“And do you know one thing that’s really struck me during this visit?” she added, her dark brown eyes suddenly twinkling.
Chris shook her head.
“How much you both remind me of your father when he was your age!”
“Really?” Chris laughed. “It’s hard to imagine Daddy ever being our age....”
“Well, he certainly was! He looked a lot like the two of you, but you three have got other things in common as well. You know, he was quite a prankster, just like you girls. Wait, let me get out some of those old photographs.” Emily surveyed the attic storage room for a few seconds, her face lighting up once she spotted a huge photograph album sitting on top of a pile of folding-lawn chairs being stored up in the attic over the winter. “Why, I remember one time when he was just about your age.... He and his best friend—Skip, I think his name was—decided to start a part-time business after school, doing odd jobs and washing cars and mowing lawns.... But they didn’t own a lawn mower, so they had to come up with a way to borrow one....”
For the next hour and a half, Emily Pratt enthralled Chris with tales of her son, the twins’ father, when he was a teenager, making her stories come alive with the photographs that lined the pages of the thick leather-bound album. The younger Pratt couldn’t hear enough about the young man who had gained a reputation as Ridgewood’s resident mischief maker, always coming up with some scheme or another, more often than not ending up by laughing at the way that things turned out but having fun anyway.
Chris was also glad that her grandmother seemed to be having such a good time reminiscing about bygone days. For a while at least she forgot all about her contention that she and her husband were too old to hold on to the house, that it was time for them both to move to a retirement village. Instead, she allowed herself to be the vibrant, fun-loving woman she really was—getting on in years, perhaps, but nevertheless as young at heart as she had always been.
As she snapped the photograph album shut, declaring with a chuckle that she was getting hoarse from talking so much, Emily caught sight of her wristwatch.
“My goodness, just look at the time!” she cried. “Why, we’ve been up here in this dusty old attic for hours! You should be outside, Christine, skiing or skating or whatever, breathing our fresh country air. And I should be thinking about getting dinner started. Why, I’ve whiled away almost the entire afternoon strolling down Memory Lane!”
“But it’s been such fun,” Chris said sincerely. “I can go ice-skating any time, but it’s not very often that I get to spend the afternoon with one of my favorite people in the whole world!”
She hugged her grandmother, then the two of them started putting away the boxes and photographs they had been having so much fun looking through. As they were getting ready to go back downstairs once again, Chris noticed a big straw basket that had been hidden behind an old bicycle. In it were all kinds of small handicrafts made out of gay fabrics, a collection of bright colors and patterns that immediately made her curious.
“Oooh, what’s that, Grandma?” Chris couldn’t help peeking inside.
“Just some more things I made.” Emily Pratt shrugged. “I so enjoy making things that sometimes I make them just for the fun of it, without really intending to use them for anything in particular. Oh, I’ll probably give them away one of these days as gifts. In fact, if you see anything you like, Christine, feel free to help yourself.”
Chris looked through the contents of the big basket, filled with awe. There were all kinds of things, each one beautiful and bright and carefully made. Patchwork potholders, little baskets made out of yellow calico, small stuffed animals, pincushions, even doll clothes. She was amazed.
“Grandma, these things are incredible! Did you ever think of selling them?”
Emily Pratt waved her hand in the air and pretended to scowl. “Oh, it would be too much trouble finding a store that would carry my things, worrying about whether people would like them enough to buy them....”
“How could anyone not like them?” Chris demanded. “You can make so many different kinds of things, and each one is wonderful in its own way!”
“Why, thank you for the compliment, Chris. I’m pleased that you like them so much. But well, the truth is that most people find it easier just to go to one of the local malls and buy things there. You know, things they’ve seen advertised in magazines, names they’re already familiar with, rather than buying handmade things. I suspect they’re just not used to it.
“Besides,” Emily went on, “a lot of my friends make things of their own. And since they’re the kind of people who appreciate handcrafted items enough to want them in their homes, there go my potential buyers!”
She laughed to herself. “Now, Christine, why don’t we go downstairs and have a nice hot cup of tea? I don’t know about you, but I need a rest after digging around in that musty old attic all afternoon!”
“Sure, Grandma,” Chris agreed. “That’s a great idea.” But as she accompanied her grandmother down the stairs to the kitchen, Chris was lost in thought. And there were two separate issues on her mind. One was the beautiful handicrafts that her grandmother was so good at making— and her contention that no one would ever be interested in buying them to brighten up their own homes. The other was her plan to move south because she felt that she and her husband were old-timers now, a belief that contrasted so strongly with her lively spirit and her love of being busy and involved in things. Neither of them made any sense . . . and Chris was unable to forget either of them. She was just too troubled by them both.
I think it’s time for Sooz and me to have a heart-to-heart talk, Chris was thinking as she bounded down the last few stairs ahead of her grandmother, anxious to get to the kitchen first so she could make the tea. There’s one thing that’s becoming more and more clear to me every day: Sooz and I have definitely got our work cut out for us!
Later that afternoon when Susan arrived home after her day at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital with Brian Barker, Chris was all set to talk to her. But before she could say a word, her twin, still wearing her coat, her nose and cheeks still red from the cold, found her upstairs in her bedroom and declared, “Chris, you and I have got to have a talk!”
Chris’s mouth immediately dropped open. “Sooz, that’s exactly what I was going to say! I think you and I must be on the same wavelength!”
“I don’t know about that. Because what I’ve got to say is something that you probably haven’t been giving very much thought to all day.”
Susan, obviously very excited, took off her coat, kicked off her shoes, and plopped down on Chris’s bed, taking care not to muss up the yellow patchwork quilt that was serving as its bedspread. “But I certainly have. Chris, I just had the most amazing day over at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital! You should see that place! The kids there are great! I mean, most of them are having a really tough time, being sick and stuck in a hospital and all....And of course it’s even worse than usual now that it’s Christmastime. But they’re all so spunky and cheerful, as if they’re determined not to let being in the hospital during the holidays get them down.”
“Good for them!” Chris interjected.
“Yes, but there’s more. The hospital is low on funds. It’s losing money, in fact. It might even have to close. But that means that there’s practically no Christmas celebration going on at all! No decorations, no parties, no presents ... not even a Christmas tree. Imagine! There are fir trees everywhere here in Vermont, yet those poor kids don’t have a single Christmas tree in the entire hospital!”
“I think I can guess what you’re going to say next,” said Chris with a chuckle as she sat down on the bed beside her sister. “You want to do something to help the children at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital have a merry Christmas, right?”
Susan looked at her in amazement. “Why, Chris! How on earth did you know?”
Chris burst out laughing. “Let’s just say that I know you pretty well. Besides, I must con
fess that I’ve been thinking kind of the same thing.”
She told her twin all about the afternoon she had spent with her grandmother, talking to her about the past and looking at all the beautiful handicrafts she had made, including some that she’d made just for fun without having any real use for them.
“And I feel just as committed to helping Grandma and Grandpa realize that they’d be lost if they sold their house and moved and that they’re both very involved in so many of the things that keep people young—work they enjoy, hobbies they love, reaching out to other people—as you do to helping the children at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital,” Chris finished. “There must be some way ...”
Susan shook her head slowly. “I know exactly how you feel, Chris. Deciding that you want to help someone out and knowing how to do it can sometimes be two very different things.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Enough about that for now. Tell me: How did your Christmas shopping go this morning?”
Chris groaned. “Terribly! I didn’t buy a single thing for anybody! Oh, sure I saw some nice things in the little shops here in Ridgewood. But nothing seemed to be just right. Nothing I saw was distinctive enough ... special enough for the people I care about.” She sighed. “I don’t know where I’m going to get Christmas presents this year!”
She looked over at her twin, expecting some advice or at least some sympathy. But Susan looked as if she weren’t listening at all.
“Sooz, aren’t you going to say anything?” Chris demanded. “I mean, here I am telling you all about what a hard time I’ve been having trying to get my Christmas shopping done ...”
All of a sudden, Chris realized that her sister was listening to her. In fact, she was listening to every word she said with the greatest interest.
And the gleam in her eye told her that once and for all, Susan had come up with a solution....
“Chris, I’ve got it!” she breathed, barely able to contain her excitement. “It’s finally come to me! I’ve had a brainstorm ... the answer to all our problems!”
“All our problems?” Chris asked doubtfully. “Not that I doubt your ingenuity, Sooz, but you’ve got to admit that we’re dealing with some problems here that are pretty different from each other....”
“It’s the perfect plan!” Susan insisted. By now she was practically jumping up and down. “Listen to this, Chris. You and I will organize a Christmas bazaar! We’ll get everyone involved! Grandma and Grandpa, Brian, Andy, even Betty from the craft supplies store. We’ll sell handicrafts made by Grandma and her friends and home-baked Christmas cookies and ... and Christmas trees, and all the profits will go to making a merry Christmas for the kids over at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital!”
“Sooz, that is ingenious!” Chris declared. “That way, we can help the children have a real Christmas!”
“That’s right. And at the same time, we’ll be helping convince Grandma and Grandpa that they’re not too old to be much good for anything, or whatever it is they said about the way they’ve been feeling lately, because we’ll get them both so involved in getting this bazaar off the ground that they’ll realize that they really are still young at heart.”
“That’s right,” Chris agreed. “And there’s one more benefit, too: People like me who’ve had trouble with their Christmas shopping will have no problem at all finding wonderful things to buy there to give as gifts. Why, a bazaar like the one we’re going to have is the answer to a Christmas shopper’s dreams!”
“See?” Susan said, pretending to be smug. “My idea is the answer to all our problems!”
“I’ll say! Why, it’s a fantastic idea, Sooz. One of the best you’ve ever had!”
“Good, I’m glad you’re in favor of it. After all, Chris, you and I will have to put in a lot of work between now and Christmas. Not only planning the bazaar, either. We’ll also have to plan a way to help those kids at the hospital celebrate Christmas.”
Chris nodded seriously. “I’m pretty sure we can get Andy and Brian to help us with the organizing. After all, they both know Ridgewood a lot better than we do, so they can help us pick out a place to hold the bazaar and give us some ideas on how to get the local people interested.”
She paused for a moment, just thinking about all they would have to do in order to make their plan work. “Let’s see, we’ll need posters and tables and music.... Oh, dear, can we really do all this, Sooz? Christmas is only a few days away!”
“Of course we can, Chris! After all, we’ll have lots of help. If we play our cards right, we can manage to get the whole town of Ridgewood behind us! Now today is Monday, and Christmas Eve is this Friday. If we have the bazaar on Thursday, we’ll have all day Friday to plan a big Christmas Eve celebration for the kids at the hospital!”
“Thursday!” Chris groaned. “That means we only have tomorrow and Wednesday to get everything ready!”
Susan just grinned. “Come on, Chris. We can do it. After all, we Pratt twins have risen to greater challenges than this in the past, haven’t we? And we’ve always managed to come out on top.”
“I guess so,” Chris agreed, enthusiastic once again. “But we’d better get going right away. Why don’t we make a list of things we’ve got to do between now and Thursday, the day of the bazaar? Then we can decide what order to do them in....”
“Right. And we can figure who we’ll need to help us, too.”
Susan went over to the dresser and got out a small spiral notebook and a pen. On the front cover of the notebook, she triumphantly wrote, “The First Annual Town of Ridgewood Christmas Bazaar.”
“There!” she cried. “How’s that for a name?”
“Perfect! Now let’s see. We’ll need a place to hold the bazaar, that’s the very first thing. I bet Andy could help us out, or maybe Grandma and Grandpa will have some ideas about that. Then, once we’ve got that decided, we can start thinking about posters to advertise the bazaar. We can put them up all around town, in the windows of stores and on telephone poles....”
“And you can design them!” Chris suggested. “You’re so talented that you’re the perfect person to be the bazaar’s official artist!”
“Okay,” Susan agreed. “I love doing things like that. As a matter of fact, I’ll start designing a poster right away.”
“Great. And in the meantime I’ll talk to Andy about the best place to hold a Christmas bazaar.”
“You know, Chris,” Susan said thoughtfully, jotting down “Location” and “Poster” on her list, “I thought I was excited about the holidays before. But that was nothing compared to all the Christmas spirit I’ve got now!”
Chapter Seven
True to their word, Chris and Susan began working on the First Annual Town of Ridgewood Christmas Bazaar right away. And as in the case of almost everything else the twins embarked upon, they gave it not only every spare moment they had but every ounce of energy and creativity they had as well.
The very first step, as Chris had noted, was finding a place in which to hold the bazaar. As soon as she and her sister had finished writing up their preliminary list, she hurried downstairs to find someone who had lived in Ridgewood all his life, who knew every nook and cranny and all the ins and outs of living in the small Vermont town ... and who would get just as excited over the prospect of a Christmas bazaar as the twins themselves.
Chris found Andy in front of the Pratts’ house, shoveling that afternoon’s light snowfall off the front walk. It was still snowing; fortunately, the flurries that were falling now, cascading gently over the town from the black winter sky, were disappearing the moment they touched the ground.
“Andy! Got a minute?” Chris called, throwing her wool jacket over her shoulders and venturing out onto the porch as she called to the red-haired boy who was huffing and puffing as he worked efficiently at clearing the path connecting the house with Ridgewood Street.
He glanced up and grinned from ear to ear when he saw who it was who was calling to him.
“Hiya, Chris!” he yelled
back with a friendly wave of his hand. “Looking for something to do? Grab a shovel. I could use some help!”
“Thanks but no thanks!” Chris returned with a chuckle. “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me out!”
“Sure, Chris. Anytime. Especially if it means I get to take a break from this drudgery!”
Cheerfully he gestured toward the front walk, by now almost completely clear of snow. Then he abandoned his shovel and strode up to the front porch, stomping his boots on the wooden steps in order to shake the snow off.
“Now what can I do for the town of Ridgewood’s number-one tourist?”
“Funny you should say that. What I’m going to propose will hopefully raise me from the level of tourist to honorary citizen,” Chris joked. More seriously, she added, “What would you say about an idea my sister and I just had that’s guaranteed to help all the kids at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital have one of the merriest Christmases ever, convince my grandmother and grandfather that selling their house and moving south would be the biggest mistake of their lives ... and give this town the biggest dollop of holiday spirit that it’s ever seen?”
“Whoa!” Andy exclaimed. “All this sounds too good to be true! Let me in on this brainstorm of yours!”
Chris proceeded to describe the Christmas bazaar that she and her sister had envisioned. Andy nodded as he listened, as if he were already recognizing that such an event could, indeed, accomplish every one of those things that Chris had promised in her dramatic introduction.
Then, as she outlined all the work that would have to be carried out over the next forty-eight hours in order to ensure that the Christmas bazaar would be the success she wanted it to be, Andy listened with a serious expression on his face.
When she was done, he patted her shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
“Wow, Chris, that does sound like a great idea! And don’t worry, you’ve come to the right place. If anyone can help you two out of towners get this thing going, it’s Andy Connors, born and raised within these town limits. As for coming up with a place in which to hold the bazaar, I already have the ideal location in mind.”
The Candy Cane Caper Page 5