The Penderwicks at Point Mouette by Jeanne Birdsall

we, Jeffrey?”
    “Yes, please.” Jeffrey was drawing on Aunt Claire’s plastic boot with Batty’s markers. He didn’t have much space—the girls had taken their turns before him—but he was managing a decent picture of Hound playing the piano.
    “All right, then it’s settled,” said Aunt Claire. “We’ll stay as long as there are no problems.”
    “There won’t be.” Skye crossed her fingers for luck, though in normal times she didn’t believe in luck. Just in case it did exist, she figured she could use as much as she could get. She was greatly relieved that Aunt Claire was willing to let her be so completely in charge. That had been her first goal for the morning. Her second goal was to convince Alec to stop fussing. He’d come by half a dozen times the day before, and Skye expected him to appear again soon, making sure that Aunt Claire hadn’t died or had her leg amputated during the night.
    And moments later, Alec did arrive, bearing many gifts—a pile of books and magazines for Aunt Claire; a plate of warm cinnamon buns that everyone dove into, though breakfast was a very recent memory; and an invitation for them all to have dinner with him that evening.
    “A friend of mine will be here who’s visiting for several days,” he said. “Please come. Feeding all of you is the least I can do since Hoover maimed your primary cook.”
    “Really, you don’t have to,” said Aunt Claire. “You’ve forgotten about Jeffrey’s stuffed green peppers.”
    “But Turron—my friend—would enjoy the company.” Alec turned to Jeffrey. “He’s a drummer. Maybe the three of us could make some music after we eat.”
    Jeffrey, in the middle of his second cinnamon bun, made a strangled kind of sound that combined pleasure, humility, and excitement in equal measures.
    “That means he wants to, Aunt Claire,” said Skye. Taking up Alec’s invitation the day before, Jeffrey had spent several hours at the piano and had talked of little else since.
    “Then we will accept for Jeffrey’s sake,” said Aunt Claire. “And so that he doesn’t have to make stuffed green peppers.”
    “Good,” said Alec. “Now, what else can I do for you?”
    “Nothing, thank you. We’re all organized.” Skye didn’t mind Alec cooking dinner for them, but she could handle things until then. It took a while to convince him they would continue to survive without his help, but finally he was gone.
    “I really like him,” said Jeffrey.
    “We all like him,” said Skye, “but we don’t need him. Besides, we have chores to do.”
    The kitchen needed cleaning after breakfast, and because Jeffrey had made omelets and Batty had cracked open all the eggs for him, that meant a lot ofcleaning. Skye took that on for herself, since the OAP should always volunteer for the worst. Jeffrey and Batty were assigned sweeping duty because, though it had been done just the day before, somehow Birches was full of sand all over again. That left Jane, who offered to help settle Aunt Claire on the deck, complete with an ice pack for her ankle.
    “Would you like me to bathe your forehead?” Jane asked when her aunt was comfortable.
    “No, thank you. Just talk to me. How’s your new book coming?”
    “I’m still doing research.” Jane plopped down beside Aunt Claire’s chair. “I’ve thought of putting together questions to ask people. Here’s the only one I have so far: Do you believe in love at first sight?”
    “That’s an interesting question.”
    “Well, do you?”
    Aunt Claire stared out at the ocean, pondering. “I guess I must, since it’s happened to me. In high school, there was a French exchange student named Stéphane. I fell for him the very moment he walked into my biology class.”
    “What happened?” asked Jane, enthralled. She’d never met a real French boy.
    “Not much. He ended up dating Marjorie Wright, who broke his heart. But I fell at first sight another time, with Leon, a friend your father brought home