“When Abby has a big game after school, I’ll watch her play, unless I have a violin lesson,” said Anna.
“And when I’m having trouble with homework, I’ll ask Anna to help me and not be grumpy about it,” I said.
After the resolutions, we hugged and wished each other “Happy New Year” again. Then we lay back and watched the stars some more. I was thinking about Dad. I was sure that Mom and Anna were too.
Dad, wherever you are, I prayed, we remember you and miss you with all of our hearts. But we are going to be okay. We’re still a family.
Just then, a shooting star streaked across the night sky.
On the next three New Year’s Eves, we made a special dinner together, drank our New Year’s punch, and shared our New Year’s resolutions.
The New Year’s Eve Anna and I were in the seventh grade, Mom’s resolution was: I will make a big change in my life.
“What kind of change?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Abby,” she answered. “I just know I have to do something to make my life better. I’ve been in a rut of unhappiness since … ” Her voice trailed off. Mom still hardly ever talked about Dad.
Anna and I exchanged a glance. Our mother’s sadness wasn’t lifting and we felt bad about it. Later, alone in our room, we talked it over.
“Mom must miss Dad even more than we do,” Anna said.
“I wonder what the big change will be,” I added.
“And how it will affect us.”
“Do you think she’ll get married again?” I asked, horrified.
“I don’t think so. She’s so upset about Dad. No one can replace him.”
“That’s for sure.”
So Anna and I began that new year wondering what Mom would do to change her life — which we knew would also mean our lives.
Looking back on that winter and spring, I can see now that there were a lot of clues to the big change Mom would finally announce to us that June.
Clue #1: Late one night, as I walked by Mom’s closed bedroom door, I heard her talking on the phone with her best friend, Amy Burke. “It’s been more than four years, Amy, and I still feel so sad. I’ve been thinking that if I could get away from all these familiar places, I wouldn’t be so lonely.”
Just then, Anna started tuning up her violin and I couldn’t hear any more of Mom’s end of the phone conversation.
Clue #2: Gram Elsie and Grandpa Morris were having Sunday dinner at our house. They came to see us often when they were living on Long Island.
“Do you mind the long drive over here to see us?” Mom asked.
“Why, of course we don’t mind,” Grandpa Morris said. “We enjoy our Sunday drives. We’d drive twice as far and think nothing of it.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said.
Clue #3: When I came home from soccer practice one afternoon, our housekeeper, Mrs. Russell, handed me a list of phone messages. One was for Anna from her violin teacher. The second message was for Mom. It was from a real estate agent in Connecticut.
Kristy and the rest of the Baby-sitters Club members would have put those first three clues together and known Mom’s big change was going to be a move to Connecticut. But at the time, I didn’t have a clue about how those clues fit together.
Clue #4: The evening after the real estate agent’s call, Mom announced that we were going to spend Sunday visiting her friend Amy in Stamford, Connecticut.
Amy and her teenage daughter, Alexandra, took us to lunch at an outdoor cafe in Stoneybrook. Mom loved that Sunday visit to Connecticut. “Look at this wonderful town.” “Isn’t the shopping district just perfect?” “Aren’t the houses beautiful?” “Look at those lovely hills!”
Clue #5: After lunch, Alexandra took Anna and me shopping at a mall in Stamford while Mom and Amy went off by themselves. We hung around the mall for a couple of hours and then went back to the Burkes’ house to hook up with Mom. But she and Amy weren’t there. When they came in a little later, Mom was glowing with excitement.
“Where were you?” I asked.
Mom hesitated, then answered, “Shopping.” Amy and Mom exchanged a glance and broke into giggles.
I didn’t ask Mom what she was shopping for. If I had, I wonder if she’d have answered, “A new house.”
Clue #6: One night, before going to bed, Anna and I had a familiar argument.
Anna tripped over my tennis shoes (that I admit were on her side of the room). When she regained her balance, she shouted, “Can’t you keep your shoes in the closet? I’m always tripping over your sneakers.”
“They’re tennis shoes,” I shouted back. “Keep it straight. I have tennis shoes, soccer shoes, and cleats for softball.”
“And running shoes and regular sneakers,” she added. “Five pairs. And they all stink and they are always in my way.”
Mom came in. I thought she’d get mad at us for shouting, or would try to mediate our dispute. Instead, she just smiled and said, “This house has become too small for us. You two should each have your own room.”
Clue #7: On Saturday night we were settling down to watch a movie on the VCR. I was about to put in the tape when Mom asked, “Are you girls as sick of this furniture as I am?”
I looked around. There was the comfy blue couch Anna and I usually sat on and had known all our lives, the flower-patterned love seat where Mom liked to sit, and Dad’s leather easy chair. None of us ever sat in Dad’s chair. I felt sad just looking at it. “Our furniture is okay, Mom,” I said.
“It’s getting pretty tired looking,” Mom told us. “And I’m tired of looking at it. I’d like to give away everything — all of our furniture — and have a fresh start.”
Two weeks after Clue #7, we ate Saturday dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant.
As soon as we’d put in our orders, Mom said, “Girls, I have a big announcement to make.”
Anna’s eyes opened wide in alarm. My chest tightened. What would Mom’s announcement be? A boyfriend? A new job?
“You may have guessed already,” she said.
Anna and I shook our heads no.
Mom looked surprised that we hadn’t put together the hints she’d been dropping left and right. “Well, then,” she began, “you know I find it difficult to continue living in the town that holds so many memories of life with your father.”
We nodded. It was then that I finally realized what her announcement would be.
“I’ve decided we should leave Long Island. I’ve bought us a house in Connecticut. In Stoneybrook, to be exact. You know, the town where we ate lunch with Amy and Alexandra. It’s a wonderful house, girls. I can’t wait to show it to you.”
I instantly hated the idea of moving and I knew, without looking at Anna, that she felt the same way I did — terrible.
“Why do we have to leave Long Island?” Anna asked.
“I think it will be good for us to start over in a new place,” Mom answered.
“But I don’t want to leave Old Woodbury,” I exclaimed. “We’ve lived here all of our lives. What about our school and our friends?”
“And my violin lessons with Randal,” added Anna. Tears filled her eyes. “What about the orchestra?”
Mom’s smile turned to a frown. “I guess I should have broken it to you more gently,” she said. “But the fact is, I can’t go on living here. I’m so unhappy in this town. Every place I go to, everything I see, holds too many memories.”
None of us said anything for a few seconds. We were all thinking about Dad. I knew how Mom felt. Lots of things about Old Woodbury made me sad too. When I passed Mario’s, I’d often think, This was Dad’s favorite pizza parlor. We’d be shopping in Sprouts, the produce market, and I’d remember how every time we shopped there Dad said, “Sprouts has the best fruits and vegetables this side of Sunrise Highway.” And I could never go by the brick building Dad worked in without thinking about him. Mom was right about the memories.
I also thought about how lighthearted and hap
py Mom was on Sanibel. That was a place she’d never visited with Dad. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe we should live in a new town.
Anna and I sent a silent signal to one another not to complain in front of Mom anymore about moving. Instead, we tried to smile and seem interested as she showed us pictures of the house she’d picked out for us. It was about twice the size of the one we were living in.
“That must be so expensive,” Anna said. “Can we afford it?”
“That’s my other surprise,” Mom said.
I held my breath. Mom sure was full of surprises.
She grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve gotten another promotion — and a very big raise.”
“All right, Mom!” I cheered. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t you see, girls,” Mom said. “A new job, a new house in a new town. It can be a new life for all of us.”
When we were back in our room and alone, Anna grabbed her old teddy bear, Stubbles, and held him to her chest. “I don’t want a new life,” she said through tears.
“Me neither,” I admitted. “But maybe it won’t be so bad. It’ll be a fresh start.”
“We’ll be the new kids in school,” said Anna. “That’s awful. I hate meeting new people.”
I understood how Anna felt, but I was actually starting to get a little excited about moving. I lay awake late into the night, wondering what it would be like to have my own room, to live in a big house in the “charming” town of Stoneybrook, and to be able to have a fresh start in life.
The next night, I went to a sleepover at Elvia’s with our other best friends, Jennifer and Joyce. That’s when I broke the news to them.
“You’re moving?” shrieked Elvia. “But you can’t. That’s awful.”
“What about your Bat Mitzvahs?” Jennifer moaned. We were all starting to think about our Bat Mitzvahs. A Bat Mitzvah is the Jewish ceremony celebrating a girl becoming an adult. It’s a big deal and something I’d expected to share with my best friends.
“We are supposed to go to high school together and everything,” wailed Joyce.
“We’re not moving that far away,” I told them. “My grandparents are going to come visit us all the time. You can too. And I’ll come back. I bet there’s a train or something I can take.”
That made us all feel a little better. But not for long. Soon my friends actually started to cry, and to tell the truth, so did I.
Over the next two months my feelings were on a roller-coaster ride. One minute I’d be super excited about the move, the next, I’d be depressed about it.
To make matters worse, Mom sprung another surprise on us during dinner one Wednesday night. “We’re going to sell our furniture and buy all new things.” (Remember Clue #7?)
“You mean we’re not going to bring our stuff to the new house?” I asked.
“We’re selling every piece of it,” Mom said. “They gave me a bonus with my promotion and I’m putting it into new furniture. New everything! I’ve hired a decorator to help us.”
“Can’t I keep my music stand and desk?” Anna asked.
“Of course you can keep your music stand,” Mom told her. “But wouldn’t you like a new desk — a bigger one with a pull-out shelf for your computer keyboard?”
“I guess,” said Anna cautiously.
“Our decorator is Sylvia Steinert. She’s coming here on Saturday to meet you girls. She wants to get a feel for what you’re like. She’ll bring pictures of furniture, paint chips, and wallpaper samples. With your help, she’ll decorate your rooms.”
I laughed out loud. “Everything new! Mom, that’s so crazy.”
* * *
I was excited about meeting the decorator. Anna wasn’t. But when the day came, we both loved looking through catalogues of furniture, samples of wallpaper and rugs, and fabric swatches for curtains. It’s really fun to design the room of your dreams. Anna and I would each have a room bigger than the single one we shared now.
Anna picked out a four-poster bed and flowered wallpaper. She would have a big desk plus a special cabinet for her stereo (another new purchase) and her collection of classical compact discs and sheet music.
I picked out striped paper in shades of tan, blue, and gray. My room was going to be so big that the decorator said I had room for a couch in it. I told her I wanted a convertible couch so I’d have an extra bed for my Long Island friends when they came to visit.
Mom told the decorator to do whatever she wanted with the master bedroom. I guess she was remembering that she wouldn’t be sharing this new room with Dad and didn’t want to think about it too much.
But for me, Saturday was an up day on the roller-coaster ride. I enjoyed picking out stuff for my new room. Then Sunday brought a fast swoop downward. A man from a secondhand furniture store went through our house. He would take everything away the day before we moved, including Dad’s chair. Meanwhile, there was a big FOR SALE sign on the front lawn and people were tramping through our house with real estate agents. Definitely a downer.
* * *
During those summer months before the move to Stoneybrook, I went to a day camp, where we played sports all day long. Anna went to a sleepover camp for young musicians. So it was just Mom and me getting ready for the big move.
Late one Saturday afternoon, I found Mom taking all of our good dishes out of the dining room cupboard. “Are we having a party?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m giving them to your Aunt Judith. We’re buying new ones. Do you think Elvia’s mother would like my copper cooking pots?”
“Mom,” I shrieked, “you can’t give everything away. Please! I love those copper pots.”
Mom laughed. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m getting carried away.”
I decided then and there that my big responsibility that summer was to keep Mom from selling or giving away everything we owned. I won a few. I lost a few. But when it was finally the week of our move, we still had quite a few boxes to pack and move. To our new house, in our new town, where we would begin our new life.
The night before we moved, our friends threw a joint party for Anna and me. They gave Anna a boxed set of violin concertos on CDs as a going-away present. And they gave me a collection of balls — a soccer ball, ten cans of tennis balls, and five softballs. Everyone at the party autographed two of the softballs and the cover of Anna’s CD box.
We all felt sad, but I made sure we still had fun. I told every joke I could remember — including my whole collection of elephant jokes and lightbulb jokes. It was an Abby joke-a-thon. I figured it was better for us to laugh until we cried than to just plain cry.
* * *
The next morning, movers came and put the stuff we hadn’t sold or given away into a medium-sized moving van. Then Mom, Anna, and I climbed into our new minivan and said good-bye to Old Woodbury, Long Island. Mom still seemed happy about the move. But Anna was depressed and slumped beside me in the backseat. Feelingwise, I was someplace between them.
When we were pulling out of our driveway for the last time, I whispered, “Good-bye, house.” As soon as I said it, I remembered our favorite childhood book — Goodnight, Moon — and began a litany of good-byes.
“Good-bye, street.”
“Good-bye, bus stop.”
“Good-bye, grocery store.”
“Good-bye, dog who always poops on the sidewalk.”
Anna gave a little laugh at that last one, but I knew she was still sad. I kept up the good-bye game until Mom and Anna joined in.
“Good-bye, Georgio’s Pizza,” Anna said.
“Good-bye, post office,” Mom shouted out the window.
I still felt a little sad about saying good-bye to my familiar life, but as we drove onto the Long Island Expressway, I was already looking forward to saying hello to my new life.
* * *
The instant we turned onto Main Street in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, I sneezed. Within seconds I was having a major attack of allergies. I try not to think too much about being
allergic to a zillion things that are part of life on Planet Earth. I believe with all my heart that I will outgrow my allergies. But it sure didn’t happen the day of our big move. My runny nose and congested lungs wouldn’t let me forget for a second that I have serious allergies.
Ah-choo! It was my fifth sneeze in a row. I sounded like machine gun fire.
“Mom, Abby’s allergic to Stoneybrook,” said Anna. “We have to go back to Old Woodbury.”
Mom laughed. “Abby has allergic reactions when she’s under a lot of stress,” Mom explained. “Moving is stressful.”
“That’s right,” I managed to say before another rush of sneezes rocked the minivan.
The first thing I noticed as we drove onto our new street was that all of the houses were big and expensive looking and had large yards.
“Which one is ours?” asked Anna.
Mom pointed to a beautiful house with a wraparound porch and a great wooden front door. “That one. Isn’t it spectacular?”
Our new house was spectacular and just as big as the other houses on the block.
“Whose house is that?” I asked Mom as I stepped down from the minivan, and noticed the house two doors away. It was noticeable because of the number of toys in the yard.
“The real estate agent told me that a big extended family lives there,” Mom answered. (Only later would I learn what the agent meant by “big.”)
The moving van, which was right behind us, also pulled up to the house. While the movers started unloading boxes, Mom, Anna, and I ran inside. It was weird and wonderful to see all the furniture we’d picked out from little photos in catalogues. Couches, chairs, tables, and lamps were life-size and in the place we would call home. Anna and Mom checked out the house at a dignified pace. I ran excitedly from room to room. I yelled to my mom that the lights weren’t working. She said they’d be coming on soon, that she had told Sylvia to take care of it. Even without the lights on I could see that our new house was terrific.