But this was the first time he’d tried to give orders. And as always, he said something that didn’t make much sense. “What postcards?” Jake asked. But Bluebeard didn’t reply. He ruffled his feathers as though shrugging off our puzzlement, and retrea...
I had expected to be home much earlier, but I hadn’t planned on telling Felipe and Ernie about Uncle Louis, either. And I hadn’t planned on finding a note from my across-the-street neighbor, Jake Robinson, of Beach Books. “Have a package for you,” the note read. ȁ...