If I were her, I would have gotten it. He was so quietly enraged that it was a little scary.
She got the message. Drawing her mouth into a tight, angry line and holding her head high, she rose from the chair and walked stiffly back into the dining room. Her exaggerated dignity would have been cute if the situation hadn’t been so exasperating.
To my surprise, John turned to me and smiled his megawattage smile. How could he shift gears so quickly? “Kids,” he said to me, as if this weren’t really such a big deal, after all. “What are you going to do with them?”
I shrugged and felt relieved by the light spin he’d just put on things.
By the time we returned to the table, the food had arrived. Thank goodness! Each of us threw ourselves into eating, as if we were starved. Joni didn’t say one more thing for the rest of the evening.
Ewan talked a little about school, but I wasn’t one bit surprised when everyone turned down dessert.
In the parking lot, Mom and John held hands as we walked to our cars. As awful as the evening had been, it had brought them closer.
“I’ve been thinking,” John said as we were about to separate. “Thanksgiving is coming up. Maureen, you said you didn’t have plans. Neither do we. Why don’t we spend Thanksgiving together?”
Joni went pale, and I seriously worried that she might faint.
“I don’t know.” Mom hesitated, looking at the Brooke kids.
John broke out into the big smile again and put his arm around Mom. “Sure you do,” he insisted. “It’ll be fun.”
“It’ll be great,” I seconded. I realized John and I were on the same team. We were both pushing for this relationship and we weren’t going to let anything stop us.
“I suppose,” Mom gave in. “All right.”
I smiled … while Joni looked at Mom with murder in her eyes.
Abby told me that her first reaction to Joni was horror mixed with deep admiration. (I’d asked Abby to take the job because I needed a break from Joni.) “She must be a descendant of Genghis Khan,” she joked with me at our meeting that afternoon. “Maybe she was Genghis Khan in another lifetime.”
“Why,” I asked, laughing. “What happened?”
Abby told me she arrived at the Brooke house after school and immediately sensed that John was very tense. She’d never met him before, but his pinched expression didn’t match the impression I’d given her of him. “I should warn you,” he explained, “I’ve just had a talk with Joni about some things she and I need to straighten out. I’m not sure it went too well.”
“Was it about Mrs. McGill?” Abby asked. I’d never have been so blunt, but Abby speaks right out when she has a question.
John didn’t seem to mind. “Yes, in fact, it was,” he said as he headed for his study to work. “She has to realize that her mother and I are divorced and I like Maureen very much. All her foolish tirades aren’t going to change that.”
“But she didn’t want to hear it?” Abby ventured.
“No, I’m afraid not. She and Ewan are down in the basement now. If I let you leave at five-fifteen, will that give you enough time to get to your meeting?”
“Sure,” Abby said. “That will be fine.” When John had gone into his study, Abby went downstairs. The TV was on, but the kids weren’t watching it. Ewan was putting together a puzzle on the floor.
Joni sat cross-legged on the couch, mashing a lump of yellow Play-Doh in her hands. She looked up as Abby came down the stairs. “Thank goodness,” she said sourly. “At least you’re not Stacey.”
“No, last time I looked, I was Abby. Hi, guys.”
Ewan smiled up at her. “Want to help me with this puzzle?”
Abby sat down and began piecing it together with him. “Are you Stacey’s friend?” Joni asked.
“Yes,” Abby replied. “She’s really a terrific person.” Joni snorted contemptuously. “You should give her a chance,” Abby continued. “Mrs. McGill too. You’d like them.”
“It’s her fault we never see our father, ever,” Joni accused. “He can’t work at night when we’re asleep because he has to take her out. So he has to work now, while we’re awake. Thanks to her, we don’t have a mother or a father.”
“Whoa,” said Abby. “None of that is Mrs. McGill’s fault.”
Joni didn’t seem to hear her. She was suddenly bright-eyed but far away, as if she were working out some new exciting idea.
“What?” Abby asked. “What are you thinking?”
Joni hopped off the couch. “If Dad couldn’t work in the afternoons, then he would have to get his work done at night,” she said, talking to herself more than to Abby. “And if he has to work at night, then he can’t take out …” She let her voice trail off. “I have to go do something,” she said.
Abby didn’t like the sound of that. She stood up. “What do you have to do?”
“Something,” Joni replied, already halfway up the stairs.
“Be right back,” Abby told Ewan. She ran upstairs behind Joni. She was at the top of the stairs when she heard the radio in the living room blaring hard rock. John came flying out of his study, just as Abby came racing into the living room.
“Joni!” he bellowed, snapping off the radio. He and Abby both looked around but didn’t see her.
Abby felt embarrassed that she’d lost track of her charge. “She can’t have gone far,” she said. As she spoke, the door to John’s study slammed shut.
John sprinted to his study, but when he tried to open the door, he found that it was locked. He banged on it. “Open up, young lady!” He tried being firm. Then he tried being nice. Nothing worked. “This is ridiculous,” he fumed, storming out the front door.
Abby stood there, feeling helpless. She had no idea what would happen next. Ewan came up to see what the yelling was about. Abby was about to explain when she heard the sound of a window opening from within the study. The next thing she knew, Joni came flying out of the study and raced out the front door.
John lunged out of his office, looking wild. “She unplugged the mouse from my computer and took it!” he cried. “Where did she go with it?” His eyes darted around the room. “Where is she? I need that computer today. I’m done with the typewriter. I can’t believe this kid!”
Abby headed for the front door. “She went outside. I’ll find her.” She ran out with Ewan beside her. “There she is,” she cried, spying Joni down the block, standing on the corner. Abby sprinted to her. “You better give your father back that mouse,” she said. “He’s good and mad.”
“I can’t,” Joni said.
“Of course you can,” Abby blurted out. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw John barreling down the street toward them. Joni just shook her head and craned her neck back to look up at the tall, bare maple beside them. Abby followed her gaze and gasped. The mouse dangled on its cord from a high branch.
“Good throw,” Ewan said.
Joni saw her father and took off around the corner. John reached Abby and Ewan a second later. “Did she give you the mouse?” he demanded.
Cringing, Abby pointed up to the branch. John saw it and his face turned redder than she’d ever seen anyone’s face become. Then he began breathing deeply and slowly, forcing himself to calm down. “She doesn’t want you to work during the day,” Abby explained, “because then you’ll have to work at night and you won’t be able to take out Mrs. McGill.”
To her surprise and relief, John began to chuckle, though his face was still pretty red. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to go to the computer store and buy another mouse. You and Ewan see if you can catch up with her and bring her home. Tell her, by the way, that she’s in deep trouble.”
“Okay,” Abby agreed. John walked back toward the house and Abby set off, with Ewan, down the block. She spotted Joni cowering in the bushes of a neighbor’s house. “Come on out,” Abby told her.
Joni’s head slowly emerged and she checked around carefully for her father. When she didn’t see him, she crawled all
the way out. “Your plan worked for now,” Abby informed her. “But your dad isn’t taking Mrs. McGill out tonight anyway.”
Joni smiled knowingly. “Yes, but they’re going out tomorrow. If I keep this up, he’ll be so behind schedule he’ll have to cancel their date. The other day I wrote a letter to my mother telling her what’s going on. I bet she’ll come back when she reads it. Once she’s back, all this will go away.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her on the phone?” Abby asked.
Joni was walking ahead of Abby and Ewan. “Oh, she doesn’t call,” she said. “She’s busy in the evening working on her new show. So I write to her. She sends postcards and little notes back.”
Abby gazed down at Ewan and ruffled his hair. “This is a hard time for you guys, isn’t it?” she said sympathetically.
Ewan shrugged. “I guess.”
Abby and Ewan began to walk home together, with Joni about a half block ahead. Suddenly Joni broke into a run and raced into the house, shutting the door behind her. Quickening her pace, Abby hurried Ewan along.
When they reached the front door it was locked. Abby banged on it. “Joni!” She leaned on the bell. “Open up!” She raced around to the back door, and discovered that it was locked too. She tried the study window, but Joni had thought to fasten it. After leaning on the bell a bit longer, Abby gave up. She and Ewan settled down on the steps to await John’s return. “Your father must have a set of house keys, right?” she said to Ewan.
“I don’t know,” Ewan answered.
Luckily, John did have his house keys. But, when they got inside, they discovered that Joni had deleted the entire chapter John had just finished. He was incredibly upset for a moment. Then he recalled a way he could find the file in his computer, and was able to get it back.
Still, he was not a happy camper. When he found Joni sitting in her closet reading a book, he grounded her for a million years or “until I say differently!”
I listened to Abby’s story and sighed. Joni’s cold war was beginning to heat up.
Mom took a vacation day on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to prepare for our double-family feast. “I have lots of vacation time, so I might as well use it,” she said. Her voice was cheerful … too cheerful. Nervously cheerful.
I suppose it made sense. She was preparing a first-time holiday meal for a man she was dating. And his kids.
“Don’t let Joni and Ewan get to you, Mom,” I said as we sat together in the kitchen that afternoon, peeling sweet potatoes. “They’ll behave.”
Mom smiled ruefully. “You know why John and I didn’t go out last night, don’t you?”
After what Abby had told me, I had a hunch. “He had to work?”
She nodded. “He had to work because the day before, Joni stole his mouse, then locked him out of the house and attempted to delete the chapter he was writing. By the time he found it, Abby had to leave. Then the next afternoon, Joni inserted a password into the program containing John’s book and hid from him for the rest of the day. By the time he found her and got her to reveal the password, it was time for our date and he had to cancel.”
“Smart kid,” I commented.
“Too smart,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I sympathize with her, though. Imagine what she must be going through.”
“I went through it,” I reminded her.
“I know, sweetie, but you were a little older. And I think you knew both your parents were still your parents. Her mother has more or less left them on their own. John says she drops them the occasional postcard, but that’s about it.”
There was a knock on the kitchen door. I opened it and let Mallory in. (The Pikes live in the house behind ours.) “Hi,” she said. “Mom wants to know if you have an electric beater. Ours conked out while she was preparing her cake mix.”
Mom put down a sweet potato and stood up to check the cabinet over the stove. “I haven’t used it in ages. But I think it’s here,” she said as she rummaged through the pans.
I hadn’t talked much with Mallory since her weekend in Massachusetts. “What did you think of the school?” I asked. She hadn’t really talked about it at Monday’s BSC meeting.
“It’s in the Berkshires, this beautiful hilly part of Massachusetts,” she told me. “And the school is really pretty too. It’s close to some cool-looking riding stables. I’ve always wanted to take riding lessons again.”
Her last statement worried me. “Then … you’re going?”
“Not definitely, but maybe. It’s possible.”
“But you belong here,” I said.
“I don’t belong at SMS. If I did, I wouldn’t be so miserable there. But nothing is definite yet. It’s something to think about, though.”
“Boarding school,” I said. “The idea of it is so odd.”
“There are lots of girls there my age,” Mallory pointed out. “They all looked happy to me. And the school isn’t your typical boarding school. It focuses on the creative arts and community service. It’s pretty cool.”
Mom handed Mallory the electric beater. “Have a nice Thanksgiving,” she said to her. “Tell your parents and brothers and sisters to come by tomorrow if they’d like. Claire is in Ewan’s class, and Vanessa is Joni’s age. They might know one another from school.”
Mallory stared at me in pretend horror. “The Brooke kids will be here? Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll be fine.”
“Sure you will,” Mallory said doubtfully. When she opened the door to leave, John was there, his arm raised, about to ring the bell.
“Hi,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. Mom ran her hand through her hair and smiled a little nervously at him. He’d taken her completely by surprise.
Mallory stood behind him and mouthed the word cute before leaving.
“I’m on my way out to the stores,” John explained, “and I wanted to know what you need me to bring tomorrow.”
“Uh … nothing,” Mom said. “Just yourselves.”
“No, come on, that’s not fair. What do you need?” John insisted. I noticed he held a large manila envelope in his hand. I wondered what was in it.
“Bring things Joni and Ewan like,” Mom suggested. “How are they feeling about tomorrow?”
“Oh, you know, whatever…. We’ll have a good time.”
“It’s that bad, eh?” Mom said.
“Oh, I can’t worry about it anymore. Life goes on. Joni will just have to get that through her head.” He thought a moment. “How about this? I’ll cover dessert and appetizers.”
“Okay,” Mom agreed.
“What’s in the envelope?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
“Oh, gee, I almost forgot.” John offered the envelope to Mom. “This is my book so far. I was wondering if you could look it over for me, give me your opinion.”
Mom took the envelope from him, but she didn’t take it eagerly. “Well … sure … but how soon do you need it back?”
“No hurry,” he told her. “A week, a week and a half?” Mom nodded and John aimed that gorgeous smile of his at her. “Thank you. Really.” He clapped his hands briskly. “Let me go before the stores are completely mobbed.”
Mom watched him leave and stared at the door after he’d closed it behind him. “Do you believe that?” she asked.
“Believe what?”
“Here I am in the middle of Thanksgiving preparations and he hands me one more chore to do.” She dropped the envelope onto the kitchen table.
“He didn’t ask you to do it this instant,” I pointed out. “This is a good thing. It shows he trusts your opinion.”
“This is something his wife used to do,” Mom said.
“So? That’s good too, isn’t it?”
My mother looked at me questioningly. “Do you think he wears tinted contacts?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, surprised. “Joni has the same green eyes.”
“Yes, but his are greener.”
�
�Is that bad?”
She shook her head. “I suppose not. It seems a little vain in a man. It makes me wonder if he dyes his hair. It’s awfully free of gray, don’t you think?”
It hadn’t crossed my mind. I guess a guy his age should have had more gray. “Does any of that matter, Mom?” I asked her. “So what if he wants to look good? We all like to, don’t we?”
“Yes, maybe I’m being old-fashioned.”
“You are,” I assured her. She had a real case of the jitters. I kept my fingers crossed that everything would go smoothly the next day.
On Thanksgiving morning, Mom dropped her best serving bowl on the kitchen floor. It shattered into a billion pieces. “I’ll clean it up,” I told her as I rushed into the kitchen to see what had crashed. “I’m sorry. I know you liked that bowl.”
“This is not a good sign,” Mom said, reaching in the closet for the broom.
I took it from her. “Don’t be superstitious. Every year something breaks. You said so yourself.”
After we’d swept up, Mom and I set the table together. Mom was very quiet. As we worked, though, she seemed to calm down. “You’re right,” she said at one point, although I hadn’t said a word in nearly fifteen minutes. “This is Thanksgiving and we’re having friends over. No big deal.”
“Right,” I agreed with a smile. “No biggie.”
We expected the Brookes at noon. At a quarter to twelve the bell rang. “He’s always either early or late,” Mom muttered as she yanked off her apron and checked herself in the front hall mirror before opening the door. “Hello, come in,” she said warmly.
Joni and Ewan wandered into our front hall as if they had just landed on an alien planet and were surveying the strange terrain. They were very cautious but extremely interested. Their eyes drank in each picture, every piece of furniture.
John was laden with brown paper bags. Mom took some from him. “What is all this?” she laughed. “I cooked, you know. You didn’t have to bring your own meal.”
“The Native Americans didn’t come to the feast empty-handed,” he said, smiling.
“Does that make Mom and me Pilgrims?” I asked.
Stacey McGill... Matchmaker? Page 6
