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

favorite saying embroidered on a pillow for her as a Christmas gift, to try to help cheer her up during all those long weeks of chemotherapy. Now the pillow sat unused on Mom’s favorite reading chair, as a reminder of all the sour lemons life had thrown at the Peach family these past few years.

That morning, as Herb rubbed his sore belly, Lucy quietly slipped him a bowl of carrot sticks. The veggies helped settle his tummy enough that he could squeeze in just a little more peach pie.

After tasting every single one of the sample pies Dad had baked, the kids had all decided that the medium-thick crust was the best-quality crust for selling by the slice—it wasn’t soggy and didn’t fall apart when you cut into it. There was some discussion about whether traditional crust or buttery crumble made a better topping. This discussion led to a bit of a disagreement, which turned into a full-blown fight. Finally, Freddy suggested they could make some pies with crumb topping and others with crust topping and test to see which one was more popular with customers. That compromise calmed everyone down for a bit.

Freddy had spent part of the morning doing some more research online at the family computer in the dining room, and he had found several hole-in-the-wall pie shops that he thought they should stop and visit along their route. Though these stops weren’t included on Dad’s original schedule, Freddy had pointed out that it would be important to stop and do some pie-tasting research along the way. Somehow, Herb’s big brother had smooth-talked Dad into seeing things his way, so now their first stop on the journey would be at Betty’s Pies, just north of their hometown of Duluth, Minnesota. Freddy had also found several other pie shops he was eager to stop at throughout Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Michigan, but Dad hadn’t agreed to those detours quite yet.

“Get this: there’s one place that bakes their pies in a paper bag,” Freddy called into the kitchen from where he sat in front of the computer. “That’s pretty cool. Another place is known for butterscotch pie, which sounds interesting and also is probably pretty easy to make. And here’s something good to know: Michigan doesn’t just have the world’s largest cherry pie pan, they’re also really into cherry pie. That’s because of Michigan cherries. We probably want to have cherry pie on our menu if we stop in Michigan. I didn’t bother looking for any pie places to stop at beyond Michigan,” he was saying as he rejoined the family in the kitchen. “I figure we better have our menu pretty well sorted out by then, or we won’t have any hope of winning that food truck festival in Ohio.”

Dad suddenly yawned and swayed, catching the edge of the counter to keep himself from falling over. “I’ll tell you what. I’m pooped,” he said. “Let’s head outside and get started painting and cleaning the truck, before I collapse.”

Though most food trucks used special wraps for their name and logo, Dad had explained, the Peaches didn’t have time to wait for a custom food truck wrap to be completed. Instead, they would be customizing the bright peachy-orange-colored truck with painted-on, swirly black-and-green stencil letters and a giant dancing peach sticker. Hoping to help, Herb had suggested they paint dragons or flames or something exciting on the side of the truck, but he was outvoted.

While Dad and Lucy bickered over how to work the paint sprayer, Herb and Freddy set to work cleaning out the inside of the truck. They each got a big bucket of sudsy water and a few sponges. To make the job more appealing, Dad told them they were allowed to have soap fights while they cleaned. It was okay if soap and water sploshed on the floor, he said; the most important thing was that they scrub the space from top to bottom. How they got it clean was up to them, and this kind of freedom was exciting to Herb.

Dad had also promised that if they found any treasures while they were cleaning, they could keep them. So far, Herb had found almost three dollars in loose change, an old bandanna, a funny grocery list, and a still-in-the-wrapper chocolate bar! This was his lucky day.

The two boys scrubbed and explored and scrubbed some more, cranking up the music inside the truck while they worked. They soaped up the countertops, emptied the fridge, and scraped charred bits off the top of the stove. Then Herb attached sudsy sponges to his knees to scrub the floor. He swished and slid back and forth, leaving soapy trails across the floor of the truck.

Herb was back in the far corner of the truck, near the pantry area, when he noticed a piece of cloth sticking out from under one of the low shelves. He grabbed the fabric and tugged. It felt like an old T-shirt, soft and worn. But no matter how hard he pulled, the piece of cloth wouldn’t come loose. “Freddy!” he cried, trying to get his brother’s attention over the loud music. Freddy was dancing, tapping his soap-filled sponges on the counters along with the beat. “Freddy!” Herb called again. “Help me move this shelf.”

Freddy slid over, and then leaned his whole weight against the shelf. It was screwed in place, just like everything in the food truck (so that it wouldn’t go flying around when they were on the road), but Freddy was able to shift it just enough for Herb to reach his tiny fingers in and wiggle the fabric free. He pulled it out and was disappointed to see it wasn’t anything exciting—just an old, dirty, torn-up T-shirt. He scooped it up, preparing to toss it in the big trash bag. But then, just as Freddy was dancing away, Herb felt the fabric move. Startled, he let the ball of soft cotton fall open. When it did, several tiny noses