Libby's Sweet Surprise

  For Jo and Katrina, my UK experts

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Preview

  About the Author

  Also by Lisa Schroeder

  Copyright

  Libby climbed the stepladder and reached for the jar of chocolate frogs. Rebecca’s favorite, she thought. They weren’t real frogs, of course — white chocolate in the shape of a frog, with green coloring. A strange candy, to be sure.

  Also strange? How much her best friend, Rebecca, had changed over the course of six weeks, while Libby had been away at summer camp. Try as she might, Libby couldn’t figure out what had happened while she’d been away. It was as much of a mystery to her as why someone would want to eat a piece of candy in the shape of a frog.

  With the jar in hand, she carefully climbed back down and went to the counter. This was her job every Saturday — to fill the jars of candy in her aunt and uncle’s sweetshop. Her uncle paid her an allowance for doing so, though Libby didn’t really have a choice in the matter. It was a family business, and as part of the family, she had to do her part.

  When Libby had begun working at the (very part-time) job at the age of ten, Rebecca had been so envious. “Think of how many sweets you can eat,” she’d said. “After all, you must sample one of everything to make sure you don’t have a bad batch.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Libby had said. “My uncle would be so upset if I ate that many. And even if he didn’t mind, just think of the stomachache I’d get.”

  “But it would be the sweetest stomachache of your life,” Rebecca had said.

  Now Libby sighed as she put the jar back where it belonged. She couldn’t deny it; she missed her bestie. But Rebecca seemed to be quite taken with her new group of friends, especially the ones who were boys.

  The bell over the door jingled, as it always did when a customer walked in. With the jar in its rightful place, Libby returned to the counter as her uncle rushed out from the back room to offer assistance. Except it wasn’t someone looking to buy candy. It was someone delivering flowers.

  “Good afternoon,” the delivery man said.

  “Hello,” Uncle Oliver replied as he ran his hand through his messy brown hair. “More flowers, I see.”

  “Yes.” The delivery man handed Uncle Oliver the bouquet of red and white roses before he said, “I hope you enjoy them.”

  “Thank you,” Uncle Oliver replied.

  Libby’s great-grandmother had passed away the week before. Many of the townsfolk in Tunbridge Wells, England knew Libby’s family because of the candy store they owned: Mr. Pemberton’s Olde Sweetshop. It was nice that people were thinking of them, Libby thought, but their house was beginning to look too much like a floral shop. Every day, her uncle brought the flowers home, since there wasn’t room for them in their small place of business.

  “I hope this is the last of them,” Uncle Oliver said. “Is that terrible of me to say?”

  “No, because I was thinking the same thing,” Libby said.

  Her uncle smiled. “It’s very thoughtful of everyone. And kind. And we appreciate it, of course.”

  “Yes,” Libby said. “Too bad people don’t send something a little more useful, though.”

  “When your parents died all those years ago,” he said as he set the bouquet down in a spot next to the register, “and you came to live with us, friends and acquaintances brought us meals. It was quite nice, although we didn’t have much of an appetite for a time afterwards.”

  Libby didn’t remember much from that time, since she’d been so young. “I know what you mean,” she replied, walking out from behind the counter. “It’s hard to eat when you’re sad. The last morning at Camp Brookridge, before we all had to head for home, hardly anyone ate their breakfast.”

  The bell above the door jingled again, and this time, much to their relief, some customers strolled in. As Uncle Oliver walked over to greet the Thomason family, Libby started to sneak out, through the back. Her duties were done, and she was ready to go home. Libby and her uncle had an agreement that once the jars had been restocked, Libby could leave. But she heard Mrs. Thomason say something that made her stop and listen.

  “Are you worried about the new sweetshop opening up soon?” Mrs. Thomason was asking her uncle.

  “Not worried at all,” Uncle Oliver replied with a smile. “As you know, this shop has been in my family for fifty years, and no one knows sweets like we do. I am certain we will always have the best selection in town. Now, what may I help you with today?”

  As he turned, he spotted Libby, and so she waved to let him know she was heading for home. Once outside, she hopped on her bike and pedaled, thinking about what her uncle had said.

  Not worried at all.

  She knew, from conversations her aunt and uncle had at home, that wasn’t exactly true. Having another sweetshop fairly close by was pretty worrisome. Candy wasn’t like produce; a person could go months without eating any. And now that there would be two shops in town, it could mean half the amount of business for the Pembertons.

  Thankfully, their somewhat small town, which was quaint and charming and a wonderful place to live, did get a fair number of tourists every year. After all, there was much to see and do, with beautiful gardens and a few castles in the area to explore. People also came to visit the well-known Chalybeate Spring, discovered some four hundred years ago and, at one time, believed to miraculously cure people’s illnesses.

  But even with the tourists, it was hard to imagine that two sweetshops could really thrive in a town that wasn’t especially large.

  Libby recalled the time she’d tried to describe her English town to her three camp BFFs, Mia, Caitlin, and Hannah. They’d all been so curious about what it was like for Libby to live in England, since none of them had ever traveled outside of the States.

  “It’s quite lovely,” she’d told them. “We’re not very far from London, maybe sixty kilometers or so, and we’re surrounded by gorgeous countryside. My uncle says we’re fortunate to have some of England’s best gardens nearby.”

  “What are the houses like?” Caitlin had asked Libby.

  “We have many large, Victorian houses, but there are also lots of clapboard cottages too,” Libby had said.

  “I’m not really sure what any of that means,” Mia had said, “but it sounds awesome!”

  “The three of us should visit her one day,” Hannah had said. “Wouldn’t that be something, all of us in jolly old England?”

  They’d all agreed it would be a lot of fun.

  It only took Libby a few minutes to get home. When she walked in the front door, the smell of freshly baked bread greeted her. Her aunt yelled, “Hi, Libby. I’m in the kitchen. Come see what the postman brought for you.”

  She couldn’t get to the kitchen fast enough. Her aunt Jayne stood there wearing a cute green-and-blue apron, her curly brown hair pulled back with barrettes, as she held the package out in front of her. Libby clapped her hands together quickly before she grabbed it and read t
he name of the person who sent it.

  “It’s from Mia!” Libby cried, and took off for her room, her long ponytail swishing side to side as went. “I’d hoped it would be something from one of my summer camp friends.”

  “Everything go all right at the shop today?” her aunt called after her.

  Libby stopped and turned around. “Yes. We got more flowers.”

  “Brilliant,” Aunt Jayne said. “Just what we need. All right, go along and open your package. I can’t wait to see what it is, when you feel like sharing.”

  “I can’t wait either,” Libby whispered as she closed her door.

  Libby ripped open the package and jumped up and down when she found the charm bracelet. Once she got the initial excitement out of her system, she went to sit on her bed to study the charms. First, however, she had to move her great-grandma’s journals out of the way. Her aunt had given them to her last week, thinking that Libby might like to look through them. And she did — they were fascinating to read.

  With just the bracelet in front of her at last, Libby fingered the cute little flower charm. That had to be the one Caitlin had chosen, because someday Caitlin hoped to have her own flower shop. If only she could see all of the pretty arrangements in Libby’s house right now. She’d love it.

  Next, Libby admired the bird on the bracelet. That was Mia’s. After all, Mia had written to Libby and told her about her bird-watching adventures with Lacy Bell, the teen actress she’d become friends with.

  Libby hooked the bracelet around her wrist and a camp memory popped into her head. Caitlin, Mia, Libby, and Hannah stood at the edge of the dock, overlooking the lake.

  “We’re going to hold hands and jump in at the same time,” Mia had said.

  “Okay,” Caitlin had replied as the four girls linked hands. “Jump really high. And kick your feet up behind you as we go. To make it more fun. On the count of three!”

  “One, two, three!” they’d all counted, and on the word “three” they’d jumped into the cold water.

  After they’d popped to the surface, they high-fived each other and then climbed back onto the dock and sat together, side by side, the sun warming their shivering bodies. Libby could remember feeling so happy in that moment. It was exactly as summer should be: full of sunshine, fun, and most of all, friendship.

  She missed her friends. How easy it was with them. How understanding they were, like with her aunt and uncle’s strict rules regarding electronics. They’d all been so good about honoring their pact and writing letters to keep in touch, since Libby couldn’t communicate with them any other way until she turned thirteen.

  She read the letter Mia had sent along with the bracelet, and then pulled out a piece of paper to write her back.

  Dear Mia,

  The bracelet looks so cute with the charms you and Caitlin chose. Thank you for sending it to me! I will wear it every day and take very good care of it, I promise.

  I’m sooooo happy your cast finally came off. What wonderful news! And I’m glad you and Lacy Bell are having fun together.

  The bracelet came at a good time, not only because of the stuff going on with Rebecca and the new, competing sweetshop I told you will be opening, but also because my great-grandmother Grace passed away last week. It’s been a pretty sad week, obviously.

  I’ve been reading Grandma Grace’s journals, and there’s this jar I can’t stop thinking about. She said when she was a child she had a friend, Mae, who moved to America with her family. When they were in their twenties, Mae decided to come and visit Grandma Grace here in England. She traveled on a ship (it was the 1940s) and she brought along a jar of homemade canned peaches as a gift. When Grandma Grace was writing this journal entry, one of the last ones she wrote, just a month or two ago, she talked about how she’d wanted to find that jar. See, Mae had written a short poem about friendship for Grace and they’d stuck it inside the jar after they’d eaten all the sweet, delicious peaches. Grandma Grace really wanted to read that poem again, but she couldn’t find the jar. Isn’t that sad?

  She said for many, many years, she kept it on the windowsill in her kitchen. But she moved fifteen years ago, and she doesn’t quite remember what happened to it after that. She said she often picked flowers from her garden and gave them to friends, using old jars or vases, and although she thought she would have been careful about that special jar, she must have been careless and given it away on accident. Three women’s names are mentioned who might have it.

  Mia, is it strange that I think I might want to try and find the jar? First of all, it’s a wonderful symbol of friendship, but I also want to find it because I want to read the poem that meant so much to my great-grandma. I’m so curious about what it said. Now that I have the lucky bracelet, I feel like I can find Grandma Grace’s jar if I try. Please, cross your fingers for me!

  Well, time to say good-bye for now. I’m supposed to meet Cedric and Goldie at the park in a few minutes. You know how I told you about the boy I met a few weeks back, and how amazing it was that Dexter liked his dog? I forgot to tell you his name — it’s Cedric.

  Thanks again for sending the bracelet. Write again when you can!

  Your Cabin 7 BFF,

  Libby

  Libby sealed up the letter, found her camp journal with her friends’ addresses, and addressed the envelope to Mia. She returned to the kitchen as her aunt pulled out a loaf of bread from the oven.

  “What did you get?” Aunt Jayne asked Libby.

  “Remember I told you about the charm bracelet?” Libby said as she held out her wrist for her aunt to see. She set the letter on the counter, in a pile of mail waiting to be mailed.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Aunt Jayne said.

  While her aunt leaned in and examined the charms closely, Libby said, “I’m going to take Dexter for a walk now, if that’s all right.”

  “Is it raining out?” Aunt Jayne asked as she turned back to the oven.

  “Not right now,” Libby said. “Just cool and cloudy.”

  “Make sure to wear a jacket,” she called out, but Libby had already slipped her gray jacket on and was getting Dexter’s leash from the basket where it was kept.

  Dexter, a black Scottish terrier, and the cutest dog in the world as far as Libby was concerned, wagged his stubby little tail hard as Libby fastened the leash to his collar.

  “Ready to go?” Libby asked Dexter, as she always did before they went. Dexter responded with a quick little “Arf,” and then the two were on their way.

  As they walked toward the park, Libby thought about Cedric. He wasn’t like most of the other boys at Bennett Memorial, the school she’d only recently begun attending. He was kind of shy and soft-spoken, and wasn’t into rugby or cricket or any type of sport, really. It was hard for Libby to put her finger on what made Cedric different, exactly, just that he was. She was glad she and Dexter had met him and his dog, Goldie, for it gave her something to look forward to every Saturday, after she finished her work at the sweetshop.

  When Dexter spotted Goldie across the park, he started pulling on the leash. His tail wagged so quickly, it seemed it might fly right off.

  “Hold on there, boy,” Libby said, smiling. “I’m walking as fast as I can.”

  When they finally reached them, the dogs greeted each other with some enthusiastic sniffs while Libby and Cedric exchanged hellos.

  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten,” Cedric said.

  “Am I late?” Libby asked. She bent down and gave Goldie, an adorable buff-colored cocker spaniel, a few pats.

  “A little bit.”

  Libby stood up again and noticed that Cedric’s short, red hair was quite messy today. It made her feel kind of bad, thinking of him rushing here, not even taking the time to comb his hair, so he would be on time. “Sorry. I had to open a package.”

  Cedric’s green eyes grew big and round. “A package? Is it your birthday?”

  Libby smiled. “No. A friend from summer camp sent me this bracele
t.” She held her arm out and pulled the sleeve of her jacket back so he could see it. “There are four of us who are taking turns wearing it.”

  “What if it gets lost in the mail?” Cedric asked.

  Libby shrugged. Cedric did this sometimes — asked “what if” questions and seemed to be anxious about things. “It won’t,” she told him confidently.

  “It could.”

  “So far it hasn’t. We think it might be lucky, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I see. I have a lucky pair of trousers. They’re my favorite. Obviously.”

  This is why she liked Cedric. A lucky pair of trousers? Most boys would probably think that sounded ridiculous. But not Cedric. The last time they’d met at the park to walk their dogs, Cedric had told her about his stamp collection, given to him by his grandfather. He’d said that sometimes he pretended the little stamps were pieces of artwork that his action figures liked to look at.

  “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he’d told Libby. “Please don’t go spreading it around school.”

  She’d assured him she wouldn’t. And in return, Libby had told him about her strange obsession with mermaids, and how a few years ago she had wanted her room painted blue like the sea and her headboard to be in the shape of a large seashell. She’d had so much fun turning her bedroom into an under-the-sea fantasy.

  “I feel like I’m getting too old for the mermaid room,” she’d said. “But I still like it. A lot.”

  “You should always do what makes you happy, I think,” Cedric had said. And that was all that was said. They’d kept walking and talking like there was nothing different or strange about any of it.

  And now, in the same manner, Cedric had told Libby without worry or embarrassment that he had a lucky pair of trousers. She couldn’t wait to find out more.

  “What color are your lucky trousers?” Libby asked.

  “Black.”

  “Black? That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  He narrowed his eyes and gave Libby a funny look. “I didn’t say they were exciting. I said they were lucky.”

  That made Libby laugh. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s walk around the park so the dogs get their exercise.”