Victoria brightened a bit. “Last time, they brought that dollhouse. That was from Germany.”
“Really? Well, then, they don’t forget you when they go away.”
“I suppose not. They are my parents.”
I laughed. “And are they sending a dollhouse to a little girl in Brussels or Paris?”
A tiny smile formed on Victoria’s face. “A dollhouse full of brussels sprouts, perhaps.”
“Ew. Cooked?”
“Mashed. Mashed and creamed, with mustard!”
“And chocolate chips!”
“Way gross!” Victoria burst into giggles. “Oh, Mary Anne, you simply must visit me after the party. Dolly Wupperton is in such a fix. She has the flu and her parents are away and that wretched boy next door is singing under her window!”
“I’d love to. Why don’t we invite Karen over, too? She lives practically next door to you, and she’d love the house.”
Smack. Down went the curtain over Victoria’s face again.
I wanted to kick myself for opening my big mouth.
“I don’t think so,” Victoria said. “I don’t know her well.”
“She’s a nice girl. You could invite her over.”
“Then I’d have to be her friend. I can’t very well have that.”
“Why not?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’ll only be leaving in six months, remember? If I have friends here, well, what a mess that would be.”
“But, Victoria, six months is a long time. You can’t refuse to make friends, just because you’re afraid to lose them. I mean, we all naturally make friends. You’d have to work hard not to.”
“Work?”
“Sure. Sooner or later, you’re bound to find you actually like a kid or two. And chances are they’ll like you, too. What are you going to do — hang a sign around your neck that says ‘Go away’?”
Victoria took a deep breath. “Well, no …”
“Look. It’s hard when people we love go away. And it’s hard to move from one place to another. But we can’t just roll up like an old carpet and stop living. So you make a few friends, then you leave — that’s not so awful. You become pen pals. You see each other on visits. You e-mail each other. Send photos. Long-distance friendships can be fun. I know from experience. My own stepsister moved to California.”
Victoria fell silent.
Outside, the low, curved buildings of the airport were coming into view. A small propellor plane was landing to our right.
“Mary Anne,” Victoria said in a small voice, “if I invite Karen over, do I have to invite that horrid brother, David Michael?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “No. Kristy will take care of him, I’m sure.”
Victoria turned back to the window. “Well, I’ll think about it.”
It was a start. A start was better than nothing.
“EEEEEEEEEEE!”
“AAAAAAHHHHH!”
No. That was not the tropical room of the Central Park Zoo. It was the arrivals area of the airport. The ee was Dawn. (I’m more an aah person.)
“Oh, I’m so tired!” Dawn said. “I couldn’t sleep! But I’m so wide awake, you know? And I can’t wait to see Mom and I have so much to tell you and hi, you must be Queen Victoria — Princess! Or whatever! Sorry. I’m Dawn.”
Victoria smiled and gave a curtsy. “Charmed.”
“I love it!” Dawn said. “I mean, pleased to meet you. Oh, I am so spaced out!”
Dawn took a deep breath. Before I could say a word, I saw a familiar figure lumbering toward me from another flight gate.
He did have an ear-to-ear smile, too.
“Daddy!” I screamed.
“Richard!” Dawn yelled.
I ran to him and threw my arms around his shoulders. “Well!” he said. “Well, what a nice greeting.”
We introduced him to Victoria, then we all went down to the luggage claim area.
Dad’s suitcase came around right away. I won’t tell you Dawn’s reaction to the cardboard case marked REFRIGERATED BRATWURST HANDLE WITH CARE.
We could not stop talking on the ride home. Even Victoria was caught up in the spirit. When Dad told her Milwaukee had a beach in the city, she said it must be the most fascinating place in the world.
George stopped off at the Kents’ to pick up Miss Rutherford. She emerged from the house in heels and a fur-lined coat. “Ah,” she said to my dad as she sat in the limo, “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Dad looked a little puzzled. “Uh, thank you.”
The strength of her perfume seemed to suck up all the oxygen in the limo. My dad’s face was turning red. I don’t know how we kept from gagging.
George zoomed to our house in record time, probably so we could emerge into the fresh air faster. As we walked up the lawn to our house, George, Dad, Victoria, Miss Rutherford, and I formed a kind of wall in front of Dawn.
Sharon greeted us at the door. “Hi, everybody — oh, and especially you!”
She gave my father a big hug — and came eye-to-eye with Dawn.
“Wha — Daw — how — ohhhhh, my baby!”
Forget it. Her face went completely red. Tears misted her eyes, and a big, big smile lit up her face.
She practically pushed Dad aside. She gave Dawn such a big hug, it lifted her and her suitcase off the porch.
“Hi, Mom,” Dawn squeaked.
“Lovely,” Miss Rutherford said. She was actually crying. Her mascara was already streaking. Dad was beaming. I was honking into a tissue.
Victoria went running into the house. I followed her to the kitchen. There, Mom’s health loaf was still in the making (late, of course). Her other dishes were simmering on the range.
But something was missing, and I wasn’t sure what.
“Where’s the turkey?” Victoria asked.
That was it. I didn’t smell the turkey!
Odd. All Sharon had to do was put it in the oven and …
Uh-oh.
Quickly I opened the oven. The turkey was in there, all right. It was still cold.
The oven was set to Off.
“Arrggggh …” I flicked the knob to Warm. Then I ran inside and whispered the news to Sharon.
She was embarrassed. “Oh, dear. I guess that means we won’t eat until two o’clock or so.”
“No problem,” Dad said. “I can show you all my slides of Milwaukee.”
Miss Rutherford’s smile froze. “Charming.”
“Fine with me!” George said with a shrug.
Victoria tugged on my sleeve. “Do you suppose I could play with Karen while we’re waiting?”
“Well, she may visit with Kristy later,” I said. “All the BSC members are coming over.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Victoria asked. “Perhaps George could drive me back with you for an hour or so while Miss Rutherford is watching the slides. Would you come too, Dawn?”
Everyone spoke at once:
“Uh, well, em, er …” Miss Rutherford sputtered.
“Sure,” Dawn replied, “for a while, at least.”
“But you just got here!” Sharon complained.
“At your service!” George said.
I went to the phone. I could tell Victoria wanted to flee the slide show, and I didn’t blame her. Oh, well, slides or not, I was sure of one thing. It was going to be a great, great holiday.
As I tapped out the number, Victoria waltzed happily around the kitchen. I could hear Dawn laughing out loud, and my dad’s voice describing something that had happened to him at the airport.
I smiled. I had a lot to be thankful for.
* * *
Dear Reader,
The title for Mary Anne and the Little Princess came from one of my favorite books when I was growing up — A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Another of my favorite books was also by Frances Burnett — The Secret Garden. When I was a kid, I just loved reading. (As an adult, I still do.) I had a lot of favorite books. Among them were
the Mary Poppins books, the Wizard of Oz books, the Doctor Doolittle books, Marguerite Henry’s horse stories, Roald Dahl’s books (especially James and the Giant Peach), Mr. Popper’s Penguins, and Baby Island.
My sister and I were very lucky because when we were growing up we were frequently given books as gifts. By the time I was ten, I had a huge shelf full of books I loved. That was why I decided to start a lending library in my bedroom. I spent a long time one summer making pockets to put in the back of each book, and cards to go in the pockets. I opened my library to the kids in the neighborhood, and let them check out books to read. That was the summer I wanted to be a librarian. I changed my mind about a career lots of times after that, but as you can see, I still ended up working with children’s books. And I still have all the books that were on the shelves of my long-ago library.
Happy reading,
* * *
The author gratefully acknowledges
Peter Lerangis
for his help in
preparing this manuscript.
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1996 by Ann M. Martin
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition, November 1996
e-ISBN 978-0-545-79240-0
Mary Anne and the Little Princess Page 9