The Hot Fudge Sunday Affair

by Cynthia Blair

  “Yes, but you’re a stand-in who could easily spend an hour discussing the history of the town’s fire department or the year the first Girl Scout troop was founded with Edna Partridge. I, on the other hand, would be hard-pressed to discuss impressionism and expressionism and I-don’t-know-what-else-ism with Charles Applegate. Especially if Felicia were standing right there wearing that funny little smile of hers and waiting for me to make a fool of myself.”

  “Maybe you could pretend you have laryngitis. Then you’d have an excuse not to say anything all night. You could just dance with Jeff and eat all the wonderful gourmet food and have a terrific time.” Chris rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I think you’ve seen too many old movies on television, Sooz. If we’re going to start doing things like that, we might as well pretend I’ve got amnesia.”

  “I know!” Susan chuckled. “You could say you have amnesia and that all you remember is that you’re the queen!”

  “I could make everybody bow in my presence!”

  “And you could create royal decrees ... like everybody has to eat an ice cream sundae every night or else go to the dungeon!”

  “Here’s one. How about if I banish Felicia Harris from my queendom?”

  But Susan didn’t appear to be listening.

  “Chris,” she said dreamily, “that might not be such a bad idea.”

  Chris bolted upright. “Which idea? Do you mean pretending I have amnesia or banishing Felicia beyond the Whittington town limits?”

  “What? Oh, neither! I mean thinking of the crazy things people are always doing on television. In those old movies from the forties and fifties. Or even on the new shows.”

  “Uh-oh. I’m not so sure I like the way your mind is working, Sooz. I’m beginning to have visions of you and me dressing up like chairs or going to the ball in a helicopter or pretending we’re the exterminators....”

  “No, no. Nothing that elaborate. This plan is a good, solid one. And the best part is I really think it’ll work,”

  Chris shrugged. “At this point, I’m desperate. If you think there’s a way out of this messy situation, lead the way. Personally, I’m totally stumped.”

  “Okay. Here’s the plan.” Susan leaned forward in the rocking chair. “Remember when Aunt Lillian went to New York and sent us those two party dresses?”

  “Ugh. Those frilly white things with the puffed sleeves and the sash that ties in the back. Not my style at all. And I never could believe that she actually bought two of them—one for each of us. You and I never dress alike! We’re too different to have the same taste in anything—especially clothes!”

  “Do you still have yours?”

  “Sure. It’s in the closet somewhere, way in the back. I never had the heart to give it away. I always figured that maybe someday I’d have a chance to wear it.”

  “Take it out. Try it on.”

  Chris glanced at her twin quizzically but did as she was told. In the very back of her closet, behind her winter coat, was a white cotton dress, protected with a huge plastic bag from the dry cleaner’s.

  “Actually, it’s not as bad as I remember it,” she admitted. “It seems to have improved with age. I guess sitting in the closet for two years has given it the chance to ripen. In fact, I’m even starting to like it.”

  “Does it fit?”

  Chris pulled off her tee-shirt and slipped the dress on. She stood in front of the mirror, looking surprised. “You know, it’s not bad! Not bad at all!”

  “That means mine will still fit me, too. Now all we have to do is find two pairs of shoes that are identical and some jewelry that we both own that looks pretty much the same…”

  “I think you’d better tell me your plan, Sooz. I’m beginning to think that you want us both to go to the ball!”

  “That’s exactly my plan, Chris. We’ll get dressed up so that we look like the same person. That’s easy enough to do, right?”

  “Yes ...”

  “And we’ll both go to the ball. Only when we get there, one of us will hide.”

  “Oh, really? Where? In a broom closet?”

  “Don’t be silly. The ball is being held at the mayor’s house. It’s this huge old Victorian mansion over on Euclid Avenue. There’ll be a million rooms that are completely empty. All it takes is a little courage.”

  “Something I’m not too sure I have any of, these days,” Chris said ruefully. “Go on.”

  “The rest is simple. We’ll take turns being Christine Pratt, just as we’ve been doing all along. Except for shorter periods of time. Minutes instead of days.”

  A slow smile crept over Chris’s face. “I get it. So you’ll have a glass of punch with Charles Applegate and talk about all those isms, and I’ll be hiding in a bedroom somewhere. And then when you see Edna Partridge heading in your direction with a gleam in her eye, all ready to talk about obscure historical facts, you’ll make some excuse, run to my hideout, and switch places with me so that I can take over.”

  “Precisely. See? It’s the perfect plan! Simple, obvious ... and foolproof.”

  “Simple, yes. Obvious, sort of. But foolproof?

  I’m not so sure....” ...

  “We can’t miss! What could possibly go wrong?”

  “Well, it certainly sounds as if it’ll work. Especially since no one suspects anything, so no one will be keeping an eye out for anything unusual.”

  “Except Felicia, of course.”

  “Except Felicia.”

  Suddenly Chris broke into a huge grin. “Come on, Sooz! We can fool old Felicia Harris! She thinks she can outsmart us, so let’s show her that when two Pratts put their heads together, nothing can stop them!”

  “That’s the spirit! Hey, let’s go to my room. I’ll try on my dress, too. And I can see if I have any shoes that are similar to a pair you have....”

  “Great. I’ll bring my jewelry box. We can compare our earring collections....”

  The two girls scrambled out of Chris’s room, anxious to see if they could dress up to look exactly the same. They were both exhilarated by the new twist their scheme was taking. Suddenly, carrying Saturday night off successfully right before Felicia Harris’s very eyes promised to be an exciting challenge.

  Most important, the Hot Fudge Sunday Affair was still on, full speed ahead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Chris reported to Mayor Harris’s office first thing on Friday morning, she wasn’t surprised that Eric and Jeff were already there, ready to go. But she was surprised to see that Felicia had, once again, decided to put in a guest appearance.

  “Why, hello there, Christine!” she cooed as soon as the honorary queen of Centennial Week walked in. “We meet again!”

  “Hello again, Felicia. It seems that you’re becoming one of the regulars around here.” Chris and Jeff exchanged wary glances.

  “Well, I like to go where I feel I’m needed.” Felicia smoothed her dress, a simple black shift that looked as if it were made of real silk. It was very pretty, but definitely too dressy for a busy day of ribbon-cutting and handshaking.

  “Are you planning to join us again today, Felicia?” Jeff asked nervously. “Play chaperone as we tour the city?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve got plans for bigger and better things today. I’m afraid you two will simply have to muddle along without me.”

  She turned to Eric, who was lounging on the couch, reading that morning’s edition of the Whittington Herald. “Which brings me to the perfectly marvelous idea I had this morning, Eric. How about lunch?”

  “I hate to disappoint you, Felicia,” Eric said, sneaking a wink at Chris, “but you’re not the first person to come up with that idea. People have been eating lunch for thousands of years. Maybe even millions of years, for all I know.”

  “Oh, Eric. You can be so clever sometimes. Too bad this isn’t one of them. Would you like to have lunch with me or not?” Eyeing Chris, she added, “I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”

  “Well, I really hate t
o miss the Cub Scout Jamboree, but what the heck. You know what they say about all work and no play. I’m all yours.”

  Despite his pretended reluctance, Eric couldn’t help being curious. From what he knew of Felicia, having lunch with him was more than a way to simply eat or to pass a pleasant hour making conversation. No, she definitely had something up her sleeve. And he couldn’t wait to find out if his suspicions about what it was turned out to be correct.

  Chris, on the other hand, was less than enthusiastic about the social situation that was developing before her eyes. Knowing that Felicia had undoubtedly planned it all so that she would be a witness only made her even more nervous. Two entirely different concerns were plaguing her. One was that if the feeling that she and her twin had begun to have were correct, if Felicia really had figured out the Hot Fudge Sunday Affair, she could be planning to tell Eric all about it once the two of them were alone.

  The other was of a different nature but almost as alarming. What if Felicia’s interest in Eric were purely social? Would he be fickle enough to abandon his fledgling romance with Susan for a fling with the mayor’s spoiled, self-centered daughter?

  When it was time to leave for the big parade down Main Street being held that morning, in which she and Jeff were riding in an open car with Mayor Harris, Chris was actually reluctant to go. And when Felicia called after them, “Bye-bye, you two kids! Have fun!” and then added with a wink, “And Eric, I’ll be seeing you later!” Jeff practically had to drag her out of the mayor’s office physically.

  “Come on, my queen,” he said, anxious to help. “Don’t let big bad Felicia get you down. Centennial Week is almost over already. There are only three more days left. Enjoy it! Just because she’s decided to split a peanut butter sandwich with Erie Caulfield is no reason to have your day ruined!”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Besides,” he added with much less enthusiasm, “at this point there’s not much you can do. Just cross your fingers and hope for the best.”

  “Right again, I’m afraid.”

  Even so, Chris was determined to follow Jeff’s first piece of advice. He was right. Centennial week was almost over. Sunday was the final day. Of course, Saturday night and the big fund-raising ball came first....

  But she decided not to let herself think about that now. Instead, she held her chin up high, stood up as straight as she could, and strode down the hall.

  “Let’s go, Jeff,” she said, taking his arm. “We’ve got another big day ahead of us. Let’s try to make it our best day so far!”

  * * * *

  At Felicia’s insistence, she and Eric went to Whittington’s fanciest—and most expensive—restaurant. Chez Michelle was not too far from City Hall, and it generally catered to government employees out celebrating a promotion or someone’s birthday. It was small and intimate, with pink linen tablecloths, soft music, and huge bouquets of fresh flowers everywhere. Eric had never been there before, and he was quite impressed. Until he looked at the menu and saw the prices.

  “Not exactly McDonald’s, is it?” he muttered.

  “I assume the newspaper will pick up the tab,” Felicia said matter-of-factly. “You do have an expense account, don’t you?”

  “Only for business-related activities,” Eric replied nervously.

  “Ah, but this is business-related.” Felicia’s cold blue eyes were gleaming. “I have something to tell you that I just know you’re going to find most interesting. Trust me, Eric.”

  “Is this something about you?”

  He was only teasing, but she took him seriously. “No. We can save that kind of thing for after Centennial Week, if you like. This is something that’s related to your assignment for the Herald. You know, your big feature article on the king and queen, for Sunday’s paper. By the way, how is that going?”

  “Afraid I won’t be done on time?”

  This time Felicia had the presence of mind to be insulted. “I’m trying to do you a favor, Eric. I’m offering to help you. If you’re not interested in hearing some inside information, of course ... well, that’s another matter entirely.” With deliberate movements, she unfolded her pink linen napkin and arranged it in her lap. “I could always speak to your editor instead. He is a good friend of Daddy’s....”

  Eric sighed. “All right, Felicia. You’ve made your point. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”

  Felicia smiled slowly, her blue eyes glowing like a cat’s. “I thought you’d come around to seeing things my way. But let’s order first. I’m really quite hungry.” She reached for her menu.

  Eric made a face. Obviously she planned to draw out this dramatic performance of hers as long as she could. She was enjoying it too much not to.

  It wasn’t until she was halfway done with her chef’s salad, more lettuce than Eric had ever before seen in one place, that she looked up and said, “Well, I simply can’t wait a moment longer. I have to tell you what I’ve discovered.”

  “So soon?” Eric said dryly. But he sat back in his chair and listened.

  Felicia pushed her salad away and folded her arms across the table. Her eyes narrowed as she said, “Eric, there are two Christine Pratts.” She paused, waiting for the full impact of what she had just said to register.

  So I was right, thought Eric. But instead of giving Felicia any satisfaction by looking amazed or acting impressed by this inside information of hers, he made a point of remaining calm. “What exactly do you mean by two Christine Pratts?”

  “Chris Pratt has a twin sister. Her name is Susan. They’re identical twins,” she added meaningfully.

  “How interesting.” By the tone of his voice, Eric made it clear that he found her little bit of information a disappointment.

  “But wait! There’s more! I haven’t told you the really important part yet!”

  “I’m counting the seconds.”

  “The two of them have been switching off, taking turns at being the queen of Centennial Week!”

  “No!”

  “Yes! From what I can tell, they’ve been switching off every day, although I’m not positive about the details. Still, I know for a fact that they’ve been doing it all along. Imagine, those two girls trying to fool everyone in town! What do they take us for; anyway?”

  “And may I ask what makes you so certain about all this?”

  Felicia leaned back in her chair, smiling triumphantly. “I listened in on a telephone conversation between the two of them. They talked openly about what they were doing, never suspecting that someone else was hearing every word.”

  So that was how she’d found out! And here he had been attributing her with all kinds of intuitive powers!

  “So you actually heard Chris and—Susan, is it?—Susan admit that they were doing this.”

  “Absolutely! Besides,” she added smugly, “I already had a feeling there was something funny going on.”

  “Really? How?”

  “I just sensed that Chris Pratt was someone who couldn’t be trusted.”

  I’ll bet, thought Eric, turning back to his hamburger.

  He polished off the rest of his lunch hurriedly, aware that it was getting late. If he wanted to join Chris and Jeff for the afternoon’s activities, he had to get moving.

  “So?” Felicia said impatiently.

  “So what?”

  “You’re going to expose them, aren’t you? In your article?”

  “Definitely! As a matter of fact,” Eric went on calmly, “I happened to come across something last night that will tie in with this discovery of yours quite nicely. An interesting ... twist to all this. A historical fact about Whittington that’s so obscure that I doubt even Chris Pratt herself uncovered it while she was doing her research.”

  “Historical fact? What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “Oh, tell me, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Now, now, if I tell you everything, then you won’t be surprised on Sunday. I have to leave yo
u with some reason to read my article, right?”

  Felicia frowned. She clearly didn’t like being left out of things. But she could also tell that Eric was not about to budge.

  “It seems only fair to exchange my piece of information for your piece of information, but I’m not going to push it. I’m simply not that kind of person.” She pulled her salad back toward her and began picking at it.

  Suddenly she smiled at Eric. But this was an entirely different kind of smile.

  “Now that our business is out of the way,” she said flirtatiously, “why don’t we get down to more personal matters? You are going to the fund-raising ball tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. It’s the last event of Centennial Week that I’ll be able to write about, since my deadline is midnight.”

  “Then you’ll be looking for someone to dance with.”

  Eric just looked at her blankly. “I never dance while I’m working. After all, I’ve got a job to do.”

  But Felicia remained undaunted. “Well, never mind. I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied, with or without a dancing partner.”

  That devilish gleam had come back into her eyes. “After all,” she said, almost to herself, “tomorrow night is going to be quite a night. Quite a night!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  There were four Christine Pratts standing in Susan’s bedroom.

  As Chris and Susan stood before the full-length mirror behind the door, even they were astonished.

  “Look, Sooz!” Chris breathed. “I look like I’ve been cloned!”

  “Or else I’ve been cloned.”

  They were both wearing the dresses their aunt Lillian had sent them from New York, delicate white cotton with full skirts, billowing sleeves, and soft ruffles at the necks. For the occasion, they had added powder-blue sashes around their waists, tied in front. Their shoes were simple pumps, not quite the same but close enough to pass anything but the closest scrutiny. They had even done their hair the same, each pulling it back on both sides with tortoiseshell barrettes.