The Pink Lemonade Charade

by Cynthia Blair

  He hadn’t realized that Christine and Susan were identical twins.

  And beyond that, he had no idea that this wasn’t even Christine Pratt that he was talking to!

  Susan was tempted to burst out laughing. But she didn’t. She liked the idea of having “secrets” from this man. Especially since he was so certain he knew everything there was to know about her.

  So, instead, she put on her most serious expression and said, “Goodness. I can see that you do know quite a bit about me.”

  The Russian man looked satisfied. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

  “Da. I am only telling you this so you will know that I am serious, that, as you say here in United States, ‘I mean business’ when I say that it will be best for everyone if from now on you keep away from Natasha.”

  Susan pretended to think about that for a moment.

  “I understand what you’re saying perfectly, and I’m willing to keep away from her, just to prove to you that you’re imagining things. But won’t it look kind of funny if during our cultural exchange events—you know, the dance rehearsal and the party before Saturday night’s performance—I make a point of avoiding Natasha? Especially since I’ve already told everyone that we’re friends. I mean, what will everybody think?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed into two tiny slits. “Of course this is problem. And you are very wise to think of this. But there is simple solution. When you see Natasha, you are to be nice to her. But do not forget for an instant that we will be watching you closely. Very closely.”

  He bent forward then, so that his face was very close to Susan’s. “But most important, Christine, it will be best if you do not go out of your way to see Natasha at any other time. I think you understand what I am saying.”

  “Oh, yes,” Susan said evenly. “I understand completely.”

  Just then, she spotted Beth, making her way toward her across the store. At first Susan was relieved; after all, having Beth come over and start talking to her would put an end to this most unpleasant conversation. But then she realized that if Beth called her by name, the “chap-erone” would realize that she had been tricking him.

  And she had a funny feeling that he wouldn’t like that one bit.

  “Gee, here comes my friend,” she said hastily, moving away from the man and pretending to be looking through a rack of pastel-colored jeans. “I guess I’d better be moving along. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon....”

  By the time Susan turned around, the man was gone.

  “Hey, who was that you were talking to?” Beth asked as she caught up with Susan. She wrinkled up her nose and added, “He looked kind of strange.”

  Susan’s first instinct was to make up a story about how he was just some stranger, asking directions or just chatting. But then she remembered that between the upcoming dance rehearsal and the party Saturday night, there was a good chance that Beth would be meeting the Russian dancers’ chaperone. After all, it was becoming increasing clear that these “chaperones” were very much committed to keeping track of everything the young Russians did—and everyone they came into contact with.

  “Oh, apparently he’s one of the chaperones who came along on the trip with those Russian ballet dancers we’re supposed to be meeting,” Susan said, trying to sound very casual about the whole incident. “He thought I was Chris.” Immediately she went on to say, “Hey, look at these lavender jeans. What a great color!”

  But Beth wasn’t as willing to let the incident pass as she had hoped.

  “What do you mean, he thought you were Chris?” she said. “You don’t look anything at all like Chris today! Well, hardly, anyway. I mean, it’s not as if he spotted you across the room and recognized you immediately.”

  Susan shrugged. “Maybe you just think that because you know us both so well.”

  “Maybe.” Beth thought for a minute. “Hey, I know!” she said after a moment, her face lighting up. “I’ll bet he followed you here from the hotel! Wow, wouldn’t that be something?”

  Susan pretended to be scornful of this theory. “Oh, come on, Beth. What on earth for?” This time she was insistent about changing the subject. “Hey, we’d better get going. If I’m late for my lunch date with Chris, she’ll never forgive me,”

  The two girls headed toward the cash register, anxious to pay for the three dresses and be on their way. Beth, it seemed, forgot all about the “coincidence,” the chance meeting between the Russian and the Christine Pratt look-alike, as she started counting out her money, suddenly concerned about whether she would have enough.

  Susan, on the other hand, had done anything but forget about it. As a matter of fact, as she left the store and headed back toward the Mall, where she was meeting her sister for lunch, she could scarcely wait to tell Chris all about it.

  Chapter Six

  “Chris, never in a million years are you going to guess what just happened!”

  Christine Pratt surveyed her sister, noticed the shopping bag she was carrying, and said, “Don’t tell me. You just discovered the biggest bargain of the century.”

  Susan couldn’t help chuckling as she dropped into a chair opposite her twin. It was just past one o’clock, and Susan had just arrived at the new wing of the National Gallery of Art, where she and her sister had planned to meet for lunch.

  The girls were sitting at a small round table in the cafe located on the balcony, overlooking the center of the building. The modern building was awe-inspiring, with its clean, simple lines and odd geometric shape. As if that weren’t enough, all around them were impressive works of art. Sitting at the cafe afforded them a magnificent view of a huge metal Calder sculpture, a mobile made of colorful shapes that turned in a slow, hypnotic fashion, hovering alongside the balcony.

  But art was the last thing on the girls’ minds at the moment. Chris was interested only in food, while Susan was almost ready to burst with her news of what had happened to her earlier that day in Georgetown.

  And so she was a bit taken back when, the moment she sat down and tucked her shopping bag under her chair, Chris thrust a menu at her.

  “Here. You look like you need food. You’ve got that crazed look that shoppers always get whenever they manage to find something they’re crazy about—for half the regular price.”

  Susan, however, ignored the menu. “Chris, listen to me! This is important!”

  “Sure it is,” Chris interrupted her. “Just tell me one thing: What’s in the shopping bag?”

  “Dresses,” Susan replied impatiently. “Two pink T-shirt dresses.”

  “Two?”

  “Yes, Chris. One for me and one for you.”

  “For me! Oh, Sooz, you shouldn’t have! Can I see it? Please?”

  “Chris, forget the dresses, for now, anyway. Listen to me. This morning—just about an hour ago, in fact— while Beth and I were shopping in a little store in Georgetown, all of a sudden this man came up and started talking to me....”

  “Don’t tell me,” Chris joked. “He tried to talk you into getting some blue shoes to go with the dress.”

  By this point, Susan was growing completely exasperated with her twin.

  “He said he was a friend of Natasha’s.”

  Chris immediately grew serious, and was willing to listen to her sister in earnest for the first time since Susan had sat down at the table.

  “A friend ... of Natasha’s?” Chris blinked.

  “Well, not a friend, exactly.... But are you finally ready to listen to me?”

  “I sure am! I’m all ears! What happened? What did he say?”

  “Oh, gee,” Susan said loftily, now reaching for the menu she’d pushed aside only moments earlier. “I’m so darned thirsty all of a sudden! Let’s see; what have they got here to drink?”

  “Sooz ...”

  “Iced tea, coffee ... oh, look! They have lemonade. I wonder if it’s pink lemonade.”

  “Susan Pratt! You’d better tell me this instant what the man said to
you!”

  Susan could keep up her teasing no longer. She leaned forward and, in a voice soft enough that no one at the other tables nearby could hear, said, “Oh, Chris, he threatened me!”

  “What are you talking about?” Chris, too, was talking softly. Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Do you mean he knows about Natasha’s note?”

  “I don’t think so.” Susan frowned as she thought for a few seconds. “And I have a feeling that he would have said something if he did know.”

  Just then, a waitress came by to take their order. By now the twins were hardly interested in food at all. They glanced at their menus, quickly chose salads for their lunches, and immediately went back to their conversation—after looking around and checking, one more time, to make sure that no one was listening to them.

  “So what did he say?” Chris demanded. Then, almost to herself, she said, “I bet he was that chaperone of theirs, the one I heard scolding that dancer, Ivan, when he started to wander away at the airport. That mean-looking Mr. Pirov. And then I saw him again at the Air and Space Museum.... What did he look like, anyway, Sooz?”

  Susan described the man who had sought her out in the clothing store, and Chris agreed that he was, indeed, one of the Russian ballet troupe’s two chaperones. Then Susan went on to relate exactly what had happened: how he had approached her; how he had assumed she was Chris, and how she had played along with his assumption; how in the course of proving how much he already knew about her, he had never mentioned the fact that Christine Pratt had an identical twin sister.

  “Wow!” Chris breathed, once her twin was finished. The waitress came by with their salads then, so she had a minute to think about everything she had just been told. “That really is amazing, Sooz! He obviously thinks that the two chance meetings between Natasha and me were planned. I mean, it sounds as if he actually believes that there’s something funny going on here!”

  Susan’s response was a grin. “Well, he’s right, in a way, isn’t he? After all, there is something going on. At least, now there is!”

  Chris just looked puzzled.

  “The note, remember?”

  “Oh, yes. The note.” Chris was lost in thought for a few seconds. “Do you know what, Sooz? I have a feeling that that man who’s been keeping such a close watch on Natasha—and me—is more than just a chaperone.”

  Susan’s brown eyes opened wide. “More? What do you mean, Chris?”

  Chris looked around the restaurant one more time. At the table on the twins’ immediate right was a couple in their thirties, who looked more interested in holding hands under the table than in eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. On the right was a family, a mother, father, and two little boys under the age of ten, busily studying a map of the city, trying to decide whether or not to head for the zoo next. She decided it was safe enough to speak freely. Even so, she leaned forward, narrowed her eyes, and spoke very, very softly.

  “I think he may work for the government,” she said seriously. “He could well be a member of the KGB. You know, the Russian secret police.”

  Susan nearly fell off her chair. “Chris! Are you serious?”

  Chris, still wearing that same earnest expression, just nodded. “Of course, I don’t know for sure ... and we’ll probably never know. But one thing’s for certain. The troupe’s ‘chaperone’ is taking more than just a passing interest in what Natasha Samchenko does.”

  Susan had to agree. “He does seem to be very involved in checking up on her, doesn’t he?”

  The two girls lapsed into silence. For the first time since their waitress had delivered their lunches to their table, they actually began eating. Thoughtfully they picked at their food, barely tasting the carefully prepared dish.

  And then, at almost exactly the same time, Susan and Chris both spoke.

  “Do you know what ...”said Chris.

  “I’ve been thinking ...” Susan began.

  They started to laugh, then quickly grew serious.

  “I wonder if you and I were about to say the same thing,” Chris mused, putting down her fork.

  Susan smiled. “It wouldn’t be the first time, Chris. You and I sometimes seem to have a ‘sixth sense’ about what the other is thinking.”

  “Especially when we’ve both been thinking about the same problem.” Chris took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll go first. I know that you and I agreed that this whole thing with Natasha was something way over our heads—”

  “Something too dangerous for us to get involved in,” Susan interjected helpfully. “Yes, that’s what you and I had decided, as of last night.”

  “It’s funny, though: After what just happened, with that ‘chaperone’ or whatever he is warning us, saying that I’d better keep away from Natasha, I’m beginning to wonder if what we decided is the right thing, after all.”

  Susan nodded. “I know what you mean. It seems that you and I are getting more and more involved in this every minute, anyway. Besides,” she added with an impish grin, “you know as well as I do that once someone insists that the Pratt twins keep out of something, it’s impossible for us to resist doing just that!”

  The girls burst out laughing, since they knew she was right. It was true that Chris and Susan weren’t at all the type to turn their backs on a challenge.

  Susan looked at her sister and said, “Okay, now what? So we’ve decided to help Natasha, no matter what happens, no matter who threatens us. But where do we go from here?”

  Chris shook her head. “I wish I knew, Sooz. We’ll just have to put our heads together and try to come up with something. But in the meantime, we’ve got to let Natasha know that we found her note in that book she gave me, and that we have every intention of doing our darndest to help her!”

  “Hmmm.” Susan was pensive as she toyed with her salad. “That probably won’t be easy. Especially since that snoop is no doubt going to be keeping his eye on you....”

  “Sooz, that’s it!” Chris grabbed her sister’s arm so abruptly that a forkful of lettuce and a cherry tomato went flying across the table, onto the floor.

  Susan looked at her twin in bewilderment. “What’s it, Chris?”

  “What you just said. That Natasha’s chaperone is going to be keeping his eye on me.”

  “Sorry, Chris. I still don’t get it.”

  Chris just smiled. “Just leave it to me. I’ll fill you in on the details later. Because, let’s face it, if we’re really going to go through with this, we’d better start being a lot more careful about what we say—and where we say it.”

  Susan started to protest, then realized that her sister could well be right. If they were going to help the ballerina defect from the Soviet Union while she was in Washington, being as cautious as possible was crucial for everyone’s sake.

  “Besides,” Chris went on, her voice now teasing, “you still haven’t told me very much about the new dress you bought me!”

  “Oh, it’s really cute. I’m sure you’ll love it. As a matter of fact, Beth got one, too.”

  “You two shoppers bought three of the same dress?” Chris squealed.

  Susan couldn’t help laughing. “That’s right. We practically bought out the entire store! Here, I’ll show you.”

  She opened up the shopping bag and took out one of the pink dresses. Chris agreed right away that it was definitely her style.

  “And I love the color,” she exclaimed. “That shade of pink is gorgeous!”

  “What does it remind you of?” Susan asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  Chris thought for only a few seconds. “Why, pink lemonade, of course!” She burst out laughing,

  “Hey, Chris, what’s so funny?” a masculine voice suddenly broke in.

  “Yeah, Chris. How about you and Susan sharing the joke with us?”

  Surprised, Susan and Chris turned around. Standing behind them, wearing huge grins, were Gary Graham and Tim Patterson.

  “Tim! Gary! What are you doing here?” Chris excla
imed.

  “No doubt exactly the same thing you’re doing,” Gary returned.

  Susan and Chris looked at each other in surprise, then realized what Gary meant and started to chuckle.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Gary asked, looking puzzled. “Now what’s so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Susan replied. “I guess what you meant is that you’re here to see the museum, just as we are.”

  “Well, sure,” said Tim. “You girls haven’t already made the grand tour of this place, have you?”

  “No. Sooz and I just got here a little while ago. We thought we’d stuff our faces first, to make sure we have plenty of energy. We still hope to spend a couple of hours here before going on to the dance rehearsal later on this afternoon.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s today, isn’t it?” said Tim. “I almost forgot.”

  “I guess that should be pretty interesting,” Gary observed. “I understand that ballet dancers are amazing athletes. They may manage to make all that stuff they do look easy, but it requires lots of strength and stamina— not to mention practice!”

  “Well, then, why don’t we start that ‘grand tour’ of this museum right away?” suggested Susan. “I know I’ve eaten just about all the lettuce I can handle right now. That is, whatever lettuce managed to stay on the table. I’m ready for some art!”

  “Me, too,” her twin agreed with a chuckle. “After all, those Russian dancers may have a lot of strength and stamina, but when it comes to being a tourist, nobody beats the Pratt twins! Let’s pay the check and go!”

  Arm in arm, Tim and Susan led the way, with Gary and Chris close behind them. But even as they chatted gaily with the boys, the twins’ thoughts were heavy. Before, thinking about Natasha’s plan to defect had just been something to make them feel sympathy for the girl’s situation. Now that they had decided to become involved in it themselves, however, the real seriousness of it—not to mention the danger—was beginning to hit them for the very first time.