“Girls!” Dana could hear her father call from downstairs. “Peter! Come on. You don’t want to be late.”
Dana flew down the stairs behind Julia, Peter stumping down behind them more deliberately. They found that their father had strung red streamers above the kitchen table and that a box of conversation hearts had been placed on each of their chairs.
Dana opened her box instantly and shook a candy onto the palm of her hand. The pink letters on the yellow heart spelled HUG ME.
“Be mine,” said Julia.
Peter withdrew a heart from his box. “F-I-R-S-T,” he read slowly, “K-I-S-S.” He frowned. “What does that make?”
“It spells first kiss,” said Dana.
Peter clapped his hand over his mouth. “Eww!” He pretended to faint on the floor.
* * *
Dana and Julia ran into school that day, each carrying a bag containing the Valentines they’d made. They hung their coats in a hurry and then walked around their classroom, going from desk to desk and dropping their cards into the pouches. Each time Dana passed her own pouch, she checked it to see how fat it was getting. Her fingers itched to take the envelopes out and count them, but she knew she was supposed to wait for the party.
“Isn’t this the longest day in the world?” Patty said to her at recess that afternoon, and Dana groaned in agreement.
But the wait was almost over. The moment the bell rang, they ran back to their classroom and the party began. Dana and Julia’s mother, Marian’s mother, and Daniel Wright’s mother were standing woodenly at the back of the room, presiding over the cupcakes and punch. Abby waved just once to the twins, so that was all right. Dana breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into her seat.
“Class,” said Mrs. Sullivan, their teacher, when the room was quiet, “you may open your Valentines.”
In a flash the pouches were emptied and Dana began to tear open her stack of envelopes. She was reading a card from Marian that showed a kitten wearing a pair of rain boots above the words, Bet your boots, I’m the one for you, when her mother placed a pink-frosted cupcake on her desk. A moment later Daniel’s mother handed her a cup of red punch.
This is perfect, thought Dana. Absolutely perfect. She sipped her punch and licked frosting from the cupcake and opened another Valentine.
* * *
The perfect day continued at home that afternoon. February 14th was not only Valentine’s Day, but Adele’s birthday. Their aunt had been given the afternoon off from the costume shop, and she arrived at Dana’s shortly after the twins and Peter returned from school.
“Happy birthday!” cried all five Burleys when Adele entered the town house.
Peter tugged on her sleeve and asked solemnly, “How old are you?”
“Peter! It isn’t polite to ask a grown-up how old she is,” said Julia.
Adele waved her hand. “Oh, I don’t care. I’m twenty-three, Peter.”
Peter pretended to faint again. Then he lay on the couch in the living room where he was soon joined by Tail and Tail’s one remaining kitten. The other three kittens had recently been given away — one to Marian’s family, one to Ben Thomas, and the third to a neighbor down the street. Peter had cried as each one left and begged to keep the fourth. Dana’s parents had finally relented, which was how Squeaky had joined the family.
Dana and Julia each took one of Adele’s hands and led her into the living room. They sat her in an armchair and said, “Wait right here.” When they returned, they were carrying a bag of gifts, and Adele spent the next half hour opening them while various Burleys exclaimed, “I made that!” or “You wouldn’t believe how long I had to look to find just the right one.”
Adele left shortly before five o’clock to spend the evening with friends. Dana’s mother surveyed the mess of wrapping paper on the floor. “Let’s clean this up,” she said, “and then it’s time to get ready for Mrs. Burger.”
“Mrs. Burger?” said Dana. She had forgotten that she and Julia and Peter were to have a babysitter that night.
“Really? Mrs. Burger?” cried Julia.
The twins loved Mrs. Burger because she was teaching them to play poker. Peter loved her because she read Uncle Wiggily stories to him and kept Life Savers in her pockets.
“Yes,” said their mother. “She’ll be here at six. Your dad and I are going to Ben’s party tonight.”
“A fancy party?” asked Dana with interest. “A publishing party?”
Her mother nodded. “At the Waldorf. Ben’s new book has just come out. It’s a big deal.”
“Are you going to wear a gown?” Julia wanted to know.
“Well, not a gown. But my new dress. The green one.”
“With the sparkles?” said Dana. “Ooh, glamorous!”
“Mommy?” said Peter, who was still lying on the couch. “I don’t feel good.”
Abby was at Peter’s side in an instant. “You don’t?” She put her hand on his forehead. “Oh dear. I think you have a fever.”
“My froat hurts.”
“Let me take a look.” Dana’s mother hurried out of the living room and returned with a flashlight and a thermometer. She peered into Peter’s throat. “It does look red,” she said. “Let’s see what your temperature is.” She stuck the thermometer under Peter’s tongue and checked her watch. Three minutes later she removed the thermometer. “A hundred and one,” she said, and clucked her tongue. “I wonder what’s brewing. Zander!” she called. “Come here for a sec. Peter’s sick. I won’t be able to go tonight.”
Dana’s father appeared in the doorway, looking worried. “What’s the matter, buddy?”
“My froat hurts.”
“His temperature is a hundred and one,” Abby added.
Zander frowned. “That isn’t so bad,” he said. “Mrs. Burger can handle this.”
Abby shook her head. “No. I don’t want to leave him.”
“But, honey, tonight is important. Ben is one of my best friends. We can’t back out of this now.”
“You don’t have to back out. Go without me. Just let me call Mrs. Burger so I can catch her before she leaves her apartment.”
“Honey —” said Zander. But Abby was already dialing the phone. Dana’s father put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”
“Me, too,” said Peter.
Suddenly Zander smiled. “Hey,” he said to Dana and Julia. “How would you two like to be my dates tonight?”
“Really?” cried Dana. “You mean we get to go to the fancy party? Oh yes!”
“But,” said Julia, “Mrs. Burger was going to play poker with us.”
“But she isn’t coming now,” said Dana.
“I know, but . . . I kind of wanted to watch Leave It to Beaver tonight. I looked it up in the TV Guide. It’s a new one. Something about the Beaver and a bank account.”
Dana gaped at her sister. “You mean you’d rather stay home and watch Leave It to Beaver than go to a party at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel?”
Julia shrugged. “Is it okay if I don’t go?” she asked her father.
“I guess so.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to miss this!” exclaimed Dana. “You’d get to dress up and stay out late.”
“You go,” said Julia.
Zander turned to Dana. “Okay, pumpkin. You’ll be my date. Hurry and get ready.”
Dana flew upstairs to her room. Even though it was Valentine’s Day, she chose her black velvet Thanksgiving dress, the one with the lace collar. It was the fanciest dress she owned. She pulled on a pair of white tights, brushed her hair fifty times, swept it back from her face, and tied it with a black ribbon. Then she clattered downstairs in her patent leather Mary Janes and ran to her father, who was wearing his very best suit.
“Ready!” she announced.
* * *
Dana felt like a princess later that evening when she entered the ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria, her arm linked through her father’s. Several people turned to s
mile at them, and Dana smiled back serenely, the way she felt an actual princess might smile. When they approached Ben Thomas, who was talking with a group of important-looking men, he clapped Zander on the back and then said, “Dana, what a pleasant surprise! Look, everyone. Zander’s date tonight is his daughter. This is Dana Burley, and she’s illustrating her father’s latest book. When does it come out, Zander? In June?”
A waiter approached them, carrying a tray full of crystal glasses. He handed one to Zander. “Champagne, sir,” he said. He turned to Dana. “And you, madam? May I bring you a Shirley Temple?”
“Oh yes. Please.”
The waiter returned with Dana’s Shirley Temple — ginger ale and sweet-tasting grenadine with many ice cubes, three cherries, and a red plastic swizzle stick. Dana sipped it daintily.
All evening she walked around the ballroom with her father, saying hello to his friends, answering questions about Father, sipping her cocktail, and sampling hors d’oeuvres proffered to her on silver trays. Zander looped Dana’s arm through his as if she truly were his date. He pointed out famous guests and whispered stories about them that made Dana giggle. Important publishing people approached them and clapped Zander on the shoulder, and Zander clapped them back. His words grew a little loud, because the waiters, who were always circulating the room in their tuxes (“penguin suits,” Zander called them), kept offering him full glasses of champagne or asking if he wanted a cocktail — and Zander kept saying yes.
“Daddy?” Dana said. She was about to add, “Are you sure you should have another drink?” because she wasn’t at all certain that she could hail a cab by herself, which was what she felt she might have to do if her father’s voice grew wobbly and his legs got rubbery.
But just as the words were about to leave her mouth, Zander set down his glass and left it on a table. Dana heaved an inward sigh of relief. Arm in arm, she and her father continued their tour of the room.
The first time Dana looked at the clock on the wall, it read eleven thirty, which was the latest she had ever stayed up on a night that wasn’t New Year’s Eve. By the time she and Zander drew up in front of their town house, Dana nodding on her father’s shoulder, it was after midnight.
“Bedtime for you,” said Zander, helping her out of the cab.
Dana fell into bed five minutes later, certain that she was a character in a fairy tale.
Winter was over. The days had grown warm and sticky again, and New York City panted in the heavy air and unrelenting sunshine.
“I’m glad school’s out,” said Julia. She and Dana and Peter were sprawled on the steps to their town house, fanning themselves with red-tasseled, flowered fans that they had bought at Hop Kee’s on an excursion to Chinatown. “It’s too hot for school.”
“School’s out! School’s out! Teacher wore her bloomers out!” sang Peter. He had successfully completed his first year at Wings Academy, and could now write his name and count to sixteen, and had also made up a poem, which went: Tail is nice. She likes mice. Tail is fine. She is mine. Peter could cut with scissors and make his own lunch and tie his laces, and he had a friend, Sal, who was in his class at Wings and lived just two streets away.
“Are you glad school is over?” Julia asked Peter.
Peter looked thoughtful. “No,” he said finally. “I just sang the song because it’s funny. I like school. Next year we go on a field trip.”
“Where?” Dana wanted to know.
Peter shrugged. “We get to ride on a bus.”
Julia withdrew a hankie from the pocket of her dress and wiped her forehead. “How hot do you think it is? A hundred?”
“Probably,” said Dana.
“Maybe Mommy would let us play in the yard with the hose.”
“Nope. Too late. It’s almost time to get ready.”
“Get ready for what?” asked Peter.
“For the big party tonight.”
“Another party? Is Mrs. Burger coming?”
Dana laughed. “There have been a lot of parties lately. But, no, Mrs. Burger isn’t coming this time.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re all going to the party.”
“All of us? Really?”
Dana nodded. “It’s at the Plaza Hotel. It’s the party for Dad’s new book, the one I illustrated. I mean, the one I drew the pictures for. The book is all finished, and Dad and I are going to sign copies for the guests.” Dana glanced at her sister, who had moved four steps down and had begun a solitary game of jacks. “You get to wear your suit, Peter. It’s going to be really fun.”
He jumped to his feet and began flapping his hands. “My suit! And a tie? And my new shoes?”
Peter loved nothing better than dressing up.
“Yes. All those things. Come on. We’d better go inside. Mom wants us to get ready.”
Julia groaned. “Now? But we don’t have to leave for two hours.”
“She wants us to take baths.”
Another groan from Julia.
“Don’t you want to go?” Dana asked her, although she knew the answer, and tried to put herself in Julia’s position. If she were the one who had to go to a party where her twin sister was going to be the center of attention, she would probably feel jealous, too. Which was why she refrained from adding, “Is Leave It to Beaver on tonight?” and instead said, “I know it’s going to be a long evening, but it should be fun. Dad said famous people will be there.”
“You mean besides you?” muttered Julia.
Dana stood up and took Peter’s hand. “I’ll help you run the bath,” she told him.
* * *
This time when Dana’s father said, “Our chariot awaits,” he didn’t mean a taxi. He opened the door to the town house and ushered the very dressed-up Burleys down the steps to a waiting limousine.
“Ooh!” said Peter softly. “This is very fancy. Very, very fancy. Now be careful, everybody. And be polite. Remember your manners. Hey!” He stood back from the car and began to count. “One, two, three doors on this side. Three doors! This is the biggest car in the world.”
The limo driver was standing woodenly by the car, white-gloved hands at his sides. He opened the doors for Dana and her family. Dana found a seat inside, once again feeling like a princess. She glanced at Julia, saw that her sister was grinning, and switched places so that she could sit next to her. “Pretend we’re princesses,” she said, and Julia’s smile widened.
“We’re on our way to the ball,” her twin replied.
“Wait until we get to the Plaza. Then we’ll really feel like princesses.”
“I wish I had a crown,” said Peter.
As the car slithered through the busy streets of Manhattan, Dana and Julia and Peter waved out the windows to people on the sidewalks. Abby and Zander sat at the back of the car, holding hands and smiling. When the car drew up in front of the grand Plaza Hotel, Julia said, “Here’s our castle.”
Peter replied, “Really? This is a castle?”
“No, just pretend,” Dana told him. “But it does look like a castle.”
The Burleys climbed out of the limo and Dana tipped her head back to look up, up, up at the twenty-story chateau, with its angled green roof, flags flapping in the breeze. Then Zander took Abby by the elbow and the Burleys walked up the wide steps to a uniformed doorman, who ushered them inside.
“Oh,” said Dana, under her breath, as she gazed at the chandeliers and rich carpets and marble floors.
“It is a castle,” said Peter. “It really is.”
Zander led the Burleys into the Grand Ballroom, where Dana stood for a few moments in her white lace dress, then turned in a circle, surveying the guests and the tuxedoed waiters and the silver trays of food until she began to feel dizzy.
“Ah! Zander! The man of the hour!” Dana heard someone proclaim. “And there’s the lovely and talented Dana.”
“Saul,” said Dana’s father, a smile spreading across his face. “This is my daughter Julia and my son, Peter. You already
know Abby and Dana. This is Saul Marks, my editor.”
Peter stuck out his hand and Saul shook it.
“What’s an editor?” asked Peter.
“Now, that is a very good question. An editor,” Saul began to explain, but he was interrupted by a waiter who approached the Burleys and then stood stock-still, hands behind his back. Zander turned and the waiter said, “Excuse me, but I wanted to know if I could get you anything to drink.” He bowed to Dana and Julia. “We have Shirley Temples, if you’re interested. And for you, sir,” he said to Peter, “a Roy Rogers.”
“Oh yes!” cried Dana. “Julia, you have to have a Shirley Temple! It’s just like a real cocktail, with cherries and ice cubes and everything. But what’s a Roy Rogers?” she asked the waiter.
“It’s cola with syrup and cherries. Very tasty.”
“Do you want one, Peter?” asked Dana.
“Yes!” exclaimed Peter, who had forgotten about his question for Saul.
The waiter hurried away.
“Dad? Can we walk around by ourselves?” asked Dana. “Julia and I will watch Peter.”
“Sure, sure,” replied Zander, reaching for the adult cocktail the waiter handed him, and ignoring Abby’s warning look.
The last thing Dana heard her mother say as she hurried off with her brother and sister was “Don’t overdo it tonight, Zander.”
“Look!” cried Julia a few moments later, Shirley Temple in hand. “That lady in the gold dress. She’s famous. Isn’t she? I think I saw her on television.”
“Oh, and there’s Eva Montague,” said Dana. “She’s somebody. Wow, this is amazing.”
“What’s that?” asked Peter, pointing across the room to a long table with a pyramid of books stacked on one end.
“I guess that’s where Dad and I are going to have our signing. Those are copies of Father.”
Julia said flatly, “Let’s go get something to eat,” and she turned away.
“Dana! Come have your picture taken with us.” Dana felt a hand at her elbow, and she looked up into Saul’s lined face.
“Sure,” she said. “Julia. Peter. Come here.”
“No, no,” said Saul. “We want a photo of the author, the editor, and the illustrator.”