The Mystery at Mead's Mountain

for tending to my very disobedient daughter,” she added, giving Rosie a reproachful look.
    “As my friend Mart would say, helping out damsels in distress is my specialty,” Jim managed to respond. He patted Rosie’s tangled dark curls and introduced himself and Trixie.
    “Miss Trask and my husband, Pat, have been telling me about you. I m glad to be able to match names with faces. ’ Katie set Rosie down on the floor and gave her a gentle pat. “Now, Rosie, off to the apartment with you. Daddy’s still there. He’ll help you get dressed.’ She turned to Trixie, Jim, and Miss Trask. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up and fix your breakfast. Then we can talk.” She sighed, looking around at the peanut butter rubble.
    “I’ll clean it up,” Jim offered. Before Katie could object, Jim heard the rest of the Bob-Whites coming in. “Miss Trask, would you introduce everyone while I go get a mop and some paper towels?”
    By the time Jim joined the others in the dining area, the Bob-Whites and Katie were talking as if they were old friends.
    “My blood sugar is at a low ebb, and I crave solid sustenance. Might I suggest we procure the house cuisine?” Mart requested politely.
    Katie gave him a puzzled stare.
    “Mart’s got this disease called dictionary-itis,” Trixie tried to explain. “I think he means he’s hungry.”
    Katie smiled approvingly. “I love a boy with an appetite. Is there anything special you’d like?”
    “Bacon and scrambled eggs?” Jim suggested.
    “How about adding hashbrowns, toast, and juice?” Mart put in quickly. “Mountain air, you know.”
    Miss Trask laughed. “Katie, I’m afraid you’ll get to know Mart’s appetite all too well by the end of the week.”
    Katie disappeared into the kitchen, and the Bob-Whites and Miss Trask sat down at one of the long tables covered with a bright tablecloth. In came a petite, brown-haired girl carrying a tray of mugs of steaming hot chocolate.
    With a friendly smile, she introduced herself as Linda Fleming. “Katie thought you might want some hot chocolate .after your early morning swim. How do you like the pool?” she asked, passing around the tray.
    “What a way to start the day!” Brian rhapsodized.
    “You just liked it because you were able to swim and have a snowball fight at the same time,” said Trixie sourly.
    “And you, Beatrix, are just mad because you kept forgetting to duck,” chuckled Mart.
    “Just wait till later. You’ll get yours,” threatened Trixie, pretending to throw a snowball.
    “You certainly know how to strike terror into the heart of a young boy,” Mart said, not bothering to duck.
    “Don’t mind them,” Brian told Linda. “They’re still going through sibling rivalry. I take it you work here?”
    “Yes, with my twin sister, Wanda. We’re taking a semester off from college to earn money for expenses. Since we love to ski, working here is really ideal for us. Here comes Wanda now.” She pointed to a girl coming toward them with another tray.
    Wanda was a little taller than her sister and had a sturdier build. She had long dark hair that flowed all the way down her back and, like her sister, had the healthy, glowing complexion that goes with outdoor living.
    “This is only the beginning,” Wanda said cheerfully as she passed around the large pottery bowls of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns and the platter of bacon.
    “Wow! Food service wins the prize for high ratings,” said Mart. Before he even took a bite, he took out his notebook and quickly scribbled down a few words.
    Di looked knowing. “I can guess what’s on Mart’s like list.”
    “Just wait till you taste the food,” mumbled Mart between mouthfuls. “It will end up on yours, too.”
    “Pat told us about your father’s plan for this lodge,” said Wanda to Honey and Jim. “Linda and I are delighted. We grew up in Groverville and have been coming to these mountains since we were little kids. We have a lot of memories of fishing and camping with our parents here, and we were hoping this wouldn’t be turned into a large commercial ski area. It’s hard to find this kind of solitude, freedom, and peacefulness anywhere else, so it would be a terrible waste to ruin the area with another ski resort. Vermont has so many.”
    “This does seem like the ideal place for a natural resort area,” Jim agreed.
    “Mead’s Mountain is a private, personal kind of place,” Linda said emotionally. “I know in the week you’re here