Candy Shop War (6 page)

“Candy that costs a penny?” Pigeon exclaimed in hungry disbelief.

“I swap out the penny candy daily,” she continued. “If you don’t like what we have on sale today, you can call again tomorrow.” She motioned at the large jar near the register. Already digging for change in his pocket, Pigeon hurried toward the jar.

“No name brands?” Trevor asked. “No Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups? No Jolly Ranchers? No Snickers?”

“I have my own brands,” the woman said. “Some from suppliers, many I concoct myself. If you like peanut butter cups, try my Peanut Butter Blast. If you like Jolly Ranchers, try my Sucker Squares. If you like Snickers, try a Riot bar. You may never go back to the brands you know.”

“These are only a penny?” Pigeon asked. He was holding up a smallish pretzel smothered in white and dark chocolate.

“That’s right.”

Pigeon examined the change in his palm. “I’ll take thirty-two, please.”

The woman cocked her head sympathetically. “I neglected to mention, I sell only one penny candy per customer each day. If not, I doubt I could stay in business. But take me up on the offer every day, if you like. You’ll find I never scrimp on quality, even for the least expensive treats.”

“Can I get one for each of my friends?” Pigeon asked.

“Absolutely,” she responded. “One per customer.”

“Four, then,” he said.

“How much is your ice cream?” Summer inquired. She was standing farther along the counter peering at the tubs of ice cream through the glass.

“For kids, a dollar a scoop, whether cup or cone,” she said, taking a nickel from Pigeon in return for a penny and four of the chocolate-drenched pretzels. “Fixings for sundaes are extra, as are shakes and malts.”

“I’m going to bring ice cream money tomorrow,” Summer declared.

The others gathered as Pigeon distributed the pretzels. Nate put the whole thing in his mouth. There was so much chocolate that it overwhelmed the taste of the pretzel, which only served to add a little crunch. The chocolate was richer and creamier than any he had ever sampled. “This is awesome,” he said as he finished chewing. The others agreed with wide eyes.

“How much for another one?” Trevor asked.

“You don’t want to know,” she said. “Tell me a little about yourselves. I have not yet met many children in town.”

“I’m Summer. This is Trevor, Nate, and Pigeon.”

“I’m Mrs. White,” she said. “Pleased to meet you. You’re on your way home from school?”

“Yes,” Pigeon said.

“What grade are you in?”

“Fifth,” Trevor and Summer answered together.

Mrs. White nodded thoughtfully. “Are you good students?”

“Pigeon is probably the best in the school,” Summer said.

“I’m no great brain,” Pigeon said, “but the three of us participate in the gifted program.” He indicated Trevor and Summer.

“I did accelerated learning at my old school,” Nate mentioned.

Mrs. White licked a stray drop of caramel from her knuckle. “What do you children do for fun?”

“We have a club,” Pigeon said, receiving a glare from Summer.

“What sort of club?” Mrs. White asked.

Pigeon looked to Summer. “We explore stuff,” Summer said.

“And ride bikes,” Nate added.

“Explorers?” Mrs. White said musingly. “Do you kids like to daydream?”

“I do,” Trevor said.

“Me too,” Nate echoed.

“I’m always on the lookout for clever, imaginative explorers,” Mrs. White said, glancing at the door of the shop. “I’m familiar with Colson, but only recently arrived in town after a long absence. It is already beginning to feel like home again.”

“I’m new here too,” Nate said. “My family moved here from Southern California.”

“Do you have any other inexpensive candy?” Pigeon asked.

“How much money do you have?” Mrs. White inquired.

“Twenty-eight cents,” he replied.

Mrs. White pressed her lips together. “Hmmm. I’m in the process of hiring help. If you kids want to assist in some chores, I could reward you with treats.”

They all agreed enthusiastically.

Mrs. White walked along the counter, crouched, and arose holding spray bottles and rags. “This is for the windows,” she declared, holding up one spray bottle. Nate accepted it. “This is for the tables,” she said, handing the other bottle to Trevor.

“The tables look pretty clean,” Pigeon observed. Summer jabbed him with her elbow.

“You can never be too tidy,” Mrs. White said. “Wipe everything down and I’d be happy to share some goodies with you.”

Nate and Summer attacked the windows while Trevor and Pigeon tackled the tables. The candy shop had an impressive multitude of tables, and many large windows, not to mention the glass front doors, but they worked quickly, spraying and wiping thoroughly.

Mrs. White busied herself behind the counter. Every so often Nate looked over and caught the older woman pausing in her chores, watching them.

Trevor and Pigeon finished the tables before Nate and Summer had completed the insides of the windows. Trevor and Pigeon added their rags to the window work, dragging chairs to reach the high parts, allowing Nate to concentrate on spraying. A couple of customers came and went while they wiped down the outside of the windows.

By the time they finished, the four of them were tired. They returned the rags and spray bottles to Mrs. White at the counter.

“Excellent work,” Mrs. White cheered. “You four make quite a team.” She placed a small glass of thick yellow fluid topped with whipped cream on the counter. Alongside it she set a tiny brownie. She cut the brownie into four bite-sized quarters and gave each of them a plastic spoon. Pigeon frowned at the miniscule portions. “Go ahead and sample my homemade eggnog and the butterscotch swirl brownie. I’ll give each of you a full-sized version of whichever you like more.”

The smooth, cold eggnog was thick as a milkshake, and creamy beyond description. Nate had never tasted anything like it. The chewy brownie exploded with a harmonious mix of chocolate and butterscotch.

“There’s no way to decide,” Pigeon moaned after sampling both.

“Maybe I should have offered some of my secret candy instead,” Mrs. White sighed in a quiet tone, as if talking to herself.

“Secret candy?” Nate asked, instantly intrigued.

“My goodness,” Mrs. White said. “Forget I mentioned it. I never bring up my secret candy on a first meeting. Which will it be, eggnog or brownie?”

“What kind of secret candy?” Trevor pressed.

Mrs. White stared at them. “I shouldn’t allude to a secret without explaining, I suppose,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I must ask for a rain check on this one. I never discuss my secret candy on a first meeting. Perhaps if you ask me some other time. Tell you what, to make up for my slip, I’ll take away your choice. You may each have a brownie
and
a cup of eggnog!”

“Secret?” Pigeon said cheerily. “Any of you guys hear about a secret? I’m sure I haven’t!”

“Okay,” Nate consented. “But I’m asking again later.”

Mrs. White began setting the treats on the counter.

*****

Nate, Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon visited the candy shop every day after school. They worked hard, and Mrs. White rewarded them kindly. On Wednesday, the penny candy was cream puffs with chocolate icing, the chore was refilling the coin-operated gumball machines, and the prize was ice cream sundaes. Thursday they bought jawbreakers for a penny, then washed dishes to earn apple fritters.

It was exactly a week after their original visit to the candy shop when Nate reopened the subject of the secret candy. The four kids were seated at the counter sipping at delicious chocolate malts through sturdy straws. They had recently finished wiping down all the shelves and dusting the wooden Indian. The store was empty except for them and Mrs. White, who was polishing the counter while the kids drank their reward.

“You told us to ask about the secret candy some other time,” Nate reminded Mrs. White without warning. “Has it been long enough?”

Mrs. White stopped wiping. She twisted the rag in her hands. “I was quietly hoping you had forgotten.”

The kids shook their heads.

Mrs. White folded her arms and shook her head. “It is hard to put curiosity back to bed once you awaken it,” she conceded. “Very well. I have a line of extra-special candy that I don’t offer to the general public. The secret candy is far superior to anything on the menu, but is certainly not for everyone.” She eyed each of them in turn. “That said, I pride myself on being a good judge of character, and my instincts tell me you four might appreciate it. But my secret candy must be earned by more than cleaning windows and shelves. Would you four be interested?”

“Of course,” Nate said. The others nodded eagerly.

“Dear me, where do I begin?” Mrs. White asked, smoothing her hands over her frilly apron. She took a calming breath. “Some of my special candy requires extremely odd ingredients. What do you kids know about beetles?”

“There are more species of beetle than any other animal,” Pigeon said.

“Very good,” Mrs. White approved. “Hundreds of thousands of different species, with more being discovered all the time. There is a certain species in this area, I call them dusk bugs, whose eggs I need for a project I am working on.”

Trevor spit a burst of milkshake onto the counter. “You use beetle eggs in your recipes?”

“I know it sounds peculiar,” Mrs. White acknowledged. “The beetle eggs don’t actually end up in any of my food; that would be distasteful. The process for producing my special candy is complicated.”

“So no beetle eggs in this malt,” Pigeon said, poised to take a new sip.

“There are no insect eggs in my food,” Mrs. White reiterated.

“You should use that in your advertising,” Nate suggested, stirring his drink with his straw.

“Where would we find these beetle eggs?” Summer asked.

“There is a trick to it,” Mrs. White said. “If you follow Greenway up past the Presidential Estates, the road ends after a few blocks.”

“Right,” Trevor said, using a napkin from a nearby dispenser to wipe up the mess he had spewed.

“A dirt track continues where Greenway stops, running alongside a brook. One moment.” Mrs. White passed through batwing doors into a back room and returned holding a can of shoe polish, a small leather drawstring pouch, and a pair of glass jars. “As the sun sets, follow the dirt road some distance along the stream until you see mushrooms growing.” She uncapped the shoe polish can to reveal that it was actually full of a grainy, maroon paste. “Set this on the ground. The odor of the attractant and the time of day should summon a few dusk bugs. Open the pouch and sprinkle some of the contents on the beetles. They will soon burrow into the mushrooms. After the beetles emerge, collect the mushrooms, place them in the jars, and bring them to me tomorrow.”

“You sure it will work?” Nate asked.

“I know it is a strange request,” Mrs. White. “If oddness turns you off, we should forget discussing my special candy. The candy can do astounding things, but all the effects are certainly strange.”

“Strange is okay,” Trevor said.

“Strange is great,” Nate said.

“These old bones make it harder every year for me to gather my required ingredients,” Mrs. White explained. “If you will collect the eggs as I described, I will share some of my special candy with you. I am confident you will find it amazing and well worth the effort.”

“With no bug eggs in it,” Pigeon clarified.

“Correct,” Mrs. White said.

“Can’t hurt to give it a shot,” Summer said. “Can you guys get away?”

“I’ll just pretend it’s a school assignment,” Nate said.

“Good thinking,” Pigeon said. “I’ll have to go home, get my homework done, and eat dinner. We ought to meet up around eight. Will we be able to make it home before dark?”

“If you move swiftly, that should not be a problem,” Mrs. White assured him.

*****

The fat sun balanced on the horizon as Nate, Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon left Greenway and pedaled their bikes along the meandering dirt road. Brushy slopes rose on either side, and trees crowded the trickling steam. Summer occasionally stopped to check along the edge of the stream for mushrooms. On her fourth attempt, she called the others over.

The four of them huddled around a cluster of small beige mushrooms. Pigeon pointed out a second patch of mushrooms not far away. Trevor withdrew the can of shoe polish, uncapped it, and set it on the ground.

“Think any beetles will show up?” Nate asked.

“She acted like she knew what she was talking about,” Summer said.

“I’m sure some crazy people are very sincere,” Pigeon observed.

“This is the only way to really find out,” Trevor said. “If the bugs don’t show, we’ll know she’s a little senile. One of my great aunts was like that. Very nice, but she talked to the people on TV like they were her friends. She’d get dressed up for them to come over, introduce us to them, that sort of thing.”