The Secret Book Club

by Ann M. Martin

  “But —” said Flora.

  “Wait,” said Olivia. “I know what you’re going to say, or I think I do — that that would never happen, we’re friends forever, blah, blah, blah. But I still felt left out. So … I made a decision: I’m going to give a party of my own. And I’m going to invite Tanya and the girls who went to her party, and you, too, Ruby. I just want to show Tanya that we can all be friends, that she doesn’t have to leave me out. I already talked to Mom and Dad about this and they said I could have the party at Sincerely Yours. I have no idea how it’s going to go. I don’t know anything about parties, really. But I’m going to try this.”

  Olivia stood up then. “I have something in my pocket, too,” she said, smiling at Nikki. “And we have to go back to the post office.” Olivia reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of envelopes. “The invitations,” she said. “All ready to be mailed.”

  Ruby saw that Olivia’s hands were shaking.

  The girls crossed the street to the post office, and Olivia dropped the invitations in the mailbox by the door. “Oh, boy,” said Olivia under her breath, and Flora squeezed her hand.

  Flora, Olivia, and Nikki then turned to Ruby. “Okay,” Flora said, raising her eyebrows. “You’re the last one.”

  Ruby was uncharacteristically quiet. Her face began to grow red.

  “Come on. What is it, O Sister Without Fears?”

  “Well,” said Ruby, staring off down Main Street, “we have to go home. And we have to go to your room, Flora.”

  “Why —”

  “No questions,” said Ruby. “Let’s just go.”

  So Ruby, Flora, Olivia, and Nikki walked back to Aiken Avenue, back to the Row Houses, and along the walk to the fourth one from the left. Ruby led the way upstairs. She stepped into Flora’s room and said, “Where’s Mom’s diary?”

  “Mom’s diary?” Flora repeated. When Ruby didn’t answer her, she opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and pulled out the notebook. “I keep it here now,” she said.

  Ruby reached for it. “I’m going to read this,” she announced.

  “I thought you didn’t care about it,” said Flora. She remembered the day she had discovered the old notebook in a dark recess of her wardrobe and realized it was a diary her mother had kept decades earlier. Flora had opened the notebook and begun to read it at once, but Ruby had seemed uninterested and hadn’t asked to see it again.

  “No,” said Ruby quietly, “I never said that.”

  “I guess that’s true,” said Flora thoughtfully. She sat on the bed next to her sister. “What’s this about, Ruby? Tell us.”

  “I didn’t want to read the diary because … I thought it would hurt too much. I don’t see how you can read it, Flora. You think you’re not a brave person, but I think you do brave things all the time, and reading the diary is one of them. I can’t imagine what it will feel like to see Mom’s handwriting, and to hear her voice in the words, but I’m going to read the diary now. Some of it, anyway.”

  “Do you want us to leave you alone?” asked Flora.

  Ruby hesitated. “Yes,” she said.

  Flora, Olivia, and Nikki edged toward the hallway. Flora almost asked Ruby whether she was sure about her decision, then changed her mind and closed the door quietly behind her, leaving Ruby curled on Flora’s bed.

  Ruby opened the notebook and found herself thrust into the twelfth year of her mother’s life. She read about her mother’s friends and her crushes on boys, about her longings and frustrations. She heard her mother’s voice and found that she didn’t feel sad after all; she felt comforted. Maybe this was why Flora turned so often to the diary.

  Twenty minutes later, Ruby opened Flora’s door and found her sister and friends across the hall in her room. She joined them on the bed.

  “Are you okay?” asked Flora.

  The diary lay in Ruby’s lap. “Can I keep this in my room for a while?” she asked.

  Flora nodded. “We’ll share it.”

  “Let’s get something to eat,” Ruby suggested.

  “This has been a very thought-provoking day,” said Olivia, stretching.

  “I think it might be my favorite Saturday so far,” added Nikki.

  The girls stood up. They were making their way down the stairs to the kitchen when Flora suddenly shouted, “I held a snake!”

  The first time Flora had visited Three Oaks was on a chilly, dreary day in December, and her impression of the retirement community, as Mr. Willet drove her, Ruby, Min, and Mr. Pennington past the buildings, had not been favorable. Three Oaks, she thought then, was a place of dull colors and blank walls.

  “Remember the first time we came here?” Flora now asked Min as her grandmother circled the visitors’ parking lot.

  “I do,” said Min.

  “I didn’t like it. Not at first.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “But then we went inside and everything was different.”

  “And we only saw one wing,” Min reminded her. “The wing Mary Lou was going to move to. We didn’t even see the apartments where the other residents live.”

  “Min? Do we have time to visit Mrs. Willet before we start the class?”

  Flora’s grandmother glanced at her watch. “If it’s a very quick visit, honey.”

  “Is Mr. Willet going to come to our class?”

  “Yes. He’s visiting Mary Lou now, but then he’ll join us.”

  “Mr. Willet spends more and more time with Mrs. Willet, doesn’t he?”

  “He certainly does.”

  “How long have the Willets been married? Do you know?”

  “Nearly sixty years.”

  “Sixty years!” exclaimed Flora. “How long were you married, Min?”

  “A long time. But not as long as the Willets.”

  Min pulled into a parking space, and she and Flora climbed out of the car and opened the trunk. Flora eyed the carton she had stowed there. “I hope everyone likes the project we chose for our first class.”

  Min had come up with the idea of making glasses cases that could be embellished with embroidery, buttons, beads, or a combination of the three. “I hope so, too,” she said. “I think it’s a good first project because it will work for beginners or for people with more advanced skills.”

  Flora carried the box across the parking lot, following Min to the main building. The front door slid open automatically, and Flora and her grandmother found themselves in a cheerful, airy lobby with a reception desk and, next to it, a table on which sat a cage holding a small blue-and-white bird. On the wall beside the cage was a sign that read, HI, I’M WOODY THE THREE OAKS PARAKEET. PLEASE TALK TO ME, BUT DO NOT PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY CAGE!

  While Min spoke with the receptionist, Flora set the box on the floor and looked around the lobby. The room was large, with a high ceiling, in the middle of which was a skylight. Warm sun shone through the skylight, its rays enveloping the couches below in a soft glow. The lobby was quiet, except for Woody’s twittering, and Flora felt a sense of calm.

  A woman riding a motorized cart handed a sheaf of papers to the receptionist, then continued on her way. A man who reminded Flora of Mr. Willet walked by, talking earnestly to an elderly couple. “This is the main building,” he was saying. “The pharmacy is down that way, and so is the wing for people with Alzheimer’s. Over here is the coffee shop. Let’s stop in and have a cup of tea.”

  Flora watched them walk toward a set of glass doors, and she heard the woman say, “My goodness. They have everything here, don’t they?”

  “Flora?” said Min. “Let’s have a quick visit with Mary Lou. Mr. Willet is on his way to meet us. After we see Mary Lou, he’ll take us to the activities room and we’ll set up. You can leave the box here at the desk for now.”

  Moments later, a smiling Mr. Willet waved to Min and Flora as he strode through the hallway. “Hello there!” he said. “Everyone is very excited about the class. I know it’s going to be wonderful. But come with me first. I’ll
take you to Mary Lou.”

  Flora saw Mrs. Willet long before Mrs. Willet realized she had visitors. She was sitting in a wheelchair on a shaded terrace with several other people, also in wheelchairs, most of them dozing in the heavy air.

  “Mary Lou?” said Min, standing directly in front of her old friend. “Hi. It’s Min Read. From the Row Houses. I brought Flora with me.”

  Slowly, Mary Lou Willet raised her head and focused her eyes on her visitors. But she didn’t smile. Flora thought her face looked as if it were made of stone.

  “It’s Min and Flora,” said Min again.

  Flora noticed several stains on Mrs. Willet’s blouse, a scattering of crumbs in her lap.

  “FloraFloraFlora,” said Mrs. Willet at last. “Bumbumbumbumbum.” Her head dropped and her hands began working busily, picking at a button on her blouse.

  “This isn’t one of her better days,” Mr. Willet whispered to Min and Flora. He turned to his wife. “Did you have a good morning, honey? It’s nice to be out in the sunshine, isn’t it?”

  The old hands worried the button.

  “Mrs. Willet,” said Flora timidly, “we came to teach a class. A sewing class. We’re going to make cases for eyeglasses.”

  “Bumbumbumbumbumbumbumbum.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Willet, “I suppose we might as well go on to the activities room, but I know Mary Lou enjoyed your visit.”

  Flora watched as Min leaned down to kiss Mrs. Willet’s soft cheek. “Good-bye, Mary Lou. I’ll come back soon,” she said.

  Flora leaned down, too, and put her hands over Mrs. Willet’s busy ones. The hands grew still. “It was nice to see you,” said Flora. “I’ll come back soon, too.”

  “Bye,” said Mrs. Willet.

  And Mr. Willet beamed at his wife.

  The activities room was large and sunny and full of supplies and works in progress.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Flora. “This is the best art room ever! It’s like the art room at school times ten.”

  Mr. Willet laughed. “As you can tell, all kinds of classes are held here. There are classes in sculpture and pottery and painting and woodcarving. Oh, and quilting.” He pointed to a corner of the room where a large half-finished quilt was stretched across a frame.

  Flora saw cupboards spilling over with paintbrushes and paints and ink and clay and papers and beads and rags and cleaners and tools. Tables and chairs were placed haphazardly around the room.

  “All right,” said Mr. Willet. “Nine people signed up for the class. Let’s move some of the tables together to make one big one. We’ll put the supplies in the middle. Does that sound all right, Min?”

  “Perfect,” she replied.

  Flora was emptying the carton, setting out fabric and a stack of instructions, when the first student entered the room. He was a tall man, very thin, and he introduced himself as Mr. Selden.

  “He’s ninety-two years old,” Mr. Willet whispered to Min and Flora.

  “And my hearing is as sharp as ever,” he said, and everyone laughed.

  The people who gathered for the class were nothing like what Flora had imagined. They were lively and funny and they told wonderful stories. One woman had been a doctor and had practiced all over the world. Another had been a violinist and had played with orchestras in Los Angeles and Chicago. “Once,” she said, “I met Leonard Bernstein.” Mr. Selden was a writer. “But I never wrote any books for children,” he said to Flora. “Although I did write about a dog once. You might like that book.” There were a husband and wife who told Flora about their recent trip to China. “We plan to go back next year,” the woman added.

  When the introductions were over, Min stood and faced the students. “Welcome to ‘And Sew On and Sew Forth,’ the first of three classes my granddaughter and I will be teaching,” she said. “Before we begin, please tell me how many of you would say that you have more than beginning sewing skills.” To Flora’s surprise, all of the students, including Mr. Willet, raised their hands.

  And later, after Flora had handed around the instructions and the pattern for the case that Min had drawn up, the students began the project immediately.

  “I don’t think we have anything to teach you!” exclaimed Min as nine pairs of hands busied themselves cutting and measuring, matching fabrics, and selecting embroidery floss.

  “Oh, yes, you do,” said the woman who had met Leonard Bernstein. “I only know how to do basic embroidery. I want you to teach me how to make a bullion knot.”

  “And I’ve never made anything like the silk flower you mention here,” said Mr. Selden, pointing to the instruction sheet. “I’ll need help with that.”

  The two hours passed quickly. Flora flew from one student to another, giving advice, demonstrating sewing tricks, and occasionally calling on Min for help. At one point, Flora glanced into the hallway and saw Nikki’s mother. “Hi, Mrs. Sherman!” she called.

  Mrs. Sherman grinned. “Hello, Flora. I’m in a rush,” she replied. “But it’s nice to see you.” She hurried on.

  “You know Mrs. Sherman?” asked Mr. Selden. When Flora nodded, he said, “She’s a wonderful addition to our community.” Flora smiled, thinking how happy this bit of news would make Nikki.

  At the end of the class, not one of the glasses cases had been completed, but they were mostly finished and everyone was eager to return to their apartments to get back to work.

  “We’ll see you on Wednesday,” said Min as she and Flora gathered up the supplies. “Get ready to learn basic paper piecing.”

  “Are you going home now?” Flora asked Mr. Willet.

  “No. Not yet. I’m going to spend some more time with Mary Lou.” He glanced at Min and cleared his throat. “I guess there’s no good time to tell you this,” he went on. “I’ve decided to move to Three Oaks as soon as an apartment becomes available. I’m about to put my house on the market.”

  “Oh, Bill,” said Min. “Really? I understand, of course, but, oh, we’re going to miss you.”

  “And I’ll miss you, all of you. And my home.” He spread his hands before him. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

  “Getting old isn’t easy, is it?” asked Min.

  “No. But, as my father used to say, it beats the alternative.”

  Min and Mr. Willet both smiled, but their smiles were so sad that Flora thought she might cry.

  Every now and then, Olivia Walter liked to have a conversation with herself. She usually did this in bed, and on those evenings when she felt she needed a conversation, she said good night to her family unusually early. Then she would lie on her back in her pajamas, gaze into the gathering darkness, and imagine two Olivias, dressed identically, as if she had a twin. Also, she would imagine that they were the only two people in the world. Just Olivia and Olivia. And nothing mattered but their conversation.

  On a Wednesday night in mid-August, Olivia decided it was time for a conversation. So she said good night to her mother and her father, to Henry and Jack, and retired to her room. She peeked in the hamster cage and said good night to Sandy. Then she climbed into bed and turned out her light. She squinted at the ceiling, and soon the two Olivias were before her.

  “Look,” said one Olivia. “It’s just after eight-thirty, and the only light in here is from street lamps. A month ago, there would still have been the last little bit of daylight now. The days are getting shorter.”

  “Don’t remind me,” replied the second Olivia. “A month from now, we’ll be back in school.”

  “The big school.”

  “With Tanya.”

  “I’ll bet Tanya never goes to bed early in order to have a conversation with herself.”

  “Maybe Tanya isn’t a very creative person.”

  “Maybe Tanya is a very mature person.”

  “I could be mature.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Can you believe that everyone has replied to the party invitations except Tanya?”

 
“What do you think that means?”

  “I hope it means that the Rhodeses are away and Tanya hasn’t gotten the invitation yet.”

  “It probably does. Mom and Dad said August is the biggest vacation month of the summer.”

  “Everyone else is coming to the party.”

  “Wouldn’t it be … what’s the word? Ironic? Wouldn’t it be ironic if Tanya was the only one who couldn’t come to the party? Tanya was the whole reason for the party.”

  “Maybe Tanya is just rude and didn’t bother to RSVP.”

  “I thought of that.”

  “I have another worry: What if the other guests are playing a trick? Maybe they said they were going to come, but they don’t really intend to. What a joke it would be if I planned this big party and the only guests were Nikki, Ruby, and Flora.”

  “Try to think about something more pleasant.”

  “Hmm. The vegetable garden.”

  “Yes! The vegetable garden. Mr. Pennington said the four of us should be very proud of ourselves.”

  “I’m proud of us.”

  “Me, too. I didn’t really think we’d be able to make a donation to the food bank with our own vegetables. But we did.”

  “Tomatoes and green peppers. The people at the food bank looked pretty happy to see us.”

  “Mr. Pennington said that in the fall we’ll have a bumper crop of squash.”

  “I’ve never been sure what a bumper crop is, exactly.”

  “Remember to look it up tomorrow.”

  “Here’s another happy thing: Nelson Day.”

  “Ruby’s big idea. It is exciting. There’s going to be a street fair on Main Street again, like last spring.”

  “The proceeds from the sidewalk sale will be donated to the Nelsons.”

  “There are going to be food vendors, too.”

  “And balloon rides, but I think they’re going to be too expensive.”

  “I’m dying to ride in a hot air balloon. It must be so peaceful, floating around, looking down on everything. I’d be able to see Main Street from way up high.”