By then Lionel had given up on finding the in-crowd at Reese beach and headed back to the mansion. The rest of us made for the strip of shops and restaurants that lined the streets near the harbor. Kristy spotted a sporting goods store and steered Jason in that direction. “We’ll catch up with you later,” she told the rest of us.
We headed into a T-shirt shop that sold just the kinds of souvenirs we wanted. I noticed a big community bulletin board. “Let’s check it out,” I suggested. “We might find some ideas for things we can do with the kids.”
“There’s an announcement about the historical society,” Mary Anne said. “Right here in town.”
Claud said, “And look at this.” She pointed to a big blue and white poster. “Reese is celebrating its two hundred and fiftieth birthday. Founders’ Day. There’s going to be a parade with floats.”
“And a carnival and rides and everything,” Karen said. “Goody.”
“It’s next Saturday,” I added. “We’ll still be here.”
By then Kristy and Jason had joined us. Kristy was beaming, which meant that the trip to the sporting goods store had been good for Jason. “I got a new softball,” he told us.
We showed Kristy the poster for Founders’ Day. “Uh-oh,” Kristy said. I had a feeling she was remembering a few other times that Claud had persuaded us to dress up for parades. The members of the BSC have gone to some outrageous extremes to provide Claud with opportunities to express her artistic talent.
Claud told the younger kids how much fun it would be to dress up and be in a parade together.
Karen jumped up and down and shouted, “Yay! We are going to ride on a float. Everybody will see us.”
Martha just stood there shaking her head no. “Maybe Martha could help me with the research, and make the costumes,” Mary Anne said. Then she whispered to Martha, just loudly enough for us to hear, “I don’t like to be in parades either.”
“I’ll be in it if Dawn is,” Jill said. (So what else was new?)
“Maybe we could make a historical float,” Mary Anne mused, “since we’re in historical New England and it is a historical celebration.”
Jason was reading every last announcement on the bulletin board. “What’s summer stock?” he asked. “Is that like stock cars? I’d go to the stock car races, I mean if there were some guys to go with.”
We gathered around him to read the poster that had caught his attention. “Summer stock is theatrical productions put on during the summer,” I explained. “You know, plays.”
“You find summer stock in tourist areas, like historic New England,” Mary Anne added.
“Oh,” said Jason. He sounded disappointed.
“The play that’s on while we’re here is Dracula,” Kristy said.
“Just what we need,” Claud said with a shiver. “Something scary.”
“But maybe it’s just what Lionel needs,” I said. I was getting an idea. “Lionel thinks there aren’t any actors around here,” I continued. “But this actor, the one who plays Count Dracula, is famous. Not like a leading, leading man. But his name’s always in the newspapers in L.A., for one thing or another. I bet Lionel will recognize it.”
Mary Anne wrote down the actor’s name, the dates and times of the performances, and the price of the tickets. She’d also taken careful notes on the days and times the historical society was open, and on the particulars for Founders’ Day. That’s our Mary Anne — BSC secretary.
As we headed back to the mansion with our troop of kids, I felt pretty good about our first day in Reese. It was the nighttime I was worried about. And, as it turned out, I had good reason to worry about it.
“Let’s take turns being acting president,” Mal said. “You go first, and I’ll be secretary.”
It was one o’clock on Sunday and Mal and I were conducting a special meeting of the BSC. The meeting was held in Claudia’s room, of course. I loved it. I, Jessi Ramsey, age eleven, was acting president of the Baby-sitters Club. I sat in Kristy’s director’s chair and put on her visor. Mal lay across Claud’s bed with the record book in front of her. So far there were only two people attending the meeting — us.
We knew that Logan wouldn’t be there, because he was working the Sunday brunch shift at the Rosebud Cafe. But he had given Mal his work schedule for the next ten days so we’d know when he was free to baby-sit. “Just call and let me know when you need me,” he said. He’s a really nice guy. No wonder Mary Anne likes him so much.
The other person who was supposed to be attending the meeting was Shannon, of course. But she hadn’t arrived yet.
When she finally walked in at 1:14 I said, “This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club —”
“Hey, guys,” Shannon said, “don’t you even say hi?”
Mal and I both said hi to her. Shannon sat on Claud’s desk and said, “My dad’s picking me up here at one-thirty so we better get started.”
Mal and I exchanged a glance. Who was running this meeting anyway? Shannon would never act that way if Kristy were sitting in the director’s chair.
I sat tall and said, “This is a special meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. The first order of business is to call clients to tell them they’re getting a different sitter from the one they were originally assigned.” I turned to secretary Mallory and asked, “Who do we call first?”
“The Kuhns,” she answered. “They’re expecting Kristy tomorrow at ten. You’re taking her place.”
Jake Kuhn answered the phone. I told him that Kristy had an out-of-town job and I would be sitting for him, Laurel, and Patsy the next day.
“That’s awful,” he moaned.
“What?” I asked. “What’s awful?”
“I want Kristy to sit. She said she’d practice softball with me.”
“I know how to play softball,” I told him.
“But Kristy’s my coach. She was going to teach me how to throw a knuckleball. Do you know how to throw a knuckleball?”
I had to tell him that I didn’t. I’d have to think of something extra-special to do with Jake.
My next phone call was to the Kormans. Melody wasn’t any happier than Jake was about having a substitute sitter. “I was going to ask Mary Anne to teach me how to make doll clothes,” she complained.
“Mallory can help you make up stories about your dolls,” I suggested.
“But my dolls don’t have any clothes!” Melody whined.
I made sure to tell Mal that Melody wanted to make doll clothes. Knowing Mal, she’d come up with some nifty ideas for dressing dolls before she baby-sat for Melody.
I made three more calls to clients explaining substitutions. Fortunately those calls went a little better than my first two.
When I’d finished the last call Shannon asked, “Did you listen to the messages on the answering machine?”
“That’s what we’re doing next,” I said. I didn’t tell her that I’d forgotten about the answering machine. It’s a good thing Shannon thought of it, because the Prezziosos, the Arnolds, and the Hobarts had all called needing sitters.
I called Mrs. Prezzioso first. She said she needed two sitters for Monday afternoon. “My sister-in-law and her twins are visiting,” she explained. “They’re two-year-old boys and of course there’s Jenny and the baby.”
“Okay,” I said, “we’ll call you right back.”
We checked our schedules. I was sitting for the Kuhns all day. Logan was working at the Rosebud Cafe. Shannon was sitting at my house for Becca and Squirt.
“I can handle the job alone,” Mal said, “if Mrs. Prezzioso doesn’t mind. I take care of my brothers. Twins will be a piece of cake after triplets.”
I called Mrs. Prezzioso back and she agreed. “Just warn Mallory,” Mrs. Prezzioso said, “that my nephews are a handful.”
The next call was to Mrs. Hobart. She needed a sitter for Wednesday night. Logan was working at the Rosebud, but Shannon was free and she said she’d take the job.
A horn honked outside the Kishis’
house. “Uh-oh,” Shannon said. “It’s one-thirty. And there’s my ride. Gotta go.” As she was leaving she added, “Next time let’s try to end on time.” She walked out of the room.
“How about starting on time?” I mumbled.
Shannon poked her head back in the room. Had she heard me? “You guys,” she said, “don’t be discouraged. You’re doing a great job. Sorry I was late today.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “See you Monday at —”
“— five-thirty,” we said in unison.
“But I can’t make it,” Shannon said. “That’s what I came back to tell you. I’ll leave you a message on the machine about when I can sit.”
After Shannon left we called the Arnolds. They needed a sitter Monday night at seven-thirty for Carolyn and Marilyn. “I’ll call you right back,” I told Mrs. Arnold.
“Shannon’s already sitting,” Mal said. “And neither of us can do it because it’s at night. But Monday Logan gets off work from the Rosebud at six-thirty, so he can probably start a sitting job at seven-thirty. Tell Mrs. Arnold that Logan will sit.”
“Shouldn’t we call Logan first?” I asked.
“He said not to call him at work,” Mal reminded me. “I’ll call and tell him later.”
I phoned Mrs. Arnold again and told her Logan would be there at seven-thirty on Monday night.
“Thank goodness,” she said. “Mr. Arnold and I are hosting the auction for Stoneybrook Ambulance Services. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t find a sitter.”
“I’m glad we can help, Mrs. Arnold,” I said.
I felt pretty good when I hung up the phone. The BSC was an important part of the community. And Mal and I were running it.
“This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club is adjourned,” I told Mallory in a deep-voiced, serious tone.
She broke into giggles. I did too. As we were leaving Claudia’s room Mal said, “That was a great meeting, pres.”
I looked at my watch. “Uh-oh,” I said, “I better get a move on. I have a job at the Mancusis’ in ten minutes.”
As I ran down the street I wondered how things were going for the Reese division of the BSC.
Sunday night was a perfect night for a barbecue. Elton Cooper grilled burgers, hot dogs, and chicken for us. After spending most of the day outside, at the beach and in town, we had big appetites. Elton is not as friendly as his wife, which is strange since he can talk and she can’t. But boy does he know his barbecue.
After supper we were sitting around the veranda table, talking about Founders’ Day.
“I think making a float is a great idea,” Mrs. Menders said.
Martha ran to her mother and whispered something in her ear. “But, of course, not everyone has to be on the float,” Mrs. Menders added.
“Martha and I are behind-the-scenes helpers,” Mary Anne told the Menderses.
I could see that Karen was about to make a case for Martha’s being on the float, so I said, “Karen, would you please go up to my room to find Andrew’s Frog and Toad book?”
“If Martha will come with me,” Karen said.
As the girls were leaving the porch I heard Karen tell Martha, “We could have a float about animals. You would make a perfect cat. Everyone loves cats. It would make you very popular.”
“Dress-up is for girls,” Jason told whoever would listen. “I’m not going to be on any dumb float.”
“Count me out,” Lionel told Claudia. “It’s too makeshift and unprofessional for me.”
Claud always has trouble getting us psyched up for her parade floats. But the Menders kids were really going to be a challenge.
The adults announced that they wanted to go into town to see how busy the stores were in the evening, so I said we’d be happy to take care of the kids.
After they left, Dawn (and Jill) started a conversation with Lionel about the summer stock theater while Claud and Mary Anne cleared the table. “Come on, Jason,” Claud said. “Let’s have a little help here.”
“Oh, okay,” Jason said. “I’ll carry the heavy stuff for you.”
When Karen and Martha returned, I moved to the edge of the veranda, where the porch light would fall on the pages of the book. Andrew climbed on my lap. Martha and Karen sat on either side of me. “Frog and Toad Together,” I read from the cover, “by Arnold Lobel.” I looked around at the kids. “This book has a whole bunch of little stories. Should I read them in the order they’re in the book?”
“Yes,” Martha said.
“Read them all,” said Karen.
“Rib-bid,” added Andrew.
By the time I came to the last story in the book, Karen was reading all Toad’s lines and Lionel — who was now standing behind me — was reading Frog’s lines. (I hate to admit it, but he was good.) I did the narration. The others had finished carrying things back to the kitchen and were listening to us.
When I said “the end,” Andrew looked up at me and said, “Kristy, I want to be a frog and a toad in the parade.”
Karen said that Andrew couldn’t be both a frog and a toad. That they were two different kinds of animals.
“Well they’re sort of alike,” Jill said. “They both hop and live in ponds.”
“Do they?” Andrew asked me.
“Toads live in the grass and under rocks,” I said. “Frogs live in ponds. But I don’t know much more than that.”
Dawn went inside to find a dictionary. When she returned with one we looked up “frog” and “toad” and read the definitions out loud. Mary Anne pointed out that a frog’s skin is smooth and moist while a toad’s is rough and dry.
Andrew looked more curious than ever. “You know what, Andrew?” I said. “Let’s go find some frogs and toads and you can see the difference.”
Elton Cooper, who was putting the cover on the grill, overheard us. “You’ll find frogs in that little pond behind the old gardener’s cottage,” he said. “Go down the path that starts near the kitchen door and follow it through the pine grove. The cottage is back there. I’ll bring you a flashlight.”
Lionel decided to skip our “little excursion,” as he called it. Jason said he was going to his room to organize his baseball cards. With Lionel promising to keep an eye on his younger brother, the rest of us were free to go on our frog and toad hunt.
I was glad Elton thought of the flashlight because it was a moonless, dark night. Once we were away from the house we wouldn’t have been able to see each other, much less toads and frogs.
We found a toad under a rock at the edge of the rose garden. “This toad is small,” Andrew said.
“It’s so cute,” Karen added. She did a terrific imitation of a toad’s jump for Andrew.
I led everybody along the path Mr. Cooper had described. It was pitch-black in the pine grove. When I turned to look back at the house, I thought that it looked . . . different. Mary Anne thought so, too. Her voice was trembling when she whispered in my ear, “Look. There’s a light on. On the top floor. The one with the attic and the old servants’ quarters. I thought nobody went up there.” We stood still, staring at the mansion while Claud and Dawn continued walking with the kids.
Suddenly, the light went off and the top floor was dark again. What was going on? Who was up there?
“Come on, slow pokes,” Claud called back to us.
Mary Anne and I caught up with the others in front of the gardener’s cottage. “Isn’t it neat?” Claud said. She sounded cheerful, so I knew she hadn’t seen the light. To me the cottage looked a little run-down and spooky.
“It would be fun to play in there,” Karen said. “Can Martha and I use it for our playhouse?”
“It’s too far from the main house,” I told her. “Besides, you have plenty of other things to do.” I took Andrew by one hand and Karen by the other. With all this weird stuff going on, I wanted to keep the kids as close to me as possible.
The excursion was giving me the creeps. If it hadn’t been for Andrew pulling on my hand and saying, “I w
ant to see a frog,” I would have turned back then.
We found the pond and, after a bit of searching, we found a frog, too. Then another. Andrew spoke in rib-bid language to both of them.
“Okay, guys,” I said, “we’ve seen one toad and two frogs. Let’s head back. It’s late.”
Dawn, Jill, and Claud took the lead on the path. Mary Anne and I followed with Karen, Martha, and Andrew. I glanced up at the house. A chill ran down my spine. The top floor window was lit up again. Claud ran back to me. “Did you see that?” she whispered. She was pretty spooked, too. Especially since by the time we reached the back door, we’d seen it go out again.
It was a relief to return to the big kitchen and Margaret Cooper’s pleasant smile. Even gruff Elton’s presence made me feel less frightened.
“Find any frogs?” he asked.
“Rib-bid, rib-bid,” Andrew answered.
We all laughed. Even Margaret. I guess with some vocal cord problems you can still laugh.
“Yes, we did,” I said as I handed Elton the flashlight. “Thanks for this.”
“Let’s go, kids,” Dawn said. “I’ll take you upstairs. It’s bedtime.”
“And storytime,” Karen added.
“I’ll come, too,” Mary Anne said.
“What can we do to help you in here, Mr. Cooper?” Claud asked.
“You could count out the morning dishes and silverware,” he said. “And please, call me Elton. And my wife’s name is Margaret.”
I thought again how nice the Coopers — Elton and Margaret — were, and what a long workday they’d had, with all the cooking and cleaning. I was glad to help them. And maybe they could help me, too . . . with the mystery.
While I was counting out spoons I casually asked Elton, “Does anybody ever go up to the top floor?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “It hasn’t been used in years, maybe decades. I’ve never been up there myself.”
“That’s strange,” Claud said. “When we were out just now we saw a light go on in one of the rooms in the west wing of the fourth floor.”
“Off and on,” I said. “First it was on. Then it was off. Then it went on again. And off.”