“I’d better get going,” said Allie, rising to her feet. “I have to pack for the week.”
“For the love of Mike,” said Min. “A baby on the way.”
“A trip to New York City,” said Ruby.
“A new cousin,” said Flora.
“And all before eight-thirty in the morning,” added Min, looking at her watch.
After Aunt Allie left, Ruby looked at her own watch. “It is only eight-thirty,” she said in surprise. “It feels much, much later.”
“That’s because you usually lie around in bed until ten on the weekends,” said Flora.
Ruby put her hands on her hips. “So? Does that make me a criminal?”
“No,” said Flora.
“Well, all right then.”
Ruby stalked upstairs to her room. She shook her bank even though she knew it was empty. She opened her wallet. It held exactly three dollars and ten cents, less than it had held twenty-four hours earlier, since she’d been to the mall in between. She needed money for Christmas presents and she needed it fast. And now with an additional person to shop for — her new cousin — she needed even more money.
If only Ruby were creative like her sister. Flora was going to make a gift for the baby, and that was usually less expensive than buying something. But Ruby had zero interest in sewing or knitting. Or scrapbooking or crafting of any sort. Maybe she could prepare a song to sing to the baby. Last year as a Christmas gift to her family she had performed one of Min’s favorite carols. But Ruby didn’t think a baby would be interested in Christmas carols. No, she definitely needed a way to earn some money.
Ruby sat on her bed, ignoring the giant ball of clothing and shoes at the foot of it. She remembered something her father had once told her: In order to start a successful business, you have to know your clients, which means knowing your community.
Ruby felt she knew Camden Falls fairly well. She had lived there for less than two years, but because of Needle and Thread, she spent a lot of time on Main Street, and Main Street was the heart of the town. Ruby had walked up and down Main Street countless times. She knew every store and business there, from Needle and Thread to College Pizza, from Dr. Malone’s dental practice to the real estate agency. She knew Jackie and Donna, who ran the post office, and Sonny Sutphin, who worked in the second-hand bookstore, and Frank, who owned Frank’s Beans, the coffee shop. The family of her new friend Hilary ran the diner and lived above it, and her neighbors the Fongs owned an art gallery. Every now and then a new business came to town (Ruby had seen signs for a magic store that was to open soon), but in general, Ruby felt she knew Main Street. And since she was a member of the Children’s Chorus and also took dance lessons, she was acquainted with all sorts of other people, too. Not to mention that she knew every single one of her neighbors in the Row Houses.
Ruby thought and thought, but she didn’t know what kind of business to start. Wasn’t she a little young to start a business anyway? And didn’t starting a business take a lot of time? Ruby needed fast cash. How did kids her age earn money? Baby-sitting? She knew of only one baby — Grace Fong — and Flora always got to sit for her. (Ruby fervently hoped that eventually Aunt Allie would let Ruby sit for her cousin.)
Well. This was getting frustrating. It was just one of the many problems associated with being ten years old as opposed to, say, twelve.
Ruby heaved a sigh. Maybe she could pet-sit. But no, in order to get jobs, she would have to wait for the pet owners to go away on trips, and she didn’t have time for that.
What else did Ruby know about her community? What did people need? What would they pay other people to do?
What would I pay someone to do? Ruby asked herself.
And in an instant, she had her answer. She would pay someone to do all those things that needed doing but that she didn’t want to do — cleaning up her room, for instance, or vacuuming the bedrooms (her current household chore).
“That’s it!” exclaimed Ruby, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be the Doer of Unpleasant Jobs!” Now, that was a business she could actually start. She wouldn’t need anything except herself — no store, no equipment. There must be, she thought, any number of unpleasant jobs that people would pay her to do.
Ruby tore down the hall, grabbed the cordless phone from Min’s bedside table, and brought it back to her room. She closed her door and dialed Lacey Morris’s number. “Lacey!” she cried. “Guess what! I had a brilliant idea. I’m going to start a business. I’m going to be the Doer of Unpleasant Jobs. Do you want to be my partner?”
Lacey Morris, who lived at the left end of the Row Houses with her parents and her sister and brothers, said cautiously, “Your business partner? What would I have to do?”
“Help me with the unpleasant jobs.”
“But what kind of unpleasant jobs are we talking about?”
“I don’t know. Anything no one wants to do. Cleaning and stuff. All those jobs people keep putting off.”
On the other end of the line, Lacey scrunched up her nose. “There’s a reason people keep putting them off.”
“Yes,” said Ruby. “They’re unpleasant.”
“Exactly. Which is why I don’t think I want to do them.” Lacey paused. “I, um, sort of have a lot of allowance money saved up. Besides, I want to put in more practice time on my solo.” Lacey also had a solo (a tiny one) in the Thanksgiving concert.
“Okay-ay,” sang Ruby, “but you’re missing out on a great opportunity.” She hung up the phone and punched in Hilary Nelson’s number. “Hilary? Do you want to be a Doer of Unpleasant Jobs?”
“What?” said Hilary.
Ruby had to explain her idea again. “So what do you think?” she asked finally.
Hilary paused for so long that Ruby said, “Hello?”
“I’m here. It’s just that, well, I told Mom and Dad I’d give them extra help in the diner. This is going to be one of our busiest seasons, you know.”
Ruby also knew that Hilary got paid for helping her parents. “I guess I’ll just have to do all the unpleasant jobs myself,” she said.
“Good luck with that,” replied Hilary.
Ruby lifted a pile of papers, library books, and CD’s from her desk chair. She wasn’t sure where to put them, so she added them to the chaos at the foot of her bed. Then she sat at her desk, a pad of paper before her, and chewed on the end of a pen.
I could, she thought, do unpleasant jobs for people on Main Street. Main Street was, after all, just a couple of blocks from the Row Houses, within easy walking distance. But would storekeepers and business owners need a Doer of Unpleasant Jobs? Ruby wasn’t sure. Maybe she should start closer to home, with her neighbors.
Ruby crossed her room and stuck her head out into the hallway. “Min!” she called. “I’m going into business! I’m going to do unpleasant jobs. Can I make flyers to give to our neighbors?”
“Which neighbors?” Min called back.
“In the Row Houses.”
“Row Houses only? Okay, go ahead.”
Ruby sat at her desk again. She wrote:
Do you have unsightly messes?
Are your closets stuffed with unfinished projects?
Do you hate scrubbing and cleaning?
Then call me, the Doer of Unpleasant Jobs!
I’ll do anything for
Here Ruby paused, uncertain how much to charge for her work. She would have to discuss that with Min. She turned back to the flyer and added:
Never put off until tomorrow
what you can pay someone else to do today!
Then she hastily drew a star in each corner of the page, sensing that Flora would spend much more time decorating the flyer if it were up to her, which it wasn’t.
She grabbed the flyer and rushed across the hall to her sister’s room. “Surprise!” she said.
“What?” mumbled Flora, who was lying on her bed, reading To Kill a Mockingbird.
“I’m in business.” Ruby thrust the flyer at Flora.
“Hey, this is a really good idea,” said her sister after she’d read it. “Very practical. And, um, entrepreneurial. Are you sure you don’t want to embellish the ad a little more, though? You know, draw —”
“No!” screeched Ruby. “I’m done. Except for the money part. I have to talk to Min about that.”
An hour later, her fee decided on and seven flyers (complete with a single star in each corner) printed out on Min’s computer, Ruby headed down her walk, ready to get her business rolling. She decided to start with the Morrises and walked briskly in their direction.
The Row Houses, an imposing granite structure built in the 1800s and consisting of eight attached and nearly identical homes, had once belonged to wealthy Camden Falls families, families who could afford maids and butlers and gardeners. The current families, to Ruby’s relief, did not employ maids or butlers or gardeners, which was exactly why they might need Ruby.
Ruby rang the Morrises’ bell, and could hear Lacey practicing her solo inside. I really ought to be practicing my own solos, she thought. (She had two — a tiny one like Lacey’s and a much longer one.) While she was at it, it couldn’t hurt to start practicing her even bigger solo for the Christmas concert.
Oh, well, thought Ruby. I have time.
The sound of the bell brought thundering feet to the door, which was flung open by Alyssa, the youngest Morris, proudly exclaiming, “I got here first!”
“Can you give this to your mom and dad?” Ruby asked, handing her one of the flyers. “It’s very important. I’ve gone into business.”
Alyssa took the flyer, silenced by the grandeur of Ruby’s announcement.
Ruby headed next door to the house that until recently had belonged to the Willets but now belonged to the Hamiltons. She hesitated before ringing the bell and then reminded herself that strange Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t there; Ruby would not have to face her. Was it okay to feel relieved that Mrs. Hamilton was in the hospital — a mental hospital? Probably not, but Ruby felt relieved anyway. And when Willow Hamilton, who was Flora’s new friend, opened the door, Ruby gave her a genuine smile. “Anything that needs doing, I can do it!” she proclaimed.
Ruby continued down the row. She handed a flyer to Margaret Malone, Dr. Malone’s older daughter, skipped her own house, and rang the bell of Olivia Walter. Olivia answered the door and took the flyer with interest. “Maybe I could pay you to do something about my brothers,” she said.
Mr. Pennington, who lived next to Olivia, wasn’t home, although Ruby could hear old Jacques barking on the other side of the door. She left a flyer under a rock on the front stoop and knocked at the Edwardses’.
“Ruby! Ruby! Good morning!” Robby Edwards exclaimed enthusiastically when he answered the door. “Look, I’m still in my pajamas! I don’t have to work at Sincerely Yours today, that’s why,” he added, as if Ruby had asked.
Robby, who was eighteen and had Down syndrome (and who was one of Ruby’s favorite people), worked at the store recently opened by Olivia Walter’s parents. Ruby handed him a flyer.
“What’s this?” asked Robby, squinting at it. “The Doer of Unpleasant Jobs? That’s you?”
“Yup,” said Ruby proudly. “I can do anything at all.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I need money.”
“Oh,” said Robby knowingly.
“So be sure to give that to your mom and dad.”
“Right-o,” Robby replied, and closed the door.
Ruby visited the last house in the row, the Fongs’, but no one answered the bell, so she slipped the flyer under a corner of their doormat.
Now all she had to do was sit back and wait for the phone to ring. Ruby would be rich in no time.
The car that was spinning its way from Camden Falls, Massachusetts, to New York City contained two suitcases, a car seat for an infant, and one person, the driver, Allie Read. Allie drove steadily. The car was silent. No music was playing and the radio was turned off. Allie needed to think, and she was glad for the quiet of the car — no distractions. No phone calls, no doorbells, no e-mail.
Allie wanted to be in New York already and wished she could will herself there, but she was also grateful for this small island of time in which to mull over the great change that was suddenly taking place in her life.
A baby on the way.
How long had Allie wished for this?
Years. She had wished for it for years. She had wished for it when she was a girl and wanted to be the mommy instead of the little sister, and she had wished for it when she and Paul had dreamed of their wedding and their life together afterward, and she had wished and wished for it, harder than ever, after Paul had left her.
A baby on the way.
That morning, Allie had tossed the two suitcases into the backseat of her car. One was full of her things — enough clothes for a week in Manhattan — and one was full of things for a baby — mostly for a baby girl, since she had once been so sure that she and Paul would adopt a girl from China. But the adoption process, Allie had learned quickly, could be long and complicated and unpredictable. She might still adopt a baby from China or some other country. Someday. But right now a baby in New York needed her.
The highway hummed along, spreading out before and behind Allie’s car, and she thought of the trip she had made to Camden Falls almost a year earlier. It had been her first trip back home in a very long time, and she had made it because Paul was suddenly gone. He had left her the way people leave in movies. She had woken up one morning to find his side of the bed empty. (This was not unusual since he liked to be at his office by eight o’clock, and Allie worked at home as a writer.) But that morning a note was pinned to his pillow. Actually pinned to it. Allie had imagined him rummaging through their drawers, searching for an elusive safety pin. The note had said simply: Allie, I won’t be coming back. I’ve known for a long time that things aren’t right between us. Sorry. Paul.
What on earth did that mean? Allie hadn’t known things weren’t right between them. Didn’t something like that deserve a discussion? A phone call at the very least? But there had been no discussion or phone call, only an e-mail later in the day saying that he would come by on Saturday to pack up his things, and that if Allie didn’t want to see him, she should arrange to be out of the apartment.
That particular Saturday was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Not long after Paul had collected his things (Allie decided not to speak to him and fled to Debbie and David’s apartment for the day), Allie had written to Min saying she wanted to come home for Christmas. To everyone’s surprise, including Allie’s, she hadn’t returned to New York for months. Christmas came and went, New Year’s Eve came and went, and Allie found that she had no interest in living in the old apartment in the city. Eventually, she sold the apartment, bought a house in Camden Falls, and the town in which she had grown up became her home again. And now it would be the town in which she would raise her own child.
A baby on the way.
Allie looked at her watch, looked at the speedometer, checked the gas gauge. Her thoughts turned to her conversation with Mrs. Prescott the previous evening. When Allie had recovered from her shock (“The birth parents chose me to adopt their baby?!”), she asked Mrs. Prescott question after question. Dozens of questions.
Which was why Allie was now reasonably sure that the baby would not in fact be born during the week that she could stay in New York, and that she would be returning to Camden Falls empty-handed. The baby would almost certainly come home later. And yet, Allie had packed a suitcase full of baby things, of lacy pink and yellow dresses and bonnets.
Allie smiled. “I hope the baby is a girl,” she said aloud. “Otherwise, I’ll have to buy an entire new wardrobe.” Which, of course, she would happily do. Boy or girl, Allie didn’t care. She just wanted to be a mom.
Allie drove past a green sign reading NEW YORK CITY — 24 MILES. She drew in a breath, felt her pulse quicken. She was excited, but she was also frightened, she realized. What if the baby was born premature
ly and there were complications? That could happen. That was why the doctors wanted to delay the birth. What if the birth parents decided to keep their baby? What if Allie brought the baby home to Camden Falls and found out that raising a child on her own was harder than she had thought it was going to be? She knew she would have lots of help, starting with Min and Flora and Ruby, but still …
Half an hour later, her heart now pounding, Allie crossed into Manhattan. She headed for the West Side Highway and drove past the familiar sights — the Hudson River, with its boats and barges, and Riverside Park, where she and Paul occasionally took Sunday morning walks (even though the park was far from their neighborhood in the West Village) and watched the children in the playgrounds and the dogs in the dog runs.
At 30th Street Allie turned east, drove to 7th Avenue, threaded her way south to 14th Street, and finally found a parking space just half a block from her friends’ apartment on 12th Street. Her old neighborhood. Allie unloaded her suitcases, locked the car, and fervently hoped she wouldn’t see Paul somewhere, his arm slung casually across another woman’s shoulders, their heads bent in discussion.
She lugged the suitcases to the entrance of David and Debbie’s apartment building and was cheered to see that Shef was on duty at the front desk.
“Good afternoon!” he greeted her. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“Hi, Shef.” Allie smiled. “It’s nice to see you. Did Debbie and David tell you I’ll be using their apartment this week?”
In answer, Shef pulled a set of keys out of the desk drawer and held them aloft. “Everything’s ready for you. Let me know if you have any problems. Do you want a cart for your luggage?” He handed her the keys.
Ten minutes later, Allie walked breathlessly through the door of the apartment that she hadn’t seen in a year. She wanted to walk through it slowly, to look at the view from each window, but instead she pulled her cell phone from her purse and checked it for messages. Not a single one. Even so, she called Mrs. Prescott. “Any word?” she asked, knowing what the answer would be.