The Penderwicks at Point Mouette Read Free Page B

with suitcases, boxes of books, Batty’s life jacket, Hound’s food and water bowls, several soccer balls, and Skye’s own personal necessities—a pair of binoculars and
Death by Black Hole
, a book that explained certain fascinating aspects of the universe. Then she went inside to the kitchen, where Aunt Claire was making lunch for the trip. Asimov was there, too, glaring balefully into his full-to-the-brim food bowl. He did this often, in the hope that someone would take pity and give him a piece of cheese.
    “I’ve been the OAP for ten minutes now, and Batty is still fine,” said Skye.
    “Congratulations.” Aunt Claire was wrapping up peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. “Don’t give that cat any more cheese. I’ve given him two pieces already.”
    Insulted, Asimov began to knock the food out of his bowl, one piece at a time.
    “You still think I’ll be able to handle this responsibility?”
    “Yes, Skye, I do. Besides, you keep forgetting that you won’t be doing it all alone. Jane and I will be there, too.”
    “I know.” Skye got a piece of cheese out of the refrigeratorfor Asimov. She couldn’t help it. She was going to miss him. “I checked the car. I think everything’s packed.”
    “Everything but this food and us. Are you ready to go?”
    Skye gave Asimov one last rub on the head. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll get the others.”
    Their destination in Maine was Point Mouette, a tiny slip of a peninsula jutting into the Atlantic Ocean. To get there, they had to drive across Massachusetts, cut through a corner of New Hampshire, and wander more than a hundred miles up the coast of Maine. It was too long a drive for people not to get weary and cranky. Added to that were a few incidents that tried everyone’s patience, like when Hound fell in love with a poodle named Penelope at a rest stop and refused to leave until he was given half a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and when Batty suddenly decided she’d left Funty, the blue elephant, at home and was so upset that Aunt Claire pulled over to the side of the highway to allow a full-out search for Funty, who was found hiding in a box with a soccer ball and a large inflatable duck. But before anyone actually murdered anyone else, Skye spotted the sign that said TO POINT MOUETTE , and they were turning off the state highway and onto the peninsula. Now they had only a few miles left to go, and all of it downhill.
    Weariness and crankiness flew away as they gazedavidly around, trying to drink in everything at once. Tall trees crowded the sides of the road, except where brightly painted houses sat in clearings of well-tended grass, and where—even better—the trees parted briefly for quick glimpses of the glistening ocean below them. Although everyone wanted to stop and explore each new sight, especially the rambling wooden Moose Market with a colossal stone bull moose out front, his dignity not at all impaired by the FRESH PIES sign hanging off his antlers, they wanted even more to rush on, eager to see where they’d be living for the next two weeks.
    So on they went, until they came to the road that skirted the end of the peninsula. This was called Ocean Boulevard, a fancy name for a narrow road only a few miles long. Most of it was off to the left, but Aunt Claire turned right and a minute later pulled into the last driveway, just before Ocean Boulevard dead-ended at a pinewood. The driveway was short and narrow, with barely enough room for the car, and in front of it was their house.
    “It’s called Birches,” said Aunt Claire. “I hope you like it.”
    Birches was tiny—not much bigger than a garage—and looked even smaller, nestled as it was next to a half dozen of the tall white-barked trees for which it was named. The girls had been prepared for its lack of size, but not for how charming it was, like adollhouse, with gray clapboards, red shutters, and window boxes full of bright pansies. And it had a screened porch that the