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

if Lucy buys the final pie, we’ll be totally sold out. That’s pretty cool.”

Freddy shrugged. Herb had a point. Lucy could use her souvenir money however she wanted, and they could count this money toward their total earnings. If his crazy sister wanted to spend her own money to get pie-faced, he wasn’t really in a position to tell her no.

So Freddy hopped out of the truck, grabbed the pie off the counter, and stood boldly in front of Lucy in the center of the sidewalk. He had always wanted to throw a pie in someone’s face. “I have fifteen bucks left of my souvenir money,” Freddy said, holding the pie high in the air. “Let’s split the cost of this last pie, fifty-fifty, since this is going to be just as fun for me.”

“Deal,” Lucy said, laughing. Then she squeezed her eyes tight and said, “Hit me with your best shot.”

Freddy pulled his arm back, then paused. “This was your idea, remember,” he said. “I seriously hope there’s not going to be payback for this.” Then, before Lucy could change her mind, he yelled, “PEACH POWER!” and chucked the pie into his sister’s face.

Ribbons of chocolate and caramel oozed down Lucy’s shirt and pooled on her shoulders. She wiped whipped cream away from her eyes and squinted up at her brother. “Best use of souvenir money ever!” she declared.

“Agreed!” Freddy laughed and swiped a fingerful of whipped cream off his sister’s cheek. “That image is going to stick with me forever.”

While Lucy got cleaned up, Freddy wiped down all the counters, Dad scrubbed dirty dishes in the sink, and Herb counted their money.

“If we subtract the five hundred dollars we spent to enter the competition, and our ingredient costs for the festival, we come out with three thousand three hundred and four dollars in total profits,” Herb announced. “That’s a lot of pie.”

“Holy moly,” Dad said. “I’d consider that a whopping success.”

“Impressive,” Lucy said, still swabbing sticky bits out of her hair.

“I knew we could do it,” Freddy chimed in. Then he set off to turn in their final tally sheet at the judging booth.

Just as Freddy returned, a woman approached the Peach Pie Truck’s service window. “Helloooo!” she called out, tapping on the counter.

“Sorry,” Freddy called out cheerfully. “We’re totally sold out of pie.”

The lady came around to the back of the truck and poked her head through the big back door. “No worries, hon. I got a slice of that sweet peach pie earlier.” She rubbed her belly. “Now I’m here on other business.”

“How can we help you?” Freddy asked.

“My name’s Lois Sibberson,” the woman said. “I’m getting everything set up to start a food truck of my own, and I’d be grateful if you’d let me take a quick peek inside your space.”

“Absolutely,” Freddy said. “What kind of truck are you opening?”

Ms. Sibberson smiled, and said, “I make pies, homemade bread, and scones that I’ve sold here at the Delaware farmer’s market for years. I’m recently retired from my job as a fourth-grade teacher, and I’ve decided it’s high time for me to set off on my next adventure. I’ve done a lot of research, and I’m ready to take my business on the road.”

“It’s hard work,” Herb blurted out, his eyes wide. “Really hard work.”

Ms. Sibberson laughed. “I know that. But I’m excited for the challenge. The only thing I have left to do is, I’ve got to find myself the right truck. I snuck a peek inside your vehicle when I ordered my pie earlier today and it seems to have a lot of the features I’m looking for in a truck of my own. If it’s okay with you, I’d love to get a closer look inside to see if I can’t get a few ideas.”

Freddy glanced at Dad, who was staring at their guest with a strange look on his face. “So, Lois…,” Dad said slowly, “you haven’t bought a truck yet?”

“Hoo, no!” Ms. Sibberson said, yelping with laughter. “I was hoping to find a used truck, so I don’t have to build the whole thing from scratch. But used food trucks aren’t an easy thing to come by here in the middle of Ohio.”

Lucy and Herb hopped out of the truck to give Ms. Sibberson some space. Using Freddy’s arm for support, Ms. Sibberson stepped up into the Peach Pie Truck. She looked around, nodding appreciatively. “Yep, this is just the sort of food truck I’ve been searching for. Would be fun to have some extra seats up front for my grandkids to join me on my travels sometimes.” She laughed, then added, “Don’t suppose you want to sell, do ya?”

Freddy looked at Dad, who stared back at him, his eyebrows raised in a question. “Fred?” Dad asked. Freddy felt himself flush with pride—his dad had turned to him for advice. He took a deep breath. He didn’t even need to ask his siblings their opinion; he was pretty sure they would all agree with his assessment: this experiment had officially run its course.

Freddy was one-hundred-percent certain they were not cut out to be a food truck family. It had been a fun experiment, but it was time for them to move on to their next adventure. Freddy gave his dad a brief nod, and Dad responded with a slight nod of his own. Lucy and Herb nodded their agreement, too.

“Lois,” Freddy said seriously, “let’s make a deal.”

Just as they finalized their deal with Ms. Sibberson—who was willing and able to pay the Peaches the exact amount Dad had spent on the truck in the first place—the festival organizers announced that they were ready to reveal the results.

“In fourth place”—the Peaches all linked arms, bracing themselves for the announcement—“with solid marks for flavor and service, and a total three-day profit of one thousand nine hundred thirty-six dollars: Corn Cabin!” There was a smattering of applause from the big corn-shaped truck.

“In third place, also with a