“I’m always so stuffed after Thanksgiving dinner that I think I’ll never be able to eat again,” says Mr. Edwards. “And then by suppertime I’m ready for a turkey sandwich.”
“I’m making my secret sauce,” says Robby, his back to his parents. “Don’t look over here while I’m cooking.” He’s busy with mayonnaise and mustard.
When the sandwiches are ready, he serves them to his parents, and his mother says, “Robby, your dad and I have been talking. We’ve spoken with Mrs. Fulton, too, and we’ve decided that if you want to get a job after graduation, that will be fine.”
“Really?!” exclaims Robby.
“Really. Mrs. Fulton will help us look into things.”
“Sweet!” says Robby.
On the other side of Robby’s house, Mr. Pennington is standing in his kitchen, looking over the container of leftovers from Min’s. He selects a piece of turkey, places it on a plate, and cuts off several pieces, which he puts in Jacques’s dish. Then he adds broccoli and scalloped potatoes to his own plate.
“Here, boy!” calls Mr. Pennington.
He sits down in the kitchen with his snack, Jacques at his feet with his own snack, and is just about to take a bite when the phone rings.
“Hello?” says Mr. Pennington.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Dad!” says the voice at the end of the phone.
At the Walters’ house, everyone has gathered in the living room, where Mrs. Walter has made a fire. Henry and Jack are playing with their Game Boys, thrilled that they have three entire free days left before school starts again. Olivia is on the couch, wedged in between her parents, with Sandy in her lap. She’s thinking not of the “unfortunatelys,” not of the secret she’s keeping for Mr. Pennington, not of saying good-bye to Mrs. Mandel, but of the holidays and what the next few weeks will bring.
“I can’t believe you’re going to go to work tomorrow, Mom,” she says. “When was the last time you went to work?”
“Just before you were born. I was a gift wrapper at LaVake’s over in Kingston.”
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it. It was very creative. And I learned a lot about retail when I was there.”
Mrs. Walter has gotten a temporary job helping Mrs. Grindle at Stuff ’n’ Nonsense during the busy Christmas season.
“Now when Flora and Ruby go to Needle and Thread after school, I can come visit you,” says Olivia. “It’ll be fun, even if Mrs. Grindle is a little …” (she glances at her mother) “a little stern.”
“Maybe I can lighten the mood in there,” says Mrs. Walter.
Three doors away, Mr. and Mrs. Willet are having a pleasantly quiet evening. For the first time in many months, Mrs. Willet has neither argued nor protested when her husband said it was time to get ready for bed. Mr. Willet doesn’t know why this is so, but he isn’t going to spend time wondering about it. Mrs. Willet allowed him to help her into her nightgown and to brush her teeth, and now they’re sitting in front of the television, watching the original Miracle on 34th Street.
“My, that Natalie Wood is a wonderful little actress,” says Mrs. Willet. “She’ll go on to do big things.”
Mr. Willet is surprised that his wife has recognized Natalie Wood and even more surprised that she has remembered her name. But he feels only a crushing sadness because he realizes that Mrs. Willet thinks this old movie is current.
“Dear, how old are you?” Mr. Willet asks his wife suddenly.
She looks confused for a moment, then guesses, “Thirty-four?”
The Willets’ Row House is the second from the left. Now walk back to the house that’s the fourth from the left, sandwiched between the Malones’ and the Walters’. Here are Flora and Ruby and Min, still cleaning up long after their guests have gone. Ruby’s thoughts are on Christmas, but Flora’s are on her family. As she puts away yet another plate that she now knows once belonged to her great-great-great-grandmother, she says, “Min? Have you really lived in this Row House your entire life?”
“Well, not my entire life. When I got married, my parents were still living here, and your grandfather and I wanted a place of our own. So we rented an apartment in Stanfield. But when Mother and Father moved to Florida, we moved back here. And I’ve been here ever since.”
“How long did your parents live in Florida?”
“Let me see,” says Min. She sets aside her sponge and sits at the kitchen table to think. “My father only lived there for about three years. He died unexpectedly in nineteen sixty-four. But my mother lived there for more than twenty years.”
Flora and Ruby and Min return to their cleaning and tidying, Flora’s mind on her family and her ancestors. It isn’t until she is lying in bed later that night, about to drift off to sleep, that something occurs to her. Min said her father died in nineteen sixty-four. Flora is almost positive that’s what she said. She’s also almost positive that Mary Woolsey said, during Flora’s last visit, that she received her final gift of money from her anonymous benefactor in nineteen sixty-six. If that’s so, then it couldn’t have come from Flora’s great-grandfather. Maybe, thinks Flora, it came from her great-grandmother. But that doesn’t seem right. Mary barely mentioned Min’s mother.
So … if Mary’s benefactor wasn’t Flora’s great-grandfather, who was?
Flora turns this question over and over in her mind until she finally slides into sleep, and another Camden Falls evening comes to an end.
Q: In Needle and Thread, we see Flora, Ruby, Olivia, and Nikki becoming best friends. Who were your best friends when you were their age?
A: I had a number of close friends when I was growing up, but my BEST friend was Beth McKeever. She was the inspiration for Kristy in the Baby-sitters Club, and Book #1 of that series is dedicated to her. Beth and I met when she moved to my street in Princeton, New Jersey, which was not long after my family had moved there. She was five and I was four. We remained friends all through school and are still friends, although we don’t see each other often, since she lives in Maryland and I live in upstate New York.
Q: What kind of best-friend things would you do?
A: Beth and I did all sorts of things! We had tons of sleepovers, we made up clubs (one of those was the basis for a Little Sister book, Karen’s Kitty-Cat Club), we invented games to play outdoors (one was called S.A.’s, which stood for Secret Agents — we made “walkie-talkies” by nailing bottle caps to blocks of wood), our families went on vacation together at the Jersey Shore, we did our homework together, we wrote a neighborhood newspaper, we went trick-or-treating …
Q: Flora and Ruby are lucky because one of their best friends, Olivia, lives right next door. And obviously they’re close with their other neighbors in the Row Houses, too. Who were your neighbors when you were growing up? Did any of your friends live nearby?
A: Beth lived five houses away from me, on the same side of the street. And there were about six families in our immediate neighborhood with whom my family was close, so there was always a gang of kids to play with. The neighbors frequently got together for barbecues, parties, and baby showers — just like the families in the Row Houses do.
Q: Do you see your neighbors a lot where you are now?
A: Unfortunately, I don’t see my neighbors as much now as I did when I was a kid, but this is mostly because I live in a very rural area and the houses are much more spread out. I do see my across-the-street neighbors fairly often. They live on a small farm (yes, one of my neighbors is a cow), and my dog, Sadie, and their dog were litter-mates, so Sadie frequently plays with her sister.
Q: Where did the idea for the Row Houses come from?
A: My mother and her brothers grew up in a row house in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The row houses, on a street called Ogden Avenue, are still there. (In Main Street, the Row Houses are on Aiken Avenue. Aiken is a family name — it was my mother’s middle name.) I saw the row houses once when I was a teenager, but mostly I remember my mother’s stories about growing up in them. Her close friends were her
row house neighbors, and I remember that Mom once told me that she and her friends believed the attics of the houses were connected. (They weren’t.)
Outside Flora could see that the street was even more crowded than before. People were streaming by Needle and Thread, all hurrying in the same direction.
Olivia was grinning. “This is almost as good as what happens on Christmas Eve. You didn’t know about this, did you?” she said to Flora and Ruby.
They shook their heads.
And Nikki added, “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen it.”
“You’re kidding,” said Olivia. “I thought you lived here all your life.”
“I have. But we never came into town for this. In fact,” Nikki went on, looking worried, “I probably shouldn’t be here now. I think I was supposed to go home before it got dark. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Call your parents,” said Gigi gently. “Tell them I’ll drive you home as soon as the tree has been lit.”
Nikki, hands shaking, used the phone at the checkout counter to call her house. “I think the service has been turned off again,” she said a minute later.
Gigi put an arm around her. “This is not for you to worry about. Come with us and enjoy the ceremony. Min and I will take care of things.”
“Okay. Thank you,” said Nikki.
Min was walking around the store, turning off sewing machines and unplugging irons and the coffeepot. “Will you join us, Mary?” she said as Mary slipped into her coat.
Mary bowed her head. “I think I’ll head on home.”
Even Flora knew better than to beg her to stay. But she did say, “I’ll see you next week. Keep thinking about our mystery!”
At last, the store lights were turned off, too, except for the tiny gold ones that now bordered the window, and Min, Gigi, Flora, Ruby, Olivia, and Nikki stepped into the frosty night air. They joined the crowd moving along the sidewalk, sleeves brushing sleeves, mittened hands raised in greetings, boots tromping. Every business had closed, Flora realized, but the streetlights glowed, and the windows were alive with mechanical Santas and trimmed trees and glowing stars. Flora passed several menorahs, the candles still unlit as the first night of Hanukkah was two weeks away. As she paused by some windows, she heard music — songs and carols and bells chiming — and as she paused by others, she smelled chocolate and cider and warm buttery things.
“Ooh, look!” Ruby said suddenly.
They had reached the town square. A fir tree, at least three stories high, had been placed in the center of the square. Its branches were dark, but Flora could see the lights that had been twined around them, and she could smell the sharp scent that made her feel as if she were deep in a pine forest. In front of the tree a group of carolers, each holding a candle, stood in a tight knot, voices raised. “Adeste fideles!” they sang.
“‘Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight,’” murmured Flora, remembering a poem she had once read.
And at that, Nikki cried out, “Mom!” She broke away from Flora and Ruby and Olivia and wiggled through the crowd of people.
“Hey, there’s Mae,” said Olivia, pointing to Nikki’s little sister.
“And Tobias,” added Flora.
“And I guess that’s Mrs. Sherman,” said Ruby.
The carolers stopped singing then, and one of them stepped forward and led the crowd in “Deck the Halls” and “Silent Night.” There was a moment of expectant silence, and then a tree of blue and green and gold and red and violet and white sprang forth from the darkness.
Flora drew in her breath. It’s like magic, she thought. But years later, even when she was a grown woman remembering this Christmas in Camden Falls, the image that would first come into her mind was not of the tree but of Nikki standing between her mother and Mae, holding their hands, Tobias behind them, their faces shining, Mae’s nearly awestruck.
Flora didn’t know why Mrs. Sherman, who never attended town events, had decided to come to the lighting of the tree but she thought perhaps she had been emboldened by the thought of a life without Mr. Sherman. Flora took this as a very good sign.
Everyone admired the tree for a few minutes (“It will stay lit until New Year’s Day,” said Min), and then they began to drift away.
“Good-bye!” Flora and Olivia and Ruby called to Nikki.
Gigi and Olivia’s grandfather walked to their car. Olivia had found her parents and her brothers and also Mr. Pennington, who lived next door to her, and they made their way back to the Row Houses with Min, Ruby, and Flora, turning left off Main Street onto Dodds Lane, then right onto Aiken Avenue. And there before Flora were the Row Houses, looking in the dark like a castle. They were actually eight attached houses that had been built in 1882, and they were the only ones of their kind in Camden Falls. Flora had already begun to think of the Row House residents, all twenty-five of them, as her very large family. She passed by first the Morrises’ house, dark since the Morrises had gone away for Thanksgiving; then by the Willets’ house, where Mr. and Mrs. Willet were probably eating supper; and then by the Malones’ house, which was also dark, before turning onto their walk.
“See you tomorrow!” Flora called to Olivia as the Walters turned onto their own walk next door.
From down the dimly lit street she heard Mr. Pennington and Robby Edwards and his parents and the Fongs calling good-bye and good night to one another. Ruby opened their front door and Min grabbed the mail from the letter box. She stood in the front hallway and leafed through the envelopes as Daisy Dear galumphed out of the kitchen and King Comma made a more subtle appearance.
“Huh,” said Min, an open card in her hand. “This is from your aunt Allie, girls. She says she’s planning to visit at Christmas and that she’ll call soon to make arrangements. My stars. She hasn’t visited Camden Falls in years.”
This turned out to be bigger news than Flora could have imagined.
Copyright © 2007 by Ann M. Martin. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, August 2007
Cover art and illustrations by Dan Andreason
Cover design by Steve Scott
e-ISBN 978-0-545-29566-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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