Read The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road for Free Online Page B

swallowed hard and cleared her throat so that her voice would sound relatively steady when she called out, “I’m going to the clubhouse, Moms. I’ll be back before dinner.” She left the house quickly and started for the clubhouse at a fast trot that made thinking—and crying—impossible to do.
    Unexpectedly, the sight of the Bob-Whites’ clubhouse made Trixie feel even worse. The tiny building, which had once been the gatehouse of the Wheeler estate, had been donated to the club by Honey’s father. Then all of the Bob-Whites had pitched in to turn the run-down building into their “dream house.” Jim, Brian, and Mart had put on a new roof and built furniture and shelves to furnish the inside. Honey had sewed the cheerful curtains that framed the windows. All of the Bob-Whites—including Trixie, whose five-dollar-a-week allowance was earned by looking after Bobby and helping her mother with the housework—had worked hard to earn the money for the materials they needed.
    The clubhouse served as a meeting hall, storage area, and party room for Trixie and her friends. Trixie associated it with good times and the warm feeling that all of the Bob-Whites had for one another.
    Iwonder if that’s all changed now, Trixie thought, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. I wonder if Honey will ever speak to me again.
    She felt almost like an intruder as she opened the door and walked in. She went to the small storage area that the boys had partitioned off and almost began to cry again when she saw the seven pairs of ice skates jumbled together on a shelf along with the skis, sleds, tents, and other sports equipment that the Bob-Whites shared. Or used to share, Trixie thought. She quickly found some poster board, red paint, and a brush and went back to the big table in the middle of the room.
    Laying out a piece of poster board and dipping the brush into the paint, Trixie drew the outline of the first arrow. She tried to keep her mind on her work, but as she made the long brush strokes to fill in the arrow, her mind again returned to what Honey had said.
    She tried to figure out why Honey had reacted so strongly. Was Honey feeling guilty about neglecting the bikeathon for the baseball game? Was she tired of trying to defend Ben’s actions to her friends?
    Or maybe, Trixie thought, drawing the outline of another arrow, she meant exactly what she said. And maybe she’s right. Trixie was the one who always seemed to get the Bob-Whites involved in mysteries and other projects. Was that just coincidence? Or did she get involved because she liked all the attention and the credit for helping people and solving mysteries? She began to wonder about her own motives. Even a few days ago, at the art fair, when Nick Roberts said I was a celebrity, I felt just as much flattered as embarrassed....
    Trixie’s mind kept revolving around the same troubled thoughts as she continued to work, outlining and then filling in red arrows on the poster board.
    “Oh, woe,” she said finally. “This isn’t doing a thing to get my mind off my problems—or to find a solution for them. Indoor work never was my style. I guess I’ll go home and get my bike. A little workout will do me good.”
    As soon as Trixie began pedaling down the Belden driveway, she felt better. The day was one of the best that spring had yet offered. The air was that perfect temperature that felt like no temperature at all, and the hint of breeze was enough to feel good on Trixie’s face as she rode, without being hard to pedal against.
    Trixie looked at the trees, which had tiny light green leaves beginning to show on the branches.
    Spring is finally here, Trixie thought. Soon it’ll be summer, and then we’ll — Trixie’s thoughts broke off as she remembered her quarrel with Honey.
    What would the summer bring? More adventures, like the ones they’d had sailing off Cobbett’s Island or finding the missing emeralds in Williamsburg? Or were those wonderful summers over