Alexander and I met Matt and Becky by the fountain al Dullsville's town square.
Matt was in his jersey and soccer cleats and Becky had her pink sweater tied around her waist.
"Thanks for helping us, guys." I said. "We can cover more terrain if we have more mouths."
"We'd do anything to help Alexander stay in town," Becky said.
"Now, the key spots for tonight are the square and Dullsville's country club," I told them. "I'll cover school tomorrow."
"Matt can get the two of us into the club," Becky offered. "No problem."
Sporting soccer cleats and dirt-stained elbows at the conservative club were even more favorable than a black lace bodice and combat boots.
"Meet you back here in an hour," I said.
Alexander and I took the north side of the square, while Becky and Matt took the south.
We popped in and out of boutiques fake browsing and zealously talking about the miserable condition of the Mansion. The sight of Alexander and me together on the square was enough to get gossip going, but the fact that they had inside dirt-literally-on the Mansion made every patron's and salesclerk's ears perk up.
"Missionaccomplished," I said as Alexander and I headed back to the fountain.
"Hey- you got Shirley's side," Becky said, already waiting.
"We planned on that," I said, nudging her,
"My treat."Alexander spoke with the same authority as a coach buying his players food after a win.
"No one ever listens to what I say," my shy best friend said as we headed into Shirley's. "But when we brought up the Mansion and the cracks in the foundation-everyone in the restaurant heard."
"It could have been because you were almost screaming," Matt said, "And we didn't have a reservation."
Just then an elderly couple sitting at a small table sharing a sundae glared back at us.
The woman said, "I think I heard that girl say that mansion has cracks in the foundation."
"I know," the man replied. "I thought he said his girlfriend ran screaming from it."
I gave Alexander's hand an extra squeeze and the thumbs-up to Matt and Becky.
Assorted dripping ice creams in tow, Becky drove us to Dullsville's country club, which was a snobby members-only club sprawled out over several acres. It included indoor and outdoor tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course, a gift and pro shop, and a four-star restaurant. Signs about the upcoming Annual Art Auction lined the grass like it waselection day .
"We'll wait here," I said to Matt and Becky.
For a few minutes, members with tennis rackets, golf clubs, and yoga mats were coming out of the club- returning from workouts like it was their job. When it quieted down, a couple carrying boxes filled with pottery struggled to open the front door. Alexander jumped out of the truck and opened the clubhouse door for them.
"That is as close as I could get without a white shirt," he said when he got back into the truck. We held hands with crossed fingers until Becky and Matt returned.
By the time I got home, word had traveled so quickly about the undesirable money pit on Benson Hill that my parents had already heard the news and were greatly concerned.
"Maybe you shouldn't return to the Mansion." My mother confronted me as I started for the stairs.
"Why?" I asked.
"I heard the walls could fall down at any minute."
"I thought you didn't believe in gossip. Besides, who told you that?"
"That doesn't matter," she began, then shouted,