Sarah's Legacy by Valerie Sherrard Page B

from all the work and swimming yesterday. I saw neither hide nor hair of you after you went upstairs.”
    â€œI guess I was pretty tired,” I agreed. “What time did you get up?”
    â€œSix,” she said cheerily. “I wanted to get a good head start on things so when Stan gets here he won’t think I’m taking advantage and leaving things for him.”
    â€œWhat time is he coming?” I asked, hoping she couldn’t hear the dread in my voice.
    â€œI’m not sure, but he told me yesterday morning that he’d be around to help all weekend, so he’ll probably come walking in any time.”
    He didn’t arrive during the morning, though. We worked steadily and Mom tried not to keep looking at her watch, but once in a while I saw her glance down at it. By noon she’d gotten a little quieter and less cheerful.
    â€œSomething must have come up,” she said as she opened a can of soup for our lunch. “I’m sure Stan told me he’d be around today. Or maybe I misunderstood him.”
    By then I knew that Stan wasn’t coming, but I couldn’t tell her that. What was I supposed to say, “Actually, Mom, I insulted Stan pretty bad at the pool yesterday, so I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing any more of him”?
    The afternoon went by slowly, with Mom stopping to listen every time she heard a noise outside. Her face would get hopeful for a few seconds and then fall with disappointment, which she tried to hide from me. I had to pretend that I didn’t notice anything was wrong, which wasn’t easy since I felt like crying the whole time. I’d ruined everything.
    We called it a day around five, ate, and did the dishes. As we were finishing up, the phone rang and Mom hurried to answer it. I knew she was hoping it would be Stan, but it was David, calling to ask if we wanted our lawn mowed after school the next day.
    I suggested a game of crib. We hadn’t played since we got to New Brunswick, mostly because there wereso many other things to do. I figured it might distract Mom from worrying about why Stan hadn’t showed up or called. She said okay, but after half-heartedly shuffling the deck for a few minutes, she admitted she really didn’t much feel like playing.
    â€œI think I’ll catch up on my correspondence.” Her voice was kind of sad and worried, though I could see she was trying to sound normal. “I haven’t written to anyone since we got here.”
    Feeling terrible, I went up to my room and picked up the diary. It seemed to be the only thing that took my mind off what I’d done. It’s amazing how cool it was to read about Aunt Sarah’s life, stuff she’d written when she was still a teenager with her whole life ahead.
    It was like a novel, only it was true. What a strange thing to think that the young girl in the diary was the same person as the old lady who’d just died.
    April 20
    There is much excitement in the air today. Last evening, Mr. King held a meeting at the town hall, where he presented his business proposition. After weeks of speculation and gossip, we are finally aware of his reason for being in Brockville.
    Most of the local men attended and Father was no exception. I tried very hard not to appear too eager to hear of it at the
breakfast table this morning, though anything related to Mr. King has become most interesting to me.
    â€œHe’s a mighty convincing fellow,” Father declared, as he told Mother and me about the evening. “A lot of the men signed up on the spot after seeing his sketches and business plan.”
    â€œWhat sort of business is it?” I asked, taking care to keep my voice casual.
    â€œProduction of a new automobile.” Father shook his head then. “I must say that it looks good on paper. This King fellow says he’s putting half the money into the business and raising the other half from locals. Claims he doesn’t