“Nonsense!” Grandma replied. “You measure out the sugar. Lots and lots of sugar.”
I rolled out the pie dough. It seemed like an awful lot of dough. But then—what did I know? I’m never around when Mom bakes. She says I get in the way too.
When the dough was rolled flat, Grandma took over. “Okay, children. You sit down at the table and have a nice glass of milk. I’ll finish up.”
Clark and I weren’t thirsty. But we didn’t feel like arguing. We drank our milk and watched Grandma finish making the pie.
No—not one pie. Three pies.
“Grandma, how come you’re making three pies?” I asked.
“I always like to have a little extra,” she explained. “Just in case company drops in.”
Company? I thought. Company?
I stared at Grandma.
Is she totally losing it?
Who did she think was coming to visit? She lives in the middle of nowhere!
What is going on around here? I wondered.
Is Grandma really expecting visitors?
Why does she make so much extra food?
“Work builds thirst!” Grandpa announced, banging open the kitchen door. He headed for the refrigerator. “See! I’m right!” Grandpa pointed to our empty milk glasses. “Are you two ready to help with the shed now?”
“Eddie, the children didn’t come here to work!” Grandma scolded. “Why don’t you two have some fun exploring the house? There are endless rooms. I’m sure you’ll find some wonderful treasures.”
“Great idea!” Grandpa’s face lit up with a smile. But it faded quickly. “Just one warning. You’ll find a locked room. At the end of the hall on the third floor. Now pay attention, children. Stay away from that room.”
“Why? What’s in it?” Clark demanded.
Grandma and Grandpa exchanged worried glances. Grandma’s face turned bright pink.
“It’s a supply room,” Grandpa replied. “We’ve stored away things in there. Old things. Fragile things. Things that could easily break. So just stay away.”
Clark and I took off. We were glad to get away. Grandma Rose and Grandpa Eddie were nice—but weird.
The kitchen, living room, and dining room took up most of the first floor. And we’d seen them already.
There was a library on the first floor too. But the books in there were old and dusty. They made me sneeze. Nothing very exciting in there. So Clark and I headed upstairs. To the second floor.
We made our way past our bedrooms.
Past the little hall window.
We followed the twists and turns of the dim hallway—until we came to the next room.
Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom.
“I don’t think we should go in there,” I told Clark. “I don’t think Grandma and Grandpa want us snooping through their things.”
“Come on!” he urged. “Don’t you want to check it out? For pancake crumbs.” He laughed.
I shoved Clark hard.
“Hey!” he grumbled. His glasses slid down his nose. “It was just a joke.”
I left my stepbrother in the hall and opened the door to the next room. The door was made of heavy, dark wood. It groaned when I pushed it.
I fumbled in the dark for the light switch. The room glowed a sickly yellow—from a single, dirty bulb, dangling from the ceiling.
In the dreary light, I could make out cartons. A room full of cartons. Stacks and stacks of them.
“Hey! Maybe there’s some cool stuff in these boxes,” Clark said, pushing past me.
Clark began to pry one open. “Whatever is in here must be pretty big,” he said, pointing to the carton’s bulging sides.
I peered over Clark’s shoulder. The room smelled so musty and sour. I held my nose and squinted in the dim light. Waiting for Clark to reveal what was inside the box.
Clark struggled with the cardboard flaps—and finally they sprang open.
“I don’t believe this!” he exclaimed.
