The Great Peach Experiment 1 Erin Downing (spicy books to read .TXT) 📖

bad, he’s going to give up and I’ll have to figure out an escape plan. I don’t WANT that to happen, but it will. And Herb and Freddy will be crushed.

Love,

Lucy

PS: Herb met a couple dogs at our campground that would fit in perfectly with your pack!

11

  PEACH SHORTAGE

On Wednesday morning, with Freddy overseeing every step of the process, the family managed to make six decent-looking pies—two apple, two slightly runny French silk, and two lopsided lemon meringue. Dad offered to be in charge of monitoring the peach pies while they baked and the kids all showered—but he got distracted reading a science article he’d pulled up on his phone, and all four of the family’s signature pies burned.

But six pies were better than none, so the family set off to a busy downtown Minneapolis street for their first day in business.

When they arrived, a dozen other food trucks had already set up shop for the day. It was still raining—a weak but constant drizzle—so no one was really out and about looking for food. Freddy decided the slow, rainy morning was a good opportunity to do a little research on some of the other food trucks and maybe check out their business plans. He let the rest of the family get things set up while he grabbed an umbrella and headed out to charm his way into some useful information. Taking inspiration from other artists always helped Freddy with his own art projects, and hopefully this approach would help him in business, too.

The food truck parked directly next to theirs was called Hola Arepa, and it sold a bunch of delicious-looking meats and veggies served in soft little masa corn cake pockets. It was the only truck that had a line of customers, and Freddy decided the staff of that truck probably wouldn’t be willing to chat with him unless he was standing in line to buy something. Maybe he’d come back for lunch, but he wasn’t hungry yet.

Next to Hola Arepa was a truck selling fancy juices—for nine dollars apiece! “That’s insane,” Freddy muttered. “Who buys juice for nine bucks?” Just as he said it, a group of middle-aged ladies ran through the rain and ducked under the juice truck’s canopy. They all ordered not one, but two juices each! “Some people are crazy,” Freddy announced.

He passed a tiny pizza truck, a fancy-looking taco truck, and a huge blue-and-black food truck that had a whole variety of items made with tater tots. He jotted them all down and drew a picture of each truck in his sketchbook. He decided it would be fun to design his dream food truck later, when they got back to their campsite.

Toward the end of the food truck lineup, Freddy came upon a truck selling crepes. Their menu boasted ham-and-Swiss-cheese crepes, mushroom crepes, and two sweet crepes: chocolate banana and sugar butter. Sweet crepes were similar enough to pie that Freddy felt this was the best place to do a little investigating. Time for more research! He would do whatever he could to make himself useful to the family business. Even if he wasn’t good at math and money stuff, he knew he could figure out ways to help their experiment succeed.

The girl staffing the crepe truck looked like she was somewhere between high school and parent age, and she seemed bored out of her mind. Freddy sauntered over and said hello. “We’re new here,” he explained, in his best take-me-seriously voice. “Actually, we’re new to the food truck business. Do you happen to have any tips for us? Business owner to business owner?”

“Are you for real?” The girl laughed, then stood up and rubbed her hands on her apron. “Do you want a crepe, hon?”

Freddy pulled his eyebrows together. “No, I don’t want a crepe. I’m with the Peach Pie Truck.” He gestured with his thumb, pointing toward the end of the line of colorful trucks. “And I was hoping to ask you a few questions about how you run your business. Successes, failures, best practices. Fun facts, tips, what have you.”

“You’re adorable,” the girl said.

Freddy scowled. Adorable described a puppy, or a fluffy baby panda, or three-year-old Herb in the bath with a sudsy bubble beard. Adorable did not get taken seriously. “How often do you buy supplies for your truck?” Freddy asked, ignoring the girl’s unintentional dig. “Daily, weekly, or on an as-needed basis?”

“Me?” the girl said, frowning. “I don’t buy anything. I just show up and work here. Summer job.”

Freddy rolled his eyes. This interview was a waste of time. The Internet had been a better source of facts than crepe girl. With a winning smile, Freddy saluted her, and said, “Good to know. Thanks for all your helpful tips. Have a nice afternoon.” Then he sauntered back to the Peach Pie Truck, hoping to see people queued up for pie. But all he saw was Herb, drawing curlicues on the corner of the chalkboard menu they’d affixed to the side of the truck. Their three pies were listed on the board:

Apple Crumb Pie . . . $5

Lemon Meringue Pie . . . $5

French Silk Pie . . . $5

They hadn’t yet bought ice cream, so they couldn’t offer the apple pie à la mode. But it wasn’t that hot today, so who wanted ice cream anyway?

As Freddy approached, Herb wrote:

Herb’s Cinnaballs . . . $2

on the bottom of the menu. Freddy was tempted to walk over and smudge it out with his fist. But he decided it couldn’t hurt to let Herb try to sell his weird little crust balls. Any sale was better than no sale at all.

Freddy scanned the sidewalk, wondering where all the customers were. It was after noon, and they should have had some business by now! He’d noticed that crowds tended to draw people’s attention, so he decided he’d try to figure out some way to look busy so people would think their truck was popular.

“Herb,” he whispered,