“Are these the children, ma’am?” one of the police officers asked.
“Yes, they are,” Miss Rutherford replied. “And thank you.”
As the men left, Miss Rutherford shot me a Look. I thought she was going to explode. “Miss Spier, if you ever —”
“It was my idea, Miss Rutherford,” Stacey spoke up.
“We had such an awful time!” Victoria exclaimed. “I mean, awesome!”
“Well,” Mrs. Rutherford replied, through gritted teeth, “we have much to discuss with the Kents. Let us go.”
She didn’t say one word on our trip to the United Nations.
George dropped us off in front of the building. Once inside, we were treated as if we were international spies. We had to go through metal detectors, sign papers, and answer questions before we could even reach the elevators. Kristy told one official that she was an ambassador from Stoneybrook, but he didn’t find that very funny.
Sir Charles and Lady Kent had offices in the same area of the building, but neither was in. At 5:02, we sat down in the waiting room of Lady Kent’s office.
At 5:27, we were still there.
Finally, Lady Kent burst in from the hallway. “Hello, darlings. Oh, you’re all so patient. Your father will be here presently, Victoria. Do come in.”
She led us into her inner office.
“Uh, Lady Kent,” Kristy said, “would you mind if I made a call to Stoneybrook from your phone?”
“Go right ahead,” Lady Kent replied.
As Kristy went off to make her check-up call to the BSC, Miss Rutherford cleared her throat. “Lady Kent, I do feel it my duty to inform you that —”
“Oh, Mother,” Victoria said, “we have had the most radical time. We’ve seen the coolest animals at the zoo, and the tree — wow!”
“Ahem,” Miss Rutherford interruped her, “as I was saying —”
“Hello-o-o-o, children!” Sir Charles said, strolling in, “how was our little excursion today?”
“Just the way grossest!” Victoria exclaimed.
“Coolest,” Stacey whispered.
Sir Charles’s face stiffened. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Oh, Father, it was, like, so amazing! I have never seen such a large Christmas tree. And the shops are grrrreat!”
“Do your pretzel-guy imitation, Vic,” Kristy called out, her palm over the receiver.
“Vic?” Lady Kent said.
“Get yer re-e-e-ed hot chess-nuts heah!” Victoria shouted.
Sir Charles’s smile had frozen. “My, I see we’ve picked up quite a bit of the … street argot, haven’t we?”
“Oh, and we saw so many restaurants!” Victoria barreled on. “When we drive back I’ll show them to you. I wouldn’t mind which one you took us to!”
Sir Charles and Lady Kent exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “Ah, I’m not sure why you had the impression we were joining you for supper, dear,” Sir Charles said.
Victoria’s smile vanished. “You’re not?”
“Well, much as we’d love to, it’s quite impossible,” Lady Kent added. “Your father and I will be in meetings, in preparation for our trip. As you know, we leave straight from the office tonight.”
“Which is why we were so eager to see you here, now,” Sir Charles said.
“Oh,” replied Victoria.
“Well, everything’s fine!” Kristy cheerfully announced, as she sat down on the carpet.
No one replied.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked. “Uh, I can pay you for the call.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lady Kent said.
She and Sir Charles kept asking Victoria questions, but boy, had Victoria’s mood changed. Her answers were mostly yeses and nos. Miss Rutherford did manage to mention that we’d all been separated at the Plaza, but the Kents seemed more angry at her than at Victoria.
When it was time to leave, Sir Charles said, “Eat at the finest restaurant you’ve seen, Victoria. French, Italian — whatever cuisine you choose! Now, come give us a kiss.”
We said our good-byes and left. Victoria was completely silent as we walked to the elevator.
Stacey, Kristy, and I exchanged a Look. None of us knew exactly what to say.
“Well, that was awfully nice of your father, wasn’t it?” Miss Rutherford finally said. “A nice French meal would be quite lovely, I think. After a day like today we could stand something quiet, civilized, elegant.”
“Where would you like to go, Victoria?” asked Stacey.
The elevator door opened and we all stepped in. “I believe I saw a Pizza Hut on the way here,” Victoria said. “I won’t go anywhere else.”
Zhoop. The door slid shut. You should have seen the look on Miss Rutherford’s face. (Stacey’s, too.) I don’t think Pizza Hut was what they’d had in mind.
“Sounds good to me,” Kristy chimed in.
“What’s street argot?” Victoria asked.
“Slang,” Miss Rutherford said. “I don’t think your parents approve.”
Let me tell you, after that tense scene, it was great to see good old George. He drove us to the Pizza Hut and waited at the curb. (We ended up taking him a few slices with onions.) Since the Kents weren’t coming, Stacey called to invite her dad.
You know what? He showed up ten minutes later in a cab! He actually paid for the meal, even though Victoria had her parents’ credit card.
Afterward, Mr. McGill rode with us to the American Museum of Natural History. The streets to the north and south of the museum were closed to traffic. There, we watched preparations for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
What a scene. If you think those balloons look huge on TV, floating over the crowd, you should see them spread out on the streets. Each one is the size of a house. They’re held in place with heavy netting. It takes a team of workers to tend each one. The helium is pumped in from enormous tanks, and the balloons rise, section by section.
Stacey’s dad bought us hot chocolate and tea from a nearby deli. As we sipped, all huddled together, we watched the Cat in the Hat lift slowly upward.
In the windows of the apartment building across the street, we could see families gathered together, looking down on the festivities. In the amber light of their living rooms, they all looked so warm and cozy. Just above the Cat in the Hat’s head, we caught sight of a little girl in pj’s, standing with her mom and dad and waving to us.
We waved back, until the cat’s hat blocked our view of them.
I looked down at Victoria. She was wiping her face with her coatsleeve. Her eyes were very red.
Stacey had noticed, too. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Victoria said, “Let’s go home now.”
Victoria was asleep when George pulled up to the curb in front of my house. Her head was nestled in Miss Rutherford’s lap.
“So, let me get this straight,” George whispered over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up here tomorrow morning at eight, and we’re meeting a nine o’clock flight at the airport.”
“Yes,” I whispered back. “Actually, we’re meeting two flights. My stepsister will be on one of them, but my stepmom doesn’t know about that. I told her that Miss Rutherford volunteered your services, but just to pick up Dad.”
“Why would Ursula do something generous like that?” George asked with a wink.
“Ahem,” Miss Rutherford said.
“I said it was out of gratitude for being invited for Thanksgiving — and for my last couple of weeks with Victoria.” I gave Miss Rutherford a glance. “I guess that’s stretching it, after what happened today.”
“You do strain my capacity for forgiveness,” Miss Rutherford said with a sigh. “But on the whole, I must admit I can’t imagine what I’d have done without you.”
Whoa. That was the nicest thing she’d ever said to me. “Well, good night. It was fun.”
“ ‘Night,” whispered George, Miss Rutherford, Stacey, and Kristy.
I blew Victoria a kiss. Sleeping, she looked
much happier than when she’d been awake. I felt so awful for her.
As I stepped out, Kristy gave me the high sign. “Good plan, too. For the airport pickup. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Pulling out a bag of souvenirs I’d bought, I shut the door gently behind me.
I checked my watch as I walked up my front lawn. Eleven fifty-one.
Yikes. I hadn’t realized it was that late. I hoped Sharon wasn’t too worried.
I let myself quietly in the front door. Sharon’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “I think that’s her now,” she was saying.
“Hi!” I called out.
“Mary Anne?” Sharon shouted. “Come on in. Your father’s on the phone.”
I rushed in and set down my souvenir collection — a small Macy’s balloon, a Planet Hollywood T-shirt, some Godiva chocolates, and about twenty postcards.
On the kitchen table I noticed a family photo album, open to pictures of Sharon’s and Dad’s wedding.
Still in my down coat, I took the phone from Sharon. “Hi, Dad! Oh, I can’t wait to see you! I’ll be picking up you and — I mean, you, in a limo!”
(Ugh. I almost said, you and Dawn.)
“Very spiffy,” Dad replied. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “You didn’t tell Sharon the secret yet, did you?”
“No. Uh, on our way home, I’ll tell you all about my trip to New York, okay?”
“Great. I’ll tell you all about the hotel conference room in Milwaukee. So you should have plenty of time.”
I laughed. “Great. See you at the airport.”
“You bet,” Dad replied. “I’ll be the fellow with the ear-to-ear grin. Love you, Mary Anne.”
“Love you, too.”
As I hung up, Sharon said, “Excited, huh?”
“Yup!” (I didn’t tell her the whole reason, of course.)
“Your dad is, too. You know what he told me? In a funny way, he likes long trips, because they remind him of how much he loves his family.”
“That’s so … corny,” I said with a giggle.
But you know who I was thinking about? Victoria. I wondered if her parents felt the way my dad did. I wondered if they had ear-to-ear grins when they returned from trips.
“So,” Sharon said, “you’re home awfully late. You must have had a good time.”
“I guess,” I said, taking off my coat. “But Victoria thought her parents were going to join us for dinner. You should have seen her face when they said they weren’t. And the worst part is, they’re flying overseas tonight, straight from New York.”
Sharon shook her head. “No wonder the poor kid is the way she is.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, so standoffish. So unable to make friends. She’s afraid of being close to anyone.”
“I don’t get it, Sharon. I mean, if she’s so lonely wouldn’t she want to make friends?”
“Sure. But put yourself in her shoes. What happens to all the people in her life, all the ones she loves?”
“Well, her parents fly away all the time,” I replied. “But she probably has friends and family in England.”
“Yes.” Sharon nodded. “And she’s here. How would you feel about all that if you were an eight-year-old?”
I thought a moment. When I was around eight, I grew very curious about my mom’s death. I had fears that everyone close to me was going to die. It was only a phase, but boy, was it painful. “You think she’s afraid she’ll always lose her loved ones? It’s kind of hard to imagine that strong little girl being scared.”
“She’s strong for a reason.” Sharon looked absently down at the photo album. “It’s funny, but I know how she feels. I guess I’m an expert on losing family members.” She winced. “Ugh, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. It’s just that, after it happens to you enough times, you blame yourself. As if you drove them away or something. If you don’t watch it, you start to be afraid of loving anyone. You think maybe that person will leave, too. And your heart will be broken all over again.”
I knew Sharon was talking about Victoria. But I had another feeling, too. “Do you feel that way about Dawn and Jeff?”
Sharon’s smile wavered. Her eyes grew moist. “Well, yes, I suppose. But I hope I haven’t seemed cold and standoffish to you, Mary Anne.”
“No!” I protested. “Just the opposite!”
“Yeah, I guess I’ve been kind of a nuisance lately.” Sharon laughed. “We all react differently to loss, Mary Anne. I suppose I tend to wallow in it. Looking at photo albums, trying to live in the past …”
I thought of the trip to the mall. I thought of all the ways that Sharon tried to fit me into Dawn’s mold.
I still wasn’t happy about it. I still wished she’d see me as me. But I wasn’t mad about it anymore.
When Sharon spoke again, her voice was low and subdued. “You know what, Mary Anne? If you were gone I’d do the same thing.”
“You would?”
Sharon nodded. “That’s the way I am with the people I love. I can’t help it.”
Hoo, boy. Forget it. My eyes just flooded up. I gave Sharon a great big hug.
The photo album slid off the kitchen table. It fell open to a page of photos from the wedding reception, with Dawn and me clowning around for the camera.
Sharon and I sat there, rocking slowly over the images, until our eyes were dry.
“Wait,” Sharon said. “Wait. If I want the turkey to be ready by noon, shouldn’t I put it in right now?”
I swallowed my last spoonful of Crispix cereal and wiped my mouth. “It’s pre-cooked, remember? All it needs is warming up.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?”
I had to ask it. I just had to. But if she said yes, I’d probably scream.
It was Thanksgiving morning, and I was about to be picked up for my trip to the airport. I was a wreck. My stomach was a tightly wound knot. I hadn’t realized how hard keeping a secret could be. Staying home was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Nahh,” Sharon said. “I know how much your dad is looking forward to seeing you. I can handle the rice and yams and health loaf.”
“Health loaf?” I exclaimed. “Why are you making that?”
Health loaf is Dawn’s favorite — some all-veggie kind of meatloaf substitute. Had Sharon figured out the secret? Had I said something by accident? Blurted it out in my sleep?
“Because it happens to be the one dish I make the best,” Sharon said with a laugh. “And I love it. Even if you don’t.”
I smiled. I nodded sweetly. I was not going to give away a thing.
I just hoped I wouldn’t barf up my Crispix from nervousness.
The limo arrived as I was clearing the table. “ ’Bye!” I shouted, grabbing my coat and running outside.
“ ’Bye!” Sharon answered.
George greeted me with a loud “Good morning,” and opened up the rear door of the limo.
Inside, Victoria was sitting all alone, watching a cartoon on the TV. I hadn’t known she’d be coming, but I was happy to see her.
“Hi, Vic,” I said.
She glared at me, then looked back at the TV. “Victoria, if you please.”
“Sorry.”
As the limo rolled away from the house, George said, “We’re not in the best mood today.”
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Fine,” Victoria said. “I could not wait to leave the house. Miss Rutherford is preparing herself for the party. Being with her would have been frightfully boring.”
“Well, then, I’m glad you decided to come along.”
“This will be frightfully boring, too,” Victoria said with a shrug. “I don’t know your father or your sister. But anything is better than being with that old fusspot.”
“Victoria, Miss Rutherford may have her drawbacks, but she does care about you.”
“Who does she think she is, my mother?” Victoria turned
from the TV to face me. Her eyes were red and her lower lip was quivering.
I had never seen her like this. “Victoria?”
“I hate Miss Rutherford! I hate hate hate her — all her rules and her loud voice and her frowning little face! And I hate you, too!”
I leaned over and turned off the TV. “Maybe we should talk —”
“Turn that back on!” she commanded. “You’re just like her! I hate you, do you understand? George, take me home this minute!”
“Who-o-oa, whoa, it’s okay.” I moved closer to her. “You know, your mom and dad will be back.”
Victoria crossed her arms defiantly and shrank away. “No, they won’t! They’re going to fly away forever. They hate me! They want to leave me with Miss Rutherford and … and you, in a strange house until I waste away like an ugly old gnome.”
I smiled. “A princess can never be an ugly old gnome, you know. I read it in a book.”
I could see Victoria’s scowl soften. I lifted my arm and gently put it around her.
Burying her face in my shoulder, she began to sob — huge sobs that made her shoulders rise and fall.
“I know how you must feel,” I said. “My dad is on a long trip, too.”
“You don’t know how I feel! At least your father is in this country. At least he comes home and stays there for a long time! At least he’s not always leaving you.”
I gave Victoria a tissue from a small pack I carry in my coat pocket. “I guess you want them to stay put for a while, huh?”
Victoria nodded. “Forever and ever. I wish they never had to go away on their silly jobs to those silly countries. I absolutely hate the United Nations!”
“Victoria, have you told your parents how you feel?” I asked.
“Don’t be daft. Of course not. I can’t.”
“Why not? What do you think will happen?”
Victoria shrugged. “They’ll be mad at me. I can’t have them mad at me, you know. What if they meet a quiet, nice girl in Brussels or Paris and decide to have her as a daughter?”
Suddenly it all hit me. Sharon had been right. Victoria really was afraid.
“Victoria, do your parents call when they’re traveling?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And bring you back gifts?”