The Secret Cookie Club (19 page)

Lucy

The cookies were chocolate crinkle and delicious, chewy at first but then melt-in-your-mouth. I ate two right there in the front hall and waited for flour power to take hold but, alas, no bags of money appeared.

O's letter was brief:

Dearest Beautiful Marvelous Lucy,

You know what your problem is?

It is not the money for camp like you think.

It is what Jenny would call a lack of GUMPTION!!!

You need to believe in yourself, and if you believe in yourself, you will get what you want.

Forgive me for going all Oprah on you. (LOL!)

But at the very least, if you believe in yourself, you will be less pathetic.

I admit I have never had a problem believing in myself. (It's getting other people to believe in me that's the problem.) But maybe because of that I see how being so modest all the time is hurting you—even from Kansas City, I see this.

So these cookies are to make you be brave and bold and stand up for yourself because you are just as important as anybody else and you deserve it.

Love always always always and FOREVER, O.

P.S. And see you at camp this summer FOR SURE! Your letter convinced me we all have to go and be back in Flowerpot Cabin again. I just talked to my mom about it, and she had her assistant make some calls. So now you have to come too. (Do I sound like Emma? LOL.)

O's letter did not cheer me up. I didn't need “gumption.” I needed money—or maybe a normal family like other people have. In case you can't tell, I was in a pretty bad mood, so maybe it was good I had to leave my house and wrangle the triplets that afternoon.

Kendall's husband was away, and she was having a get-together for some girlfriends on the patio, starting at four thirty. I was going over at four o'clock. Arlo, Mia, Levi, and I would have a picnic on the lawn—well out of the way, as Kendall put it. Since O had sent a zillion cookies, I packed a paper bag with some to take with me.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Nana!” I called as I left. If either one replied, I didn't hear.

On the short walk, I thought some more about O's note. Maybe if I had more “gumption,” I would have said to myself,
“What does she know? She's crazy! I am self-confident and bold! I am!”
But because I don't have any gumption, I agreed with her. I did need more self-confidence.

But how were cookies supposed to help me get it?

And even if they did, how would self-confidence get me to Moonlight Ranch?

Kendall was waiting by the front door as usual, but the triplets were not.

“I couldn't take it anymore and violated one of my own rules,” Kendall explained. “I let them watch TV after nap.”

My brain heard her words, but I wasn't thinking about TV. So what I said was, “Kendall, do you think I have gumption?”

Kendall laughed. “Gumption! What an old-fashioned word!”

“It's one that Jenny uses,” I said.

Kendall nodded. “And Jenny is . . . ?”

“Olivia's housekeeper,” I said.

“Right!” said Kendall. “So I guess if I knew who Olivia was, I would understand perfectly.”

“Yes,” I said, “you would. Do I have it?”

“Uh . . .” Kendall seemed to be stalling. “Well, it isn't the first word that comes to mind when I think of you, Lucy. But maybe you do. Deep down. Come on, let's go get the triplets.”

In the TV room, the triplets had made a tent out of blankets. Levi saw me first and scrambled up and out, pulling down blankets on his siblings. Mia and Arlo squealed in protest. Then they saw me and untangled themselves.

It was nice being even more interesting than SpongeBob.

“Lucy!”

“Woo-see!”

“Lucy!”

I gave them a group hug.

“We go play outside.” Arlo tugged my arm.

“We have a jungle picnic,” Levi said.

“We go play soccer,” Mia said.

“Chips!”
All three of them said at once. Then they looked at their mom, and she grinned sheepishly.

“I said they could have chips when you got here.”

Aha—no wonder I was so interesting.

“What's in the paper bag?” Arlo asked me.

“Surprise,” I said.

“Goody!” said Mia.

“Can we eat it?” asked Levi.

“You'll see,” I said.

In the kitchen, Kendall had filled a cooler with picnic items. I picked it up and asked the triplets, “Who wants to carry the picnic blanket?”

“Not me!” “Not me!” “Not me!”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “Then I'll carry it.”

“No,
me
!” “No,
me
!” “No,
me
!”

I gave the blanket to Mia, who draped it over her shoulders like a cloak and then stuck her tongue out at her brothers.

“Lucky.” Levi sulked.

“You take the soccer ball,” I said.

“What about me?” Arlo asked.

I took the thermos out of the cooler and handed it to him. “You carry this. Now the cooler won't be so heavy.”

“Tire them out,” Kendall whispered. “Then read them a story. They've been watching TV so long, I bet they've got ants in their pants.”

The triplets heard that last part, which they thought was hilarious. Before they could pull down one another's pants to check, I said, “Last one to the picnic spot is a rotten egg!”

Out the French doors and across the patio they tumbled—almost colliding with the early arrivals to their mom's get-together. The ladies all wore short summer dresses, shiny sandals, and coral-colored lipstick. They smiled and waved manicured hands and made a fuss over the triplets.

“Adorable,” they said. “Darling.” And, “How does she manage with three? I can barely handle one!”

The triplets stood up a little straighter, aware someone was paying attention to them. Then they forgot about it and sprinted for the far reaches of the yard. There, each of us took a corner of the tablecloth and pulled to spread it out. But for the sound of the women on the patio and cars in the distance, we felt very far
away from civilization. It was easy to pretend we were off in a meadow in the wilderness.

Kendall had provided us with egg salad sandwiches with watercress, sugar snap peas, and
chips
—the highlight for the kids. They ate without fighting and kept glancing at the paper bag that held O's cookies. They didn't want to risk losing their surprise.

Is this an example of flour power?
I wondered.

“Time for the surprise!” Arlo crowed.

“You're right,” I said and—with a flourish—I opened the paper bag to reveal the chocolate crinkle cookies.

The
oohs
and
aahs
were immediately followed by, “Gimme! Gimme!” from Arlo, who reached for a cookie before they were even out of the bag.

Mia said, “Rude!”

“Am not!” said Arlo.

“He is rude, isn't he, Lucy?” Mia said.

“It's best not to grab cookies,” I answered.

“I want a cookie
now
!” Arlo squealed.

Levi just smiled, glad he was not in trouble.

I was annoyed. This was what I got for sharing my
very special cookies with four-year-olds. I took a bit more time than necessary to remove the cookies from the bag and set them on a paper plate. The triplets looked on like dogs waiting for a treat. Then, all of a sudden, the obedience was just too much for Arlo, who stood up and announced, “I don't want any old stupid cookies!” and marched away.

“Oh dear,” I said. “Arlo? Come back, sweetie. We want you to share cookies with us.”

Mia and Levi, still on their best behavior, nodded solemnly.

But Arlo said, “No!” and kept walking.

He was headed toward the now shadowy fence line of the property, only a few yards away. He couldn't exactly escape. There was no place for him to go without running into a fence. Knowing the thought of cookies would bring him back eventually, I decided to let him sulk.

Mia, Levi, and I shared our cookies in happy silence. I was impressed that neither wolfed theirs and demanded a second. They seemed to understand that these cookies were special.

I was dreaming of milk when Mia, sitting across from me, turned her head and asked, “What dat?” She was looking in Arlo's direction.

Levi turned his head the same way and smiled. “Doggy!”

Doggy?

Now I looked too, and saw, weaving its way through the shrubbery, a shadow—muscular, powerful, and wild. This was not any kind of doggy I knew. For a few paralyzed moments I watched the shadow slink toward my four-year-old charge, my brain bubbling with unhelpful visions of sharp teeth.

I had to do something.

Arlo, meanwhile, was kneeling down looking at something on the ground, maybe an anthill. The first day I babysat, he was bitten by ants, and since then I had tried to get him to appreciate how interesting they are. Now he had no idea he was being stalked.

I was afraid to call out to him.

If he ran, the shadow would chase him—and the shadow would win.

I looked down for a rock to throw or a clump of dirt—and
saw a better weapon. Meanwhile, the gray shadow glided over the ground—closer and closer. It was now or never. I pivoted, shifted my weight, and swung my right leg—
thwack!
My instep connected squarely with the little green soccer ball, just the way Mrs. Kamae had taught us.

The sound made Arlo look up, and it startled Mia and Levi. The ball shot across the yard. The gray shadow dodged but too slowly. Hit in the flank, it lurched sideways, recovered, and ran off.

“Ha-ha-ha!” Levi pointed. “You hit the doggy with the ball!”

Mia shook her head, all disapproval. “Poor doggy! Mean, mean Lucy.”

My heart pounded. I gulped air. Weak-kneed, I dropped to the grass in time to watch the coyote's tail disappear into the bushes. With the threat past, Arlo saw the coyote's tail retreating, realized what had almost happened, and screamed.

Lucy

Mothers to the rescue! From the patio, they came running—wild-eyed and gripping the stems of their wineglasses.

For once my brain was keeping up with the world around me. I didn't want anyone to panic. I should act calm, say it was no big deal.

I did not get away with this, though, because Arlo shrieked, “Coyote!” the second his mom was in earshot.
Leave it to Arlo to recognize the animal—even though all he saw was its disappearing rear end. This is the danger of letting your child read too many nature books.

Safe in his mom's arms, Arlo began to cry, and then his siblings did too.

“Lucy?” Kendall looked at me.

I hesitated and Levi took over. “Woo-see kick soccer ball—
Pow! Boom!
It hit the doggy, and the doggy ran away!”

Mia nodded to confirm the story.

“All we really saw was a shadow near Arlo,” I said as calmly as I could. “I'm not sure what it was. I kicked the ball to scare it away.”

“Pow! Boom!” Levi repeated.

“Mean Lucy,” Mia said.

“It was a
coyote
,” Arlo repeated.

“Oh my goodness,” murmured one of the other mothers, and Courtney's mother said, “A wild animal?”

“The triplets were in their own yard!”

“All those missing cats . . .”

“What if Lucy hadn't been there?”

“What if Lucy hadn't thought so quickly?”

“What if Lucy didn't have such good aim?”

Kendall pulled Arlo a little closer and looked me in the eye. “You're a hero,” she said.

*  *  *

“How were Arnold, Leland, and Matilda tonight?” Nana asked when I got home.

For once I set her straight. “
Arlo
,
Levi
, and
Mia
are fine.”

Nana didn't appear to notice my correction. “And how was their mom's party?”

“I guess the ladies had fun,” I said. “There was, uh, some excitement with an animal in the yard, but I chased it away.”

“An animal?”

“Arlo thought it was a coyote. It looked like one,” I said. I kind of wanted to tell her the story. It was the most excitement I'd had in a while—maybe ever.

But Nana said, “It was probably somebody's dog.”

So then I wasn't so eager to talk about it. “Yeah, maybe.”

If Mom came in later after her shift, I didn't wake up.

*  *  *

The next day—Sunday—something felt different. I don't mean I felt like I was a hero or anything. But not just anyone has a knack with a soccer ball. Maybe it
was
lucky for Arlo that I was the one who was there.

Then I thought some more about “gumption.” I did want Mom and Nana to know I'd done something good. Mom would be all about celebrating with me. Maybe Nana would, too. You could never tell.