"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club Mystery 005 - Mary Anne and the Secret in the Attic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

Whew! itТs lucky Watson is a millionaire (really, he is) and owns a mansion. That family just wouldn't fit in any regular house, Kristy seems to love being part of such a big family. I guess it helps that she's so outgoing and assertive.
How else can I describe Kristy? Well, she loves sports and is kind of a tomboy, she adores kids, and she couldn't care less about clothes or makeup or any of that stuff. She's happiest dressed in a turtleneck, jeans, and running shoes. She's pretty short for her age (like me) and she has brown hair and brown eyes (also like me). And, last but not least, she's president of our club.
The vice-president of our club is Claudia Kishi. It was Claud's room that we were all sitting in that afternoon. In fact, we always meet in Claud's room. Why? Because she has her own phone, with a private line. That means that we don't have to tie up anyone else's line while we take BSC calls. As vice-president, Claud doesn't really have any other duties, besides supplying the phone and the meeting place. But she does supply one other very important thing for the club: junk food. Munchies, snacks, bonbons Ч Claud's kind of
addicted to junk food, and she loves to share it.
It's hard to believe that Claudia eats as much junk as she does. For one thing, she has title most beautiful complexion, and for another, her figure is terrific. I guess she's just one of those people who is naturally gorgeous, no matter what she eats. Claud has a very exotic look. She's Japanese-American, and has lovely brown almond-shaped eyes and long, long silky black hair. She is a really sophisticated dresser: for example, that day she was wearing a lacy white top over a solid white bodysuit, a black mini skirt with white polka dots on it, lacy white leggings, and red high-tops. Plus some really outrageous black-and-white jewelry (earrings and bracelets and necklaces) that she'd made herself out of papier-mтchщ". Claud's an excellent artist. You should see the portrait she once painted of Tigger.
Compared to mine and Kristy's, ClaudТs family is really small and, well, normal. itТs just her, her mom and dad, and her older sister Janine, who is a true genius. Claud's really smart, too, but she'll never do as well in school as Janine does. She just doesn't seem to care about getting good grades. Except in art.
Claud's best friend is Stacey McGill. She's the treasurer of our club, which means that
she collects dues every Monday. (Ugh! We all hate to part with our money.) Also, she keeps track of how much money is in the treasury. We use the money to cover what Kristy calls "overhead." It helps to pay Claud's phone bill, for example, and we also use some of it to pay Kristy's brother to drive her to meetings. (When her mom married Watson, Kristy moved across town to that mansion of his. She used to live right next door to my old house.) Stacey's a real math whiz, so the job is a breeze for her.
Stacey doesn't exactly look like the stereotypical idea of a math whiz, however. She doesn't have slicked-back hair, and she doesn't wear black-framed glasses or carry pens and a slide rule in her pocket. In fact, her hair is blonde and curly (she often gets it permed), and she's just as cool a dresser as Claud is. I think thatТs partly why they're such good friends: they share a certain sophistication the rest of us just don't have.
Actually, Stacey may even be more sophisticated than Claud. She cant help it: she grew up in New York City. She didn't move to Stoneybrook until seventh grade. Stacey's been through some tough times in the past few years. For one thing, she found out she has diabetes. Her body can't process sugars correctly, so she has to be very, very careful about
what she eats. Also, she has to give herself daily injections (ew!) of this stuff called insulin. Stacey's learned how to take care of herself pretty well, and I'm always impressed at how matter-of-factly she deals with having a lifelong disease.
Also, Stacey's parents recently got divorced. Her dad lives back in New York, and Stacey goes to visit him as often as she can. But most of the time it's just Stacey and her mom against the world. (I can relate to that, since it was just me and Dad for so long.)
Anyway, despite her troubles, Stacey's one of the most cheerful, fun-loving people I know. And she loves to be around kids, which makes her a great baby-sitter.
Now that you've met the president, vice-president, and treasurer of our dub, I bet you're wondering who the secretary is. Well, it's me, (Surprise.) I really like my job, maybe because I'm naturally neat and organized. What I do is to keep the record book up to date. The record book is where we write down all kinds of information about our clients Ч not just their names and addresses and their kids' names, but their kids' favorite foods, favorite games, allergies, and so forth. I love keeping track of those things. I also keep track of the club members' schedules, which isn't as simple as you might think. There are Kristy's softball games (she coaches a team called Kristy's Krushers), Claudia's art lessons, and Stacey's trips to New York to take into account, for example. And I have to be aware of the schedules of our alternate members, Logan Bruno and Shannon Kilbourne. They don't come to meetings, but they can fill in if we need extra sitters. Shannon lives in Kristy's new neighborhood, and I've already told you that Logan is my boyfriend.
I've never had a problem keeping up with the record book, but if I ever couldn't make it to a meeting, Dawn would take over my job. In fact, she could take over anyone's job Ч she's what we call our alternate officer. I think Dawn's just as happy not to have a major job; she loves the club, but she doesn't exactly crave power or responsibility.
Now Dawn, Stacey, Claudia, Kristy, and I are all thirteen and in the eighth grade. But two of our club members are eleven years old and in the sixth grade. Mallory Pike and Jessi Ramsey are our junior officers. "Junior" means that they can only sit after school or on weekend days Ч no nighttime jobs unless they're sitting for their own families. This is fine with them, and fine with us. They get plenty of work, and we get freed up for evening jobs.
Jessi and Mal are best friends and, like me and Kristy, they're a case of opposites attracting. Mal comes from a huge family (eight kids!), has red, curly hair, and glasses and braces, and likes to do quiet things like read and write and draw. She'd like to illustrate children's books some day. Jessi comes from a regular-sized family (three kids), has black hair, brown eyes, and beautiful chocolate-colored skin, and likes to spend her time dancing. She's studying to be a ballerina.
The two of them do have a lot in common, though. They both wish their parents would stop treating them like children (Mal would love to get contacts; Jessi would like to be able to wear mini skirts), they both love to read (especially horse stories), and they're both great baby-sitters.
In fact, that day in Claud's room, Mallory was telling us about baby-sitting for her brothers and sisters the day before. Her face was lit up with excitement. "Nicky and Vanessa are both really into their Heritage Day projects," she said. "I think a lot of our regular clients will be, too. They're making a big deal of it at the elementary school. Everybody's supposed to do some kind of historical researchЧ about their family tree, or about Stoneybrook, or about how their family came to Stoneybrook, or whatever. They're supposed to come up with projects and skits and stuff, and then there's going to be a big fair where
they can show off what they've learned."
Heritage Day sounded like fun Ч something to look forward to. I left that day's meeting with something new to think about, but you know what? I still hadn't been able to forget about my dream.
Chapter 3.
"Look at this one, Mary Anne!" Charlotte held up an old, sepia-toned photograph of a serious young woman.
"Wow," I said. "Look at those braids piled up on her head. Imagine how long her hair must have been when it was unbraided!"
It was a Friday evening, after a BSC meeting, and I was sitting for Charlotte Johanssen. She's one of our favorite kids to sit for; she's fun to be with, and smart, and almost never gets into mischief. That day she was already hard at work on her Heritage Day project. Charlotte's a great student Ч in fact, she skipped a grade so that even though she's barely eight years old, she's in third grade.
Charlotte had told me that everyone in her class was working on their family trees. Each student was supposed to research his family history, and find out when and why his family had ended up in Stoneybrook. For some kids,
the job would be fairly easy; if they'd moved to Stoneybrook recently, they wouldn't have to do much research. But a lot of families have lived in this town for generations, and Charlotte's was one of them.
"I asked Dad if he knew why his grandparents moved here," said Charlotte, who was still holding the picture. "But he didn't know. It's going to be really fun to try to find out!" Charlotte loves a mystery, and she's a pretty good detective. She couldn't wait to get started. It's great to see a kid so excited about a school project.
"Is that your great-grandmother?" I asked, still looking at the photo.
"Yup," said Charlotte. "See, here on the back it says her name: 'Berit Marie Hjielholt Johanssen.' I guess Hjielholt was her name before she got married to my greatgrandfather."
"It's so funny to look at this young woman and hear you call her your great-grandmother," I said.
"I know," Charlotte replied. "Isn't it weird to think that these people who I'm related to lived their whole lives so, so long ago? This picture is from when she graduated from college in Denmark."
I looked at the picture again. Charlotte's great-grandmother had been very beautiful.
There was something about her eyes Ч they were large and dark, and very expressive. Even though she looked serious in the picture, you could see a little spark of good humor in her eyes. I held the picture up next to Charlotte's face to see if there was any resemblance. At first, I didn't see any. The woman in the picture had blonde hair, and Charlotte's is brown. They both have dark eyes, but Charlotte's didn't look too much like her great-grandmother's. Then I saw it. The dimple. "Charlotte!" I said. "You have a dimple in the exact same place as your great-grandmother had one!"
Charlotte grabbed the picture. "Let's see!" she said. "You're right. Hers isn't showing a lot, because she isn't smiling. That's just how mine is. But you can tell itТs there. Neat!"
I could see that Charlotte suddenly felt connected to the person in the picture, and I was happy for her. But I have to admit that I also felt a twinge of jealousy. Charlotte had that picture, plus a whole box of other pictures, scrapbooks, letters, and other things Ч all about her family. I don't think my father and I have any of that stuff. At least, I've never seen it. I think he got rid of it after my mother died, because looking at those things was just too painful for him. (Lucky thing he kept his high school yearbooks, at least. Otherwise I
might not have a new stepsister now!)
I was starting to feel kind of sorry for myself, but I snapped out of it when Charlotte's dog, Carrot, ran into the room. Carrot is a little schnauzer, and he loves to be in the middle of things.
"Carrot, no!" said Charlotte, as he started to nose through the box on her lap. "Out of kitchen!"
I laughed. It always sounds so funny to hear the Johanssens tell their dog to get "out of kitchen" Ч especially when you're in the living room, or the garage, or even outside. It's an all-purpose command that just means "get out of here." Dr. Johanssen, Charlotte's mom, started to say it when she wanted the dog out of the kitchen while she made dinner. But now they all say it, anytime and anywhere, because it's the only command that Carrot ever really pays attention to. (Well, he does know how to "say his prayers," by putting his paws in your lap and laying his head on them.)
Carrot scampered off Ч heading toward the kitchen, which made me giggle Ч and Charlotte and I went back to looking through her box. She pulled out a scrapbook full of yellowed newspaper clippings and leafed through it for a minute. "This would be great for the fifth-graders," she said. "They're doing this project of making a pretend 'one-hundred-
year-old newspaper.' It's going to have all the news from Stoneybrook, but from a hundred years ago. They're going to print it up and everything!" She put the book aside and picked up a bundle of letters. "I'll have to spend some time reading these," she said. "They're from my great-grandmother to her mother, who still lived in Denmark. And look! The return address is Stoneybrook. They were already living here by then."
I reached into the box and pulled out an old photo album. "Who are these people?" I asked, pointing to a picture on the first page. It was a big group photo with a bride and groom in the middle of it. The men wore carnations in their buttonholes, and the women wore their hair in fancy buns. Nobody was exactly smiling Ч I guess people didn't say "cheese" in those days Ч but they looked happy, anyway.
"Let's see," said Charlotte. She took the picture out of its slot in the book and looked at the back. "Oh, those are some cousins of my great-grandmother's," she said. "The Ottes. They were German."
Charlotte had obviously learned a lot about her family already. I could see that she didn't really need my help with her project, but it was fun to work with her anyway. We went through the whole box, checking to see what
she would have to work with as she put together her family tree.
"This is the most fun project of all," said Charlotte, as she sifted through the box. "I'd rather do this than work on a skit, or do the Stoneybrook history project, or anything. itТs much more exciting to find out about your own family."
I nodded. "Hey, look!" I said, pulling a small, leatherbound book from the box. "This looks like a diary."
Charlotte glanced up, excited. "Really?" she asked. "LetТs see." She opened the little book carefully and looked at the first page. "This is awesome!" she said. "If s my great-grandmother's diary, and it starts with her voyage from Europe." She paged through it for a few minutes. "Wow," she said, in a hushed voice. "Here's an entry about her seeing the Statue of Liberty for the first time, as the ship sailed into New York Harbor."
What a find! Charlotte was going to have one of the best projects in her class, I was sure of it. While she was looking at the diary, I had continued to go through the contents of the box. It was nearly empty by now, but I felt around in the corners and came up with a delicate locket. It was gold, with flowers engraved on it. The initials B.M.H. were etched in fancy script on the back side. There were