Allie is a 12-year-old girl staying in a summer rental house on Agawam Bay, a coastal town rich in whaling history and folklore. She becomes intrigued by a mermaid painting in her room and the local legend behind it. On her second day of vacation, a cryptic note is left for her, and she finds herself teamed up with Chris, a boy her age who claims to have seen the mermaid in the bay. A journalist in the making, he asks for Allie’s help to prove that mermaids really exist. Together they investigate the town’s quirky residents, aided by a lovable Newfoundland dog. They find their #1 mermaid suspect in Julia, the town’s enigmatic new swimming instructor, and hatch an elaborate plan to trap her. Along the way, they discover an abandoned treehouse, find a long-forgotten treasure map, and host a genuine New England clambake. This book contains five recipes prepared by the characters.
Chapter 2
The first thing Allie saw when she awoke the next morning was the mermaid painting. She wondered if she had been gazing at it, half asleep, for a while. Her last hazy dreams were of swimming in a stormy sea, everything around her a swirl of blue and green. She couldn’t remember much else about the dream except she was sure there had been a dog. Maybe swimming with her? She yawned and rolled over to face the alarm clock.
Yikes! It was already 8:15! She had planned to get up early and start exploring but didn’t set an alarm because…well, alarms were for school season. She was on summer vacation—at their very own beach house! She grinned. With a cheery attitude she hopped out of bed and stepped to the window overlooking the road. The sun was streaming through the bleached marsh grass, sparkling as it reflected off the water at the edge. The tide was starting to come in. If she hurried with breakfast, she’d have time to walk on the beach and collect some shells.
Quickly donning her favorite cut-offs, a T-shirt, and sneakers, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Dragging a brush through her hair, she stood in front of the mermaid painting and wondered what it was the mystical figure held clutched to her bosom. Her eyes were so sad.
Allie studied the mermaid’s face for another moment, then turned to look out the side window at the neighboring property. No one was visible at the grand house on the hill, the bluff, or the gazebo. Hearing her mom call from the bottom of the stairs, she set the brush on the dresser and hurried down.
Mom greeted her in the kitchen.
“Hey, sleepyhead, you’re finally up!”
She sipped her coffee from her favorite mug, a gift from Allie last Mother’s Day. It was sunny yellow with white daisies and said, Queen of the Garden. Allie poured some cereal and orange juice.
“I overslept. The bed was so comfy!”
“Mine too,” Mom agreed. “Plus, we had a long day yesterday. So, what do you want to do today? Besides swim,” she teased.
Allie took a seat at the breakfast bar and started to eat.
“Walk on the beach. Ride my bike,” she swallowed her cereal before Mom told her not to talk with her mouth full. “Check things out.”
Mom picked up her toast, pointing it at Allie.
“You may explore this road today on your bike, but remember what Dad said last night.”
Dad had called to see how they were settling in last night and had advised Allie of two rules: Do not go anywhere without letting her mother know, and no exploring past their own road until Mom had driven around to check it out.
Allie sighed.
“I know,” she said. At least there was the forest to explore. Between that and the beach, it would keep her occupied for today. She was hoping it wouldn’t be too long before Mom gave her the green light to go further. She was looking forward to being able to ride to the public beach for swimming lessons by herself, and the freedom of exploring what lay between here and there. After all, she wasn’t a little kid anymore! She’d be starting middle school in September.
Mom stood up from the breakfast bar and brought her plate to the sink.
“I think I’m going to take a stroll on the beach myself,” she said. “We can take a jar if you want to collect seashells.”
Allie hesitated, torn. She wanted to assert her independence and say no thanks, she’d ride her bike this morning, but honestly, she was planning to walk on the beach first anyway before the tide came in…and she didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.
“Sure,” she said, hopping down. “I’ll be on the dock.”
Outside, the air was scented with salt and slightly damp on her cheeks. It was quiet. All she could hear was the soft sound of the waves. Allie stopped on the sloping back lawn and breathed in the air, eyes closed, before heading to the dock. She stepped onto the weathered, gray wood and tramped to the end, peering over the edge. A few fish with spots on their sides hovered just under the surface, fins undulating against the current.
The tide was about halfway in, a steady, gentle rhythm of advance and retreat, an ancient dance of sea and shore. She looked in the direction of the channel, shading her eyes, and saw splashes of color as morning sunbeams hit the roofs of cottages across the bay. She wondered what it would be like to live there, in one of those ocean cottages—or this one—and belong here. To be one of the kids who grew up here. To know the beach neighborhoods inside and out, to know the ocean and all its secrets. To live here your whole entire life. To raise your kids here and be part of the town, not just a tourist. Would it feel different, she wondered? Or did all kids her age feel the same? As she mulled this over, she heard a noise and turned to see Mom heading down the yard with a mason jar in her hand.
“What a gorgeous morning,” Mom exclaimed, taking a moment to look out over the bay.
Allie agreed, her face split into a grin, and they headed down a short set of stairs, descending to the beach. Allie decided to forego her sneakers and left them by the stairs. She ran ahead of Mom, bare feet squishing through the sand, and danced with sheer exuberance. Just think, this was the first day of almost ninety days here! She executed an impromptu cartwheel, receiving applause from Mom. She skipped to the water’s edge and let the tide wash over her toes. Mom joined her, holding her sandals in one hand, jar in the other.
“Ooo, too cold!” she declared, and retreated.
Allie laughed. “After a minute, you’ll get used to it!” She looked down at the sea water swirling around her toes. “Look, Mom, a pink hermit crab!”
Sure enough, one of the many hermit crabs scuttling along the water’s edge was sporting a pink, fuzzy shell. Mom stepped closer.
“How unusual! I’m guessing it’s some sort of pink algae. Hmm. I’ve never seen that before,” she said.
Allie watched it for a minute, then pointed to a semi-translucent, multi-legged creature that glided along on the bottom in the shallow water at her feet. It was only an inch or two long.
“What’s that?”
It was almost invisible. At first Mom didn’t see what she was pointing to. Its tiny black eyes, suspended on long antennae were the giveaway.
“Oh, I see it now,” she said. “That’s a shrimp.”
Allie stared at her in surprise. “But it’s tiny… and you can see through it! Why isn’t it pink?”
Mom laughed. “Well, it’s a baby. And they turn pink when you cook them.”
“How long does it take to grow up?” Allie asked.
Mom straightened up. “That, I don’t know. You could look it up when we get back, though,” she suggested.
Allie nodded, trailing her fingers through the shallow water, turning over mussel shells and periwinkles.
“I’d like to find a starfish,” she said, enjoying the feel of the wet sand beneath her fingertips.
“Well, the best time for that would be when the tide is going out,” Mom said, resuming her walk.
Allie jogged a few paces to catch up and was just about to ask why that was when she noticed a man in the distance, walking in their direction. She nudged her mom. He seemed to be an older gentleman, and he moved with purpose, neither meandering nor pausing, but marching straight ahead. He was not someone out for a stroll, Allie thought, or looking for seashells. His eyes were fixed on a point ahead of him, and he seemed not to notice Allie or her mother. They were not on a path where they would meet—he seemed to be avoiding the wet sand. Allie looked at his shoes as the distance between them lessened and decided it was because his shoes were nice ones, the kind Dad called “dress shoes,” to be worn with a suit. And a suit was exactly what this man wore, she realized, as they got nearer. Suit jacket, slacks, and button-down shirt, all in black, and a black derby atop his head. How peculiar.
She sidled a glance at her mother and saw her eyebrows were slightly raised as well. Allie was about to whisper a comment when suddenly her mother called out to the man.
“Good morning!” her mom said in a bright and cheery voice, waving a hand.
Allie wanted to shrink into the sand. Why did her mother have to be so friendly? The man was probably on his way somewhere. And she didn’t really want to meet a stranger right now; she wanted to collect shells and then go exploring on her bike. The man looked their way, apparently just noticing them. He stopped, now about fifteen feet away, and tipped his hat.
“And a good morning to you lovely ladies as well,” he called. Allie rolled her eyes. Give me a break.
Her mother smiled, charmed. She took Allie by the arm and approached the man. Allie knew from the tight grip she was not allowed to wander off. She stood uncomfortably next to Mom as introductions were made, crossing her arms over her chest. Meeting adults was never one of her favorite things, and old people made her feel weird because…well, they had all these things wrong with them, and they might die at any point, and someday, she would be old too, and that really scared her.
“I’m Veronica Caswell, and this is my daughter Allison. We’re here for the summer,” her mother said, extending her hand.
The gentleman took her mom’s hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it! Allie’s mouth dropped open. She’d never seen anyone do that except in the movies. She hurriedly clasped her hands behind her back.
“Tobias Danforth III,” the man said, removing his hat, with a small bow. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
His faded blue eyes crinkled with humor, and he smiled, including Allie in his regard. His face was weathered and tanned, the many lines upon it seeming to indicate he had known both great sadness and joy in his life. His hair was pure white and neatly trimmed, as was his small mustache. Allie could see the square edge of a dove-gray handkerchief in his breast pocket. Her mom nudged her.
“Hi,” Allie said. She fidgeted, casting longing glances at the beach beyond them.
“Would I be correct in assuming you are the new summer residents of twenty-seven Sunset Road?” Mr. Danforth inquired, with a tilt of his head.
“Yes, we are!” her mom replied, smiling, “We just arrived yesterday. It’s a lovely house. Do you know it?”
The man smiled in return, with a touch of wistfulness.
“That I do, Mrs. Caswell, quite well…” He seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. He cleared his throat. “In fact, it seems we are neighbors. I would be delighted to have the pleasure of a visit if you ladies would care to stop by for some lemonade this week. I could advise you on the particulars of our little town, logistics and recommendations, that sort of thing. And of course, your family would be welcome as well. The more the merrier!”
“Oh, it’s just Allie and I,” Mom acknowledged with a friendly smile. “And thank you, we’d love to! What day would be good? Our schedule is wide open. Right, Allie?” She made purposeful eye contact with an obvious message—Be polite!
“Sure,” Allie said, shrugging, then made herself add a polite smile.
“Excellent!” Mr. Danforth announced, clapping his hands once. “Let’s say Friday, shall we? I’ve always found Fridays to be exceptionally good days for making new acquaintances. Perhaps at 3:00? We can have lemonade in the gazebo, weather permitting. Twenty-nine Sunset Road, the house on the hill.”
Allie’s attention snapped back to the man. The house on the hill with the gazebo? Okay, this might be interesting after all. She’d love to see that house; it was like a mansion! And the gazebo, perched up on the bluff, with the waves crashing below…
She offered a genuine smile, and said, “Thank you. It was very nice to meet you,” earning a shoulder squeeze of approval from her mom.
They said their goodbyes, Mr. Danforth tipping his hat again, and continued in their opposite directions.
“Well, I think we may have made our first friend,” Mom said, as they walked the beach slowly, scanning the wet sand for shells. “He seems lonely,” she remarked.
Allie picked up a pretty conch shell and examined it for flaws.
“I saw him watching us yesterday,” she commented, adding the shell to the jar. “I don’t know for sure it was him, but there was someone at the gazebo, and he looked like he was dressed in black. Why was Mr. Danforth so dressed up and walking on the beach, Mom? It was kind of weird, don’t you think?”
Mom added her own shell.
“Let’s not judge,” she said. “He seemed very nice, and that’s what matters. Maybe he was heading somewhere to meet someone, or maybe he feels more comfortable in a suit. It’s not our concern.” She looked at the diminishing stretch of sand. “I think it’s time to head back, before the tide catches us out here and we have to walk on the seawall to get back.”
Allie added another shell then turned in the direction of the summer house. She thought of Mom’s comment that Tobias Danforth III seemed lonely and pictured him living all alone in that great mansion on the cliff. It seemed very mysterious.
“Do you think Mr. Danforth lives by himself, Mom? That house is huge!”
Mom cleaned the lenses of her sunglasses with the tail of her top and adjusted them in place.
“Hard to say. It is a very large house. Maybe he’s widowed and his children are all grown.” She started to walk more briskly, noting the rising tide. “When we visit, maybe we’ll learn more. But, Allie, don’t pester him with questions, okay? It’s personal, and we don’t know him yet. We mustn’t be intrusive.”
“Okay,” Allie said, her mind already spinning tales of tragedy and mystery surrounding twenty-nine Sunset Road.
They made it home without resorting to walking on the seawall. The tide was high, with only a short strip of seaweed-strewn beach left, and Allie’s sneakers were inches away from being washed out to sea. She promised her mom she’d be more careful in the future, and they climbed the short stairwell.
Mom decided she would explore the contents of the small gardening shed on the property and look at the possibility of a summer garden. She had a total green thumb, as Dad would say, with anything outdoors. Indoors, she killed houseplants on a regular basis.
Allie grabbed a box of raisins for a snack and a bottle of water and headed to the patio under the deck where her bike was leaned against the house. It was a Huffy mountain bike, and it was her most prized possession. It was purple with silver pinstriping and had a soft custom seat and new grips on the handlebars. Before he left for California, Dad had attached silver streamers to the ends of the grips. Allie liked the way they flared out from the bars as she rode fast. She tucked the water bottle in the holder and pocketed the raisins, wheeling the bike up the side yard to the driveway.
“Check in with me in a couple hours, Allie,” her mom poked her head out of the shed. “Have fun. Don’t talk to strangers.”
Allie nodded while wondering how anyone became not a stranger if you never talked to people you didn’t know. She decided if she met any kids, that rule didn’t apply. Mom probably meant adult strangers, especially ones who looked weird.
As she reached the driveway, she looked up at the house on the hill—Mr. Danforth’s house, she corrected herself. Tobias Danforth III. Well, he was certainly a stranger, she mused, and kind of odd. But in a nice way. She was glad they had been invited to visit on Friday. Besides starting swimming lessons, which wasn’t until next week, she didn’t have anyone but Mom to talk to. It was kind of weird not having her sister or Dad around.
She hopped on her bike and pedaled out along the street. It was about midday, but there wasn’t much activity on Sunset Road. She was used to a suburban neighborhood where kids were always riding bikes in the street or playing hopscotch or running through sprinklers on lawns. She giggled at her own thought. Why would you run through a sprinkler if you had the whole ocean in your backyard?
She reached the plateau where most of the houses were grouped and stopped. From there, the road sloped sharply downward past the red barn and decaying cedar tree. She shaded her eyes and could see the tide lapping the edge of the blacktop where the road cut through the marsh before leading to the shadowy forest.
Wow. High tide was really high! She wondered if it ever submerged the road; they’d be like an island! She shivered a little. Wait till she told Jeannie. This place was getting more and more mysterious.
Feeling like an adventurer in a movie, she pushed off, gliding through the salty air, silver streamers waving. She grinned and hung on to the bars tightly as her bike bumped over the uneven pavement and she gained speed. She flew down the hill, managing to avoid a large pothole, and ducked her face to avoid a dragonfly on a collision course. She had planned to whiz right past the marsh and into the forest, but the urge to explore the wetland was too great, and she abruptly braked, pulling off to the shoulder where the ancient cedar tree was.
Still buzzing with adrenaline from her flight down the hill, she unclipped her water bottle and took a great swallow. Surveying the grassy area around the tree, she decided it was high enough ground and propped her bike against the tree to explore the surrounding marsh on foot.
There was a small strip of sand on the other side of the road, separating the marsh from the forest, and it looked like a good place to start. She made her way over the cracked blacktop, avoiding the mud, and hopped down to the sand strewn with old mollusk shells and clumps of dried seaweed. A dozen steps later she was past the tallest part of the marsh grass, and the view opened up. Agawam Bay was gloriously blue under the summer sky, with sailboats and small fishing vessels crossing between the channel and the bay. She watched them for a moment then looked around her.
There was a big driftwood log beached nearby that looked interesting. Allie walked toward it, spooking a great blue heron from his fishing grounds. She watched in awe as he took to the air, his wingspan enormous, his movements surprisingly graceful given his gangly and awkward appearance. She hopped up on the log, balancing with arms spread, and traveled its length while she thought about the pink, fuzzy hermit crab. She had hoped to see it again on their trek back, but the water was too high. Maybe tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be cool if she could have it as a pet? Why not? All sorts of people had fish aquariums; why not an aquarium for crabs? And maybe shrimp. She hopped down, heading back in the direction of her bike, thinking maybe she’d ask Dad tonight on the phone. He was sometimes more agreeable to—
What was that?
She had seen a flash of movement over by her bike. Too quick to say what it was and gone now. She strained her eyes to see through the marsh grass, her heart thudding. Nothing. No one. Feeling her pulse race, she chided herself. It wasn’t like there were wild animals here. Like bears. Were there? She thought back but never heard of bears at the ocean. Maybe it was a dog, she thought hopefully. No, it had seemed bigger. She cautiously moved forward, clearing the marsh grass, now able to see the low stretch of road. No one was on it.
Her eyes scanned the area where her bike was leaned against the old cedar tree. No hulking beast waited for her. She walked forward. Just the weathered gray tree, the upper half splintered down the middle from the forces of nature, with skeleton-like branches and a deep hollow in the main trunk. Okay. She reached for the bars of her bike, shaking off her apprehension. How silly. Jeesh.
As she rolled the bike towards her, she suddenly noticed there was something stuffed in the cavity of the tree. It looked like a note! There was no way that was there before; she definitely would have seen it! She quickly glanced around at the marsh and the road then snatched it out and unfolded it. There was a message printed carefully in black pen:
There’s a Mermaid in Agawam Bay
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