CHAPTER ONE
Sam
“I’m gonna do it!”
The little boy on the other side of the counter shouted, “No!”
“It’s happening.” I was trying hard to hold in my laughter.
“Please, Sammy, no gummy bears!”
“How can you have a Berenstain Bears crafted cone without bears, Lewis?” I lowered my hand and dumped the gummy bears into the small bowl.
“I love the Berenstain Bears, but gummy bears are gross.” He scowled. Lewis couldn’t have been older than six. He came in every Saturday with his grandpa to Cone Crafters Ice Cream Shop, where I worked. And every week, it was a different order for Lewis.
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin. “What are your feelings on Teddy Grahams?”
His eyes widened, and his voice filled with wonder. “On an ice cream cone?”
I shrugged. “Why not? What, are the ice cream police going to come and arrest me?”
He giggled, and his grandpa ruffled his head. “No.”
With a solid nod, I stuck the cone into the holder and rushed to the storage room, where there was a box of Teddy Grahams. I got four of them and returned. Lewis watched with a huge grin on his face as I strategically placed each bear. They were bigger than gummy bears, and it was difficult but here at Cone Crafters, we specialized in extreme ice cream architecture.
“Bam!” I stepped away, my fingers spread wide. “Look at that.”
Lewis and his grandpa clapped. I grandly handed the cone over to the boy and then regarded his grandpa. “What are you having today?”
“Nothing so extravagant. Perhaps just a cup of rum raisin.”
“You got it.”
Once I had the two of them squared away, I grabbed a rag and washed down the area. It got sticky fast and while I loved creating cool cones, I hated being sticky.
“Sam. Oh my God, Sam!”
I turned just in time to see my best friend Natalie rushing through the back room over to me, her hands flapping, a huge, excited expression on her face. She had her blond hair in her typical ponytail, and her glasses were all askew.
“Nat, what’s up?” I chuckled when she practically barreled into me, stopping half an inch away.
“Lancaster Island.” She pointed toward the storefront window. Cone Crafters was across the street from the water, and through the glass you could see the island with the huge mansion on it. From what I’d heard, it had been vacant for the last twenty or so years. The only way on or off it was by boat, and while I often saw a speedboat come and go, it was likely just a cleaning crew or something.
“What about it?”
She squealed. “Someone is moving in!”
“Really?” Now I was excited. I was so curious about that house. It was never for sale and one day Nat and I had gone digging for info to find it had been in the Lancaster family name for generations. Yet, for as long as I could remember, no one had lived there.
“Yes…a long lost Lancaster, perhaps?” She squeezed my hand, vibrating with happiness.
“That would be so freaking cool.”
A voice cleared, and we both turned. Natalie’s father, the owner of Cone Crafters, was staring at us, one eyebrow raised, obviously trying to hold back a smile.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Mr. Johnson.”
