A Spring to Remember Read online

  To Mom and Dad, always

  CHAPTER 1

  Right in the Kisser

  Lizzie sneezed, sending glitter swirling through the air to land all over her family’s big dining room table. When she opened her eyes, the whole Valentine’s Day Orchard Dance Decoration and Party Crew—or so they’d taken to calling themselves—were staring at her. Granted, it was just her parents and her three best friends in the world looking at her. But having everyone’s attention was not Lizzie’s thing. Her face got hot.

  “Sorry,” she said quietly, and rubbed her nose.

  Her dad grinned. “I think even your sneezes are sounding more musical!” He nudged his wife, and Lizzie’s mother smiled big.

  Lizzie pretended she didn’t hear them. They were talking about the singing lessons they’d made her sign up for—to find her “voice,” they said. Lizzie thought the lessons were a terrible idea and felt just fine keeping quiet.

  “The Valentine’s Day Orchard Dance Decoration and Party Crew forgives you!” Sarah, one of her three best friends, said.

  Her other best friend Olive said, “You have glitter on your nose, Lizzie,” and pushed her glasses up, getting glitter on her own nose.

  Before Lizzie could say anything, Peter—her other other best friend—snorted at Olive, and the two of them shared some look that Lizzie couldn’t understand. They were twins and they were always doing that. But Sarah finished Lizzie’s sentences all the time, so she knew the feeling, at least.

  Peter asked Lizzie’s parents, “So, in the fall the Garrison Orchard does a whole fall thing with a pumpkin patch and haunted house—”

  “And zombie hayrides!” Sarah yelled.

  Peter shot her a look, and Sarah looked down sheepishly. Peter and Olive had moved fairly recently to New Amity, and Lizzie and Sarah had immediately wanted to be friends with them. Well, Lizzie had. Sarah was a whole different story, but she’d come around. Peter had started off super-shy—almost as shy as Lizzie—but after a bit of a harrowing ordeal, he’d really come out of his shell. And part of that was pushing back at Sarah’s always interrupting. Sarah could be . . . well, Lizzie would call it “enthusiastic.”

  Peter went on, “And in the winter, you have the sleigh rides and the whole holiday display and the party and you sell things in the shop. . . .”

  Olive said, “Don’t forget the ice cream stand and all the tours and stuff in the summer.” She didn’t even look up when she said it. She was drawing a heart with glue and concentrating hard.

  Peter sighed. “I’m getting there, Olive!” Lizzie smiled, and now it was her and Peter’s turn to share a look. As the two quieter ones in the group, they often got talked over. Or “reminded” of things.

  “And the ice cream stand and all that in the summer. But in the spring, it’s just the Valentine’s Day Dance? Is there anything else we’ll be doing?” Peter asked.

  Lizzie loved that he’d said “we.” Nothing made her happier than sharing the orchard—her home—with the friends she loved. She knew the answer, but she let her parents do the talking.

  “You’re asking why we’re only doing a dance on Valentine’s Day and nothing else until summer, when every other season is a huge production? Good question,” Lizzie’s mom said. “And the answer is . . . by this time in the year, we’re pretty tired.” She laughed, and Albert snorted. “And we need just a little break. So we make one BIG event in the spring, or sort of spring. This is kind of our last hurrah until the summer stand and veggies, and the whole town comes to say goodbye until then, basically. Goodbye to the big productions, anyway.”

  “And then we sleep for days,” Lizzie’s dad finished, grinning.

  “So we have to keep making more decorations. The dance will get here before we know it!” her mom said. “Get on it, people.” She winked at the group. But Lizzie knew she really meant it.

  Olive looked up and pushed up her glasses. “I’m out of glue. Does anyone have any more?”

  Peter looked around and shrugged.

  Sarah said, “I’m glue-less.” Then she looked around, smiling. Lizzie cracked up, putting her hand over her mouth. Peter and Olive laughed and shook their heads. “Get it?” Sarah went on. “Instead of CLUE-less?”

  Olive rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah, we got it. No more glue anywhere?”

  Lizzie looked around and saw all the glue sticks in the throw-out pile. She looked at her parents. “Should we get more?”

  Her mom nodded. “Yeah, would you mind? You four run into town and grab some more. But you have to hurry, Lizzie. You don’t want to be late for your singing lesson!”

  Lizzie looked down and didn’t say anything. She absolutely wanted to be late for her singing lesson. Maybe she’d be so late, it would even be canceled.

  “ON IT,” Sarah yelled. “We’ll be fast!” The four of them ran to get their coats. In February, New Hampshire was still in the dead of winter. But Lizzie loved how even in the frigid air, you could feel spring just starting to come.

  They burst through the door of the Garrisons’ great big house and sprinted down the driveway, Lizzie a few steps behind. When they got to the end of the long driveway, they slowed down and walked past the wooden fences of the orchard toward the main street. Lizzie caught up with her friends just as Sarah was saying something.

  “—really weird and I think we need to figure out what’s happening.”

  Lizzie said, a little out of breath, “What’s weird?”

  “My mom,” Sarah said. “She’s been acting weird. Weirder than usual, anyway.”

  Lizzie had to admit Sarah’s mom, Ms. Shirvani, was pretty . . . pretty out there. As the town librarian, Sarah’s mom was probably the smartest person Lizzie had ever met. But sometimes she was a little spacey. But then again, Lizzie had an older sister—Gloria—who yelled the word “ACTING” all the time and walked around in different costumes, so who was she to judge?

  “Weird how?” Olive asked, pushing up her glasses.

  “Oh, she’s just spending all her time with Sheriff Hadley and she’s really giggly all the time. And even spacier.”

  Lizzie felt her eyes go wide, and she tried not to look at Olive and Peter. It seemed that Sarah was the only person who didn’t know that Sarah’s mom and Sheriff Hadley were dating. Lizzie didn’t know why Ms. Shirvani didn’t just tell her daughter. Sarah loved Sheriff Hadley already.

  They had reached Main Street, and Sarah turned to face the three of them. “Anyway, I think we should do some . . . what’s that word? Isn’t there a word for spying? I think my mom used it once. Recognize? Regongan?”

  Olive said, “Reconnaissance,” and Lizzie turned to her in surprise.

  “What is that word?” Lizzie asked. “Recond-a-nance?”

  “Re-CON-a-sance,” Olive said, sounding it out. She shrugged. “I like reading the dictionary sometimes.”

  Peter nodded. “Sometimes our family does that for fun.”

  Lizzie smiled. That sounded exactly like something their family would do. They were always experimenting and looking things up. Lizzie loved that they did that but was super-glad her own family just watched movies for fun.

  Sarah continued, “Anyway, I think we should spy on her a little bit. Something is up.”

  Just as she spoke, behind her and three shops down, Sheriff Hadley and Sarah’s mother stepped out of Dinah’s Diner. Lizzie felt an elbow in her side, and she nodded without looking—Olive had spotted them too.

  They’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Ms. Shirvani moved in closer to the sheriff and then . . . they were kissing.

  Lizzie’s face flushed as she thought about what this might mean to Sarah. She felt a squeak jump out of her, and she
clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What the heck?” Sarah said. “Why do you all look like you’ve seen the ghost of Verity Wentworth?” She followed Lizzie’s gaze and turned around.

  Everything went quiet for a moment, and then Sarah said, much more softly than Lizzie had ever heard her speak, “Well. I guess we don’t need to spy anymore.” And she turned back around to them, her face pale and her eyes huge.

  CHAPTER 2

  Room 128

  Lizzie squeaked again—she couldn’t help it. Sometimes, even though she was quiet, the sounds just came out.

  Sarah said, “Whgluroisd,” her eyes still wide.

  Olive and Peter both looked confused, but Lizzie knew what Sarah meant. Lizzie said quietly, “She said, ‘What is happening?’ ” Sarah nodded.

  Lizzie took a deep breath. Her best friend needed her—she had to step up and get her through this shock, and through any of the anger she’d feel in a minute. Lizzie was in familiar territory: Take care of Sarah. Calm her down. Be a good friend.

  “Let’s get her back to the house. We can get glue later.” Lizzie put her arm around Sarah and turned her so she wouldn’t have Sheriff Hadley and Ms. Shirvani in her eyesight anymore—they were still kissing. Sarah made a little noise, but Lizzie patted her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re going to get you through this.” She began to walk Sarah back toward the Garrisons’ house. She made eye contact with Olive and Peter, who followed without saying a word.

  Lizzie was about to start consoling Sarah when she heard the sound of a car coming. Looking up, she saw that it was her parents’ car. For a minute, she was completely confused. But then her heart sank. She knew what would come next.

  The car reached them and Lizzie tightened her grip on Sarah’s shoulder. Her mom rolled down the car window and said, “It’s time for your first singing lesson, Lizzie! Hop in.”

  Lizzie swallowed. “Mom, I need to take—”

  “Nope,” her mom said. “You need to get in right now.”

  “Mom, Sarah just—”

  “Sarah will be fine,” her mom said firmly. She looked at Sarah. “Won’t you, Sarah?”

  Sarah said, “Bhriswet.”

  Her mom said, “See? Get in.”

  Lizzie geared up to argue more, but her mom said in her “don’t argue” voice, “NOW, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie huffed and shot Sarah a look that said, “I’M SO SORRY!” and Sarah said, “Brlg.” Lizzie got into the car and put on her seat belt, then watched helplessly as Olive and Peter took over and guided Sarah down the road.

  Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at her mom. She concentrated on the New Amity Main Street going by—the sheriff and Ms. Shirvani were no longer on the sidewalk. The thought made a fresh wave of irritation slide through her. She could be helping Sarah right now, but instead she was stuck going to something she didn’t even want to go to.

  After a few minutes of driving, her mom said, “Sarah will be fine, I’m sure, but she did look a little upset. Is everything okay?”

  Lizzie closed her eyes and sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mother interrupted.

  “These lessons are going to be so great for you, honey. Your father and I are always talking about how you need to find your voice. And then we came up with the idea for these singing lessons and it was like a lightbulb went on!”

  Lizzie sighed and stopped trying to talk. It wasn’t any use. Her mom would just talk right over her. And it looked like the singing lesson was going to happen no matter what, because the passing landscape had gone from farmland to more and more houses and then finally to the downtown of Monroeville—New Amity’s bigger sister town.

  Her mom found parking near an old-looking building that had the name MONROEVILLE MUSIC CENTER. Lizzie’s stomach flipped and her mouth went dry. She tried to say something to her mom, but her mom had already gotten out of the car and stood waiting by the driver’s-side door, taking in the building. Lizzie closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She got out of the car and walked to her mom like a puppy walking to its kennel.

  “Look at how beautiful this building is, Lizzie!” her mom said, walking briskly to the entrance. Lizzie had to half run to catch up. “And you can hear the music in here and everything.”

  Sure enough, when they opened the front doors, a wave of warm air met them along with all different types of musical sounds. Lizzie heard someone singing “La la la la la la,” going from low to high notes. She also heard a violin hitting some wrong notes and heard drums pounding somewhere. Her mom looked thrilled, and she rubbed Lizzie’s back excitedly.

  “So much movement and music happening here, Lizzie. Won’t this be fun? I should bring Gloria here too. . . .”

  Lizzie stopped listening to her mom and thought about Sarah. She had no doubt this would NOT be fun. And all she wanted to do was go help her friend. A fresh wave of resentment rose through her. But she had no time to say anything because her mom had moved to the front desk in the lobby and was talking to the receptionist. He waved toward the long hallway and the tons of shut doors that lined its walls and said, “Room 128.” Lizzie’s mom beckoned to her, then started down the hall. Lizzie caught up again just in time for her mom to open the door to room 128 and stride in.

  Lizzie stood where she was for a moment. She felt like crying. But she had a feeling that the longer she stood in the hall, the longer the lesson would last. And she had to go back to help Sarah. She squared her shoulders and walked into room 128.

  CHAPTER 3

  Spit It Out!

  This must be the wonderful Lizzie!” said an older man with a white mustache and kind, crinkly eyes when Lizzie walked in.

  Lizzie swallowed and stood just a little bit behind her mom. Her mom beamed and said, “Yep, this is my baby! One of them, anyway. She’s so excited to start these lessons.”

  Lizzie looked down and then tried to muster a smile. When she looked up, the man was looking at her with those kind crinkly eyes, and he had a small knowing smile on his face. “Okay, then, let’s get going, shall we? I’m Mr. Samson,” he said, and put his hand out to shake. He bowed a little when he did and gave her a goofy smile, and when she shook his hand he pumped it up and down really big. Lizzie giggled a little and her shoulders relaxed. She realized they’d been practically up to her ears.

  Her mom kissed her on the head and said, “All right, I’ll skedaddle. Be back in an hour, Lizziebean. Can’t wait to hear how it goes!” She winked at Lizzie and left the room and it was just Lizzie and Mr. Samson.

  Lizzie took a minute to look around the room. The building was old and the walls were white brick. There was a whole wall of windows that looked over a courtyard with bushes and trees partially covered in snow. In the middle of the room was a small upright black piano, which Mr. Samson sat down at, playing a couple of notes. Various instruments and chairs lined the walls, but Mr. Samson pointed to a chair that sat next to the piano. Lizzie cleared her throat, walked over, and sat down, her stomach going crazy and her face already flushing.

  “So!” Mr. Samson said, turning on the bench toward her. He clasped his hands and smiled at her. “What made you decide to take singing lessons?”

  Lizzie opened her mouth and then closed it. She wasn’t prepared for this question somehow. She supposed some people liked to sing. . . . People like her sister, Gloria, would probably love something like this. Singing lessons had just never occurred to her until her parents said she had to take them. She wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  “Uh,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Samson. “Your parents signed you up, right?” Lizzie nodded and he sighed. “You’re not the first student I’ve had who is here because their parents thought it was a good idea.”

  Lizzie smiled and looked down. That made her feel a little better.

  Mr. Samson went on, “The question is, did your parents think you should come here because they’ve heard you singing and thought
you had some skill to develop, or was it for some other reason? Let’s just do some really easy, quick scales to see where you are, shall we?”

  Lizzie’s stomach flopped again and she felt really hot all of a sudden. The truth was—and she had never even told Sarah this—she actually really liked to sing. But she was sure she didn’t have any special talent or anything. And she NEVER wanted to sing in front of anyone. This was pretty much her nightmare. Well, almost. If there were people staring at her and everyone expected her to sing perfectly at some event—THAT would be her nightmare. She hoped with all her heart that nothing like that would ever happen.

  “I’m going to hit a note on this piano and then sing a note, and I want to see if you can match it, okay?” Mr. Samson said.

  Lizzie couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded.

  He hit the first note and sang, “Laaaa,” looking at Lizzie expectantly.

  She opened her mouth and sang . . . nothing.

  It was like her voice had disappeared. He nodded and smiled at her. “It’s okay. Try again.” He pressed the piano key and sang, “Laaaa.”

  Lizzie sang, crooooaaakkk. She felt her eyes go wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Why wouldn’t her voice work?

  “I’m sorry!” she said, and then was surprised that she could say THAT but not sing one note.

  Mr. Samson chuckled and said, “It’s okay, Lizzie. This happens. It’s scary to sing in front of someone for the first time. We’ll keep trying.” He hit the note on the piano. “Laaaaaa.”

  Lizzie opened her mouth and sang, squeeeaaak. She slapped a hand over her mouth again, and she could actually feel how hot her face was and could imagine how beet red she must be.

  This was going much worse than she’d thought it could. Which was saying something, since she had been expecting pretty much the worst. And somehow, this was way worse than even that.

  Mr. Samson frowned, but not in a mean way, and said, “Okay, I think we should try something else.” He swiveled all the way around to face her.