As we passed through the iron gates that marked the entrance to the college, I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Erastus Peckinpaugh coming toward us on one of the paths crisscrossing the campus.
Uh-oh, I thought in dismay. If Professor Rusty let it slip that he’d seen me here, my name would be mud.
“I thought you were grounded, Truly.”
I nodded and crossed my fingers behind my back. “I’m just running a quick errand for the bookstore.”
“Well, when you see your aunt, would you please tell her not to forget we have an appointment with Reverend Quinn this afternoon at the church?”
Lucas looked surprised. “I thought my mom said the wedding wasn’t until this fall.”
My future uncle laughed. “We’re not getting married today, Lucas. It’s just some counseling that’s required for engaged couples.” He checked his watch. “Oops, duty calls—in this case my summer session class on American westward movement.”
He loped off again. Lucas and I continued on to the college library, where we found our friends waiting for us on the broad granite steps.
“Where have you guys been?” rasped Cha Cha, rising to her feet. “We’ve been here forever!”
“Sorry,” I told her. “We had to wait until my dad left.”
Calhoun texted his father to let him know we were all here, then led us inside past the security guard. While we were waiting for Dr. Calhoun, I crossed the spacious lobby to the famous statue of my possibly pirate ancestor, who was also the college’s founder.
“Time to give up your secrets, Nathaniel-Daniel-looks-like-a-spaniel,” I whispered. Just like in his portrait at home, his nose was the most prominent feature on his face—and the shiniest, thanks to generations of college students who rubbed it for luck before exams. I reached out and rubbed it too. We could use all the luck we could get right about now.
“I think it’s admirable that you want to learn more about our town’s history,” Dr. Calhoun told us a few minutes later as he steered us toward the stairs. “I’m impressed.”
We followed him into the basement and down a long hallway to a door marked ARCHIVES. Inside, we had to surrender our backpacks and sign an official-looking form that basically said we promised not to steal or damage anything, or quote anything or take pictures of anything without permission.
Lucas glanced around the room. “It’s kind of dark in here, isn’t it?”
“Natural light isn’t good for old documents and antiquarian books,” Calhoun’s father explained. “This area is climate-controlled. We have to keep it at just the right temperature and humidity levels to best preserve our college’s treasures.”
At the word “treasures,” my friends and I exchanged glances. Calhoun’s lips quirked up in a half smile. I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing—if his dad only knew what we were up to!
I recognized the archivist from the bookshop. She was a regular at our author events. She’d been at Amanda Appleton’s, and she often hung out at Cup and Chaucer after work and on the weekends.
“You’re the bookstore girl!” she blurted when he saw me.
“I see you’re acquainted with our archivist, Peregrine Butler,” said Calhoun’s father.
I looked at her with interest. Peregrine falcons were my second favorite bird, next to owls. I’d never met anyone named after one, though. The archivist didn’t look much older than most of the college students on campus. Her short, spiky hair sported a broad green streak, and she also had a nose ring and a tattoo that spelled out Dewey Decimal circling her left wrist like a bracelet. I liked her immediately.
“I’ll leave you in Dr. Butler’s capable hands, then,” Dr. Calhoun said. “I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need me.”
The archivist gave us a cheerful smile as he left. “Call me Peregrine, please. All this flurry of interest in Nathaniel Lovejoy! First Dr. Appleton, and now you kids. Of course, now that we know about a possible connection between Pumpkin Falls and the missing pirate treasure, it makes sense that people are looking into our town’s early settlers. Is that what triggered your interest as well?”
“Partly,” I replied. “That and the fact that he’s my ancestor, and I’ve always wanted to know more about him.”
Which was true, or at least true-ish.
“Well, let’s see if we can satisfy your curiosity.” Peregrine led us to a table at the back of the room, where she’d arranged an assortment of things for us to look at. Before we could touch any of them, though, we had to put on white cotton gloves.
“It’s just like cotillion,” said Scooter, waggling his fingers at me.
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
There was a lot of stuff to examine. The selection of Nathaniel Daniel’s “papers” that had been set out for us included letters, account ledgers, deeds to his property, and his last will and testament.
“How are we supposed to read these?” Scooter complained, picking up one of the letters and squinting at the spidery script.
“I’m actually pretty good at deciphering old handwriting,” said Calhoun, who apparently had no end of hidden talents. “My dad has a bunch of letters that my great-grandparents wrote to each other during World War Two. They’re really interesting.”
“Great,” I told him. “You’re in charge of the letters.”
“I’ll take the account ledgers,” said Scooter quickly. “The numbers look easy to read.”
His sister agreed to help him, while Cha Cha and Lucas zeroed in on the deeds. That left me with Nathaniel Daniel’s last will and testament. I picked it up gingerly. It was old and fragile and looked like it would tear easily.
“That’s been transcribed.” Peregrine passed me two typewritten pages. “You’ll find this easier to decipher.”
“No fair!” said Scooter.
“You chose the ledgers, you stick with the ledgers,” I told him loftily. And settling into a chair, I started to read.
I, Nathaniel Daniel Lovejoy, being of sound mind, do hereby declare this document to be my last will and testament, the transcript began. Everything seemed pretty normal. He left his house—the one
