The Great Peach Experiment 1, Erin Downing [books to read romance .TXT] 📗

Truck Festival in less than a month? I imagine it’s not a simple thing.”

Dad finally looked up and began to laugh. “Of course not! Your mom actually did a lot of research for us before she died,” he said excitedly. “I’ve just had to put her plans and idea in motion.” He then went on to tell Lucy that all those evenings she thought her dad had been busy working extra extra late the past few weeks, he had actually already been on his sabbatical. He hadn’t been at the lab; he’d been researching and completing all the necessary steps to get their food truck up and running. “I’ve already secured all the permits and licenses we need, and sorted out the other legal stuff,” he told her. He had also taken an online class on food truck management, shadowed a downtown food truck owner over the course of several busy afternoons, and ensured the truck he’d ordered was up to code.

“So glad you’re on top of everything,” Lucy grumbled, frustrated. Her dad had been lying to them for weeks! “Sounds like you’ve got all the most important stuff covered.”

“Thank you!” Dad said, beaming. “I really think I do!”

A moment later, Herb called down the stairs, “Can I have a glass of water? My throat is itchy.”

Lucy glanced at her dad, who was now hunched over his laptop and had—it seemed—suddenly gone deaf.

Herb yelled, “Helloooooo? Luuuucy?”

Lucy slid the bowl of strawberries into the fridge, then filled a plastic cup with water and one ghost-shaped ice cube. Just the way Herb liked it. Then she headed upstairs to tuck her brother in tight.

Dear Great Aunt Lucinda,

I’m sorry we didn’t have time to come over to say goodbye in person before we left. I wish you could have tasted a slice of your famous peach pie—Dad’s actually a pretty good baker. Who knew?? As soon as we get back from this food truck road trip, I’ll bring you a piece so you can taste it, and so we can get our Hearts tournament (vs. the boys!) going again. Say hi to the dogs. I miss them already.

Love,

Lucy

PS: I hope you find some other card-playing friends to fill in for me and my brothers while we’re gone—but don’t let them eat all that yummy chocolate your friend sent from Switzerland, ok??

6

  BETTY’S PIES

First thing Monday morning, as soon as the truck was prepped and packed and their pie recipe perfected, the massive Peach Pie Truck rumbled out of the driveway, heading toward Betty’s Pies on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Though their dad wasn’t usually an off-the-planned-route kind of guy, Freddy had managed to convince him that it made sense to kick off their summer experiment by driving thirty minutes north so they could have a bellyful of Minnesota’s own world-famous pie-for-breakfast.

When they arrived at Betty’s, it took a ridiculously long time for their Dad to park the food truck in the restaurant’s lot. Freddy could tell Dad hadn’t gotten used to driving their new vehicle yet. First, he took the turn too tightly. Then he hit a patch of grass and bumped over a curb. Eventually he was in such a pickle that he had to back out of the parking lot and go at it again. This process went on for a good five minutes. By the time he finally managed to ease the giant peach beast around the corner, traffic had backed up on the highway and several cars were honking at him in a very un-Minnesota-nice way.

Inside the restaurant, Freddy couldn’t wait to share the results of some of the pie research he’d done that weekend. He told his family that Betty’s was famous for cream pies and crunch pies. “I say we try the turtle, coconut, maple walnut, French cherry, caramel apple crunch, and five-layer chocolate pie. A slice of each of those, and maybe we can also order some of the plain fruit pies, all to share?”

Lucy had her nose buried in one of the many books she planned to read during the trip, and barely looked up long enough to grunt out something that sounded like an approval. Herb and Dad both shrugged. Freddy had to pinch his own leg to keep himself from growling in frustration. It seemed to him that no one else in the family truly cared about this experiment’s success. Were the other Peaches planning to go into this summer adventure without any kind of game plan? What kind of entrepreneur, he wanted to scream out, just jumps into a business venture without doing some research, testing, and hypothesizing about what products would be most likely to sell?

Freddy had visited their mom’s lab plenty of times when he was little, and he knew that the scientists she worked with did all kinds of tests and experiments before they could move to the next step of a product’s development—that was the fun part, Mom had always said. Their food truck venture wasn’t that different from one of their mom’s experiments. He knew there must be a process they should follow, and he wasn’t even considered the smart one in the family.

When their pie order arrived, everyone took a slice and dug in. Then they passed the pieces left to right so they could sample each of Betty’s most famous creations. Freddy took notes as he ate, and began to brainstorm some fun flavor combinations they could try offering on the Peach Pie Truck menu once business was really rolling.

By the time they got to their fourth plate pass, Herb shoved his plate away and groaned. “No more pie.”

“Nonsense,” Dad said, pushing Herb’s plate back in front of him. “This pie is fantastic. Keep eating.”

Herb moaned. Lucy glanced up. She folded the corner of her page and set her book to the side just as Herb proclaimed, “My tummy hurts.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s important not to give up when the going gets rough,” Dad said cheerfully.