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

to turn some of the money from her first successful invention into yet another success—and he had every intention of making that happen. He would make his mother proud. If they could make enough money and win the Food Truck Festival, it would be even better than a report card filled with straight As. It would change everything.

Freddy was whistling happily as he hustled back to the campsite from the bathroom, but his mouth froze in a pucker when he saw a thin wisp of smoke slithering out of the food truck’s half-open back door. The crusts had only been in the oven for ten minutes. He ran toward the food truck, calling for his dad. Lucy responded first; she jumped out of the tent and grabbed a fire extinguisher from the cab of the food truck. She and Freddy covered their mouths and noses to keep from inhaling smoke as they crawled inside the truck.

There were no flames, but obviously something was very wrong. The ovens were belching out smoke, and the whole truck was filled with the smell of burned butter. Lucy held up the fire extinguisher, just in case, while Freddy turned off the ovens.

A few minutes later, once the smoke had cleared, the Peach family gathered around as Dad opened the ovens to assess the damage. “Looks like I got the time and temperature wrong,” Dad said, scratching his head.

Every single one of their crusts was burned to a crisp.

“That’s three hundred dollars worth of pie,” Freddy groaned. “Up in smoke.”

HERB’S CINNABALLS RECIPE

1. Wash your hands.

2. Get a clump of leftover crust dough.

3. Roll it into a ball.

4. Plop it in cinnamon-and-sugar mix.

5. Get an adult or Lucy to bake it (don’t let it burn!).

6. Let it cool and enjoy. Yum yum!

From the Sketchbook of Freddy Peach:

HOW TO SPEND A MILLION DOLLARS

When I’m a rich guy, I know how I’ll travel. There will be no plain old food trucks for me. I’ll get a private jet and take the whole fifth-grade class on an epic field trip where we stay in a fancy hotel with room service and a pool in every room!

10

  PEACH POWER

Lucy looked up from her book as her brothers raced toward the family’s campsite later that evening. Herb was clutching two leashes in his hand. There was a small, yappy dog attached to the end of each.

“Where’d you get those dogs?” Lucy asked, bending down to scratch the fluffier of the two pups behind the ear. The dog skittered away from her and hid behind Herb. Herb scooped the little pup up into his arms and kissed it on the top of its head.

“The lady three campsites down let me borrow them,” Herb explained.

Lucy gave him a warning look. “Borrow,” she told her littlest brother. “That doesn’t mean keep.”

“I know,” Herb said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to keep them.” Lucy noticed that he wouldn’t look at her when he said that—because she knew as well as anyone that Herb never wanted to give up anything once he’d fallen in love with it. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I just started a little dog-walking business.”

“You started a business?” Lucy said, laughing.

“There’s no biz in business unless you’re making money,” Freddy helpfully pointed out.

“Whatever.” Herb sighed. “I started a dog-walking volunteer-ness. That’s a kind of business where you don’t make money.”

“Kinda like our food truck,” Lucy muttered.

“Hey, now,” Freddy said, plunking down on the bench next to her. The second dog pawed at Freddy’s leg, ignoring Lucy entirely. Herb bent down and clumsily picked it up in one arm, plunking the little pup—and its leash—onto Freddy’s lap. Then Herb wandered off with the fluffy dog cradled in his arms, cooing into its floppy ear. Freddy quietly asked, “You’re not giving up already, are you, Lu?”

Lucy shrugged. “What’s the point? We’re not cut out for this.” She was pretty sure she wasn’t the only member of the family who was already tempted to quit. Less than a week had passed since the food truck had landed in their driveway; just a few measly days, really, since Dad had surprised them with the million-dollar news, dropped his big summer-trip bomb, and set up this experiment.

They hadn’t yet sold a single slice of pie, but Dad already looked weary and miserable, and he was constantly checking his phone to see if anyone at the university needed anything from him. Herb seemed bored and fidgety. Lucy was frustrated and annoyed. Miraculously, Freddy still seemed optimistic, even though it was abundantly clear this experiment was going to be a miserable failure.

They had worked their butts off and burned or ruined hundreds of dollars’ worth of ingredients without selling a single slice of pie. They’d eaten hot dogs for three out of the last four meals. Herb had let his mice crawl into the peanut butter jar that afternoon, making the rest inedible to humans. Lucy and Freddy’s tent had sprung a leak, so her pillow was damp and her book soaked. To top it all off, the campground bathroom had run out of toilet paper.

That evening, while their dad prepared a fresh batch of dough and her brothers explored the campground, Lucy had been sitting under their rain-soaked tarp, pretending to read while secretly stewing. Her book was open, but whenever she tried to make out the words, they swam and wobbled out of focus.

Lucy was angry with herself for getting so upset. It wasn’t like any of this really mattered; the whole summer was just a bad idea: a short-lived experiment to pretend they were still the kind of family who did fun things together.

“So we burned a few pies,” Freddy said as Lucy folded the top corner of her page to mark her spot. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“I know you’ve done the same research I have,” Lucy said. Freddy wasn’t stupid, even though he sometimes thought he was. He had a mind for business, and he