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Carlie.
    “Come on and see.” Amy led them to the dining room where a small feast was laid on the big dark table. Everything was neatly arranged with pretty plates and napkins. There were almond cookies and sesame cakes, and fresh fruit arranged prettily on a plate. There was also a pot of tea and four tiny cups.
    “This looks like a tea party,” exclaimed Carlie.
    “That was really nice of your mother.” Morgan looked around, but still didn’t see anyone in the kitchen.
    They ate and visited and continued to plan the steps it would take to transform Harbor View Mobile-Home Court into a place where anyone would be proud to live.
    “But there’s one important thing we need to do first,” said Morgan between bites. “It won’t be easy, but we needto talk to Mr. Greeley.”
    “Who’s that?” asked Emily.
    “Didn’t you meet him when you moved in? He’s the manager of Harbor View. Or maybe he’s the owner. I’m not sure. Anyway, he runs this place.”
    “Not very well,” added Amy as she refilled her cup with tea.
    “Obviously,” agreed Morgan. “But the problem is, he’s sort of grumpy—”
    “Not
sort of
,” interrupted Carlie. “He can be downright mean and nasty. When my dad wanted to put a little fence around our yard just to keep Pedro and Miguel off the street, Mr. Greeley acted like we were going to destroy the place. All we wanted to do was make it nicer.”
    “And then whenever you need Mr. Greeley,” continued Amy, “he’s never around. If something’s broken or needs attention, the old geezer just totally disappears. It drives my parents crazy!”
    “My grandma thinks it’s because he’s sad,” said Morgan.
    “Or crazy,” said Amy. “My parents think he has mental problems.”
    “Anyway, we need to figure out a way to get Mr. Greeley to listen to us,” said Morgan. “And to agree to our plan.” She thought for a moment. “My grandma always says you can get more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
    “What does
that
mean?” asked Amy.
    “Well, it means we should be sweet to Mr. Greeley, like honey, in order to get him to agree to our ideas. I don’t know … it’s just a silly old saying. My grandma has lots of them.”
    Carlie nodded. “I get you. My parents have some sayings like that too, and they don’t make any sense, but they still say them—usually in Spanish.”
    Morgan held up an almond cookie. “How about if we take Mr. Greeley some of these cookies, Amy? That’s sort of like honey.”
    So it was agreed, and they all marched over to Mr. Greeley’s with a bag full of the delicious almond cookies. Morgan was nominated to speak. She didn’t mind since she’d known Mr. Greeley the longest, and she wasn’t too afraid of him. Well, at least not when she had backups like today. His double-wide house was part office. It could’ve been nice looking, but it was dirty and dingy and had boxes of all kinds of stuff stacked around on the front porch. A scrawny-looking tiger cat rubbed against Morgan’s legs, and she reached over to stroke its back. The cat purred loudly and rubbed again. She doubted that Mr. Greeley ever petted the poor animal. It looked as if he hardly ever fed it.
    “Wha’d’ya kids think you’re doing on my porch?” called a gruff voice from around the corner. Mr. Greeleywalked up with a sour-looking expression and a broken piece of glass in his hand. He did look pretty scary with wild wisps of uneven gray hair poking out from under a dusty old ball cap.
    “We … uh … we just wanted to talk with you,” began Morgan.
    “‘Bout what?” He scowled up at her.
    “Well, first of all, we wanted to share some cookies with you.” She reached over the porch railing and handed him the small bag of cookies. Her smile was met with a suspicious frown.
    “What for?” He set down the piece of glass and looked into the bag.
    “We just want to be neighborly. And we want to talk to you about an idea we have—an idea about fixing up Harbor