The Ghost of Spruce Point by Nancy Tandon

Author:Nancy Tandon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2022-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen INDEPENDENCE DAY

BY EIGHT O’CLOCK the next morning, the temperature is already up to eighty degrees.

Mom has invited the Wilkinses over for breakfast as a thank-you for them being so kind about the fact that their quiet vacation spot will be overrun by the picnic today. She’s laid out a small table on the front porch with muffins, fruit, juice, and coffee.

“It was weird to wake up without any guests at the inn this morning,” says Dad. “First quiet Fourth… ever? Thank goodness for you cottagers.”

“Ha. We’re the thankful ones,” says Mr. Wilkins.

“Drink lots of fluids today, everybody,” says Mom, refilling my juice glass. “It’s gonna be a hot one.” She finishes her coffee, then stands and claps her hands together. “Time to get to it, Team Emerton!”

“I’m gonna check my pumpkins real quick,” I say. “Be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” says Frankie.

“Perfect—I was going to send you to grab me some dill for the potato salad,” says Mom. “The rest of you kids go help Dad with the parking cones. T minus four hours till cookout!” She heads inside, whistling.

Over at the garden, everything looks neat and tidy, and I’m surprised because we haven’t even been asked to help with weeding lately. I’m also psyched to see several flowers blooming on all four of my pumpkin plants. The vines and big leaves are starting to spread out over the patch too. I figure the fertilizer must be working, so I sprinkle some more from the bag right onto each stem. I wonder which of the flowers will actually turn into pumpkins.

“I’m supposed to choose one flower per plant to keep, and break off the rest,” I tell Frankie.

“What? How come?”

“Mr. Melzen told me to. I guess so it can have all the nutrients to itself. That’s what’ll help it get monster big.”

“How do you know which one to pick?”

Good question. Before I lose my nerve, I reach out and pinch off all but a single bloom on each vine. It feels good to have completed this step, but I hope the blossoms that are left are ones that will keep growing. I need them to. Because I need that prize money. I don’t want to end up like the poor flowers I’d just plucked. I want to be the one that gets to stay and grow.

By late afternoon, it feels like everyone from Blythe Harbor is out on Spruce Point having a good time. Except Mrs. Gruvlig. When I glance at her house, I see she’s out on her porch as usual, rocking in her chair, a dark knit cap pulled down over her ears. Napoleon’s barking, and Gruvlig scowls at the visitors as she reaches for crab claws and cracks them open, picking away the sharp shell fragments with deliberate, fast movements. When she sees me looking, she scoots her chair so she’s facing directly out to the bay.

Dad has both of the big cookout grills going, and the smell of spicy sausages and barbecued chicken makes my stomach grumble.

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