The Thanksgiving Treasure (11 page)

I was feeling a bit nervous as we approached the big old house. No one had lived in it since we could remember, and we had always jokingly referred to it as the haunted mansion. Of course, we didn't take that seriously, but I wondered just what kind of welcome we would get from Constance Payne. She might not want a bunch of kids hanging around.

We trooped up on the porch, and I knocked on the door a few times. There was no answer, and after a few moments, I knocked again, louder. The house was so big, we wondered if she would ever hear it.

“Oh, come on, let's go!” said Tanya. “She's not even here.”

“Relax!” I answered.

“Well, she's not going to say yes to the style show anyway,” Tanya said. “It's stupid to ask her.”

I had a feeling Tanya would be secretly pleased if Constance said no. We waited nervously. Finally we heard footsteps approaching the door, and we all self-consciously tugged at our socks and dresses and tried to make ourselves presentable.

The door opened, and there stood Constance Payne. We were all so overwhelmed by her appearance that for a moment we said nothing. We just stood and stared at her.

I thought she was the most dramatic, exotic person I had ever seen. She looked a bit sleepy and disheveled, with her dark hair tousled about her face, but she was very beautiful. She was wearing an elegant black kimono splashed with big red flowers, and she wore dark red nail polish and strange, embroidered slippers.

She was staring back at us with a slightly irritated expression. I thought I had better say something before she closed the door in our faces.

“Constance Payne?” I asked stupidly. As though it could be anyone else!

“Yes?” she said in a low, rich voice, sounding impatient.

“I'm Addie Mills … I mean Adelaide.” I quickly thrust the daffodils at her. “These are for you. To welcome you to Clear River. I mean, to welcome you back.”

She took the flowers. “Well, thank you, Adelaide,” she said, and moved back as though she were going to close the door.

“You can call me Addie,” I said quickly, trying desperately to make conversation. Carla Mae gave out a big “ah-hem” behind me, and I suddenly remembered to introduce the other three girls.

Then Tanya blurted out, “Could we have your autograph?” I elbowed her, furious at her bad manners for asking so soon.

Constance tried to make some excuse about not having time or doing it some other day, but the three of them persisted, and she finally agreed. Then we discovered that none of us had a pen, and Tanya had the nerve to ask if we could borrow one.

“I must have a pen inside somewhere,” Constance said. “Excuse me.” She turned to go, leaving the door ajar. That was all the invitation we needed, and we rushed in behind her and followed her through the big dark hall and into the parlor on the right. When she realized we were behind her, she stopped suddenly and spun around. I thought she was going to throw us out, and we all froze in our tracks. She looked at us for a moment and then gave a sigh and went on into the room and walked over to a big trunk. We followed, taking in the surroundings as we went. It was a dark old room, full of red plush furniture and ornate lamps. Some of the furniture was covered with sheets, and a big carpet was rolled up against one wall. The old trunk was obviously one that had belonged to Constance. It was plastered with travel stickers from cities in Europe and full of little drawers and compartments.

There was a pair of sunglasses on top of the trunk, and she picked them up and put them on. I wondered why. I had never seen anyone wear sunglasses indoors, and I imagined from that moment on that all actresses did.

Tanya, Gloria and Carla Mae gathered around the trunk as Constance searched for a pen, but I didn't want to appear overanxious, so I became interested in some old posters leaning against a table. They announced her appearances in several plays in cities back East. I had never heard of some of the towns, but the plays sounded glamorous. She must have sent the posters home to her family earlier in her career.

“I'm afraid the house is in a bit of a mess,” she was saying. “I'm sorting through things, trying to get it all settled before I go back to New York.”

“I bet you travel a lot,” I said, still looking at the posters. “Like on tours and all that.”

“Well, yes, sometimes I work outside of New York,” she said, sounding distracted. “Here's a pen.”

Tanya, Gloria and Carla Mae all shoved their autograph books at her, but I hung back, trying to be polite. When she finished with the others, Constance turned to me and held out her hand for my book.

“And you're Adelaide?” she said, starting to write.

“Make it to ‘Addie.' I hate ‘Adelaide,'” I said, making a face about my awful name.

“I always hated my last name,” she said, looking at me for a moment. “‘Gunderson' didn't seem right for the theater, so I changed it.”

“That's what I'm going to do!” I said. “I don't want to sign my paintings ‘Adelaide.' It'll look stupid.”

She looked up from my book. “Are you an artist?”

“Well, I'm gonna be one … as soon as I can go to Paris and New York and study and stuff.”

“New York?” she asked, seeming surprised.

“Oh, yeah! I'm going the day I get out of college. I can't wait! I've got a scrapbook about New York, and a map and everything.”

Tanya made a face. “Oh, she's always talking about having her paintings in the Museum of Metropolitan Art!”

“It's the Metropolitan Museum of Art, dodo!” I snapped back at her. I knew she couldn't stand it that Constance and I were having this whole sophisticated conversation. I turned to Constance. “I hope I'll be a success like you. Then there'll be two famous people from Clear River.”

She looked away from me when I said that, and put the pen back in a drawer of the trunk. Then she started for the door as though to usher us out. We followed on her heels, all talking at once, asking questions about her life in New York. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I had never been that close to anyone so glamorous. She tried to be polite, but I could tell she didn't really want to answer our questions and was anxious to get rid of us.

Tanya had the nerve to ask her if actresses make a lot of money, and Constance answered politely that leading ladies get paid very well. I informed Tanya that real actors don't act for the money, they do it for the love of the theater. It's a way of life! Constance seemed amused at that and made another move toward the door.

I thought I had better bring up the style show before it was too late.

“Are you going to be in town for a while?” I asked.

“I don't think so,” she said.

“I suppose you have to start on a new play … rehearsals and all that?” said Carla Mae.

“What's your new play about?” asked Gloria.

Constance seemed to hesitate for a moment, and I interrupted. “Actresses don't discuss their roles before they rehearse. It's supposed to be a secret! Right?” I said to Constance.

She smiled at me. “Something like that, yes.”

I thought I had made an impression on her by that knowledgeable remark about actresses, and it seemed a good time to launch into the invitation to the style show. We all bombarded her with requests, and I even assured her she wouldn't have to sit through the luncheon but could just come at the end of the show and hand out the awards. She listened patiently and then said, “I'm very flattered, but I really can't.”

She moved to the door and opened it.

“I told you so,” Tanya hissed. “You and your stupid ideas!”

I knew Constance had heard her. “Oh, clam up, will you?” I whispered angrily to Tanya.

“I'm sorry, but it's really impossible,” Constance said, giving me an apologetic look.

“Oh, that's OK,” I said, trying to save face. I moved to the door, ready to leave.

Suddenly Tanya grabbed my arm and said, in her phoniest “nice” voice, “Don't forget to invite Miss Payne to dinner Addie.”

I could have killed her. She was putting me on the spot with my own fib, right in front of Constance.

“Oh, uh …” I stammered.

“Her father is your old friend, James Mills,” Tanya said to Constance.

“James Mills?” Constance said, puzzled. “I don't think I remember …”

“Didn't you used to go out with him?” Tanya asked. “Addie said you did!”

I was flushed with embarrassment. “Well, it was a long time ago,” I said to Constance. “Maybe you don't remember.”

“Oh, James Mills!” Constance said suddenly. “I do remember him! He was a handsome devil. You tell him I said hello, won't you?” Somehow she had sensed what was happening and had helped me out. I couldn't believe it.

But Tanya was not about to let me off the hook. “Addie wanted you to come to dinner. She said you'd want to.”

“Oh,” I said, panicking again and trying to move toward the door. “I suppose you're too busy though.”

“Maybe sometime soon,” said Constance, trying to help me out again.

I began to go out, but Tanya grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Her dad would just love to see you,” she said to Constance. “It was his idea to invite you.”

I saw a look of amazement on Carla Mae's face. She knew my dad better than that.

“You just let me know when,” said Constance, trying to put an end to the conversation.

“Sure,” I said, relieved and trying again to get out the door.

“She said it's for Saturday night!” Tanya said, with an evil smile on her face.

“Saturday?” Constance said, as though she wasn't really sure what we were talking about.

Suddenly I realized that I really wanted her to come to dinner, and I decided to plunge ahead.

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “Saturday.”

“Aren't you going to tell her what time?” asked Tanya, interrupting.

“We eat at six!” I said, and I rushed out the door before Constance could say no.

I heard her say, “Six?” in a puzzled voice, and then the others interrupted her with their good-byes before she could protest any further.

Tanya was the last one out the door, and she stopped and gave Constance a little curtsy and said in her gushiest voice, “Oh, thank you, Miss Payne, it was so fabulous! I've never met a real star before!”

As I looked back, I could see Constance standing in the gloomy old hallway, looking down at our bouquet of daffodils still in her hands.

I could have killed Tanya for what she had done, but on the other hand I was delighted that the dinner invitation had been made. My problem now was how to break the news to Grandma and Dad. Especially Dad.

By the time I got back to our house, Dad was home from work, and he and Grandma were out in back, working in the garden. It would soon be time for planting the earliest vegetables, and it was always part of my job to help get them in and keep them weeded through the summer. Today was the day for raking and cleaning out the garden plot and getting it ready.

Dad was still in his khaki work clothes and was busy laying out string to mark off the rows. Grandma was breaking up the clods of freshly spaded dirt with her hoe. She had on her usual gardening costume, a faded house dress and apron, old stockings with runs in them, moccasins and a huge straw hat. She looked part Indian, part Mexican and part little old lady.

Grandma was always careful to be presentable when she went out anywhere, but she thought it was a waste of good clothes to dress up at home. Sometimes I was embarrassed by the way she looked around the house, but most of my friends seemed not to notice her odd get-ups. They accepted her for what she was, and they all liked her lively personality and her interest in the things we did. She never minded having a houseful of us girls playing all-day Monopoly or planning a costume party or rehearsing one of our brilliant skits. She once told me it was because she didn't see or hear well enough to be disturbed by us, but I knew she was just kidding me and that she really liked having young people around because she enjoyed them.

I think Dad enjoyed my friends too, though he would never admit it. He would just pretend to be interested in his newspaper and would occasionally look up to ask how we could giggle so much without getting sick to our stomachs. I hoped he was in a good mood now, because I knew it was going to be a tricky situation.

“Hi!” I said, as I ran up to them in the garden. I was trying to sound casual, but I couldn't hide my excitement.

Grandma looked at my dress and knew something was going on.

“Where you been all dressed up?” she asked. I hated wearing anything fancier than jeans, and she knew it.

“We went to see Constance Payne and get her autograph.” I held my book out to show her.

Dad turned around and looked at me. “I told you not to go over there,” he said, annoyed.

“Oh, Dad, she was great,” I said excitedly. “You should see her! She was wearing a fabulous Japanese kimono, black with great big red flowers, and these fantastic slippers with embroidery and sunglasses and bright red nail polish!”

“Sounds like the Dragon Lady to me,” he said sarcastically.

“And the way she talks,” I went on. “It's so elegant!”

“Most actors talk phony,” he said, sounding unimpressed.

“Well, she studied in England,” said Grandma. “I suppose she's got an accent.”

“You should hear what she said about you,” I said to Dad, teasing him.

“What?” he said, sounding curious.

“Oh, never mind!” I said, knowing he would be dying to find out. I thought it was a good way to distract him a bit before I told them about the dinner invitation.

“You can tell me,” Grandma said, smiling and suspecting I was up to something.

“Well,” I said, pausing dramatically, “I said, ‘Do you remember James Mills?' And she said, ‘Oh, he was a handsome devil!'”