“Hi,” I replied.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “How did you find me?”
“I, uh, saw you on the scoreboard. I’m here on vacation … with my friends.”
Mary Anne, Stacey, Dawn, and Claudia were around me now. I could hear Mary Anne sniffling.
He looked up. “Hi, Mary Anne. And these are …?”
“Claudia,” said Claudia.
“Right. Kishi. Wow.”
Dawn smiled. “I’m Dawn Schafer.”
“I’m Stacey McGill,” Stacey added.
“Hi. Well. I … don’t know what to say. Would you like to sit down?”
“Taking the field in the bottom of the seventh …” boomed the announcer, “the Pittsbuuuurgh Pirates!”
“We can’t,” I said. “We have to go back.”
“Back? Well, can I buy you a Coke?”
“Aren’t you going to ask how Mom is?” The words just flew out. I couldn’t stop myself. “Or Charlie or Sam or David Michael?”
“Are they here, too?”
“No. Just me.”
Dad let out a low whistle. “I wish I could see them.”
“Me, too. You could visit. The Brewers. Remember? McLelland Road.”
“Sure. I’d like to.” Dad pulled a pen and a slip of paper out of his pocket and scribbled something on it. “Here’s my address.”
As I took it, I heard a voice from my left. “Patrick?”
It was the woman my dad was with. She was sitting in the middle of the section, giving us a funny look.
“Oh,” Dad said. “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfr?—”
“First up for the Pirates …”
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “We have to go. Mr. Schafer will be worrying.”
“All right. Well, keep in touch.”
“You keep in touch,” I replied.
“I will,” Dad replied with a smile. “I promise. I’ll write.”
I managed a smile. Then I waved and turned.
This time, I wanted to be the first to leave.
And I did not want Dad to see me crying.
“Processed dead pig slabs!” I exclaimed.
“Sssshhh,” said my stepmother, Carol. “Mr. Brewer stopped at the deli on the way. Watson wanted to treat us to lunch. He didn’t realize we were having a party.”
I transferred the cold cuts to the back of the table. “I can’t believe you kept all this a secret.”
Dad and Mr. Choi were heading my way, plates in hand. “She did,” Dad said. “All those times I called her from the road — not a word.”
Carol smiled. “Mrs. Bruen was standing next to me with a broomstick.”
Mrs. Bruen is our housekeeper. She was dancing right next to us. “True!” she yelled.
Dad and Mr. Choi were piling up their plates with vegetables, pita bread, and hummus.
“Well, we just inspected the RV,” Dad informed us.
“Your father’s a good driver,” said Mr. Choi.
“We won’t tell him about South Dakota, will we?” Dad muttered under his breath.
Mr. Choi didn’t hear. He was looking at Claudia and Stacey. They’d finally managed to take the backing off the frame.
“Interesting sketch,” he said. “Where’d you find it?”
“Down the street from the Wall Drug Store,” Claudia replied. “In South Dakota.”
“Mr. Choi is an art dealer,” Dad reminded us.
Claudia took out the sketch and handed it to him. “I just liked it.”
“Not bad.” Mr. Choi held it up to the light. “Another promising art student who wants to be Georgia O’Keeffe.”
Claudia and Stacey were staring at the back of the sketch. Their faces went slack.
“M-May I have that?” Claudia asked.
As Mr. Choi handed it to her, she turned it around.
“Oh my lord …” Stacey murmured.
Dad, Carol, Mr. Choi, and I gathered around to look.
On the back of the painting, in charcoal pencil, was the artist’s signature.
Georgia O’Keeffe.
Mr. Choi looked stunned. “Do you know how important this is?”
“I … own … an authentic Georgia O’Keeffe …” Claudia whispered.
“Early work, clearly,” Mr. Choi declared. “Perhaps from her student days. A model for later work. Obviously, the signature would have to be authenticated. If it’s real, I believe it has some gallery value.”
“Gallery …” Claudia muttered.
“Five hundred dollars sound good?”
Claudia snapped back to reality. “Five hundred? That much, for a sketch?”
Mr. Choi nodded. “A painting would be worth far more.”
“Well …” Claudia clutched the sketch to her. “I don’t know if I want to let it go.”
“Claudia, are you crazy?” Stacey said.
“Am I?” Claudia asked.
“Think of the art supplies you could buy with the money,” I suggested.
Mr. Choi dug a card out of his pocket and gave it to Claudia. “I understand how you feel. Consider my offer and let me know.”
As he walked off, the Elvis tape ended. Everyone was heading for the buffet table now.
“Dawn, I forgot to tell you, Whitney Cater called,” said Sunny. “She can’t wait to see you.”
“Stephie Robertson’s mom wants you to baby-sit next Wednesday,” Maggie added.
“Hummus!” Jill Henderson exclaimed. “Scrump-diddly-umptious!”
Maggie Blume, Sunny Winslow, and I exchanged a Look. We refrained from giggling.
That’s Jill. Thirteen going on eleven. But we love her anyway.
I love Maggie and Sunny, too. Sunny was loading up her plate, her strawberry-blonde hair bobbing as she chatted with Abby. Maggie was examining Claudia’s sketch. (Claudia was examining Maggie’s hair, which was light green; and her outfit, tight black leather and Spandex; and her pale, pale makeup.)
I love when my bicoastal friends meet.
“Ewww! Lunch meat!”
Jill had found the cold cuts.
Sunny, Maggie, and I cracked up.
Watson was leaning over the table, sniffing. “What’s wrong? Aren’t they fresh?”
“I think they’re fabulous!” Mrs. Bruen said.
Jeff was dipping his finger in the hummus. “Good stuff.”
Carol nearly had a cow. “Jeffrey, stop that!”
Jeff ran off, giggling. Carol chased after him. Mrs. Bruen scooped out the finger-contaminated part of the hummus.
My We Kids friends were in hysterics. So were my BSC friends.
I was going to miss traveling. I was going to miss Stoneybrook.
But I was not sad. Not at all.
I felt home again. Comfortable. Happy.
Cold cuts or not.
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 © 1997 by Ann M. Martin.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, July 1997
All rights reserved under International and Pan
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-69056-0
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