Baby-Sitters' Haunted House

by Ann M. Martin

  Mrs. Marshall liked the plan. “But I won’t have time to decorate Nina’s bike and the stroller,” she told Jessi.

  “That’s all right,” Jessi said. “I’ll pick up crepe paper and streamers before I come over in the morning.”

  “I have about a dozen American flags left over from a July Fourth party,” Mrs. Marshall offered. “You could use those.”

  After Jessi called and told me this, I phoned Logan and asked him if he could help us during Celebrate America! At first he sounded grumpy, as if he didn’t want to talk to me about anything. But after I told him we were putting the kids in the parade, Logan sounded friendlier. In the end, he came through and said he’d help us. Since my dad was going to work with me, I asked Logan to call Jessi and see what he could do to help her.

  When Jessi and I talked on the phone later, she told me that Logan was going to pick up the Braddock kids (and that Becca was going with them instead of her).

  We decided to meet in front of the town hall. I spent the next two hours making our signs. It was very late when I finally went to bed.

  The next morning my group was the first one at the town hall. I saw Kristy’s brother Sam riding his unicycle around the town green and motioned to him.

  “I don’t know how I did it,” I told Jessi when she and her group arrived a few minutes later, “but somehow I convinced Sam to let me decorate his unicycle with red, white, and blue crepe paper. And to carry our lead sign.”

  When I looked around at our fifteen kids, it was hard to believe we’d been so nervous about Celebrate America! All the kids were sticking together and happy about the parade.

  And Mr. Braddock videotaped us, which was great because I wanted Kristy to see how Sam looked. He held our lead sign up high as he wove down the street on his unicycle. The sign read:

  BSC KIDS ON WHEELS

  Our closing signs were pinned to Vanessa’s and Becca’s shirts. They said:

  KEEP THE GOOD TIMES ROLLING

  After the parade, everyone headed to the ballfield for an all-American picnic and some games. The fire department had set up a big barbecue pit and were selling hot dogs (very American) and grilled chicken. There were also potato salad, soda pop, apple pie, and ice cream. What a feast! We put two big picnic tables together for our group and stuck our signs in between them.

  After lunch the kids participated in the games and arts-and-crafts activities. The highlights of the afternoon included Jackie Rodowsky winning the sack race and Matt coming in first in an egg-in-spoon race.

  But the highlight of the highlights was that so many people sought out Jessi and me to say thank you to the BSC. They weren’t just saying thank you for being in the Celebrate America! parade, but for all the good work the BSC does. Even my mother congratulated us, and thanked me for taking care of my brothers and sisters so she could work in the make-your-own kite booth.

  That night Jessi and I held a mini-BSC sleepover at her house. We kicked back, relaxed, and celebrated!

  “Today’s the parade, today’s the parade,” Andrew chanted.

  “Andrew, you stepped on me,” complained Karen.

  I opened my eyes and looked around. Karen, Jill, Martha, Dawn, Kristy, and I had all slept on the floor in Mary Anne’s room. Andrew was trying, unsuccessfully, to walk between us. He plopped down on my stomach. “Is my mommy home yet?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I shifted him off of me so I could get up and look out the window. The only signs of the storm were a couple of broken tree limbs. It was a clear, sunshiny day, perfect for a Founders’ Day parade and carnival. But first, I remembered with a shudder, we had to deal with the Coopers — who weren’t even really the Coopers. And we couldn’t do that until Mr. and Mrs. Menders came home.

  I was thinking about the complicated story we had to tell the Menderses when I saw their station wagon pull into the drive. “They’re here!” I shouted to the others.

  We ran down the stairs and out the front door to greet them, and the Engles.

  “Well, well,” Mrs. Menders exclaimed. “I’ve never in my life had such a greeting!”

  There was a lot of hugging and kissing and talking about the storm. Then we went into the house for breakfast.

  Lionel and Jason announced that they were going to play softball but would be home for lunch and the parade. Before they left, Lionel whispered to me that they wouldn’t be part of our float. “We have other plans,” he said mysteriously.

  Then Jill told her parents that she and Martha were going to a swim team practice, and that they didn’t need a baby-sitter. “I can keep an eye on Martha,” she explained.

  When Kristy was absolutely sure that neither of the Coopers was around, she asked Mr. and Mrs. Menders if we could have a private meeting with them in the front parlor.

  When we were all seated, Kristy used her most businesslike tone to start the meeting. “This will come as a shock to you,” she began, “but we have evidence that the Coopers aren’t who they say they are.”

  Over the next half hour we laid out all that we’d learned about the Coopers.

  We described how they’d tried to convince us and the children that the mansion was haunted.

  Kristy told them about what the Coopers planned to do to make life in the mansion miserable — and dangerous — for everyone.

  I showed them the photo of their Randolph ancestor and my photocopy of it with the added beard and mustache.

  Dawn reported that not only had she heard “Mrs. Cooper” speak, but that the woman had a Scottish accent. “So the reason she pretended she couldn’t speak,” I added, “was because she didn’t want anyone to know she was from Scotland.”

  “Where are the Coop — I mean the Randolphs — now?” Mrs. Menders asked. She looked worried.

  “They said they were going to buy groceries,” Mary Anne answered.

  “Well, that gives us some time to decide how to handle this situation,” Mr. Menders said. He looked grim and determined.

  “You girls were right not to let on to the Coopers that you suspected them,” Mrs. Menders added. “Keep it up a bit longer. Go ahead with the float . . . and have fun. We’ll take care of the Coopers.”

  We stood up. “I’m most grateful to you,” Mr. Menders said. “I thought we were engaging baby-sitters. I didn’t realize you were detectives, too.”

  Outside, we found Georgio’s truck parked next to the shed. He and Seth were carrying the plywood pieces we’d painted from the shed to the truck. Georgio flashed me a big grin. While we worked on the float I brought Georgio up-to-date on all that had happened during the storm.

  It was a fun morning. I liked being with Georgio more than any guy I’d ever been around, and I loved building the float with him.

  While we were working, we kept an eye out for the “Coopers,” but they didn’t show up.

  After awhile Mrs. Menders asked Georgio and me to come with her to inspect the “Coopers’ ” rooms.

  It didn’t take us long to figure out that the “Coopers” had moved out. Except for the white gown, the drawers and closets were empty.

  “They must have known we’d figured out what they were doing,” I said. “And that we’d tell you about it.”

  “Which means you and the kids were in more danger than we realized,” Georgio put in.

  Mrs. Menders shuddered.

  I noticed a piece of spiral notebook paper on the desk. I handed it to Mrs. Menders. “They left you a note,” I said. She read it aloud.

  “What will happen now?” I asked Mrs. Menders.

  “My husband is at the police station. I’ll call there with this update. I expect the police will check the airports and see if they can stop the Coopers before they leave the country. But you shouldn’t worry about it. We want you to have a fabulous time for the rest of your visit with us. Especially today.”

  At lunchtime we gathered on the veranda for a make-your-own sandwich meal. Mr. and Mrs. Menders brought out a basket of bread and platters of mea
ts, cheeses, and vegetables. Georgio was invited to eat with us. We were all excited about the parade, but the Menders kids seemed to be the most excited.

  When we’d sat down with our sandwiches, Lionel and Jason stood up and simultaneously took off their denim shirts, exposing T-shirts underneath that read The Locals.

  “It’s our team name,” Jason said proudly. “Lionel talked the theater into sponsoring us. All the guys on the team have shirts just like these. And we’re marching in the parade. We want everyone to know who we are, because we’re going to win the championship. Aren’t we, Lionel?”

  “You bet,” Lionel answered.

  We cheered. Mr. and Mrs. Menders were smiling proudly at their sons.

  After lunch Georgio went to the cottage to clean up and dress for the parade. The rest of us went to our rooms to don our costumes. I waited until I heard everyone else go downstairs before I left my room. Holding up the skirt of the floor-length gown so I wouldn’t trip, I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. Then, using the key Georgio had given me, I opened a door to another shorter flight of stairs. I climbed to the top, opened the door, and stepped out onto the widow’s walk. My white satin gown shimmered in the bright sunlight.

  The view of the sea from that height was so vast and beautiful it took my breath away. I remembered what the woman at the historical society had told Mary Anne about Mary Randolph. “I expect Mary Randolph grieved for her husband. Perhaps she even took to the widow’s walk now and again.” And when she did, I thought, she looked out at the sea that killed her husband and became his grave.

  I looked toward the ground and saw the three-dimensional replica of the widow’s walk that we’d mounted on the pickup truck. Everyone but me was gathered around it.

  My friends looked outrageously elegant in their gowns. Kristy had on a red gown and Dawn was in the blue velvet one. Mary Anne wore the yellow gown with the smocking she had admired. The three of them would stand with me on the float.

  Georgio was going to drive the float. He was wearing a Union Army uniform. And Andrew — in a sailor suit and carrying the antique toy boat he loved so much — would stand on the float with us baby-sitters. Jill, Martha, and Karen were dressed in party dresses we’d found in an attic trunk. They would walk in front of the float carrying our sign.

  I was surprised that no one had discovered me standing on the widow’s walk yet. I was about to shout, “Reginald,” to get their attention, when Jill looked up and spotted me.

  “Look! It’s her! The ghost!” Jill screamed.

  “It’s the Claudia ghost!” Dawn yelled.

  Everyone was looking up at the widow’s walk. I waved. They cheered and waved back.

  And that’s what being in the parade was like. We waved to the people along the route and they cheered and waved back to us. They loved our sign.

  After the parade, we returned to the mansion to change from our costumes into the outfits we’d wear for the carnival. Georgio was going to pick me up at seven.

  I think I drove Dawn crazy while we were changing. Every time either one of us said something nice about Georgio, I’d add, “Do you think he’s too old for me?” Dawn reminded me about her experience with an older guy named Travis. We agreed that Georgio was a lot nicer than Travis, who had thought he could make Dawn over into his idea of what a girlfriend should be. Still, Georgio was older than Travis.

  During the carnival I successfully put the age difference between me and Georgio out of my mind — at first. We rode the Ferris wheel; tossed rings at bottles; ate hot dogs, french fries, and cotton candy; threw darts; and rode the Ferris wheel again. As we were going up on the Ferris wheel for the second time, I really thought that maybe Georgio could be my boyfriend even though we live hundreds of miles apart. We could write letters, talk on the phone, and visit one another.

  Our car stopped at the top. Georgio took my hand in his and said, “Claudia, I’d like you to come to homecoming weekend at my college. It’s in October. There’s a plane you can take to the airport near school — I already checked. You don’t have to answer now. But I want you to promise you’ll think about it.”

  I promised. It wasn’t a hard promise to keep. There was a lot to think about. How could I take a plane to Maine to be with a college student for a weekend when I was only thirteen years old? Besides the fact that my parents would never in a hundred million years let me, there was also the fact that Georgio thought I was sixteen!

  I thought of Dawn’s disastrous fling with Travis. And Stacey’s doomed crush on a teacher. But, still, I did love being with Georgio. How could that be wrong?

  When the Ferris wheel came to a stop, Mary Anne and Kristy were waiting for us. Kristy said she thought she’d seen Charles Randolph (alias Elton Cooper) near the merry-go-round. “And I think I saw Margaret Cooper,” Mary Anne said in a frightened, trembling voice.

  “Where did you see her?” I asked Mary Anne.

  “Right here. Near the Ferris wheel.”

  So maybe they hadn’t gone away. Maybe they were still in Reese and trying to catch us with our guard down. What if Mrs. Cooper had been trying to interfere with the Ferris wheel to cause an accident? We spent the rest of the night looking for the Coopers at the carnival, and taking turns keeping an eye on the machines that ran the rides.

  The mystery might not be over.

  At breakfast on Sunday morning I found Mrs. Menders and Mary Anne sitting at the table on the veranda. Mr. and Mrs. Menders had been out late the night before, so there hadn’t been a chance to tell them about our possible sighting of Margaret Randolph. “Kristy and Dawn are making breakfast,” Mary Anne told me. “You and I are on cleanup duty.”

  I looked over her shoulder and saw that she and Mrs. Menders were making up a schedule of who would do what chores during our last few days in Reese. I was glad to see that they were including Karen and Andrew and the Menders children on the list.

  “But this is still vacation,” Mrs. Menders said. “Everyone should relax and have fun.”

  I hated to spoil her mood, but I had to tell her that we thought we’d seen Charles Randolph and his wife at the carnival.

  Mrs. Menders told me that I must have been mistaken. “Charles and Margaret Randolph are already back in Scotland,” she said. “We just received a call from the police saying the Randolphs left the country on a late flight from Boston.”

  “What are you going to do about them?” I asked.

  “We may not do anything,” Mrs. Menders answered. “There aren’t really any charges we can file. Unless they bother us again.”

  * * *

  We had a ball those last few days in Reese. With the adults around more, and the Menders kids taking care of one another, there were long stretches of time when we sitters didn’t have even one kid to sit for. That left plenty of time for a thorough search of the attic for the treasure.

  We didn’t find a chest of gold coins and jewels. So we told the Menderses the story of what Mr. Menders’s uncle had said on his deathbed about the treasure in his attic.

  “I think we have a big enough treasure in inheriting this wonderful property as our home,” Mr. Menders said. “Perhaps that’s what Uncle Randolph meant. That the estate was his treasure and he wished he could take it with him in death.”

  I thought that was an interesting idea, but I wasn’t sure I agreed. I had this nagging feeling there was a treasure we’d missed. I told myself that I shouldn’t expect to solve the “Mystery of the Hidden Treasure,” but be satisfied that we’d survived, and solved, the “Mystery of the Haunted House.”

  Dear Georgio:

  Thanks a lot for your great letter. I miss seeing you every day. I have something important to tell you. I’m thirteen years old. When you guessed I was sixteen I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry. I know you said you have friends all different ages. But six years is just too big a difference between us. For example, I can’t go to homecoming weekend. My parents wouldn’t let me. Besides, I’d feel out of place with all
those college students.

  Maybe when we’re both older six years won’t be such a big deal. Meanwhile, I hope I can be one of your friends who happens to be a girl.

  Please write again soon.

  Claudia

  P.S.

  I had a wonderful time with you in Reese, especially at the carnival.

  When our Reese vacation was over, I still had to write my summer composition for Mrs. Hall. I reread our Reese notebook and thought about how to organize all that had happened to us in Reese. In those ten days I had acquired an awful lot to write about.

  I decided to start at the beginning, with our first night in the Randolph mansion, and then to let the story unfold. I was nervous before I started writing, but once I began it was easier than I had thought it would be. I typed the second draft of my paper on Janine’s computer and used the spellcheck. Then I gave my paper a title — THE MYSTERY OF THE HAUNTED HOUSE — included my drawings of the mansion, and turned it in.

  Guess what? I got an A!

  The author gratefully acknowledges Jeanne Betancourt for her help in preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

  There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.)In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.