Hell's Belles Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  3x - 7 = 2x - 2

  Solve for x.

  Annie sighed. She had no idea how to solve for x, but there was a lemon tart in the display case that would help solve the growling in her stomach.

  She swept her long brown hair into a messy bun, closed her math book, and thought up her own equation:

  Annie + a steaming cup of chamomile tea = heaven.

  Pushing aside her homework, she rose and crossed the black and white checkerboard floor of Rosie Lee’s, the café she and her dad had recently opened in his hometown of Liberty Heights, Illinois. It was hard to believe that a few short weeks ago, the shop had been filthy and covered in cobwebs. A lot of hard work had gone into transforming it into the cozy place it was now, but it had been a labor of love — the shop was Dad’s dream.

  Although from the frown on his face as he bent over the spreadsheets arranged on the counter, the dream looked like it had become a nightmare. Annie guessed that he was having some math trouble too.

  “I must take after you,” Annie joked, reaching into the case and removing the cream-topped pastry. “No head for numbers.”

  “You can say that again,” Dad grumbled. He dropped his pencil and ran a hand through his brown hair. “I can measure out baking powder with the best of them and calculate the proportion of butter to flour with my eyes closed. It’s subtracting monthly expenses from income that trips me up.”

  Annie glanced around the empty shop and grimaced. Things had gotten off to a good start, but lately it seemed like the only foot traffic in and out of the shop consisted of people popping in to hang notices on the community bulletin board Dad had installed.

  The people were grateful for the advertising space, but once they’d pinned their flyers to the corkboard, they all hurried off to finish distributing their materials.

  One guy, who’d posted an index card advertising a 2003 Toyota Camry with low mileage, had bought himself a small coffee to go, but other than that, none of the bulletin board people had purchased a thing.

  “So has there been any?” Annie asked. “Income, I mean.”

  Dad hesitated, as though he might be about to try to make up a happier answer. Then he showed her the number on the calculator screen. “Not much, Beanie.”

  Annie rolled her eyes at the nickname. Beanie was short for String Bean, which referred to Annie’s long, lanky frame. She’d shot up nearly a foot last year, which had sadly put a swift end to her gymnastics career. On the upside, she now had the tall, slender figure of a model.

  She really didn’t mind the Beanie thing. It was so Dad — cute and a little bit silly.

  What wasn’t silly was the money issue. There wasn’t anything cute about “not much income.”

  Annie had been afraid that would be the case. When they’d opened the British eatery, they’d both had high hopes. Dad’s baking was superior, and the space was warm and welcoming.

  It had seemed like a no-brainer to Annie — they were going to be a big hit.

  But here it was, four weeks later on a crisp, early autumn afternoon; customers should have been flocking in for hot tea and cinnamon scones warm from the oven. Instead, the cheery little place was utterly deserted.

  As though he were reading her mind, Dad motioned to the empty tables. “I must be doing something wrong, but for the life of me, Annie, I can’t imagine what it is.”

  His voice was a mixture of confusion and disappointment. It made Annie’s heart sink.

  “Don’t say that, Dad,” she said, placing the tart on the counter and throwing her arms around him. “You’re doing everything right. The food is brilliant, the shop is the cutest place in town, and . . . and . . .” Unfortunately, she didn’t have a third “and” to add, so she just hugged him tighter. “It’ll be fine. It takes time for a place like Rosie Lee’s to catch on. But once it does, we’ll have customers lining up around the block.”

  Dad pressed a kiss to Annie’s forehead and chuckled. “Now I remember why I dragged you here all the way from London. To be my own personal cheerleader.”

  Annie winced.

  Cheerleading was a sore subject. She’d been chosen for the Liberty Heights High School cheerleading squad, but had had the audacity to turn them down. That decision had pretty much made her Public Enemy Number One in the eyes of Kelsey Howard, the most popular girl in school. Instead of picking up a pair of pom-poms, she’d stepped into a pair of roller skates and joined Liberty Heights’ junior roller derby league.

  And derby girls, it turned out, were always hungry.

  Tummy grumbling, Annie picked up the lemon tart, then pointed to a gorgeous chocolate-frosted cake under a glass dome on top of the display case.

  “Gather your rations, sailor,” she commanded, doing her best Navy Admiral impersonation. “Then muster at our usual table.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” said Dad, snapping her a silly salute. He punched the off button on his calculator and grabbed a knife.

  Moments later they were seated by the large window, bent over their desserts. Annie tasted Dad’s cake — it was beyond delicious. And the buttery crust of her lemon tart was so delicate that it actually melted in her mouth. If only people would try Rosie Lee’s, she was certain it would become their favorite place in the world.

  “You really outdid yourself with this batch,” she told her father, using her baby finger to mop up a smear of lemon filling from her plate. “Who cares if you’re hopeless with numbers and spreadsheets? You’re an absolute wizard in the kitchen.”

  Dad gave her a grateful smile. “I appreciate the rave review, Beanie, but the fact remains: we need customers if we’re going to stay afloat.” He put down his fork and stared at the mural on the wall behind Annie. It was a red double-decker London bus filled with remarkably lifelike portraits of some of Britain’s most celebrated citizens. And the best part was that it was custom-designed and hand-painted by Annie’s best friend, Lexie.

  Annie could see from the look on Dad’s face that he was suddenly missing one British citizen in particular, and not someone on the bus. “If your mother were here, she’d certainly get our financials in order,” he said softly.

  “Maybe.” Annie frowned. “But she’s not here.”

  After her parents separated, Annie’s American-born dad had decided to leave England and return to the United States. Annie had been given the choice to remain in London with Mum, or try life in America with Dad. It had been the most difficult decision of her life, but ultimately she’d chosen to go with Dad. Throughout Annie’s whole life, it was always Dad who had really been there for her. Mum loved Annie and Annie loved her, but Mum was always busy at her law firm.

  The truth was, Annie missed her mother a lot, but this wasn’t the time to wallow in that. Dad needed to get his confidence back, and thinking about his failed marriage and his ex-wife, thousands of miles away across the ocean, probably wasn’t the way to do it.

  On the other hand, Annie felt a little tingle of hope. If Dad missed Mum — and maybe not just for her business skills — that could mean there was a chance that Annie’s parents would consider trying again.

  Of course, that would require Mum taking her nose
out of her law books and legal briefs long enough to miss him, too.

  Dad was still looking wistfully at the mural. “It was a gamble, taking you away from all your friends and bringing you to America. I hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

  “You didn’t,” Annie assured him. “Going to an American high school is amazing. It’s like being in a teen drama! Honestly, sometimes I think I’m going to walk into the cafeteria and see the cast of Glee or 90210. It’s been really fun.”

  “Good — as long as you don’t turn into a drama queen yourself!” Dad joked.

  Annie had enough real-life Liberty Heights High drama queens to deal with already. But she didn’t mention that to her father.

  “I won’t,” she said. “And you didn’t take me away from England,” she reminded him, slapping her hand on the white tablecloth. “I chose to come. And here I am. So let’s not be gloomy about it. Let’s figure out a way to make it work!”

  Dad sat back in the chair and blinked at her. Annie knew he was surprised by her assertiveness. Frankly, so was she. The old Annie had been more quiet and reserved, and a lot less confident. The old Annie might have turned and ran the minute the cheerleading captain, Kelsey, looked at her sideways. The old Annie probably would have already accepted defeat and begun packing her bags to head back across the ocean to London.

  But the old Annie wasn’t a roller girl!

  Annie popped up from her chair and put one hand on her hip, affecting the persona of a cranky, wisecracking diner waitress.

  “You done here, pal? We got other customers waitin’ for this table, ya know. Meatloaf’s the blue plate special tonight. Can’t keep them regulars away when that one’s on the menu.” She chomped on her imaginary chewing gum. “So you ready to pay, or what?”

  Dad faked a frown. “Well, since I know the chef personally, I thought this might be on the house.”

  “Oh, fine.” Annie rolled her eyes and pretended to fluff her imaginary beehive hairdo. “Just be sure you leave a decent tip. You think I woik my tail off in this joint for the fun of it?”

  Dad quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of dollar bills.

  “Jeesh,” she huffed, sweeping up the bills from the tabletop and tucking them into the neckline of her shirt. “Two whole bucks. Ain’t that generous? I’ll try not to spend it all in one place!”

  With a clatter, she gathered the plates and cutlery from the table, balanced them on her palm, and held them high above her head as she sashayed off toward the kitchen. She could hear Dad’s laughter following her all the way to the sink.

  Annie was glad that she’d made Dad laugh. He needed some distraction from all the pressure. As she ran hot water over the smudges on the plate and brushed the crumbs of tart crust into the drain, she thought about the two dollars Dad had “tipped” her. It gave her an idea.

  Why couldn’t she really bring in a little extra money? She was fourteen years old, after all. She should be contributing. And not just by working for free at Rosie Lee’s — by actually earning some extra cash.

  So what could she do? Between school, homework, and her roller derby practice schedule, she’d need extremely flexible hours. And she knew that here, anyone under sixteen wasn’t allowed to work at night during the school year. This was going to take some serious thought.

  She dried her hands on a paper towel and returned to the cozy little dining area, where Dad had gone back to his invoices and bank statements. He was attacking his paperwork with new resolve and she didn’t want to bother him. So she went back to the table where she’d left her algebra homework and sat down.

  But she couldn’t concentrate on her assignment.

  She had to find a way to earn some extra money until the shop got off the ground.

  She thought about applying for a job in one of the cool clothing stores at the mall, but there were two problems with that: one, Dad would be too busy to drive her, and two, she’d probably spend ninety percent of her pay buying clothes with the employee discount.

  Frustrated, she tapped her pencil on her notebook and stared out the window.

  A woman was approaching along the pavement. Annie noted absently that the woman was pushing a buggy — no, wait, this was America, so it was a stroller — and appeared to be completely exhausted. One glance in the stroller and Annie understood why: triplets!

  Annie watched the woman pause outside the door to Rosie Lee’s. Annie guessed that she was debating with herself about coming in, telling herself she should really get home and get dinner started. But if ever there was a person who needed a good cup of tea, it was her!

  Annie sprang up from her chair and flew to the door, opening it with a big smile.

  “Hello, there,” she said, turning on the charm of her British accent. “Can I give you a hand?” She held the door open as far as it would go to accommodate the giant stroller and beamed at the three babies. “Oh, look at them! They’re gorgeous!”

  And they were. The chill in the afternoon air had given their plump little cheeks a rosy glow. There was very little hair on their heads, but based on the colors of their outfits, Annie was able to surmise that there were two boys and one girl. She pointed to the pale pink wool of the baby girl’s sweater and beamed. “We have cupcakes iced in that exact color!”

  If the triplets’ mother had been considering going on her way, it was clear that she was now seriously entertaining the idea of stopping in.

  Annie guessed it was partly due to her friendly flattery, and partly because of the irresistible aromas of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon emanating from inside.

  After one more moment of hesitation, the lady maneuvered the stroller through the door. Dad looked up from his books and smiled at Annie. She winked back at him.

  While Dad poured their customer a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, Annie took the woman’s coat and hung it on one of the pegs beside the bulletin board. Then she played peek-a-boo with the babies, who giggled while their mother enjoyed her drink and a cream-topped scone.

  Twenty minutes later, the woman was revitalized and ready to go. Annie helped the woman guide her industrial-sized baby vehicle back out the door.

  “This was so nice,” the young mother said, sighing. “That scone was to die for, and you have no idea how great it was to relax for a while.”

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” Annie said sincerely. “Please come back. And tell your friends. My dad’s thinking about introducing a whole menu just for little ones, actually.”

  Dad shot Annie a look that said, I am?

  And Annie replied with a little nod that said, You are now!

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” the mother said, reaching down to adjust the hood of the little girl’s pink sweater. “Baby-friendly places are few and far between. I can’t wait to tell my Mommy and Me group all about this place.”

  When the door closed behind their customer, Annie smiled at her dad.

  “Since when do we serve baby food?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. But he was grinning broadly, and Annie could tell he was impressed by her salesmanship.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” she said, hurrying back to her table and tearing a sheet of paper from her notebook. “I predict those Mommy and Me ladies are going to become regulars before you know it. You saw how exhausted that woman was. She needs Rosie Lee’s!”

  Dad looked skeptical. “That’s great, Annie, but I’m not sure a café filled with crying toddlers is going to appeal much to other customers.”

  “Not a problem! She won’t be bringing the kids with her. She’ll want to escape sometimes with her friends.”

  “All right,” Dad said slowly. “One question, though. While all those mothers are here enjoying tea and cakes, who’s going to be watching their little monsters?”

  In lieu of an answer, Annie marched across the shop and pinned the sheet of notebook paper
to the bulletin board with a flourish. It fluttered there for a second, stuck between an ad for a dog walker and a flyer for the community theatre’s upcoming production of Phantom of the Opera.

  “Me!” she declared.

  Dad crossed the shop to read her notice.

  MOVE OVER, MARY POPPINS —

  THERE’S A NEW BABYSITTER IN TOWN!

  VERY RESPONSIBLE, LOVES KIDS.

  REASONABLE PRICES.

  REFERENCES UPON REQUEST.

  CALL ANNIE TURNER: 555-2702

  Dad laughed out loud. “That’s genius!” he cried, putting his arm around Annie and giving her a squeeze.

  Then Dad and Annie went about the business of closing up for the day, wiping down the display case, rinsing out the coffee pots, sweeping the floor and closing the blinds. Annie wasn’t even aware that she was whistling “A Spoonful of Sugar” the whole time.

  “Need a lift to practice?” Dad asked, double-checking to be sure the coffee machine was turned off.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll just skate over.” Annie plopped into a chair, tugged her bulky duffle bag out from beneath the table, and took out her Rollerblades. “Skating outside builds endurance, and I could do with all the help I can get.”

  “All right then. Lock the door behind you when you go.”

  Annie made quick work of lacing up her Rollerblades and putting on her pads and helmet. She also slipped into a jacket with reflective strips that glowed in the dark. With one last satisfied glance at her babysitting flyer, she turned the lock and rolled out the door.

  The feeling of the cool air on her face was exhilarating as she glided down Main Street in the direction of the roller rink. As always, she was surprised to see how many people were out and about on this quaint little street. It was hard to imagine now that when she’d first arrived in Liberty Heights, she’d been worried it would be boring compared to London. But she’d met so many interesting people.

  There was a lot to learn, living in a new country, and despite her slightly rocky start, Annie believed she was finally getting the hang of it. She’d learned so many new things already, and she liked to think that some of her English ways were rubbing off on the people around her.