The Secret Book Club (11 page)

The first time Flora had visited Three Oaks was on a chilly, dreary day in December, and her impression of the retirement community, as Mr. Willet drove her, Ruby, Min, and Mr. Pennington past the buildings, had not been favorable. Three Oaks, she thought then, was a place of dull colors and blank walls.

“Remember the first time we came here?” Flora now asked Min as her grandmother circled the visitors' parking lot.

“I do,” said Min.

“I didn't like it. Not at first.”

“Neither did I.”

“But then we went inside and everything was different.”

“And we only saw one wing,” Min reminded
her. “The wing Mary Lou was going to move to. We didn't even see the apartments where the other residents live.”

“Min? Do we have time to visit Mrs. Willet before we start the class?”

Flora's grandmother glanced at her watch. “If it's a very quick visit, honey.”

“Is Mr. Willet going to come to our class?”

“Yes. He's visiting Mary Lou now, but then he'll join us.”

“Mr. Willet spends more and more time with Mrs. Willet, doesn't he?”

“He certainly does.”

“How long have the Willets been married? Do you know?”

“Nearly sixty years.”

“Sixty years!” exclaimed Flora. “How long were you married, Min?”

“A long time. But not as long as the Willets.”

Min pulled into a parking space, and she and Flora climbed out of the car and opened the trunk. Flora eyed the carton she had stowed there. “I hope everyone likes the project we chose for our first class.”

Min had come up with the idea of making glasses cases that could be embellished with embroidery, buttons, beads, or a combination of the three. “I hope so,
too,” she said. “I think it's a good first project because it will work for beginners or for people with more advanced skills.”

Flora carried the box across the parking lot, following Min to the main building. The front door slid open automatically, and Flora and her grandmother found themselves in a cheerful, airy lobby with a reception desk and, next to it, a table on which sat a cage holding a small blue-and-white bird. On the wall beside the cage was a sign that read,
HI
,
I
'
M WOODY THE THREE OAKS PARAKEET
.
PLEASE TALK TO ME
,
BUT DO NOT PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY CAGE!

While Min spoke with the receptionist, Flora set the box on the floor and looked around the lobby. The room was large, with a high ceiling, in the middle of which was a skylight. Warm sun shone through the skylight, its rays enveloping the couches below in a soft glow. The lobby was quiet, except for Woody's twittering, and Flora felt a sense of calm.

A woman riding a motorized cart handed a sheaf of papers to the receptionist, then continued on her way. A man who reminded Flora of Mr. Willet walked by, talking earnestly to an elderly couple. “This is the main building,” he was saying. “The pharmacy is down that way, and so is the wing for people with Alzheimer's. Over here is the coffee shop. Let's stop in and have a cup of tea.”

Flora watched them walk toward a set of glass doors,
and she heard the woman say, “My goodness. They have
every
thing here, don't they?”

“Flora?” said Min. “Let's have a quick visit with Mary Lou. Mr. Willet is on his way to meet us. After we see Mary Lou, he'll take us to the activities room and we'll set up. You can leave the box here at the desk for now.”

Moments later, a smiling Mr. Willet waved to Min and Flora as he strode through the hallway. “Hello there!” he said. “Everyone is very excited about the class. I know it's going to be wonderful. But come with me first. I'll take you to Mary Lou.”

Flora saw Mrs. Willet long before Mrs. Willet realized she had visitors. She was sitting in a wheelchair on a shaded terrace with several other people, also in wheelchairs, most of them dozing in the heavy air.

“Mary Lou?” said Min, standing directly in front of her old friend. “Hi. It's Min Read. From the Row Houses. I brought Flora with me.”

Slowly, Mary Lou Willet raised her head and focused her eyes on her visitors. But she didn't smile. Flora thought her face looked as if it were made of stone.

“It's Min and Flora,” said Min again.

Flora noticed several stains on Mrs. Willet's blouse, a scattering of crumbs in her lap.

“FloraFloraFlora,” said Mrs. Willet at last. “Bumbumbumbumbum.” Her head dropped and her hands
began working busily, picking at a button on her blouse.

“This isn't one of her better days,” Mr. Willet whispered to Min and Flora. He turned to his wife. “Did you have a good morning, honey? It's nice to be out in the sunshine, isn't it?”

The old hands worried the button.

“Mrs. Willet,” said Flora timidly, “we came to teach a class. A sewing class. We're going to make cases for eyeglasses.”

“Bumbumbumbumbumbumbumbum.”

“Well,” said Mr. Willet, “I suppose we might as well go on to the activities room, but I know Mary Lou enjoyed your visit.”

Flora watched as Min leaned down to kiss Mrs. Willet's soft cheek. “Good-bye, Mary Lou. I'll come back soon,” she said.

Flora leaned down, too, and put her hands over Mrs. Willet's busy ones. The hands grew still. “It was nice to see you,” said Flora. “I'll come back soon, too.”

“Bye,” said Mrs. Willet.

And Mr. Willet beamed at his wife.

 

The activities room was large and sunny and full of supplies and works in progress.

“Wow!” exclaimed Flora. “This is the best art room ever! It's like the art room at school times ten.”

Mr. Willet laughed. “As you can tell, all kinds of
classes are held here. There are classes in sculpture and pottery and painting and woodcarving. Oh, and quilting.” He pointed to a corner of the room where a large half-finished quilt was stretched across a frame.

Flora saw cupboards spilling over with paintbrushes and paints and ink and clay and papers and beads and rags and cleaners and tools. Tables and chairs were placed haphazardly around the room.

“All right,” said Mr. Willet. “Nine people signed up for the class. Let's move some of the tables together to make one big one. We'll put the supplies in the middle. Does that sound all right, Min?”

“Perfect,” she replied.

Flora was emptying the carton, setting out fabric and a stack of instructions, when the first student entered the room. He was a tall man, very thin, and he introduced himself as Mr. Selden.

“He's ninety-two years old,” Mr. Willet whispered to Min and Flora.

“And my hearing is as sharp as ever,” he said, and everyone laughed.

The people who gathered for the class were nothing like what Flora had imagined. They were lively and funny and they told wonderful stories. One woman had been a doctor and had practiced all over the world. Another had been a violinist and had played with orchestras in Los Angeles and Chicago. “Once,” she said, “I met Leonard Bernstein.” Mr. Selden was a
writer. “But I never wrote any books for children,” he said to Flora. “Although I did write about a dog once. You might like that book.” There were a husband and wife who told Flora about their recent trip to China. “We plan to go back next year,” the woman added.

When the introductions were over, Min stood and faced the students. “Welcome to ‘And Sew On and Sew Forth,' the first of three classes my granddaughter and I will be teaching,” she said. “Before we begin, please tell me how many of you would say that you have more than beginning sewing skills.” To Flora's surprise, all of the students, including Mr. Willet, raised their hands.

And later, after Flora had handed around the instructions and the pattern for the case that Min had drawn up, the students began the project immediately.

“I don't think we have anything to teach you!” exclaimed Min as nine pairs of hands busied themselves cutting and measuring, matching fabrics, and selecting embroidery floss.

“Oh, yes, you do,” said the woman who had met Leonard Bernstein. “I only know how to do basic embroidery. I want you to teach me how to make a bullion knot.”

“And I've never made anything like the silk flower
you mention here,” said Mr. Selden, pointing to the instruction sheet. “I'll need help with that.”

The two hours passed quickly. Flora flew from one student to another, giving advice, demonstrating sewing tricks, and occasionally calling on Min for help. At one point, Flora glanced into the hallway and saw Nikki's mother. “Hi, Mrs. Sherman!” she called.

Mrs. Sherman grinned. “Hello, Flora. I'm in a rush,” she replied. “But it's nice to see you.” She hurried on.

“You know Mrs. Sherman?” asked Mr. Selden. When Flora nodded, he said, “She's a wonderful addition to our community.” Flora smiled, thinking how happy this bit of news would make Nikki.

At the end of the class, not one of the glasses cases had been completed, but they were mostly finished and everyone was eager to return to their apartments to get back to work.

“We'll see you on Wednesday,” said Min as she and Flora gathered up the supplies. “Get ready to learn basic paper piecing.”

“Are you going home now?” Flora asked Mr. Willet.

“No. Not yet. I'm going to spend some more time with Mary Lou.” He glanced at Min and cleared his throat. “I guess there's no good time to tell you this,” he went on. “I've decided to move to Three Oaks as soon as an apartment becomes available. I'm about to put my house on the market.”

“Oh, Bill,” said Min. “Really? I understand, of course, but, oh, we're going to miss you.”

“And I'll miss you, all of you. And my home.” He spread his hands before him. “I just don't know what else to do.”

“Getting old isn't easy, is it?” asked Min.

“No. But, as my father used to say, it beats the alternative.”

Min and Mr. Willet both smiled, but their smiles were so sad that Flora thought she might cry.

Every now and then, Olivia Walter liked to have a conversation with herself. She usually did this in bed, and on those evenings when she felt she needed a conversation, she said good night to her family unusually early. Then she would lie on her back in her pajamas, gaze into the gathering darkness, and imagine two Olivias, dressed identically, as if she had a twin. Also, she would imagine that they were the only two people in the world. Just Olivia and Olivia. And nothing mattered but their conversation.

On a Wednesday night in mid-August, Olivia decided it was time for a conversation. So she said good night to her mother and her father, to Henry and Jack, and retired to her room. She peeked in the hamster cage and said good night to Sandy. Then
she climbed into bed and turned out her light. She squinted at the ceiling, and soon the two Olivias were before her.

“Look,” said one Olivia. “It's just after eight-thirty, and the only light in here is from street lamps. A month ago, there would still have been the last little bit of daylight now. The days are getting shorter.”

“Don't remind me,” replied the second Olivia. “A month from
now
, we'll be back in school.”

“The big school.”

“With Tanya.”

“I'll bet Tanya never goes to bed early in order to have a conversation with herself.”

“Maybe Tanya isn't a very creative person.”

“Maybe Tanya is a very mature person.”

“I could be mature.”

“Do you want to be?”

“Not yet.”

“Can you believe that everyone has replied to the party invitations
except
Tanya?”

“What do you think that means?”

“I hope it means that the Rhodeses are away and Tanya hasn't gotten the invitation yet.”

“It probably does. Mom and Dad said August is the biggest vacation month of the summer.”

“Everyone else is coming to the party.”

“Wouldn't it be … what's the word? Ironic? Wouldn't it be ironic if Tanya was the only one who
couldn't come to the party? Tanya was the whole
reason
for the party.”

“Maybe Tanya is just rude and didn't bother to RSVP.”

“I thought of that.”

“I have another worry: What if the other guests are playing a trick? Maybe they said they were going to come, but they don't really intend to. What a joke it would be if I planned this big party and the only guests were Nikki, Ruby, and Flora.”

“Try to think about something more pleasant.”

“Hmm. The vegetable garden.”

“Yes! The vegetable garden. Mr. Pennington said the four of us should be very proud of ourselves.”

“I'm proud of us.”

“Me, too. I didn't really think we'd be able to make a donation to the food bank with our own vegetables. But we did.”

“Tomatoes and green peppers. The people at the food bank looked pretty happy to see us.”

“Mr. Pennington said that in the fall we'll have a bumper crop of squash.”

“I've never been sure what a bumper crop is, exactly.”

“Remember to look it up tomorrow.”

“Here's another happy thing: Nelson Day.”

“Ruby's big idea. It
is
exciting. There's going to be a street fair on Main Street again, like last spring.”

“The proceeds from the sidewalk sale will be donated to the Nelsons.”

“There are going to be food vendors, too.”

“And balloon rides, but I think they're going to be too expensive.”

“I'm dying to ride in a hot air balloon. It must be so peaceful, floating around, looking down on everything. I'd be able to see Main Street from way up high.”

Despite the conversation, and despite the fact that Olivia wanted to talk about the interesting turn the book club had taken, her eyes began to close. One of the two Olivias on the ceiling disappeared, and the one who was left fell silent. In Olivia's mind an enormous pink-and-green balloon descended slowly from the skies above Camden Falls, coming to a gentle landing in front of Sincerely Yours. A door in the basket of the balloon opened by itself, and Olivia stepped inside. She was all alone, rising and rising, watching Main Street fall away below her.

 

When Olivia awoke the next morning, the first thing she thought of was the balloon. She felt quite peaceful, and she told herself that in the future when she began to feel anxious about something she should call to mind the pink-and-green balloon and imagine a nice quiet ride somewhere.

Olivia had been up for less than five minutes that
morning when the phone rang and Jack shouted, “Olivia, it's for you!”

“Coming!” Olivia replied, and was horrified to hear Jack say conspiratorially to Henry, “Make that farting noise into the phone. Flora will think it's Olivia.”

“Henry, don't you dare!” cried Olivia. “Jack, give me the phone!… Flora?”

“Hi! Did you remember what today is?”

“How could I forget?”

“Are you going to walk into town with Ruby and Min and me?”

“Sure. What time did Nikki say she'd be there?”

“Ten.”

“Okay. I'll be over as soon as I can. I can't believe we have to wait until ten to open the letters, though.”

Olivia flew back to her room, dressed in a hurry (in new clothes bought on a shopping spree with her mother the week before), and scanned her room for
Understood Betsy
, which had turned out to be the final book club selection. Three days earlier, Min Read had arrived at Needle and Thread and found a stack of envelopes by the door. Monday was not the usual day for the arrival of the envelopes, so when Flora phoned Olivia to say that the books had arrived, Olivia's heart quickened.

“Something's up,” she'd said to Flora. “I can feel it. This isn't usual.”

Sure enough, when the girls gathered at Needle and
Thread later and opened the envelopes, they found that the letter accompanying
Understood Betsy
said only, “First read the book. Your final letter will arrive in three days.”

That was it. Nothing more.

“No list of things to talk about,” said Flora.

“No Saturday activity,” said Nikki.

Ruby had squinted her eyes and said in a thickly accented voice, “Veddy, veddy strange.” When she realized that the other girls were staring at her, she added, “I'm a foreign detective.”

Olivia had spent the next three days reading
Understood Betsy
, by Dorothy Canfield. At first she had found the story of Elizabeth Ann, orphaned as a baby, who at age nine moves to the Vermont countryside to live with her aunt and uncle, to be old-fashioned (the story took place in the early 1900s) and a bit babyish. But the more she read, the better she liked the story. Betsy, as her relatives call her, might be only nine years old, but the things she does on her own — well, Olivia certainly couldn't imagine doing them herself. They might have seemed small on the surface, but if you thought about them, they were really rather momentous. Walking to a new school all by yourself without even knowing where the school is! Getting lost at a fair and having to find your way home at a time when there were no telephones or cars.

Bravery, thought Olivia. Once again, one of the themes of the book club selection was bravery.

Olivia had read the book with relish, all the time wondering what the final letter would say.

And now it was Thursday, and she would soon find out.

Olivia, Flora, Ruby, and Min turned the corner onto Main Street — and Olivia broke into a run. “Come on!” she called, and Flora and Ruby hurried after her.

The envelopes that lay in the corner of the doorway to Needle and Thread were small.

“Just regular envelopes,” observed Ruby.

“I think
Understood Betsy
was our last book,” said Olivia sadly.

The girls sat on the couches at the front of the store and stared at the letters. Olivia willed Nikki to hurry. “Come earlier, come earlier, come earlier,” she chanted silently.

But it was after ten when Nikki ran through the door.

“Here! Here!” exclaimed Ruby, thrusting an envelope into Nikki's hand. “We can't wait a single second longer. One, two, three, open!”

In a flash, the four letters were opened. Flora let out a gasp.

“What is it, girls?” called Min from the checkout counter.

There was a tangle of voices as the four girls tried to answer at the same time.

“How about if one of you reads the letter aloud to me?” suggested Min.

“I'll do it! I'll do it!” said Olivia. “Well, first there are the things to think about and discuss and stuff. But the last paragraph says, ‘Your fourth and final adventure will take place this Saturday. Please gather at Flora and Ruby's house at seven-thirty in the morning.'”

“That's a little early, isn't it?” said Ruby, and Min muttered something about sloths.

Olivia ignored the question. “‘At seven-thirty in the morning,'” she resumed, “‘for a trip to Sands Point. Be prepared to spend the day there. The person who will be taking you on the trip is the creator of the book club.'
And
,” said Olivia with relish, “the —”

“The letter is signed Madame X!” cried Ruby triumphantly.

Olivia glared at Ruby, but Ruby seemed not to notice.

“Madame X,” repeated Nikki, eyes narrowed. “So. The mystery person is a woman.”

“I kind of thought it might be Mr. Pennington,” said Olivia.

“I wondered if it might be Sonny. He works in the bookstore and everything,” said Flora.

“I hate to ask this, but what's Sands Point?” asked Nikki.

“Yeah, what is it?” asked Flora and Ruby at the same time.

“Am I the only one who knows Sands Point?” said Olivia. “Well, you guys are going to love it. It's a town from the early nineteen hundreds. You walk into it and feel like you've stepped back in time.”

“Oh, into Betsy's time!” Nikki said. “I get it. We're going to visit the time in which the story took place. Cool.”

“But even more cool, we'll finally find out who the mystery person is,” said Ruby.

“Let's have our book talk now,” said Flora.

Olivia and her friends tried hard, very hard, to concentrate on the list of things to talk about, but every few sentences, one of them would cry out, “I'll bet Madame X is Gigi!” or “Maybe Mary Woolsey is Madame X!”

Finally, Ruby pointed to Olivia and said, “Maybe
you're
Madame X!”

Olivia laughed. But then she thought, Madame X could be Nikki or Flora. Or Ruby — the one who dared to suggest that the mystery person was one of us. She eyed her friends suspiciously. And then she said, “Forty-eight hours from now, we'll know who Madame X
really
is.”