Always October by Bruce Coville

we should try it.”
    â€œI repeat: What are you talking about?”
    â€œYour grandfather told your dad there was a long story behind that picture, and the key to the family mystery, right?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, what if he was being literal?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, let’s look behind the picture! ”
    Jacob smacked himself on the forehead. “Good grief! Why didn’t I think of that? It might be crazy, but it’s the kind of thing my grandfather wrote about all the time. It’s definitely worth trying.”
    I examined the situation. The hallway was at least ten feet high and the portrait was a good three feet wide and four feet tall. The frame added another six inches on each side.
    â€œIt’s going to take both of us to get it down,” I said.
    â€œNo kidding,” said Jacob. “Wait here with LD. I’ll get a couple of chairs from the kitchen for us to stand on.”
    A few minutes later LD was sitting on the floor, and Jacob and I were lifting the picture off the wall.
    â€œOh, crud!” Jacob muttered. “You were right, Lily, but it’s not going to do us any good!”
    I groaned. Two things marked out the area where we had removed the painting. The first was a rectangle, exactly the dimensions of the painting itself, where the wallpaper was bright and unfaded.
    The second, smack in the center of that rectangle, was the round metal door of a wall safe. On the front of it was a dial, like the dial on a combination padlock. I wanted to scream. I thought I had been so brilliant working out the puzzle, and all it got us was this.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said glumly.
    â€œDon’t be silly,” said Jake. “You figured out more than I ever did. Let’s set the painting down. We might as well give the thing a try. I read a book once—sheesh, I think it was one of my grandfather’s—where a safe like this was so old that the dial just clicked into place.”
    He spun the dial. It did no good. He twisted it back and forth. Nothing. He let me take a turn. I tried pressing my ear to the safe, hoping to hear some clue-giving click. Nothing.
    Jake sighed. That made sense. What was there to say?
    Working together, we got the picture back on the wall, which was even harder than taking it down. By the time we were done, LD was fussing for his dinner and I had to head for home.
    I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept thinking about the portrait of Tia LaMontagne. Something about it was tickling at the part of my brain that loves puzzles.
    It took me a week to figure it out. Or, at least, to think I had figured it out. I still needed to actually test my idea.
    â€œWhen is your mom teaching again?” I asked Jake that afternoon.
    â€œFriday.”
    â€œCan I come over then?”
    â€œI suppose so. Why?”
    â€œI want to visit the baby!”
    I didn’t tell him the real reason—that I thought I had figured out how to open the safe. I didn’t want to build up his expectations if I had it wrong. As it was, my own expectations were driving me crazy. I was afraid my brain might explode before Friday got there.
    Somehow I managed to live through the week. That evening I again hid in the bushes at the end of Jake’s drive, waiting for his mother to leave. She didn’t pull out until quarter of six, and by then I was in a frenzy thinking she wasn’t going to go after all.
    Once she did finally leave, I sprinted for the house. Jacob was waiting with the door open and LD over his shoulder.
    â€œI figured you’d be here,” he said with a smirk.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    He shrugged. “LD was fussing. Mom nearly flipped out, because she hates to be late for class. I think she was making him worse because she was so stressed herself. I finally convinced her to just go. The baby calmed down as soon as she left.”
    â€œCan I hold