Maid Mary Anne (9780545768139)

by Martin, Ann M.

But how would I meet her? I couldn’t just walk up to her door and knock. I wondered if she had any children, and might need a baby-sitter. That would be one way to meet her.

  Then I remembered some of the things Mrs. Stone had said: that Mrs. Towne was a widow. Making those tiny little perfect stitches required good eyesight and Mrs. Towne, at her age, had better eyesight than most people at any age. I decided Mrs. Towne might be older. So the baby-sitter idea was out. She probably didn’t have children, or if she did, they were all grown up.

  Her gardens, I thought suddenly, were as beautiful as a patchwork quilt against the grass. More than ever, I wanted to meet her. I wished I weren’t so shy.

  I sighed.

  “Mary Anne?” asked Carolyn, and I realized I had stopped all together and was staring at the house.

  “Oops. Sorry.” I said. “We’d better get moving. Your mother will be home any minute and she’ll wonder where you are.”

  Marilyn giggled. “We’ll tell her we got lost exploring. We took a wrong turn and ended up in India and were eaten by tigers!”

  “Or in the desert and were attacked by wild desert rattlesnakes!” said Carolyn.

  “In the mountains and were chased by a bear!” answered Marilyn instantly.

  They played the game all the way home. I laughed at the wild scenarios they concocted. But I have to admit, I concocted some almost as wild and just as unlikely myself — for meeting Mrs. Towne.

  “Order in the club!” said Jessi Ramsey, holding up a Cheez Doodle.

  Kristy Thomas, who is the president of the Baby-sitters Club and a stickler for organization, looked at Jessi sternly. She pulled the green visor she always wears for meetings down over her eyes, straightened up in the director’s chair (where she always sits), and said (as she always does), “This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club will come to order. Is there any new business?”

  “Here’s some new food,” said a muffled voice from the closet. A moment later Claudia Kishi backed out, holding an unopened bag of plain pretzels in one hand, and an unopened bag of chocolate-dipped pretzels in another.

  “Great,” said Mallory Pike, pushing her glasses up her nose in a characteristic gesture. “I’m starving.”

  Claudia grinned and tossed the chocolate pretzels to Mallory, who was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. She handed the other bag to Stacey McGill, who was sitting next to her.

  “Well?” said Kristy loudly.

  “No new business, at least not for me,” said Stacey, ripping open the bag, taking out some pretzels, and offering the bag to Dawn.

  Kristy looked around the room. We shook our heads.

  Then Stacey said, “Of course, it is dues day.”

  We groaned (which we always do) but we got out our money and handed it over to Stacey. She’s our treasurer.

  In case you hadn’t guessed, I was at a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club.

  What (or who) is the Baby-sitters Club?

  Well, the BSC started as an idea in Kristy’s organized brain. Kristy was listening to her mother try to find a baby-sitter one night, calling person after person with no success, and she thought, wouldn’t it be great if someone could make just one phone call and reach several available baby-sitters?

  With Kristy, the thought is almost always the parent to the action, meaning that within no time at all, she’d begun organizing a baby-sitting club. And the rest, as they say, is history.

  Because it was a super idea.

  But then Kristy’s ideas usually are. She’s one of the most organized people I know, and we’ve known each other and been best friends for as long as I can remember, even though we are so different. Kristy is outgoing, out-spoken, out-everything. She can be bossy and maddening, but those are the qualities that make her a great BSC president. I wouldn’t be surprised if someday she becomes President of the United States.

  Some examples of why she’d make a great President? Well, Kristy not only thought of the BSC, she also came up with the idea of keeping a BSC notebook. The notebook is like a diary for the members of the BSC. Each of us writes about our sitting jobs, describing what happened. Then the rest of us are responsible for reading the notebook once a week. We may not always like doing it, especially those of us who are not as organized as Kristy, but that notebook has been very, very useful.

  Kristy also created the Kid-Kits. Kid-Kits are cardboard boxes filled with inexpensive toys, games, and books. A lot of it is old stuff we have around our houses, things we’ve out-grown. The rest we buy with some of our club dues. We don’t take the Kid-Kits to every baby-sitting job, because then they’d lose their novelty appeal — but they’re a big hit whenever we do. For the kids, it’s like having a whole new box of toys to play with.

  And then there’s the record book, also Kristy’s idea. The record book is the client list, with names, addresses, phone numbers, wages, plus the schedule of all our jobs. As secretary of the BSC, I’m in charge of keeping the record book straight.

  Kristy also founded Kristy’s Krushers, a softball team for all the kids we baby-sit for who aren’t quite ready for Little League. The Krushers range from age two and a half to age eight, and although they may not always win their games when it comes to keeping score, they always win when it comes to having fun.

  How do I know so much about Kristy? Well, she and I have known each other since we were babies. We’re best friends, even though, as you can see, we’re complete opposites.

  Well, not complete opposites. Some things about us are sort of similar. We’re both short, for example. And Kristy’s mother got married again, just like my father did, so Kristy got a new family, too.

  Kristy used to live in the house next door to where I used to live, and across the street from Claudia’s. Her father left when her younger brother, David Michael, was a baby. Just walked out, never said he was sorry or even explained — at least not to Kristy. That left Mrs. Thomas to take care of four kids: Kristy, her two older brothers, Charlie and Sam, and of course, David Michael. She did it, but I don’t think it was easy. (Maybe that’s where Kristy got her super-organizational skills from.) Then Mrs. Thomas fell in love, and it turned out that Watson Brewer, the man she fell in love with, was a millionaire. He and Kristy’s mom got married and they all moved into his mansion.

  And now the mansion is filling up! Watson has two kids from his first marriage, who live in the Brewers’ house on alternate weekends and holidays, plus Emily Michelle, an adopted Vietnamese girl. Also, Kristy’s grandmother, Nannie, lives with them and helps keep an eye on all the kids and what seems like dozens of pets.

  So it’s a good thing Kristy doesn’t mind making herself heard. In the Brewer household, you really do have to speak up!

  Anyway, that’s how the BSC got started. Kristy, Claudia, and I were charter members. But because it was such a great idea, in no time at all, the BSC needed more members, which is how Stacey joined us.

  Stacey’s parents moved to Stoneybrook when her father’s office transferred him here. Then her parents got divorced and Mr. McGill moved back to New York, while Stacey’s mom stayed in Stoneybrook. Stacey had a hard time trying to decide whether to go back to New York with her father, or stay here in “the country” with her mom.

  Because for Stacey, the tree-lined streets and quiet sidewalks of Stoneybrook really are the country. Stacey is a true New Yorker: She loves bright lights, crowds of people, can sleep through any amount of noise, and is completely unflappable. The last quality, as you might imagine, is an excellent one for a successful baby-sitter.

  It’s also a good quality for Stacey because she is diabetic. That means her body can’t handle the sugar in her blood and she could get very sick if she doesn’t watch what she eats all the time. It means no pigging out on chocolate or candy (which is why Claudia always keeps some “good” junk food around for meetings, like pretzels or Frookies, which are cookies sweetened only with fruit juice). It also means she has to give herself shots of insulin every day to help regulate
the sugar in her blood.

  I don’t know if I could do that, but Stacey is really good about it. And all that healthy eating means she stays in shape, too. Which, when combined with Stacey’s New York City style, means that people sit up and take notice when she comes into the room. She’s a sophisticated dresser, more than the rest of us (although Claudia has a real style of her own, too). Furthermore, underneath that long, blonde hair is a brain that not only understands math, but likes it — which of course is why Stacey is our treasurer.

  Our vice-president, and Stacey’s best friend, is Claudia Kishi, who are both opposite in some ways, and alike in others.

  Claudia, as I mentioned earlier, has style, too. But unlike Stacey’s smooth city look, Claudia’s style is a little more quirky and artsy. For instance, she painted her sneakers with her own personal designs. People notice Claud when she comes into a room, too. She’s Japanese-American and really striking, with her long black hair and perfect complexion.

  The differences between Claudia and Stacey? Well, take Claudia’s complete appreciation of some of the worst junk food in the world, which Stacey can’t eat. And while Stacey is a math whiz, Claudia would rate school as just one step above punishment. She’s very creative — she’s going to be an artist, probably a famous one someday — but Claudia’s kind of creativity just doesn’t translate into good grades in math or English (although her spelling is definitely creative). What’s particularly hard for Claudia is that her sister, Janine, is a real, live genius.

  Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Kishi do appreciate Claudia’s talent. But they don’t always understand her — how she could passionately love to read Nancy Drew books (she likes them as much as junk food, and she keeps them hidden around her room because her parents sort of equate eating junk food with reading those mysteries).

  Jessica Ramsey and Mallory Pike, who are junior officers in the BSC, are another set of best friends who are alike in some ways, yet very different. They’re junior officers because they’re eleven years old, two years younger than the rest of us, and in the sixth grade. They can’t take baby-sitting jobs that require them to work late at night, so they handle mostly after-school and weekend day clients, which frees the rest of us up for late-night sitting. Both Mal and Jessi are the oldest kids in their families, which means they have plenty of built-in baby-sitting experience. In fact, Mal has seven younger brothers and sisters (three of her brothers are triplets). Jessi has a younger sister and brother.

  Both Jessi and Mallory are creative, but in entirely different ways. Jessi wants to be a prima ballerina someday, and she’s already made a good start. She studies with a special teacher and she’s even danced in real ballets.

  Mal wants to be a children’s book author and illustrator. She writes and illustrates wonderful stories.

  Both Mal and Jessi love to read. And they both feel that, as the oldest kids in their families, they should be treated more like adults and less like the rest of the kids. They took a step in that direction (and passed me!) recently when they were allowed to have their ears pierced.

  Physically, they’re pretty different, too. Jessi looks and stands and walks the way I imagine a prima ballerina does. She has an extra sort of grace, and she’s incredibly limber. She has dark brown skin, brown eyes, and doesn’t wear glasses or braces — both of which Mal has.

  Mal doesn’t have Jessi’s tall elegance. She’s more average, I guess, except that she has wonderful curly red hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.

  Our two associate members, Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno, are available to take on jobs we can’t fit in. They’re not best friends with each other. In fact, they don’t even attend meetings as a rule, although Shannon Kilbourne has been coming more often lately. Shannon is a neighbor of Kristy’s who goes to Stoneybrook Day School, which is a private school. Kristy’s family’s dog, a Bernese Mountain dog, is named after Shannon, because Shannon gave Kristy one of her dog’s puppies when the Thomases’ wonderful old collie, Louie, died. Kristy still wears a baseball cap with a collie on the front of it.

  Logan Bruno. Logan. Well, he’s pretty special. That’s what I think, and not only because he’s a guy who knows how to handle a baby-sitting job as well as the usual sports things guys do. I mean, Kristy can do that, too. No, Logan is special because — he’s my boyfriend. In fact, I would think he was special even if he weren’t.

  For one thing, he is major cute, even cuter than Cam Geary (although they do look alike), who is my favorite movie star.

  And he — Logan — has a great Southern accent and a way of really listening to you when you talk to him. It’s funny. I am the shyest and most sensitive of all my friends, and the only one with a steady boyfriend. But most of the time, I like having Logan as my boyfriend.

  Most of the time, but not all of the time? Well, Logan can be a little bossy. In fact, not long after we started going out, he started making decisions for both of us, planning things for us without talking to me first, as if he assumed that because I was shy, I didn’t have an opinion. I did, though. And we broke up for a while because Logan didn’t understand how I felt.

  But we really missed each other, so we decided to try things out again. And so far, I’ve been really glad we did.

  So that’s the BSC, all nine of us. We’ve become a successful business with regular clients who give us good recommendations. They’re so good, in fact, that we rarely need to distribute fliers or put signs up in supermarkets anymore. And like any good business we have officers, rules, records, and dues.

  We even have a place of business where we keep regular hours: Claudia’s, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from five-thirty to six. During the meetings we book appointments, collect dues (on Mondays), and generally take care of business.

  Since Claud is our vice-president and the only one of us with her own phone line, it’s ideal. That way, our line isn’t tied up with anyone else’s phone calls when clients are trying to reach us, and we aren’t tying up anybody else’s phone with our business calls, either.

  So you see, we are all very different (I guess that means that happy baby-sitters clubs aren’t all alike, either) but we have a lot in common. And with so many different ways of thinking and seeing, and so many talents available, it was only natural that I should turn to the BSC for some help in figuring out how to meet Mrs. Towne.

  Kristy, who’d managed to listen while I described baby-sitting for the Arnolds, to remind me not to forget to write it up in the BSC notebook, to negotiate more money for new supplies for the Kid-Kits with Stacey, and to answer the phone, said as she hung up, “Why didn’t you just knock on Mrs. Towne’s door?”

  “Uh,” I said, writing Mal in for an afternoon job on Thursday.

  “Well?” said Kristy.

  I finished what I was doing (I can only do one thing at a time, but I have never, ever made a mistake in scheduling) and looked at Kristy. “Just knock on Mrs. Towne’s door? I don’t think so, Kristy.”

  “Why not?”

  I gave Kristy a Look. However, Kristy is one of the few people I know who will argue with a Look. She said, “But how are you ever going to meet Mrs. Towne if you don’t, Mary Anne? If you’re really shy, I could come with you …”

  “Thanks,” I said helplessly, “but I just can’t walk up to someone’s door and knock and then ask them to give me sewing lessons, okay, Kristy?”

  Kristy looked stubborn, but before she could argue, Claudia said sensibly, “Why don’t you call her, Mary Anne?”

  “Excellent,” said Kristy.

  The phone rang. Kristy picked it up and said, “Baby-sitters Club … Yes. Hello, Mrs. Pike. No, I’m sorry, I don’t know if Mal is free then, but of course we have a number of other baby-sitters who might be available Thursday if she isn’t. Yes, I know it’s a two-person sitting job. Okay, I’ll call you right back.

  “Mrs. Pike needs someone for next Thursday afternoon from three-thirty until five. She requested Mallory.”

  Mallory grinned, and I hid
a smile at how formal Kristy sounded. “Let me check,” I said, trying to sound equally formal. “Hmmm. Well, Mal’s available, I’m available, and Dawn, you’re available.”

  Dawn, who’d been sort of quiet during the meeting, shook her head slightly. “Mary Anne, you and Mal take it.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Sure,” said Dawn.

  “Okay.” I carefully wrote it in the book while Kristy called Mrs. Pike back and gave her the information.

  Jessi looked down at her Swatch. “Six o’clock,” she informed us.

  Kristy checked her watch and frowned. “I have 5:59.”

  We knew better than to argue. We waited. Then Kristy said, “Six o’clock. This meeting of the BSC is officially adjourned.”

  It had been an uneventful meeting. But as Dawn and I walked home together, I felt pleased. “Why didn’t I think of just calling Mrs. Towne?” I wondered aloud. “That would be okay, don’t you think, Dawn?”

  “That would be fine. In fact, Mrs. Towne will probably be flattered by your interest.”

  As it turned out, Dawn was right. I gathered my courage after dinner and found Mrs. Towne’s number in the phone book. In a rush I told her who I was, and that Mrs. Stone had suggested I call because I love to sew.

  For a moment, the other end was quiet. Then Mrs. Towne said, “Mary Anne, I’m flattered. Why don’t you come by for a visit and we’ll talk.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “I’d love it.”

  “Well, ah, what’s a good time for you?”

  “Oh, any time is fine. Why not tomorrow afternoon?”

  I did a quick mental check: no baby-sitting, no trips to dentists or doctors. And no homework, of course.

  “I’d like that,” I told Mrs. Towne.

  “Come about four o’clock and we’ll have a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Towne.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up and raced to Dawn’s room. Dawn was lying on the bed, her hands folded under her head. An old album by the Beach Boys was playing. I shook my head.