Mary Anne and the Music

by Ann M. Martin

  The house that had once been so cramped and overflowing had become a palace. And if Buddy was any indication, the kids were thrilled with the addition. He could hardly contain himself as he showed us around.

  “Now we’ll enter the girl zone,” he said, holding his nose. “Better give me a cootie shot before we go in.”

  I gave him a little pinch. “There you go,” I said. “Though I don’t know if it’ll do any good, since a girl gave it to you.”

  “You’re not a girl,” he said. “You’re a baby-sitter. And almost a grown-up.”

  “Thanks … I think,” I said, laughing.

  Buddy led us to a closed door and knocked loudly. “Anybody home?” he asked. “Can we come in?”

  “Who’s there?” called a voice from inside. It sounded like Lindsey to me.

  “It’s me, Buddy.”

  “And all of us baby-sitters,” Kristy added.

  “Come on in,” said Lindsey, throwing the door open. “Welcome to our humble abode!”

  The room was large and full of light. There were three beds: one each for Lindsey, Suzi, and Madeleine. It was decorated simply, with lots of primary colors. Madeleine’s bedspread was yellow, Suzi’s was green, and Lindsey’s was red. Each of the girls had her own bureau and bookshelf, and there was a huge closet along one wall.

  “Terrific room,” said Abby.

  “I love it,” said Claudia.

  “And we have a secret door!” whispered Madeleine.

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Not too much of a secret anymore,” she said with a rueful smile. “I think Mad’s told every single person who’s come through on the tour.” She shrugged. “It’s still neat,” she said. “Want to see?” She showed us the secret hidey-hole built into the closet wall.

  “Neat,” said Kristy. “We’ll do our best to forget about it, so it’ll be a secret again.”

  “Now come see our room,” said Buddy, tugging on my hand. “The boys’ room rules!”

  He led us into the room he’ll be sharing with Taylor. It was another big, bright room, also decorated in primary colors. But the walls were already cluttered with posters of hockey stars, basketball players, and baseball heroes. The bureau tops were crammed with action figures, sports equipment, and assorted junk.

  “Isn’t it great?” asked Taylor, who was sitting on the floor, organizing a collection of LEGOs. Nicky Pike sat next to him, building a tower.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, meaning it. It wasn’t decorated to my taste, but I knew the boys would be as happy as clams in their new environment.

  “Kids!” called Mrs. DeWitt from downstairs. “Time to open presents!”

  “Yay!” yelled the kids. They ran out of their rooms, banging the doors and thundering down the stairs. We followed more sedately.

  Many of the guests had brought housewarming presents (though we hadn’t, since Mrs. DeWitt had specifically told us baby-sitters that our “presence” was our present), and they were piled high on the coffee table in the living room. Franklin, who’s good at organizing things, made sure that each kid had a turn to rip into the wrapping paper.

  The presents were awesome. There were posters and stuffed animals and stained-glass suncatchers for the windows. Dr. Johanssen gave the kids a huge easel with a blackboard on it for the playroom. The Kuhns’ present was extra towels for the bathrooms, and the Pikes had chipped in for two beautiful rag rugs. Best of all, Eddie had made gorgeous carved-wood signs for each room, with all the kids’ names on them.

  “Excellent,” said Buddy with satisfaction. He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by unwrapped presents and piles of discarded wrapping paper.

  Presents over, everyone went back to eating, drinking, and talking (the adults), and running, shouting, and goofing around (the kids). At one point, Kristy and I headed into the kitchen to fetch some more bottles of soda. That’s when I happened to look out the window.

  “Hey, I thought everything was all done,” I said. “What’s that truck doing there?”

  Kristy joined me at the window and took a look. “That’s odd,” she said.

  “What’s odd?” asked Buddy from behind us.

  “That big truck parked out in the yard,” I said.

  Buddy shrugged. “I’ll ask Eddie,” he said, running off to find his favorite new pal.

  In a few moments, he was back with Eddie. “See?” he asked.

  “Would you look at that,” said Eddie. “Guess I’ll have to move that truck out of the yard. Can’t leave trucks cluttering up the place, now, can I?” He reached into his pocket for the keys. “I may need some help backing out,” he told Buddy. “How about if you round up all the kids and bring them outside.”

  I was beginning to think something was up. Eddie had a certain twinkle in his eye.

  Buddy ran to find the other kids, and Eddie headed outside. Then, when everyone had gathered, he honked the horn three times — loudly — and backed up the truck. There, standing proudly in a spot that the truck had hidden, was the playhouse.

  “Whoa!” yelled Buddy, flinging his arms into the air as he ran toward the house. “Check it out!”

  He and the other kids converged on the playhouse. Eddie parked the truck in front of the house and came back to join them. In fact, everyone at the party piled out of the house to see what the noise was about.

  The playhouse looked perfect. Somehow, Eddie and his crew had managed to take it apart, carry it outside the shed, and put it back together so you’d never know what had happened. They’d even put up the artwork and hung the curtains. The kids swarmed all over the house, commenting on everything and shouting with happiness. Eddie just stood and watched, wearing a satisfied smile.

  Then I saw Suzi sidle up to him shyly. “Thanks, Eddie,” she said with her best smile as she slipped her hand into his. You could see that for the Barrett and DeWitt kids life was perfect.

  “Aaaughh!” I let out a mock-horrified scream and pretended to tear out my hair. I was glaring at the huge pile of clothes that covered my bed. Why is it so hard sometimes to find something to wear? I mean, basically, clothes were invented for one purpose: to cover us up and keep us warm. (Okay, so that’s two purposes. But you know what I mean.) So how did dressing for a party become so complex?

  My blue velvet dress is pretty, but I’d be way too hot in it. My yellow-checked sundress is a big favorite of Logan’s — and of mine — but it was starting to feel chilly in the evenings and my bare shoulders might freeze. Jeans were too informal. Ditto for overall shorts. But I didn’t want to feel overdressed, either. Granny and Pop-Pop’s surprise anniversary party was going to be a fun bash, not a stuffy affair.

  I threw open the door of my closet one more time, hoping that the perfect piece of clothing might materialize in there since I’d last looked. “Beam me up one not-too-hot, not-too-cool, not-too-dressy, not-too-sloppy outfit, Scotty!” I giggled to myself.

  I pulled out a floaty, flowered skirt and a short-sleeved white sweater. Logan says the skirt makes me look like a hippie, but I happen to like it. I held both items up in front of me and posed in front of the mirror. I didn’t mind what I saw, so I tossed the skirt and sweater on top of the pile on my bed as a definite maybe.

  It was Friday, a week after the addition-warming party at the Barrett-DeWitts’. Granny and Pop-Pop were back from their trip — Sharon and I had picked them up that morning — and their party was only hours away.

  The day before, we’d spent the morning doing everything we could to make sure that their house would be welcoming and comfortable, even though both Jim and Eddie still had work to finish. We’d vacuumed and scrubbed and dusted and polished and made beds. The basement was almost completely dry by then, so we’d returned all the pieces of salvaged furniture to their proper places. In the afternoon, Esther had come by with a beautiful quilt she’d found at a craft show. It was a present for Granny to replace the one that had been ruined in the flood. With Esther’s help we’d even done a little bit of weeding in the gar
den. And we’d managed to make the dug-up places in the yard — some for the plumbing and one for the “treasure” — look a little less raw.

  Finally, we cut some flowers and arranged them in vases. Then we hung up a big, colorful “Welcome Home” banner that Dad and I had made on the computer. The place looked terrific.

  “The place looks terrific!” That was the first thing Pop-Pop said as we pulled into the driveway. Granny didn’t say a thing, but I could see from the smile on her face that she was happy to be home.

  Both of them looked incredibly tan and rested. They’d had a great time on the cruise. On the way back from Manhattan, they couldn’t stop talking about the delicious food, the islands they’d visited, the people they’d met, the helpful crew. It sounded as if they’d had the best vacation ever. Still, they said they felt ready to come home. I sensed that they were apprehensive about how the house would look. That’s why I was happy to hear the relief in Pop-Pop’s voice when he realized that the house was still in one piece.

  Granny and Pop-Pop headed inside, while Sharon and I brought up the rear, carrying their luggage. “How about that!” said Pop-Pop when he saw the banner. “Isn’t that something.”

  “And look at the lovely flowers, dear,” said Granny. She turned to Sharon. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

  Sharon smiled. “Mary Anne and her friends helped a lot,” she said. “Why don’t we take a look downstairs so you can see how things are coming along? I think I hear Jim and Eddie down there.”

  Pop-Pop led the way. I had the feeling he was holding his breath, waiting to see how bad the damage was. Jim Prentice met us at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Welcome home,” he said. “I hope you had a good trip.”

  “It was wonderful,” said Granny.

  “Can you show us around, tell us what you’ve been working on?” asked Pop-Pop, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  “I’d be happy to,” said Jim. “Let’s see if Eddie can come along, too.” He called for Eddie, who joined us and was introduced in turn. Then he and Jim took Granny and Pop-Pop on a tour of the rooms, showing them all the work that had been done so far and describing what still had to be finished. Sharon and I followed.

  Pop-Pop listened carefully, nodding and saying, “Uh-huh” and “I see” as the men described the damage and the repairs. Granny was mostly concerned with the way things looked. “My goodness,” she kept saying. “I thought it would be much worse.” She loved the quilt Esther had brought over and thought the secondhand bureau we’d found was even nicer than the ruined one it had replaced.

  The hardest part about being with Granny and Pop-Pop was remembering not to spoil the surprise. The party was going to be held at our house, but as far as Granny and Pop-Pop knew, they were just coming over for a quiet family dinner. Sharon had invited them, saying she knew they wouldn’t feel like cooking on their first night back.

  You’d think it would be easy to keep from mentioning the party. Not true. I was the first one to slip when Granny asked me what time Sharon wanted them to arrive. “She said around six, is that right?”

  “No!” I said, a little too vehemently. “Six-thirty.” If Granny and Pop-Pop showed up too early, they’d arrive at the same time as the guests, and there’d be no surprise.

  Granny looked a little taken back. “Six-thirty’s fine,” she said, giving me an odd look.

  “It’s just — it’s just that I need some time after my BSC meeting,” I said lamely. “To, um, help Sharon with dinner.”

  Eddie was standing near me and Granny. He took advantage of the fact that her back was turned. He pointed at himself, then tapped his watch, then raised his eyebrows. “Six?” he mouthed. He was asking me what time he was supposed to arrive. (We’d invited the crews of workers. Even though Granny and Pop-Pop didn’t know them, we figured they were practically part of the family by now, after all the time they’d put in at the house.)

  I was nodding to Eddie when I noticed Pop-Pop, who had just come around the corner, staring at him. He must have thought that Eddie had lost his mind. Quickly, I changed my nod into a shrug as I exchanged bewildered glances with Pop-Pop. I tried to make my look project an “I have no idea what this guy is trying to say” kind of feeling.

  Sharon almost slipped as well when she begged Pop-Pop not to wear “those awful Bermuda shorts” that night. He couldn’t understand why it mattered what he wore, and he said he was tired of dressing for dinner every night on board the ship. But, fortunately, he let the matter slide, promising to make himself “presentable,” if it mattered so much to his daughter.

  Jim was the only one who kept it together, maintaining a professional attitude as he guided Pop-Pop through the basement, explaining every step of the repairs.

  Anyway, we managed to make it through the morning without spilling the beans. After a quick lunch (we’d stocked their fridge with the basics), Sharon and I headed home to take care of some of the final details for that night. We finished decorating the house and checked in with the caterer and the florist. (Sharon had decided to hire professional help, since we’d been so busy working on Granny and Pop-Pop’s house.)

  At five-twenty, I headed over to Claudia’s for our BSC meeting, bringing the music box with me. Since we’d been working on the mystery, we’d agreed to spend at least part of our meeting that afternoon discussing any clues that turned up.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to discuss. The mystery at Granny and Pop-Pop’s seemed to be over. Every avenue we’d followed had turned out to be a dead end. Jessi had checked into all the other owners of the house, but she hadn’t turned up any interesting leads. Claudia’s photography skills had failed her. And Mal’s search of Stoneybrookites with the initials L. S. or H. I. W. hadn’t come to anything.

  “Play the music box one more time,” Mal begged me. “I know it doesn’t help us solve the mystery, but I like hearing the song.”

  I set the box in the middle of the room and opened the lid. The tinkling sounds poured out, echoing through the silence as we sat and listened and thought.

  Well, most of us were thinking. Claudia was comparing a regular Three Musketeers bar to a “lite” version. As she put it, she’d given up completely on the music box mystery and moved on to important scientific research.

  I played the song again and again, thinking about the words that went with the music. I thought about L. S. and H. I. W. standing on opposite sides of the world, looking up at the stars and thinking of each other. I wondered if L. S. had gone out to look at the night sky as soon as darkness fell. I could almost picture her, searching for that first faint star.

  “Whoa!” I said out loud, startling myself as well as everyone else in the room.

  “What is it?” asked Kristy.

  “I think I just figured something out,” I said slowly. “I think I know what H. I. W. and L. S. stand for.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Abby.

  “Think about it,” I said. “What are the words of this song?” My friends looked at me as if I were nuts. But I began to sing “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” and my friends began to join in. First Claudia, then Mal, then everyone chimed in on the next line. “How I wonder what you are.”

  “How I Wonder,” I said. “I’m sure that’s what H. I. W. stands for.”

  “What about L. S.?” asked Jessi.

  “Little Star,” said Stacey. “Little Star! That has to be it!” She and I looked at each other, smiling. We knew we’d found the answer. Or at least part of it.

  * * *

  In case you’re wondering, I finally settled on the flowery skirt with a silky blue blouse. I dressed quickly, then ran downstairs to ask Sharon if I could borrow a piece of her jewelry to dress up my outfit. She sent me to her room, saying I was welcome to go through her jewelry box. And that’s where I found it. Another piece of the puzzle.

  Nestled deep in the bottom of the box, in the midst of a tangle of necklaces, I found a silver bracelet.


  A silver ID bracelet engraved with stars.

  “Oh, that old bracelet,” said Sharon when I ran downstairs to show it to her. “I haven’t seen that in ages.” She took it from me and looked at it fondly.

  “It was at the bottom of your jewelry box,” I said. “Where did it come from, anyway?” I didn’t have time to beat around the bush. Our guests were due to arrive any minute.

  “As a matter of fact,” said Sharon, “Granny gave it to me. On the night of my senior prom. I remember her saying something about how I should never forget my first love. I think she was sort of apologizing for the way she and Pop-Pop disapproved of Richard and were basically forcing us to break up.” Sharon looked lost in memories.

  I remembered when Dawn and I had found a rose pressed into Sharon’s yearbook; a rose my father had given her on the night of their senior prom. How strange that my dad was actually someone’s first love! And how amazing that he and Sharon ended up together after all this time. I don’t think many people end up marrying their first love.

  I felt myself drifting into a romantic cloud, but I pulled myself back. There were still some questions I had to have answered. I cleared my throat. “Sharon, do you know where Granny got this bracelet?” I asked.

  Sharon came out of her daze. “You know, it’s odd, but I don’t know. It was something she’d owned for a while, but I have no idea where it came from. I don’t think she ever told me.” She touched the bracelet one more time, tracing one of the stars engraved on it. “In any case, I certainly don’t mind if you borrow it, and I don’t think she would, either.” Then she glanced at her watch. “Oh, no,” she said with a groan. “People are going to be here any second, and I haven’t even put the dip out yet.”

  “I’ll help,” I said. I fastened the bracelet onto my wrist. I still had so many questions about it. How did Granny come to own it? Had Lydia — who must be Little Star — given it to her for some reason? Whatever happened to How I Wonder? What did Granny know about the story of their romance? My mind was whirling.