The Hot Fudge Sunday Affair

by Cynthia Blair

  Oh, no. Now look at what I’ve done. No wonder Jeff is confused, with Chris acting friendly one day and me being standoffish the next. And tomorrow it’s Chris’s turn again. He’s going to think his queen has a split personality.

  And I guess she does, Susan thought morosely. Much more than he’ll ever know!

  Chapter Six

  It was already past five when Susan stumbled into Ann Benson’s office to use the telephone. She was glad it was deserted. The door to the mayor’s office was closed, signifying that he had already gone home for the day. And Ann’s desk was empty, her light turned off, her typewriter covered up for the night.

  Grateful for the chance to be alone, Susan sank onto the soft couch. The red shoes that Chris had insisted were crucial for the outfit she was wearing were molded to her twin’s feet, not hers, and they had been reminding her of that fact all day. She slid them off and wiggled her toes. It was a relief to be able to relax, to lean back, to close her eyes. She needed just a moment’s rest before calling her father and asking him to pick her up. Just a moment ...

  The next thing she knew, Susan was being dragged out of a deep sleep. Someone was shaking her shoulder gently, saying “Wake up! Hey, whoever you are, I think you’d better wake up!”

  Susan opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with a congenial-looking young man.

  “Camping out?” he asked teasingly. His green eyes were twinkling, and he was grinning at her as if the two of them shared some wonderful secret.

  “What? Where am I? Oh, no; what time is it?”

  “Five-thirty or so. Is that when your nap time is usually over, Sleeping Beauty, or did I wake you up too soon?”

  “Five-thirty! I’ve got to get home!” Susan sat up, trying to blink the tiredness out of her eyes. “I have to call my father.”

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t call a security guard? I mean how do I know I’m not dealing with some hardened criminal who’s hiding out here in Mayor Harris’s office?”

  Susan looked at the stranger carefully. On second glance, he looked as if he wasn’t much older than she was. And his reddish-brown hair, merry green eyes, and sprinkling of light freckles made him look even younger. “Who are you?”

  The boy extended his hand with mock formality. “Eric Caulfield, at your service. Reporter-at-large for none other than the Herald, Whittington’s finest—and only—newspaper.’’

  “Oh, no! You’re the reporter I heard about!”

  “Well, I must say I’ve had friendlier first

  meetings before. But I promise not to hold it against you. Speaking of which, who are you?”

  Susan stopped herself just as she was about to say “Susan Pratt,” her usual automatic response. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m Christine Pratt.”

  “Ah-ha! So you’re the reigning queen! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty. If I did, I would have knelt down or asked permission to speak ... or at least asked for your autograph.”

  Susan was fully awake by now, and she couldn’t help laughing. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

  “Uh-oh. And here I was hoping to impress everyone in this town with my worldliness. Not to mention my charm.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t you live here in Whittington?”

  “I do now. But just for the summer. You see, I just finished my freshman year of college, and I managed to wangle my way onto the staff of the Herald for the summer. My first job as a reporter. I figured working for a small-town paper was a good way to get my feet wet. Easier to learn my way around the business, too.”

  “How’s it going so far?”

  “Well ...” For the first time, Eric seemed a trifle unsure of himself. “To be perfectly honest, my reporting career has been less than stellar so far. Ail they’ve let me cover were a dog show and a kindergarten graduation. Not that I didn’t do my best to make them both sound like the social events of the century.” Eric sighed. “At least I’m sure I created some loyal readers in the canine world.”

  “Poor thing!” chuckled Susan. “And now you’re covering Centennial Week.”

  Eric brightened. “Yes! This is my first big chance! I plan to show what I can do with this assignment. Really go to town.”

  Susan was immediately put on her guard. “What do you mean?”

  “For one thing, I want to do a thorough, probing analysis of what makes Whittington’s honorary king and queen tick. That means you, my dear. I’m doing a big feature story for this Sunday’s paper-on you! You’ll be famous! Not that you aren’t already, of course ...”

  Susan’s heart sank.

  “Anyway, I plan to be with you and King Jeff every minute of every day, from tomorrow morning until my deadline, midnight on Saturday.”

  Uh-oh. I’d better talk to Chris immediately, Susan thought. It might be time to reevaluate the Hot Fudge Sunday Affair. “By the way, Eric, exactly what kind of reporter do you want to be? Are you interested in sportswriting or human interest or ...”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I want to be an investigative reporter. You know, the kind who really gets involved in a story, who gets to the bottom of things. Who exposes fraud and corruption. I intend to have a reputation for leaving no stone unturned,” he added proudly.

  Inwardly Susan was groaning. “Excuse me. I’d better go call my family.”

  “I can take a hint,” Eric said with a grin. “I’ll be on my way now, and you’re free to have your privacy.” He stood up to leave. “Actually, I just stopped in to see if Mayor Harris was around. But I guess I’ll catch up with him tomorrow. I’ll have plenty of time then.” He started for the door. “Yes, sir. This is going to be fun. And I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, too, Queen Christine. I intend to find out exactly what makes Christine Pratt tick!”

  Despite her apprehensions about having a reporter around for the next few days, Susan had to admit that the idea of it was not totally unpleasant. There was something engaging about Eric Caulfield—-his cheerfulness, his talkativeness, his laughing green eyes. She was torn between wanting to spend time with him and protecting the secret that she and her twin shared.

  Well, at least I won’t have to worry about it again until Thursday, thought Susan. Tomorrow it’s Chris’s turn to be queen.

  Susan had planned to make “only a short telephone call, simply asking her father to come pick her up at City Hall. But when Chris answered, she couldn’t resist telling her the latest news.

  “Hi, it’s me, Chris.” Susan kept her voice low, just in case someone walked by in the hall. “Would you please tell Daddy I’m ready to come home?”

  “Sure, Sooz. Hey, how did it go today?”

  “To be perfectly honest, I’m not too sure. There were a couple of awfully tense moments. And I’m afraid something happened with Jeff. I’ll have to tell you all about it as soon as I get home....”

  “But you made it! You know, after you left this morning, I thought of a million things I’d forgotten to tell you. I was worried all day.”

  “I’ll fill you in later. But there is one major complication I think you should know about right away.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s up?”

  “Well, remember that reporter Mayor Harris told you about yesterday?”

  “Yes?”

  “He showed up today. He’s nice and all”—-Susan wasn’t quite ready to tell her sister how nice—“but I’m kind of worried about him.”

  “Oh, no. The snoopy type, huh?”

  “Chris, he wants to be an investigative reporter when he finishes college! You know, the kind who uncovers all the skeletons that politicians and everybody else have hidden away in their closets.”

  “I suppose that goes for honorary royalty, too.” Chris sighed.

  “It sure does! In fact, he’s planning an in-depth feature article for this Sunday’s paper, on none other than Christine Pratt. He said he wants to find out what makes her tick.”

  Chris thought for a minute. �
��This will make things more difficult, of course ... but more of a challenge! We can beat this, Sooz. No sweat!”

  “Chris! You sound like you think we should continue! Do you still think we can manage to take turns being queen of Centennial Week? That I can still pretend to be you half the time—and carry it off without anyone finding out?”

  “Absolutely! We knew when we decided to do this that we’d be under watch all the time. That makes it all the more fun. Look at it this way: this reporter will just help keep us on our toes.”

  “I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” “Come on, Sooz. Where’s the old Pratt spirit? I can’t believe that any twin of mine would be afraid to rise to a challenge!”

  “Well ...”

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay? And don’t worry! We’ve both been doing fine so far, and there’s no reason why that should change. Right?”

  “Right.” It wasn’t until Susan had hung up the phone and was scurrying out the door to meet her father that she muttered, “That is, I hope she’s right!”

  Felicia Harris was wearing a smug smile as she gently hung up the telephone. So Christine Pratt had a twin sister! And the two girls were taking turns pretending to be Chris so they could both enjoy being queen. That was interesting information. Very interesting information, indeed!

  She was sitting in her father’s office, behind the closed door. After running some errands in town, she’d stopped in to say hello to her father. But it was almost five by the time she arrived, and he and his secretary were both gone for the day. Since she knew where Ann kept the spare key hidden, she had no problem slipping inside—supposedly just to cool off in his air-conditioned office for a few minutes.

  But then she’d heard someone come in, and she’d waited. She had a hunch that something interesting might happen. And the flirtatious interlude between the queen of Centennial Week and the fledgling reporter who was about to cover her short reign was no disappointment.

  But it was nothing compared to the telephone conversation that Felicia had just listened in on.

  So Chris and Susan Pratt were trying their hand at a little deception, were they? And they seemed so confident that they could get away with it. That was the part Felicia found so irritating. Imagine, the two of them believing they could actually pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. The mayor, the reporter ... even her! It was mind-boggling.

  Well, my little dears, thought Felicia as she gathered up her things to go home, the week isn’t over yet. Your little charade has just begun. And now that I’m onto you ... well, let’s just say that I plan to make sure your reign as queen of Centennial Week is something you won’t soon forget!

  Chapter Seven

  The mood hovering over the kitchen table where Chris and Susan were having breakfast on Wednesday morning was quite different from the one of the two previous mornings. Whereas they had started the week filled with enthusiasm over the double adventure before them—being queen of Centennial Week and taking turns pretending to be the same person—they were now beginning to wonder if what they had set out to do was simply impossible.

  By this point, even Chris was getting discouraged. She hadn’t been too worried about the news of Eric Caulfield’s arrival on the scene—and his contention that he intended to find out what made Christine Pratt tick. But once her twin told her what had happened with Jeff, she, too, had begun to experience doubts.

  “I’m so sorry I messed things up with you and Jeff,” Susan said as she buttered an English muffin. “I tried my best to wriggle my way out of it. And I thought that line about Prince Charles and Lady Di would do the trick. But he acted so ... so hurt.”

  “I know. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, I should have warned you that Jeff and I were on the verge of becoming more than just king and queen.” Chris sighed and stared at her bowl of cereal, which she still hadn’t touched. The corn flakes were quickly becoming soggy, threatening to sink to the bottom. But even watching their rapid demise failed to motivate her to eat anything. “Maybe I can straighten things out with him today.”

  “Then there’s the reporter. He’s really got me worried. Don’t get me wrong; Eric is very nice. But he seems so dedicated to unearthing the truth!”

  Just then their mother poked her head into the kitchen. “You’d better hurry, Chris,” she said with a big smile. “It’s almost time for you to leave. I’ll tell your father you’re just about ready.”

  Once she was out of earshot, Susan turned to Chris and said earnestly, “Well, one thing’s for sure. I’m glad it’s your turn to be queen today. I never thought I’d feel this way, but I need a break from being queen of Centennial Week. This is turning out to be more difficult than I ever expected.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Chris said bravely as she stood up to leave. “After all, I am the real Chris Pratt. I don’t have anything to hide from Eric Caulfield. As for Jeff ... well, just keep your fingers crossed!”

  Susan resolved to spend the rest of the day doing just that.

  Despite her attempts at optimism, Chris was filled with apprehension as she waltzed into the mayor’s office. Just as she’d expected, Jeff’s greeting was icy.

  “Well, look who’s here. It’s Whittington’s own Lady Di.” His tone was so cold that even Ann Benson glanced up, obviously curious about this sudden change in the way the king and ‘queen were getting along. Up until now, they had seemed so friendly that she had wondered if a summer romance was budding right before her eyes.

  “Excuse me,” she said, diplomatically slipping away from the office, “I have to pick up a few things in the supply room. I’ll be back in five minutes. Oh, and by the way, you kids are on your own again today. Mayor Harris is going to be tied up with meetings all day.”

  “Jeff, I’d like to talk to you about yesterday.” Chris sat down on the couch next to him. “I was hoping you’d understand that I didn’t mean to be hot and cold, the way you described me.” She hoped her sister’s recitation of their conversation in the backseat of the limousine had been accurate. But Jeff seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “The truth is., I take this business of being queen of Centennial Week very seriously. Sure, it’s lots of fun, going around to different luncheons and parades and all. But we are in the spotlight. We’re supposed to be symbols, in a way. You know, the youth of Whittington and all that. And to me that says we have to put our personal feelings aside for this week.

  “Once it’s all over, of course, you and I can go back to being ourselves, just Jeff Miller and Christine Pratt. But in the meantime ...” She searched his face, anxious to see if what she was saying was making any sense to him.

  “I suppose so.” Jeff still didn’t sound convinced.

  Oh, dear. This is going to be a long day, thought Chris with a sigh. Well, it just so happens that I really do believe what I just said. I’d stick to it whether Susan and I were changing places or not. And if Jeff is the kind of boy who refuses to see things logically, then I guess I just misjudged him. Things wouldn’t work out anyway.

  Jeff was still thinking about what she’d just said a minute or two later when another boy appeared in the doorway. Chris immediately surmised that it was Eric Caulfield. Any doubts she might have had were immediately dispelled by his friendly introduction.

  “Hello, again, Chris. And you must be Jeff Miller. I’m Eric Caulfield, reporter for the Whittington Herald. I’m covering Centennial Week for the paper. And as Chris here already knows, I’m especially interested in its two star players, King Jeff and Queen Christine.”

  “Hello, Eric.” The two boys shook hands. But Chris had the feeling there was an undercurrent of tension running between them. It wasn’t until Jeff spoke that she understood what it was all about.

  “So,” he said, eyeing Eric warily, “you and Chris already know each other?”

  “We certainly do. We met last night.” When Eric winked at her meaningfully, Chris was startled. But Jeff’s eyes suddenly grew wide. He looked at Chris,
then at Eric—and back at Chris again.

  Chris suddenly realized what she was going to be up against for the rest of the day.

  Oh, no! How am I ever going to convince Jeff that he and I are still on good terms—and at the same time let Eric know that the other Chris is interested in him? This really is becoming an impossible situation!

  Well, she decided, I guess that for the rest of the day I’ll just have to try to convince both Jeff and-Eric that I like them. But I’d better be careful not to make either one of them jealous.

  She was beginning to understand exactly how her sister had felt the day before.

  Chris was nervous all morning. Fortunately, their schedule was a busy one. As Thomas whisked the three of them from place to place in the limousine, there was little time for chitchat. Chris tried to keep a balance, being friendly to both Eric and Jeff, ignoring whatever bad feelings she sensed still existed between them. At the same time, she also tried to say as little about herself as possible. Still, she felt as if with every passing moment, she and Susan were getting in deeper and deeper.

  Things proceeded relatively smoothly until early afternoon, as they drove from the Elks’ Club luncheon to a reception at the town pool. Jeff suddenly turned to her and said, “So tell me about your interest in art.”

  Eric’s ears immediately pricked up. “What’s this? Whittington’s queen is an artist?” Automatically he reached for his notebook.

  “Well, I ...” she stammered. So Susan had unwittingly mentioned her interest in art! And now Chris would have to fake her way through a conversation on painting. That, she knew, was something she could never pull off. “I dabble in it,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not very good, of course....”

  “But you said yesterday that you wanted to go to art school!”

  “She’s probably just being modest.” Eric was busily jotting something down in his little book. “I’ll make a note about our queen’s creative aspirations. That’s just the kind of thing I need for my feature article! I’d like to find out more about it....”