The Aldens found Fran sitting in her workroom, a basket of flowers in front of her. Newspapers had been spread over a long table, and there was a thick phone book nearby. When Jessie tugged the old photographs from her pocket, Fran’s face broke into a smile.
“Well, you’ve made my day, Jessie. I knew I’d put these pictures somewhere for safekeeping, but I’d forgotten exactly where.” She slipped the envelope into her apron pocket with a happy sigh.
“And I found the old croquet set,” Benny reminded everyone.
Fran turned to him with a warm smile. “That was very helpful, too, Benny.”
The Aldens glanced around the sunny workroom. Metal file cabinets lined one wall. Wooden shelves filled with neatly-labeled shoe boxes stood against another wall. By the curtained window, there was a large desk cluttered with papers. In the corner, half hidden by a potted plant, phone books were piled high.
“I’ve never seen so many phone books!” Benny’s eyes were wide.
Fran threw her head back and laughed. “Folks in town save them for me, Benny. The pages are perfect for pressing flowers. They soak up all the moisture.” She looked around at the Aldens. “Anybody interested in pressing flowers? I’d be happy to show you how.”
“Oh, yes!” said Violet, her eyes shining. The others nodded eagerly.
Fran handed out wicker baskets. “For starters, you’ll need to gather some flowers,” she said. “If you see anything in the garden that strikes your fancy, just help yourselves. Oh, and don’t forget about wildflowers,” she added. “Even weeds have charm.”
“I think I’ll pick buttercups,” Benny decided as they headed for the door. “They’re my favorites.”
Outside, Jessie and Henry followed the stepping-stone path through the garden, while Violet and Benny searched for wildflowers on the banks of the creek. Their baskets were soon bursting with summer colors. Fran nodded approvingly when they came back into the room.
“That’s the ticket!” she said. “You’ve got a real mix of colors there.”
The Aldens sat down at the table. Fran showed them how to spread the flowers out on the newspapers, then carefully place them, spaced apart, on the pages of a phone book.
After they’d been working for a while, Benny looked up. “This is so cool,” he said.
Henry agreed. He was holding a morning glory under Fran’s magnifying glass. “The flowers are all so different.”
“That’s true, Henry,” Fran said. “As Reese would say, there are no boring bits. Every leaf and tendril is special.”
“Oh, does Reese press flowers, too?” Violet asked.
“Yes, I’ve been teaching her everything I know.” Fran’s lips curled up in a smile. “She really is the dearest child.”
Jessie was wondering about something. “How did you get started, Fran? Pressing flowers, I mean.”
“It’s a family tradition, Jessie.” Fran gestured to the framed verses hanging along the back wall. “Those were my great-great-grandmother Anne’s creations. She didn’t write the verses, but she decorated each one with a border of pressed flowers. Anne loved making everything beautiful. Apparently she even painted buttercups all over the walls of the old mudroom.”
“The old mudroom?” Jessie gave Fran a questioning look.
“It used to be just off the kitchen,” Fran explained. “A place for dirty boots and coats. After Anne decorated it, everybody called it the Buttercup Room. But it was torn down long before my time.”
Jessie glanced at Henry. If Anne pressed flowers, wasn’t it possible she’d decorated that mysterious box? It was clear she loved buttercups. Was Lottie right? Was it all just a parlor game? That would explain why they hadn’t found any clues in the trunk. They were probably long gone — just like the treasure.
Violet, who was taking a closer look at the framed verses on the wall, suddenly turned around. “There’s one called A Little St. Ives Rhyme.”
“Anne was very fond of her hometown, Violet,” Fran said. “She even named the old tree house Little St. Ives.”
That got Benny’s attention. “Tree house?”
“Selden built it for his sons,” Fran explained. “But the tree was struck by lightning long ago. The tree house was destroyed.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” said Benny.
Fran nodded. “We get some terrible thunderstorms here in Wisconsin.”
They all bent to their work again. A short while later, Benny placed his last flower in the phone book he was sharing with Violet. “So, is that it?” he asked Fran.
“Not quite, Benny. The flowers need heavy weights pressing down on them.” Fran walked over to the closet. She threw open the door to reveal stacks of bricks. “I find these work quite nicely.”
Following Fran’s instructions, Henry stacked the phone books on the floor of the closet, then placed the bricks on top.
“Nice job, Henry,” Fran praised. “The flowers take a few months to dry. But I’ve got a ton of them already pressed. If you’re interested in making your own greeting cards later, you’re welcome to use whatever flowers you want.”
Violet’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Fran winked. “I don’t see why not.”
Violet was thrilled. She clapped her hands together excitedly.
Jessie said, “Thanks so much for the lesson, Fran.” The others thanked her too.
“If you keep at it, you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” Fran glanced at her watch. “I guess I’d better get a move on. My chores are waiting.”
When she was gone, the Aldens set to work cleaning up. They were just finishing when they noticed someone standing in the doorway. A tall, sandy-haired man, his suit jacket over his arm, was watching them through narrowed eyes.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And how’d you get in here?”
The children were so surprised by his harsh tone, they were speechless. Finally, Henry recovered his voice. “You must be Fran’s son, Nelson,” he said with a friendly smile. “We’re the Aldens. I’m Henry. This is my brother, Benny, and my sisters, Violet and Jessie.”
“Fran invited us to stay with her for a few days,” added Jessie. “She’s a friend of our grandfather’s.”
Shaking his head, Nelson muttered, “Might as well add a revolving door out front with so many people staying here.” He sounded annoyed.
“But we’re here to help,” Benny protested. “We’re going to solve a mystery and find a treasure for Fran.”
Nelson did not look happy to hear this. “Give me a break! My mother told me all about the riddle she found. Don’t worry, there’s no treasure. That mystery is just a pile of rubbish.”
“Fran doesn’t think it’s rubbish,” Jessie said quietly.
Nelson cut in, “Just don’t get my mother’s hopes up for nothing.” He shifted his suit jacket impatiently from one arm to the other. “She works so hard, she never has time for me anymore. We used to have good times together. We used to — ” He stopped abruptly as if realizing he’d said too much. “I just want her life to be a bit easier. What’s wrong with that?”
“Maybe Fran wants a happy life,” Violet offered, “not an easy one.”
Nelson opened his mouth as if about to speak, then closed it again. He wheeled around and hurried away.
Henry shook his head in astonishment. “Nelson sure thinks he knows best.”
A few minutes later, Fran poked her head into the room. “I thought I heard Nelson’s voice. Is he here?”
Henry said, “He left already.”
“I don’t think he likes us very much,” added Benny.
“Oh, you mustn’t think that,” said Fran. “Nelson’s a good man, but he places too much importance on money. Ever since his father died, he’s been worrying about me because I’m on a tight budget. He doesn’t seem to realize I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe he just wants to be a part of your life,” Violet suggested, softening a little toward Nelson.
Fran looked at Violet in surprise. Then she quickly changed the subject. “Any thoughts on the mystery riddle?”
“We were pretty sure we had a lead,” said Henry. “But it fizzled out.”
“Oh!” Fran looked disappointed.
“Don’t worry,” Benny said. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Jessie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t help wondering if Nelson was right. Were they getting Fran’s hopes up for nothing? |