Amelia Bedelia Means Business Page 2

  Amelia Bedelia dashed off to get his pie. But now she was more confused than ever. Why did he want her to step on it?

  She remembered Pete’s rule. The customer is always right! She dashed back to Mike and put his pie on the counter.

  “At last,” he said, sighing happily. As he lifted his fork to take the first bite, Amelia Bedelia climbed up onto the counter.

  “What are you doing?” asked Mike. “Hey! Hey! Get off the counter!”

  Just then, Pete came out of the kitchen. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked. “Amelia Bedelia, what are you—”

  Amelia Bedelia raised her foot and stepped on that tasty slice of pie with all her might. Gooey cherry pie filling spurted all over the counter, all over Mike, and all over Pete.

  Mike leaped to his feet. “That does it!” he yelled. “I’m out of here!”

  “Wait!” Pete called. He got an entire cherry pie from the dessert case and raced out to the parking lot after him.

  By the time Pete came back in, Doris had returned, and she and Amelia Bedelia had wiped off the counter. Amelia Bedelia felt awful. It didn’t help that she could hear giggles from a certain booth. She’d recognize Suzanne’s laugh anywhere.

  “I’m sorry about the mess on your apron,” Amelia Bedelia said to Pete.

  Pete looked at his apron. Then he said, “At least it matches that ketchup stain.”

  Doris laughed. Amelia Bedelia smiled.

  Pete sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Amelia Bedelia, except that I have to let you go.”

  “Go where?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “Go home,” said Pete. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am sorry, too,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I wanted to see those ropes and cut some mustard. And I really wanted a big tip.”

  “I’ve got a tip for you,” said Pete. “You should get an office job. I don’t think the world is ready for you to be a waitress.”

  Doris helped Amelia Bedelia out of her uniform. Then she slipped five dollars into her pocket. “Here, honey,” she said. “You were the best waitress in training I’ve ever had.”

  Then Amelia Bedelia left and began the lonnnnnng walk home.

  Amelia Bedelia was glad she had to walk through the park to get home. Walking by the trees and flowers helped her think. What was she going to tell her mom and dad? Her very first job had lasted less than an hour. They might not feel so proud of her now.

  Amelia Bedelia spied a big bed of flowers. I know, she said to herself, I’ll bring Mom some flowers. Then she won’t be mad at me. Amelia Bedelia had seen that work for her father when her mom was upset with him. It was worth a try now.

  She picked a bunch of flowers in different colors and surrounded them with a circle of daisies. Daisies were her mom’s favorite (hers, too). She had just finished making the bouquet when a policeman walked up.

  “Little girl,” he said. “Where did you get all those flowers?”

  “Right there,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I didn’t leave many, but there are still enough for you.”

  The policeman looked where she pointed. “You’ve cleaned out that entire flower bed!” he said.

  “No, I didn’t,” said Amelia Bedelia. “It’s still very dirty.”

  The policeman shook his head. “You can’t pick flowers in the park. They’re for everyone who lives here to enjoy!”

  “I live here,” said Amelia Bedelia. “So does my mom. I picked these for her.”

  “You can’t do that,” the policeman said. “In fact, you shouldn’t even be standing here. Can you read that?” He pointed at a sign stuck in the lawn.

  “It says ‘Keep off the grass,’” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “That means you,” said the policeman.

  Amelia Bedelia looked at her feet. Then she looked at the policeman’s feet.

  “What about you?” she asked. “You’re standing on the grass, too.”

  The policeman looked annoyed. “Are you talking back to me?” he asked sternly.

  Amelia Bedelia wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to answer him, but she’d have to talk back to do it.

  Finally she said, “Yes. But you started talking to me first. So I talked back to you, then you talked back to me and I talked back to you, so you—”

  The policeman blew his whistle. “Enough!” he said. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Now take those flowers home to your mother.”

  “I promise I will,” said Amelia Bedelia, as she waved good-bye. “Thanks!”

  Amelia Bedelia walked slowly down the path. As soon as the policeman was out of sight, she sat down on a park bench to rest for a minute.

  A woman was sitting at the other end of the bench with her dog. She didn’t look very happy. In fact, she looked very sad.

  “What lovely flowers,” she said to Amelia Bedelia.

  “I’d like to give them to you,” said Amelia Bedelia, “to cheer you up. But I just promised to take them to my mom.”

  “How sweet of you,” said the woman. Then she blew her nose. “Sorry if I look upset. My boss just gave me a pink slip.”

  “Sounds pretty,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Pretty?” she said. “It wasn’t pretty at all!”

  “That’s too bad,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Maybe pink isn’t your color. My mom likes white slips with lacy stuff on the top.”

  A curious look came over the woman’s face. Then she burst out laughing and kept on laughing until tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I needed a good laugh today. My name is Diana. What’s yours?”

  “I’m Amelia Bedelia.”

  “Meet Buster,” said Diana. Her dog held up its paw for Amelia Bedelia to shake.

  “Wow,” Amelia Bedelia said. “Buster has a firm paw shake.”

  “Buster is the best,” said Diana. “He doesn’t care that I was just let go from my job.”

  “Me, too!” said Amelia Bedelia. Then she told Diana what had happened at Pete’s Diner. Diana laughed even harder when she heard about stepping on the pie.

  “We’ve got a lot in common,” said Diana. “We’ve both been fired!”

  Amelia Bedelia was amazed to learn that being let go was the same as being fired. It reminded her that she still had to go home and tell her parents what had happened at Pete’s. She got up to leave.

  “Hey, Diana, maybe you should start your own business,” she said.

  Diana nodded. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I’d never fire myself. I would be fireproof.”

  “If you were fireproof,” said Amelia Bedelia, “you’d never get burned.”

  “Right you are!” said Diana.

  Amelia Bedelia scratched Buster behind his ears and said good-bye to Diana. But she didn’t get very far.

  “Excuse me, miss! Excuse me!” A man was waving at her.

  “Miss,” he said, “I’m meeting someone here for the first time—well, it’s a date—and I told her I’d be carrying a bouquet. Would you please sell me yours?”

  “It’s for my mom,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “I’ll pay you ten dollars!” he said.

  Amelia Bedelia shook her head. “No, I promised.”

  “How about twenty dollars?” he asked.

  Twenty dollars!

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him the bouquet of flowers.

  “Thanks!” he said, handing her a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

  Twenty dollars! Amelia Bedelia waved to Diana and was on her way once again. But then she heard a familiar voice. She peeked over her shoulder.

  The policeman had stopped the man with the bouquet.

  Amelia Bedelia began to walk faster.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said the policeman. “Those flowers look suspiciously like the ones we grow in the park. Where did you get them?”

  “I just bought them,” she heard the man answer. “From a sweet little girl.”

  Amelia Bedelia began to trot.

 
“What little girl?” asked the policeman.

  Amelia Bedelia began to run. She darted through the park gates, running as fast as she could. She flew by a sign that said SLOW CHILDREN. I’m not having much luck with signs today, she thought as she raced home.

  By the time she got to her house, Amelia Bedelia was out of breath. Her parents did not seem surprised to see her.

  “We got a call from Pete,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father. “Next time, call us and we’ll come get you.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Oh, sweetie,” her mom said. “It was a good try.”

  “What did you learn from your first job?” asked her father.

  “I learned that the customer is always right,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “That’s what they say,” said her father.

  “Did you learn anything else?” asked her mother.

  “Yes,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I learned that sometimes the customer is crazy!”

  Amelia Bedelia’s parents smiled. They stopped when they saw Amelia Bedelia’s lower lip begin to tremble.

  “It’s no fun to get fired,” sobbed Amelia Bedelia. “Now I’ll never get that bike!”

  Her parents hugged her and hoisted her up into their arms. “Don’t worry,” they said. “We have an idea.”

  “You know,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father, “your mom and I think you should start your own business. And there is one business that any kid can start.”

  “What?” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “A lemonade stand,” said her dad.

  “Lemonade what?” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Stand,” said her dad.

  “Stand?” she said. “Stand what?”

  “Lemonade,” said her dad.

  “Sure,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I can stand lemonade. I love lemonade.”

  Her father rolled his eyes and said, “I know you love lemonade, sweetie. That’s why you should make a stand for it.”

  “How come?” said Amelia Bedelia. “Is someone trying to get rid of lemonade?”

  Amelia Bedelia’s dad’s face began to turn red. “Of course not,” he said. “You could run a stand.”

  Amelia Bedelia looked bewildered.

  “Dad,” she asked, “what do you want me to do—run or stand?”

  “Stand!” yelled her dad. “Stand! Stand!”

  Amelia Bedelia jumped to her feet.

  “Okay, okay!” she said. “I’m standing, I’m standing!”

  Now her dad’s face was turning even redder.

  “No,” he said. “Not you. Your customers stand. You can sit.”

  “Thank you,” said Amelia Bedelia. She sat back down in her chair.

  “Good idea,” said her dad. “I think I need to sit down, too.”

  Amelia Bedelia’s mother had been in the kitchen, listening to them talk while she finished up. She was carrying a cup of coffee as she came into the living room. She sat down on the arm of her husband’s chair.

  “Amelia Bedelia,” she said, “remember last summer? We made fresh lemonade together.”

  “It was delicious,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “And easy,” said her mother. “Do you remember how we made it?”

  “You squeeze juice out of a lemon, mix it with cool water, add sugar until it tastes good, then throw in a couple of ice cubes.”

  “Bravo,” said her mother. “Then what?”

  Amelia Bedelia shrugged and said, “That’s easy. You drink it!”

  “Or,” said her mother, “you could sell it. What if you set up a table and made fresh lemonade? Thirsty people would stand in line to drink it.”

  “You know,” said Amelia Bedelia, “that sort of sounds like what Dad was trying to say.”

  “Thank you,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father. Then he turned to his wife and said, “And thank you, darling. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Amelia Bedelia bought fifty bags of lemons on sale. She used the money she’d saved from her last birthday, her tip from Pete’s Diner, plus the twenty dollars she got for her bouquet. Her dad helped her build a stand that was easy to set up and take down.

  “That way,” he said, “you can put it up wherever you’ll get the most customers.”

  “Have you thought of a name for yourself?” asked her mom.

  “My name is Amelia Bedelia,” she said. “That’s the name you guys gave me.”

  “I meant,” said her mom, “a name for your business—something catchy to get people’s attention.”

  “Yes,” said her dad. “Think big.”

  “How can I?” said Amelia Bedelia. “My brain is just one size.”

  “Maybe you should advertise,” said her mom. “If people hear how good your lemonade is, they’ll want to try it.”

  “Advertise?” said Amelia Bedelia. “Like the commercials on TV for Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama?”

  “Sort of,” said her dad. “But not so terrible.”

  Everybody knew about Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama. Bill owned a car dealership right downtown. He wore a white ten-gallon cowboy hat. In his TV ads, he shouted over and over and over that to get the best price, you had to buy your new car from Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama, the Home of the Sweet Deal.

  Suddenly Amelia Bedelia had a great idea. She remembered last summer, when her parents had dragged her along to Wild Bill’s to look at new cars with them. It was boring and hot—she could really have used a break. If she set up her stand near Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama, plenty of thirsty customers would line up for her lemonade when they were tired of looking at cars.

  Amelia Bedelia hopped on her awful, embarrassing, piece-of-junk bike and rode down to Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama. She found the ideal spot for her stand, right near the entrance. Perfect! This was meant to be. She pedaled home as fast as she could. As she turned into her driveway, a great name for her business popped into her head.

  Hooray!

  “Mom!” yelled Amelia Bedelia.

  “Do you have any yellow paint left over from when you painted the kitchen? I need to make my sign.”

  “Sure, sweetie,” said her mom. She also gave Amelia Bedelia brushes and an old bedsheet.

  Amelia Bedelia spread the sheet out on the driveway and went to work. Her dad had told her to think big. So she drew a lemon as large as the kitchen table and outlined it with black marker. She was in the middle of writing the name for her business right on top of the lemon when her mom and dad came out to peek at what she was doing.

  “Mom! Dad! Stop!” hollered Amelia Bedelia. “Don’t look—I want you to be surprised!”

  They certainly were. So was Wild Bill. And so were the reporters from the TV Action News Team, as well as everyone in town.

  The next day, Amelia Bedelia waited until just before lunchtime to open for business. She figured that by then, people would be hot and thirsty and bored enough to want a glass of lemonade.

  Her parents came along to help. Her dad set up her lemonade stand while her mom unfolded the sign. They attached it to the bottom of the sign for Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama.

  “Looking good,” said her dad.

  “Terrific name,” said her mom.

  “It’s perfect,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I squeeze a whole lemon into every glass. That’s a lot.”

  Amelia Bedelia was so proud of her sign. She admired it while her dad set up chairs in front of the stand.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Now my customers won’t have to stand. This is more like a lemonade sit than a stand.”

  Her father kept checking his watch. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “I called the television station and told them about your business. They thought it was a cute idea. They’re sending their news team to interview you.”

  Amelia Bedelia jumped up and clapped her hands. “Really? Will they make a commercial for me?”

  “Nope,” said her dad. “You’ll be a story on News at Noon. That’s way better than a commercial. It’s the re
al deal.”

  “Dad and I are going inside to look at the cars for a few minutes,” said her mom. “We’ll send some customers out here for you.”

  “Thanks,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I’ll get ready.” She cut lemons in half and put them in a big bowl ready to squeeze. Then she arranged the cups and ice.

  A few minutes later, a van from the Action News Team pulled up. They were her first customers. A reporter and a cameraman walked up to the stand and introduced themselves to Amelia Bedelia. As she talked with them about her business, she made them each a lemonade.

  The cameraman started shooting the scene, while the reporter began interviewing Amelia Bedelia.

  To truly appreciate what happened next, you’d have to have seen it on TV. Down at Pete’s Diner, Pete and Doris always turned on News at Noon for their lunch crowd. Here is what they saw:

  “Ted Daily here, News at Noon, right outside Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama, where another business is having its grand opening: an old-fashioned lemonade stand run by this young lady—”

  “It’s Amelia Bedelia!” said Pete. A policeman who was having pie and coffee at the counter looked up and said, “You know her, Pete? I had a run-in with that girl in the park.”

  Pete nodded and said, “Officer O’Brien, be glad Doris served you that cherry pie you’re eating!”

  They looked back at the TV. Ted Daily told the viewers how Amelia Bedelia made her lemonade while the cameraman shot a close-up.

  “Amelia Bedelia makes every glass by hand . . . just lemon juice, cool water, ice, and a bit of sugar,” Ted Daily said.

  Amelia Bedelia handed Ted Daily a glass of lemonade. “I use one lemon in each glass,” she said. “That’s a lot, but it tastes better. It’s why I call my business Lots of Lemons.”

  As Amelia Bedelia pointed at the sign behind her, the camera pulled back so people watching on television could also see the sign for Wild Bill’s Auto-Rama.