Mary Anne and the Great Romance

by Ann M. Martin

  “You know,” Stacey heard Haley say, “we should start our club. Right now. There are five of us. That’s enough for a club.”

  “You want me in your club?” squeaked Marilyn.

  The other girls looked at each other. Finally Carolyn said, “Only if you won’t be too bossy. We’ll try you for three meetings. If you’re too bossy, you’re out. Okay?”

  “I guess.”

  Poor Marilyn, thought Stacey. She was on probation, but at least she’d been asked to join the club.

  “What about your friend Gazelle?” asked Vanessa. “Do you think she’d want to join?”

  “You mean Gozzie?” replied Marilyn. “Oh … oh, I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think so. She, um, she doesn’t like clubs.”

  “Okay,” said Vanessa, shrugging.

  Stacey looked at Claudia. “You know what?” she said quietly. “I bet Gozzie Kunka is an imaginary friend of Marilyn’s. I think Marilyn made her up because she didn’t have any friends.”

  “Oh! I bet you’re right!” exclaimed Claud. “I wonder if Gozzie will disappear now.”

  “I doubt it,” replied Stacey. “At least not until Marilyn’s club probation is over and she can be sure she’ll have real friends.”

  Stacey and Claudia smiled at each other. And that night, Stacey called to tell me the news.

  “You mean Gozzie Kunka is imaginary?” I cried. “I should have known. I just should have known. A foreign dignitary’s daughter named Gozzie Kunka living in Stoneybrook. How could I have been so naive?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. It was pretty funny.

  Less than one week left until the wedding! I couldn’t believe it. We’d made most of our plans, but there were still plenty of things to do.

  “Imagine if we’d had the huge wedding we wanted,” I said to Dawn in school on Monday. Since I’d had time to calm down about moving into her house, we were friends again. For one thing, Dad and Mrs. Schafer had both said that they would get rid of some of their furniture and combine the rest of it in Dawn’s house.

  “What will we do with the leftover stuff?” I’d asked.

  “Store some of it in the barn,” Dad had answered, “and probably give some to the Salvation Army.”

  For another thing, I had actually seen Mrs. Schafer pat Tigger. So I felt a lot better about the cat business.

  For a third thing, I’d decided that I did want to redecorate my room at Dawn’s (but keep most of my old furniture), and Claudia had said she would help me. She had helped Stacey redecorate when Stacey moved back to Stoneybrook. She’s good at that sort of thing.

  Anyway, to get back to that Monday in school, Dawn replied, “I know. If we’d really wanted to do all those things, it would have taken about a year to plan for the wedding.”

  “Yeah. Caterers, flower arrangers …”

  “And dressmakers, tux rentals …”

  We were becoming wedding experts.

  “At least we’re going to get new dresses after all,” I said. The two of us had just joined the other BSC members at our usual table in the cafeteria. “You almost ruined that by taking back everything we’d said we wanted.”

  Dawn giggled. She opened her lunch bag and pulled out a package of carrot sticks and a container of salad that definitely had tofu in it.

  “Ew, ew. Gross! Health food!” cried Kristy, holding her nose.

  Dawn looked over at the school lunch Kristy had bought. “I will never,” she said, pointing to Kristy’s Jell-O, “understand how people can eat something that jiggles.”

  “Tofu jiggles,” said Kristy.

  “It does not. It’s solid.” To prove her point, Dawn poked her salad container. Nothing happened. Then she poked Kristy’s plate. The Jell-O was practically dancing. And the six of us (Kristy, Dawn, Stacey, Claudia, Logan, and I) were hysterical.

  “So what about your dresses?” Claudia said to Dawn and me. (Leave it to Claud to turn the discussion back to fashion.)

  “We’re each getting a new one,” I replied.

  “But not matching ones,” added Dawn, “since we aren’t going to be bridesmaids. We’ll just be sitting in the chapel with you guys.”

  “And,” said Dawn, “Mom picked out a beautiful pale pink dress with this beaded design all over it. It has a drop waist. It looks sort of old-fashioned — like something from the nineteen-twenties.”

  “Neat,” said Claud.

  “And if you can believe it,” I spoke up, “Dawn’s mom talked my dad into buying a new suit and new shoes. Dressy ones, I mean. I don’t remember the last time he bought a new suit or new shoes.”

  There was a pause. Kristy poked at her Jell-O. “Well, now I can’t eat this!” she cried. “Why’d you have to say it jiggles?” she asked Dawn.

  Dawn gave her a wry smile.

  “So when’s the big move?” Logan asked carefully.

  Dawn and I glanced at each other. We both knew the subject was still touchy. I was reconciled to the move, but I hadn’t forgiven Dad for not telling me about it earlier, or Dawn for just assuming I’d be delighted to move into her old house.

  “It’s sort of ongoing,” I replied. “No ‘big move.’ Dad has already put some of our stuff in Dawn’s barn.”

  “Mom’s put some things in there, too,” said Dawn, “and had the Salvation Army pick up some other things.”

  “And we’ll move the rest of our furniture and cartons over on the day after the wedding, when our parents get back from the Strathmoore Inn,” I added. “What a day that will be. My father will want everything put away and organized immediately, and Dawn’s mom —”

  “— could let the stuff sit there for months,” Dawn finished.

  Logan squeezed my hand. “If I can help with the move, just let me know,” he said softly.

  * * *

  Dawn and I walked partway home from school together that day.

  “You know what we’ve never talked about?” she said. “I mean, what you and I and our parents have never talked about?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “What we’ll call our stepparents. I still call your father Mr. Spier and you still call my mother Mrs. Schafer.”

  “I guess we could call them by their first names,” I said, “but I’d feel really funny calling your mom Sharon.”

  “And I’d feel funny calling your dad Richard.”

  “We could call them Mommy and Daddy,” I suggested, giggling.

  “No, Stepmother and Stepfather!” said Dawn. “That would make everyone feel really comfortable.”

  “How about Gertrude and Horace?” I said.

  Dawn laughed so hard she started to cry. “Mary Anne,” she said, “when we’re not fighting, we have so much fun together. Don’t you think we should share my room after all? We could stay up late at night and talk with the lights out. We could share secrets. We could do our homework together. Isn’t that what sisters do? I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  “Me, too,” I confessed.

  “So why don’t we share my room? The guest room can stay the guest room and you can put your bed and desk in my room. It’ll be a little crowded, but not too bad.”

  I was beginning to feel excited. “Would you mind having Tigger in the room at night? He always sleeps with me.”

  “No, I’d love it! Do you think he’d sleep with me sometimes?”

  “Maybe. He’s a sucker for a warm body. He’ll wrap himself around your head and purr in your ear.”

  “Hey! We can share clothes!” exclaimed Dawn enthusiastically. “We’re almost the same size. I’m just taller than you. Our wardrobe will double.”

  “Oh, speaking of wardrobes, I’ve been thinking,” I said. “Our parents may not be having a big traditional wedding, but I do think that your mom at least ought to wear something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue on the wedding day. Like in that old saying. Don’t you?”

  Dawn nodded. “Definitely. Well, let’s see. Her brooch is old — it’s an antique — she’
s borrowing a necklace from her mother, I think her earrings are sapphires, but … something new, hmm. I wonder if her dress counts. Most brides have new dresses. I’ll talk to her, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Mrs. Schafer (oh, excuse me, Sharon) took Dawn and me shopping for our new dresses. We went to Bellair’s Department Store first, where I found a pink dress that I only halfway liked, and Dawn didn’t find anything. So we left and went to Talbots, but we didn’t find anything there, either.

  “How about Zingy’s, that new store?” suggested Dawn.

  Sharon took one step inside Zingy’s and backed out, pulling us with her. “No way, young lady,” she said to Dawn. “This place is pure punk.”

  Finally we went to the mall and tried the Laura Ashley store. There Dawn found a sort of hip sailor dress. “I can wear my ankle boots with this,” she said.

  So Dawn was set. I looked at the more feminine clothes, but couldn’t find a thing. Then it occurred to me — what I really wanted to wear was Dawn’s other Laura Ashley dress, the one she’d worn to her mother’s surprise supper.

  “Hey, roomie,” I said, “can I wear the flowered dress you got here for your mom’s party?”

  “Sure, roomie!” she replied. And then she added, “See how much fun we’re going to have when you move in?”

  I grinned. I did see. I really did.

  * * *

  On Thursday night, Jeff came in from California. Dad, Dawn, her mother, the Pike triplets — Byron, Jordan, and Adam — and I met him at the airport. The triplets were going to be Jeff’s guests at the wedding. He had phoned them from California to invite them. (I might add here that all the inviting had been done over the phone, which I thought was just awful. It seemed to me that the least Dad and Mrs. Sch — I mean, Sharon, could have done was mail out invitations. They didn’t have to be engraved or anything.)

  The seven of us met Jeff at the airport at eight-thirty. We were carrying a sign that said WELCOME HOME, JEFF. I would have died if anyone had met me with a big, personal sign at an airport, but everyone said Jeff would love it, and they were right. For one thing, he spotted us right away and didn’t have to worry that he wouldn’t find us. For another thing, he loved the attention.

  “Hi! Hi, everybody!” he called.

  We surrounded Jeff, all laughing, hugging, and talking at the same time. Jeff showed us the stuff he’d collected on the plane — salt and pepper packets from his meal, a plastic fork, a free magazine, and a bar of soap from the bathroom, which he presented to his mother with great fanfare.

  “Well, how does it feel to be back on the East Coast?” my father asked Jeff as we were walking out to the Pikes’ station wagon, which we’d had to borrow in order to take so many people to the airport.

  “Just fine, sir,” Jeff replied, and I realized that my father and Jeff barely knew each other.

  “You can call me Richard,” Dad said immediately, and then added, “or whatever feels the most comfortable.”

  “Okay, sir,” said Jeff. Then he ran ahead to catch up with the triplets.

  Dad looked at Sharon, bewildered, and she said, “It’ll work out. We just have to give it some time.”

  Dad nodded.

  I felt sorry for him.

  * * *

  The next night, the night before the wedding, the future Spier-Schafer family had a quiet dinner at Dawn’s house. Jeff was still acting pleasant but ever so polite and formal around Dad, saying, “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir.” That was the only thing he called him. He also mentioned that he and his dad often went to sporting events in California.

  Dad cringed. I don’t think he has ever been to a major sporting event.

  Then Jeff accidentally dropped the name Carol, and it turned out that his father has a girlfriend. Sharon cringed then, but we got over that hump and had a very nice dinner. I looked around the table — Dad, Sharon, Dawn, Jeff, and me. This was my new family. I decided I liked it. And I even admitted to myself that I’d always liked Dawn’s rambling old farmhouse.

  When dinner was over, Dawn and I watched some TV with Jeff. Then we went upstairs to Dawn’s room.

  “See?” she said to me. “Your bed can go right there. And your desk can go next to mine. We’ll do our homework together every night. It’ll be kind of like study hall.”

  “And I’ll just squeeze all my clothes into your closet. That way we can share everything,” I said.

  Dawn held her hand out and we slapped five. “Sisters?” she said.

  “Sisters,” I replied.

  I’d been pretty excited on Friday night by the time Dad and I got home. But that was nothing compared to the excitement I felt when I woke up on Saturday morning.

  It was wedding day!

  By that evening I would have an official stepmother, stepsister, and stepbrother. Dad and I would never be lonely again. We would never be facing the world alone together again.

  So why didn’t that thought comfort me? I felt unsettled. Dad and I had done pretty well facing the world alone. Did I really want that to change? Then I thought of sharing a room with Dawn and being able to discuss girl problems with Sharon. I decided I could handle the change.

  “Mary Anne!” I heard my father call. I was still in bed, thinking over what the day was going to bring.

  “Coming!” I replied.

  The wedding was to be held at noon in the chapel of our church. Afterward, everyone at the wedding would go out to lunch. And we were going to Chez Maurice, since that was where Dad had given Sharon the engagement ring. The maitre d’ had reserved a table for twenty in a private room for us. I couldn’t wait to see what a table for twenty would look like.

  I spent most of the morning just getting dressed. I called Dawn six times for advice and finally asked Claudia to come over and help me. Claudia brought her makeup. I thought Dad would have a fit, but Claud said she could make me up so you’d never know I had makeup on. I’d just look pretty and natural. She also decided to do something spectacular to my hair, involving French braids.

  By eleven o’clock I was ready. If I do say so myself, I looked good. Dawn’s dress fit me perfectly, although it was longer on me than it had been on her. Claudia had put very pale gloss on my lips, more clear polish on my nails, light mascara on my lashes, extremely pale blue shadow on my eyelids, and just a hint of rouge on my cheeks. Then she had expertly braided my hair. I felt a little bad that Dawn didn’t have Claudia’s help, but then she had a mother — and soon I would, too.

  By the time Claudia left, Dad was also dressed. He looked quite natty (his word) in his new shoes and gray suit. He came into my room to see how I looked.

  “Lovely,” he said softly. “Beautiful. So grown-up. I can’t believe how pretty you are. I’m sure Claudia will end up in fashion design or makeup artistry.”

  I shook my head, smiling. “Nope. She’s going to be an artist.”

  “Mary Anne?” said Dad. “Come sit next to me on the bed.”

  “Okay,” I replied. When I sat down I realized that Dad was holding a box in his hand.

  “This is for you,” he said. “Open it.”

  I did so. Inside lay a pearl necklace. “For me?!” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

  “Yes,” said Dad. “It belonged to your mother. I was going to give it to you on your sixteenth birthday, but somehow, I think today is more appropriate. Do you want me to fasten it on for you?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, trying not to cry.

  When Dad was finished, I looked at myself in the full-length bathroom mirror. I could hardly believe that the person reflected there was me. I did look grown-up and beautiful, especially with my mother’s necklace.

  “Well,” said Dad. “Are you ready to leave? The minister asked Sharon and me to arrive a little early. He wants to go over parts of the ceremony with us beforehand.”

  “I’m ready,” I said. I kissed Tigger good-bye, and Dad and I left for the church.

  We arrived jus
t as the Schafers did, which was a miracle because Sharon is usually late. Dawn must have been prodding her all morning. As soon as they got out of their car, I knew I was right. Dawn had been prodding her. If she hadn’t, Sharon would have turned up with a run in her stockings or nonmatching earrings, or the tag at the back of her dress would have been sticking out. But she looked perfect.

  And Dawn was gorgeous in her new dress, while Jeff looked handsome but uncomfortable in what was probably a new suit.

  “Hi!” we called as we piled out of our cars.

  Dad and Sharon hugged.

  Then Dawn and I hugged, and she squealed, “Who did your hair?”

  Jeff stood back, looking more uncomfortable than ever.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, the service began. Dawn, Jeff, their grandparents, and I got to sit in the very first pew. Right behind us were Kristy, Logan, Jessi, Mallory, Stacey, and Claud. Behind them were Dad and Sharon’s friends from work, and several rows behind them, in a pew all to themselves, were the triplets, as dressed up as Jeff, but appearing slightly mischievous. I hoped they weren’t going to do anything to ruin the ceremony.

  The chapel looked very nice. I mean, it’s pretty to begin with, but Dawn’s grandparents had sent two huge bouquets of flowers to the church, which had been placed on either side of the altar. The flowers were pink and white, so Dawn and I had both gotten our ways.

  We sat quietly in the chapel. After awhile the organ began to play. Then my dad and Dawn’s mom appeared at the back of the church. Sharon was carrying a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath. Everyone turned around to look at them and watch them walk slowly up the aisle. (Sharon didn’t want her father to “give her away.” She didn’t like the idea of being “given away” in the first place, as if she were something someone owned, and also she and Dad wanted to keep the service as simple as possible.)

  Dad and Sharon had walked about three steps when I began to cry. Everything was just so … beautiful and meaningful. I fingered my pearl necklace and the tears started falling faster.