The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

can get when they need it, why would those people hang up on you?” Brian concluded. “That’s what I mean by taking your eye off the ball. You’ll only get scared if you’re thinking too much about yourself and not enough about what you’re trying to sell.’’
    “I get it, Brian. Thanks!” Trixie turned and marched back to the phone, picked up the receiver before she could stop to think, and dialed a familiar number.
    Within a few minutes, she was back, a beaming smile on her face. “Well, that’s it — I got my first order,” she said.
    “Great, Trixie,” Brian said sincerely. “Who is it from?”
    “Bruce Becker at Dad’s bank,” Trixie said. “He’s captain of their softball team. I noticed last year that their uniforms were a little ragged-looking. When I called to ask if he wanted to order new T-shirts, he was positively grateful! Selling is easy!”
    Trixie looked at her brothers for further approval, but they looked more irritated than proud.
    “Our sister the shamus has unraveled the mysteries of salesmanship,” Mart said. “No prospect will be safe from her clutches hereafter.”
    “Me and my big mouth,” Brian said. “I just wish I’d waited to explain the secrets of selling until after I’d called Bruce Becker. He was on my list.”
    “Oh, Brian, I’m sorry,” Trixie said. “I should have asked you before I called the bank. Would you like to write up the order?”
    “No, Trixie. You made the sale; you write up the order. All’s fair in sales and war,” Brian reassured her. “Don’t tell anyone whom you’re going to call. We should all tell one another whom we have called, though — we don’t want to drive anyone to distraction with calls about T-shirts.”
    “Whatever you say,” Trixie told him cheerfully as she sat down at the table to write up the order.
    The Bob-Whites wrote up many orders in the following days. Using Mart’s selling tip, they all were able to think of lots of people who were in need of their product.
    “Part of it is that we timed it just about right,” Trixie told Nick one night when she was phoning in the day’s orders. “All the sports teams are just starting up, and they’ve just noticed how crummy their uniforms look. I don’t think that’s all of it, though. I think lots of people are ordering from us because they want to help your father. Just about all the people I talk to ask how he is and say they’re glad the fire didn’t knock him out of business.”
    “People are being really good to us,” Nick agreed. “We’re getting direct calls for products, too. Even Mr. Slettom ordered shirts for the softball team his appliance store sponsors.”
    “Isn’t that great?” Trixie asked. Without waiting for an answer, she added, “How is your father doing, Nick?”
    “He’s better, I think,” Nick said. “The caring and concern is the best medicine he could have. Besides, all these orders are spurring his work ethic. He’s too worried about letting his customers down to worry about his own problems.”
    “That’s just what we’d hoped, isn’t it?” Trixie said. “Well, I’d better not tie up the phone lines any longer. We’ve probably missed orders for hundreds of shirts already!” Trixie could hear Nick chuckling as she hung up the phone.
    She turned and started away, then turned back as the phone began to ring. She picked it up and said, “Hello?”
    “Hello?” a voice on the other end of the line responded. “Are you the people who are selling T-shirts?”
    “Yes, we are,” Trixie said promptly.
    “Well, I’d like to order thirty shirts that say ‘Carlson Classic Invitational Horseshoe Tournament’ on the back. Can I have them by the Fourth ofJuly?”
    “Gleeps!” Trixie said. “Do you know how much that’s going to cost?”
    “Why, n-no,” said the voice. “That’s why I called you!’
    Trixie hesitated. A fine salesperson she had turned out to be! Now, any price was going to sound expensive to the caller, because she had assured him it would be! She cleared her throat nervously and did some rapid calculations. The resulting amount did seem astronomical, and when she told the caller what it was, he agreed.
    “Doggone it,” he said. “I really did want something to make this year’s tournament special. But I can’t afford to pay that much. It’s just a family event.”
    Hearing the genuine concern in her caller’s voice, Trixie forgot her nervousness. “There must be something we can