals and tourists passing through. And just like Aunt True predicted, they sample our mini pumpkin whoopie pies and end up buying books.
So everything worked out for the best in the end.
The warm west wind that blew into town along with all the publicity carried with it the promise of spring. It melted the snow sculptures and released the frozen river from the grip of the ice, and ensured what Annie Freeman says will be a S-T-U-P-E-N-D-O-U-S maple syrup harvest this year.
I’ve been spending lots of time in the backyard since that night at the covered bridge, making friends with more of my grandfather’s chickadees. I also added a cedar waxwing and an evening grosbeak and a ruffed grouse to my life list.
There would be more birds to add, come spring. Spring meant the return of meadowlarks and barn swallows, orioles and towhees, tanagers and buntings. And out on Lake Lovejoy, there would be osprey to watch diving for fish.
It might not be so bad to be stuck here in Pumpkin Falls, I decided, come spring.
Plus, my birthday was just around the corner, and that meant Mackenzie’s visit. I was looking forward to introducing her to my new friends.
“You know, I could have saved myself a whole lot of trouble if I’d just given that envelope to Aunt True in the first place,” I mused to Cha Cha and Jasmine, stepping carefully around a puddle of slush as the three of us made our way downtown after school one afternoon.
“Yeah, but if you had, we might not all be friends,” Cha Cha replied.
“And there’d be no Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes,” added Jasmine.
They had a point. I was going to miss our adventures, but a town this small couldn’t have any more mysteries to solve, could it?
“And don’t forget the bookstore,” added Jasmine. “You were the one who saved it.”
That was a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, I’d inadvertently found Charlotte’s Web, and yes, our business had gotten a boost from all the news about “a truly big splash.” It still wasn’t enough to turn the tide, though. What really turned the tide was Belinda Winchester.
She may look homeless, but it turns out Belinda invested her lunch-lady earnings shrewdly over the years, and she’s rich. Her earnings support her kitten rescue, and she also fessed up to being the anonymous donor who gave the Charlotte’s Web sculpture to the local library years ago.
When Belinda realized what losing that autographed first edition meant for our family—and when she learned about the deadline hanging over our heads—she offered to become a silent partner in the business. Or maybe not-so-silent, since she’s working part-time at the bookshop now. She knows everything there is to know about mysteries, so Dad and Aunt True have put her in charge of that section. She’s as happy as a clam.
Aunt True also took her shopping for some new clothes, which is kind of like the blind leading the blind if you ask me, which nobody ever does. At least Belinda doesn’t look like such a bag lady anymore. Well, except for the kittens. She almost always brings one or two along with her to work.
Dad says he still thinks Belinda Winchester is odd, but Aunt True reminded him that while books bring people together, it’s people who bring communities together.
“A community is like a family,” she told him, “and every family has a few odd ducks. The important thing to remember is that they’re still family.”
Belinda Winchester is definitely an odd duck, and so is Ella Bellow. We all kind of wish Ella had moved to Florida, but she’s opening a knitting shop across the street from us next month instead. The sign is already up over her half of Earl’s Coins and Stamps. She’s calling it “A Stitch in Time,” but Dad calls it the “Stitch and Snitch,” since he says it’s destined to be our town’s new gossip central.
Ella also decided to keep her new kitten. She named it Purl, or as Annie Freeman tells everyone, “P-U-R-L, like the knitting stitch.”
On the night before winter swooped in again, I heard something outside as I was getting ready for bed.
Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!
I crossed to the window, threw it open, and leaned out to listen more closely. There it was again—Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!
I held my breath. Could it be? I looked up at the full moon—an owl moon!—that hung in the sky. Its light reflected on the sodden snow below and shone through my window, puddling at my feet in a silvery glow.
I looked over at the picture book displayed on my shelf and thought of the father who takes his child owling.
Which in my case has never happened.
What if I rewrite the story? I thought. What if in my story, the girl asks her father to go owling instead?
“Dad!” I called, grabbing Gramps’s barn coat and wool hat and stuffing my feet into my sneakers.
He didn’t answer, so as I clattered downstairs, I reached for my cell phone and called him. A moment later, I heard the sound of his ringtone from the kitchen.
It was the theme song from The Magnificent Seven!
And right then and there I knew for sure that our family was going to be okay.
And that’s exactly how it all happened, absolutely truly, cross my heart and hope to fly.