The dinner table buzzed with excited voices as the children told Grandfather about the yard sale and the old blue house and the mask Benny found.
“Wait, I’ll show you!” Benny dashed to his room and brought back the mask. “Look,” he said.
“Grandfather,” said Violet. “We don’t have much left to sell tomorrow. Could you donate a few old things for our yard sale?”
“Hmmm,” Grandfather tried to think. “I’m not sure I …”
“You most certainly do,” said Mrs. McGregor, the housekeeper, whisking in from the kitchen.
Grandfather looked puzzled. “I do?”
Mrs. McGregor set down a fresh-baked orange cake and bowl of strawberries. “All that clutter in the garage. It’s been years since those shelves had a good cleaning!” She sliced cake for the children and piled strawberries on top. “I’d do it myself, except it’s not for me to decide what needs keeping and what needs throwing away.” She cut a nice big slice for Grandfather and slid it in front of him. “I always say that many hands make light work. The five of you could clean that garage in no time, and the children might find things for their sale.”
Grandfather looked around the table at the children’s hopeful faces. “Well,” he said, smiling as he lifted a forkful of cake, “we’d better finish eating as fast as we can. It seems we have a great deal of work to do.”
What riches awaited them in the big old garage! Grandfather climbed a ladder, passing down rusty golf clubs, typewriters, paintings, dishes, garden tools, skis for snow and water, tools, and model airplane kits. They cleared shelf after shelf, filling their yard-sale tables with things they could sell, throwing the rest into garbage bags.
When they finally finished, Henry lugged the heavy bags to the alley. The orange pickup truck he’d seen on Locust rolled by. Henry noticed the truck still had the same swing set and bicycles in the back as the day before. The pickup slowed to a stop. Henry thought the driver’s black beard looked as scruffy as Watch’s coat did before a bath.
The driver stared at Henry. “Hey,” he said, “aren’t you one of the kids I saw in the alley over at—”
“Henry!” Grandfather called from the garage.
The driver’s head jerked up as if he were surprised someone else was around.
“I’m in the alley,” Henry called back.
Grandfather rounded the corner carrying an armful of fishing poles as the orange truck sped off.
The second day of the sale was even busier than the first. From early morning, people crowded the yard, buying everything in sight. At first, Benny set the mask on his table between Grandfather’s postcard collection and a shoebox full of plastic dinosaurs. But, every time someone came to look at the mask, Benny’s stomach felt all fluttery. Don’t buy it, don’t buy it, don’t buy it, he’d think.
The truth was, he couldn’t bear to sell it— not for five dollars, or fifty dollars, or a hundred million “bajillion” dollars. He wanted to keep it for his very own—forever. Benny put the mask in its white box and hid it under an old blanket on a shelf in the garage.
Mr. Robbins came by, stopping at Henry’s cashier table. “Just checking to see how you’re doing,” he said. “Looks like the Alden children run a mighty fine sale.”
“It’s a lot of work,” said Henry, “but it’s also a lot of fun.”
The orange pickup pulled to a stop in front of the house, and the driver climbed out.
“That’s the man I saw over on Locust,” said Benny, “the day we found the mask.”
“I saw him last night,” Henry said, “while we were cleaning out the garage.”
The man walked into the yard, quickly moving from table to table as if looking for something in particular. Henry pointed out the man to Mr. Robbins. “He’s been driving through the alleys,” said Henry. “Do you know him?”
Mr. Robbins studied the man. “Can’t say I do. I guess he’s not an early bird, like me. I’ve never seen him selling at the flea market, either. Must be new around here. Well, I think I’ll go treat myself to some of your sister’s lemonade and a cookie or two.”
The floppy-hat lady wheeled her shopping cart into the yard. Once again it overflowed with yard-sale items. She peered over the tops of her owlish glasses. “You have new things, I see. These look much more interesting.”
Jessie watched as the woman brushed her hand across a few items on one of their tables and marched straight into the garage. Jessie followed her and found her thumbing through their neatly stacked boxes.
Jessie walked over to the woman and politely tapped her on the shoulder, “Excuse me.”
The woman jumped, surprised to see Jessie standing next to her.
“Only the things on the tables are for sale,” Jessie told her.
“Humph,” the woman said as she quickly walked away from Jessie towards the boxcar.
Violet was so busy pouring lemonade and selling cookies that she didn’t notice a man approach.
“I’d like a lemonade, please,” said a strong voice. She looked up, right into the eyes of the man with the braid she’d seen at the library computer. He was wearing the same silver bracelet with the dark and light silver decorations.
“That’s a beautiful bracelet,” said Violet, handing him his drink. “Is it Hopi?”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “And how would you know that?”
“From my Prairie Girls books. The Hopis are famous for making jewelry that has light silver on top of dark silver. It’s called … it’s called …,” she tried to remember.
“Overlay,” he said. “Silver overlay. And, yes, this is Hopi.” He sipped his lemonade thoughtfully. “Do you have any Hopi items for sale?”
“Oh, no, mostly just stuff from the garage. Although, my brother found an old mask yesterday that looks a lot like a kachina mask. Probably an old souvenir.” Violet glanced at Benny’s table, but the mask was gone. “I guess he sold it,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Hey,” a little boy tugged Violet’s shirt and held up a quarter. “Can I have a cookie?”
Violet looked down at the empty cookie platter. “Oops, I’ll bring some right out.” She ran to the house, pulling open the screen door.
That was the exact moment the neighbor’s cat decided to prance through their yard. Watch dashed out the screen door before Violet could stop him. The cat ran, Watch chased, the cat screeched, Watch barked. They ran in and out, over and under, upsetting tables, knocking over baskets.
“Stop,” shouted Henry, trying to catch them. “Watch, stop!” Finally, Jessie ran one way and Henry ran the other until, together, they trapped Watch. “You’re grounded,” said Henry, grabbing Watch’s collar and pulling him into the house. “I’ll let you out when the sale is over.”
At day’s end, Benny flopped down on the grass, too tired to move. Grandfather came out of the house. “I just received word that a friend in Florida needs my help. I need to fly there late tonight. But I had planned a surprise to thank you for helping me clean out the garage.” He glanced at his watch. “If we hurry, we’ll get there with just enough time for hamburgers and a round of miniature golf. That is,” he smiled at Benny, “if you’re not too tired.”
“Miniature golf!” Benny jumped up. His second favorite thing in the world, after eating, was playing miniature golf. As it happened, they had time for two games of golf. Benny made the hardest shot of the day—hitting his golf ball through a turning windmill and under a bridge—on his very first try.
By the time Grandfather pulled up in front of their house, night stars filled the sky. “I’ll be home in a couple of days,” he said. “Take care of Mrs. McGregor.” And he waved as he drove off.
The weary children walked up the driveway. “Hey,” said Henry, “it looks like the garage door’s open. Did anyone lock it?”
None of them had.
“Let me get my mask,” said Benny, running inside. “Oh, no” he cried. It looked as if a tornado had ripped through the garage—boxes tipped over, old clothing thrown all around.
Jessie stared, wide-eyed. “Who would do this?”
“We just cleaned this garage,” said Violet.
“My mask,” wailed Benny, digging through the rubble. “My mask! Somebody stole my mask.”
“It must be here,” said Henry. The children searched and searched, but the mask was gone.
“What else did they steal?” Jessie asked.
“Our money!” Henry clambered through the clutter to the workbench, digging through a pile of old clothes. “Here!” he said as he lifted the tackle box, quickly opening the latches. All their money was still stacked neatly inside. “Whew,” he said. “It’s a good thing the thief didn’t see this.”
“What about the homeless shelter donations?” cried Jessie, running to the boxcar.
The tree stump was empty. The thief had stolen the green Crispy Cracker can. “How could they?” she said.
“Look!” said Benny. Moonlight shone on a trail of white popcorn. The children followed it from the garage to the alley, where it suddenly stopped.
“It looks like the thief carried the box with the mask this far,” said Henry, “then climbed into a car.”
A sudden gust of wind stirred scraps of white cardboard that were scattered around the alley. Benny picked one up. “This is the box the mask was in.” They searched all around, finding more scraps and a few popcorn crumbs, but no mask.
Henry thought about the man in the orange truck. The man had seen them in the alley on Locust where they’d found the mask. Then he’d come by last night when they were cleaning the garage. And he was at the yard sale today. Could he have known they had the mask and come to steal it?
“What if our mask wasn’t a copy?” said Henry, “What if it was a real kachina mask like the ones we saw in the library book?”
“I think I saw a man looking at kachina masks online when we were at the library,” said Violet. She told them about the man with the braid who wore a Hopi bracelet. He had been at the library, and he had also come to their yard sale. “He asked if we had any Hopi things for sale. Maybe he knew about the mask. Maybe he came back to steal it.”
“And don’t forget the lady with the big glasses and floppy hat,” said Jessie. “She was only interested in old things. And I saw her going through boxes of stuff in the garage. Maybe she saw the mask and knew it was valuable. Maybe she came back to take it.”
This time, the children locked the garage door good and tight before going into the house. One thing was for sure, a thief had come while they were away, a thief who thought their mask was worth stealing. Now the children had to find out why. It was just the sort of mystery the Alden children loved. |