Stacey and the Missing Ring Read online

  The club worked perfectly from the beginning. We’ve always met in Claud’s room, between 5:30 and 6:00 every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Why Claud’s room? Because she has her very own phone, with a private line. By using her number for our club, we avoid tying up any adults’ phones. Since we use her room and her phone, Claud was made vice president.

  Anyway, while we’re meeting, parents can call and arrange for whatever sitting jobs they need. How do they know to call? Well, by now our business is mostly advertised by word of mouth — parents telling other parents — but at first we got the word out by distributing fliers. Once in a while we still pass them out, if we feel we need extra business. The fliers tell about the club and tell parents when and where to call.

  You might be wondering when Jessi and Mal joined the club. Well, that was during the time my family left Stoneybrook to move back to New York. The club had so much business that my friends decided they needed more members, and Jessi and Mal were perfect candidates. Luckily, when I returned to Stoneybrook, there was no question that I would be able to join again, too.

  What’s my job in the club? I’m the treasurer. That means I keep track of how much money we earn. We each get to keep whatever money we make, but it’s interesting to know the total amount. I also get to collect dues, which I was about to do that very minute.

  “It’s Monday,” I said, when Kristy asked whether there was any club business. “You all know what that means!” I had a big smile on my face but everybody else was frowning. They hate to part with their money but I just love to collect it. I like to keep our manila envelope fat with money in case of an emergency.

  Of course, we don’t often have emergencies, so the money is spent on other things. Like paying Charlie to drive Kristy to meetings, now that she no longer lives across the street from “headquarters.” And for pizza parties or sleepover snacks. And for —

  “Stacey,” said Dawn suddenly. I realized I’d been daydreaming. “I need some new markers for my Kid-Kit. Is there enough money?”

  Kid-Kits. That’s just what I was going to tell you about. Kid-Kits are boxes that we’ve decorated to look cool. Inside, we put books and crayons and stickers and toys that kids love. The kits were another of Kristy’s ideas when she noticed that kids always seem to like other kids’ toys better than their own. Most of the stuff in our kits isn’t new, but it is different. The kits help to make us popular sitters!

  I counted out some money and handed it to Dawn. “Is that enough?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “If I want to buy two markers!” She made a face at me. “Come on, Stacey. You can spare a little more.”

  I dug out two more dollars. “Okay?” I said. Dawn nodded. I heard some giggling, but I ignored it. Everybody thinks I’m stingy, but I’m just protecting their better interests. If I didn’t watch every penny, there wouldn’t be money in the treasury when we need it.

  “Jessi,” said Kristy just then, “I noticed that you didn’t write up your last job in the club notebook.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry,” said Jessi. “I didn’t have time because I had an extra dance class this week. I’ll do it right now.” She reached for the book.

  The club notebook is where we record all the jobs we go on each week. Once again, this was Kristy’s idea — and it’s not one of her more popular ones. It takes a lot of time to do all that writing. Plus, we have to read the new entries in the notebook every week. But I guess it’s worth it. When we read the notebook, we stay up-to-date with what’s going on with our clients. And sometimes there are really good sitting ideas in there, like new games to play on rainy afternoons and stuff like that.

  While Jessi was writing up her job, the phone rang. We all dived for it, but I was the one to grab first. “Hello?” I said. It was Mrs. Rodowsky, calling to see if one of us could sit for her three sons the next afternoon. I told her I’d call her back.

  Mary Anne checked the record book to see who was available. She’s our club secretary, and she does a terrific job of keeping track of our schedules — Claud’s art classes, my doctor appointments, Jessi’s dance lessons, and all. If she tells you that, for example, Kristy is the only one free on a Thursday afternoon, you can be sure she’s right. Mary Anne has never once made a mistake. Within two minutes I was able to call Mrs. Rodowsky back and tell her that Mal would be her sitter.

  You may be wondering what jobs Dawn, Jessi, and Mal have. Well, Dawn is what we call the alternate officer. That means that she is prepared to take over for any of us if we can’t make a meeting. She did my job as treasurer the whole time I was back in New York, and she was good at it, too. But I don’t think she enjoyed it the way I do, so Dawn was happy to give the position to me when I returned.

  Jessi and Mal are what we call junior officers, which means that they can’t sit at night for anybody except their own siblings. It’s great to have them working in the afternoons, since that frees up the rest of us to sit in the evenings.

  What do we do if none of us can take a job? Well, that’s where our associate members come in. We have two of them, Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno. They don’t come to meetings, but when we need them we can call on them. Shannon lives in Kristy’s new neighborhood, and she goes to a private school, so none of us knows her too well. She seems nice, though. And Logan — well, guess what. Logan is Mary Anne’s boyfriend! They’ve been having some problems lately (they even broke up for a while), but we do see them together a lot. Logan is a great guy and a good sitter. We’re lucky he’s in the club.

  * * *

  Our meeting that day went quickly. Then, just as we were getting ready to break up, we received one last phone call. Kristy answered it, and talked for a while. When she hung up, she told us we had a new client! Her name was Mrs. Gardella (Claud was the only one who’d ever heard of her — Mrs. Gardella knew Claudia’s mom from the library where Mrs. Kishi works) and Kristy thought she must be pretty rich. That was because the Gardellas had a full-time nanny to take care of their baby! But now the nanny had to go away for a few weeks (“family troubles,” said Mrs. Gardella), and the Gardellas desperately needed a sitter for Tara, Mouse, and Bird on Friday night. Mrs. Gardella had heard “absolutely wonderful” things about our club from her friends and neighbors.

  “Mouse and Bird?” asked Dawn.

  “The cat and dog,” said Kristy, raising her eyebrows and shrugging.

  “How old is Tara?” I asked.

  “Seven months,” answered Kristy.

  I looked at Mary Anne, who was checking the record book, and crossed my fingers. I love to sit for babies, and I was really hoping that I’d get the job. When Mary Anne glanced up, she looked straight at me. “Looks like you’ve got it,” she said. “You’re the only one free on Friday night.”

  All right! New clients — and a baby. Suddenly I couldn’t wait for Friday.

  I have to admit that by Friday I was a little nervous about my job at the Gardellas’. I always feel that way the first time I sit for a new client, because there’s so much I don’t know. What will their house be like? Are they nice? Will the kids be angels — or monsters? Will the parents give out the information I need, or will I have to remember to ask all the right questions?

  I thought about that stuff as I walked to their house. In fact, I was so deep in thought that I almost missed the black wrought-iron fence and gate that Mrs. Gardella had told me to watch for. “Just make sure to latch the gate behind you when you come in,” she’d said. “I wouldn’t want Bird to go into the street.”

  Now that I saw the house, I remembered walking by it before. But I never thought I’d be going into it. It was a pretty impressive house: brick, with big white columns on either side of the humongous front door. A white urn stood to the right of the door, spilling over with ivy and red flowers. I opened the gate, and then carefully closed it behind me. I didn’t see any dogs in the yard, but I figured it was better not to take chances. Then I walked up the brick pathway and stood on the porc
h, looking for the doorbell.

  I couldn’t find it. Was I going to have to stand out there until somebody happened to open the door?

  Finally, I saw this thing in the middle of the door: it was brass, and shaped kind of like a music-box key. Could that be the doorbell? I reached out and gave the key a turn. Brrrring! Yup, that was it.

  Immediately after the bell rang, a dog started barking ferociously. I looked through the little windows on either side of the door, and saw this huge black dog — with huge yellowish teeth! Now, I’m not usually afraid of dogs, but this one looked mean. I stepped back from the window, but the dog kept on barking.

  “All right, Bird,” I heard a woman’s voice say. “That’s enough! Go lie down.”

  The door opened. “Mrs. Gardella?” I said. “I’m —”

  Just then the dog pushed his head into the open door, squeezed past Mrs. Gardella, and jumped up on me.

  “Oh!” I said, surprised. For a second I was scared, but then I noticed that the dog was wagging his tail and, instead of trying to bite me, he was licking my face. “Nice dog,” I said.

  “Bird!” exclaimed Mrs. Gardella. “Down, boy!” She grabbed his collar. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “He’s just too friendly, that’s his problem. I keep trying to train him not to do that, but my husband actually likes the dog to jump up on him, so I think Bird is confused.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I reached out to Bird. Mrs. Gardella was still holding his collar, so I figured it was safe to pat him. “Hi, Bird,” I said, stroking his head. “Good dog.”

  “Now, you must be Tracy, right?” asked Mrs. Gardella.

  “Um, that’s Stacey,” I said. I hate having to correct adults. “Stacey McGill.”

  “I’m sorry, Stacey, ” she said. “I’m terrible with names. Now, let’s see. I’m ready to go but Mr. Gardella is still dressing, so why don’t I show you around?”

  I forgot to tell you what Mrs. Gardella was wearing. She was pretty dressed up — definitely more dressed up than most parents I sit for. I guess she and her husband were going to a formal party. Mrs. Gardella was wearing this tight black dress made of velvet, with a low back and long sleeves. Her shoes were velvet, too, with really high heels. She had on a diamond necklace and diamond earrings, and her black hair was pulled back with a diamond clip.

  I didn’t mean to stare.

  “Pretty fancy, right?” Mrs. Gardella said, when she caught me looking. “We’re going to a party at my husband’s boss’s house, and it’s going to be dressy. So I got out all the family jewels.” She smiled.

  She was nice. Even though she was rich, she was just a regular person. Already I liked her.

  “Now,” she said. “Where shall we start?” She led the way through the main hall and into a huge living room stuffed with fancy furniture and expensive-looking lamps. A grand piano stood in one corner, a beautiful red silk scarf on top of it.

  On top of the scarf sat a cat.

  I thought Mrs. Gardella would be upset about the cat sitting on that beautiful polished piano, lounging around on a piece of priceless material. But no.

  “Oh, here he is,” she said, walking to the cat and picking him up. “You’ve met Bird, now meet Mouse. How’s my little Mousie?” She cooed, hugging him to her chest. His fluffy coat was leaving little white hairs all over her fancy dress, but she didn’t seem to care.

  “Um, hi, Mouse,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to talk to a cat. “He’s pretty,” I said to Mrs. Gardella.

  “Isn’t he?” she asked. Just then I felt something wet pushing my hand. I almost jumped out of my skin! But when I looked down, I saw that it was only Bird, poking his nose around as if to say, “Pat me!”

  “Oh, Bird is jealous,” said Mrs. Gardella. “You’ll have to be careful about that. Whenever you give one of them attention, make sure to be fair to the other one, too. Otherwise they pick up on it and get angry and hurt.”

  I nodded and patted Bird.

  “Now, let me show you where their food is,” Mrs. Gardella continued, “and I’ll tell you all about their dinner routine. They’re used to having things done a certain way, and they get upset if their routine is disrupted.” She led the way to the kitchen.

  I walked behind her. I was beginning to think that she was just a little bit strange. She was talking about her pets as if they were children — and I hadn’t even met the real baby.

  “Tara’s taking a late nap,” Mrs. Gardella called over her shoulder, as if she’d read my mind. “I’ll wake her before we leave, and then she’ll be up for a couple of hours. She’s such a good baby. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with her at all.”

  She showed me around the kitchen, explaining what each of the pets should be given for dinner. No canned food for these animals! Bird was having hamburger mixed with rice, and Mouse would be dining on chicken livers.

  “Be sure to take the food out of the fridge half an hour or so before you feed them,” she said. “If the food is too cold it will upset their stomachs.”

  She showed me Bird’s bowl. It sat in the corner of their fancy dining room, placed on a little oriental rug.

  “And where does Mouse eat?” I asked.

  “Oh, Mousie usually joins us at the table,” she said, pointing.

  I looked at the huge, highly polished table. Sure enough, a small silver dish sat in the center of the table, between two fancy candlesticks. “He’s been eating with us ever since he was a kitten, and I just can’t bear to make him stop now.”

  After the kitchen/dining room tour, Mrs. Gardella led me back into the living room to show me how to entertain Mouse and Bird. (She didn’t seem to be worried about what I would do with Tara!) “This is Bird’s favorite toy,” she said, holding up a plastic hamburger. “He loves the way it squeaks.” She squeezed it a couple of times, and Bird came running. Then she threw it gently across the room and he raced off after it, skidding over the big rugs and almost bashing into a glass-fronted cabinet.

  Mrs. Gardella laughed. “Isn’t he funny?” she asked. “He just loves to retrieve things. He’ll do it as long as somebody will keep throwing his toy.”

  “That’s because he’s a bird dog. He’s bred to retrieve things,” said a deep voice behind me. I turned around to see a man in a tuxedo. “Hi, I’m Mr. Gardella,” he said.

  “I’m Stacey,” I answered.

  “I guess you’ve got the rundown on these two, right?” he said.

  “Yup. I think we’ll have a fine time.”

  “I just have to wake Tara, honey,” said Mrs. Gardella. “Then we can go.” I followed her upstairs and into the baby’s room. Tara was asleep in her crib. I looked around the room while Mrs. Gardella woke her up. It was adorable! Everything was pink and white, with a rosebud theme. Her crib, her dresser, her changing table; everything matched. Even the lampshade and the wallpaper matched.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I heard Mrs. Gardella coo to the baby. “Time to wake up and meet Stacey.” She held Tara up to see me. Tara giggled and stared at me with big blue eyes. She seemed like a happy baby, and I said so to Mrs. Gardella.

  “Oh, she is!” she replied. “She is such a happy girl, and such a good girl. I know you two will have fun together.” She handed the baby to me and checked her makeup in the rosebud-trimmed mirror.

  “Kay!” shouted Mr. Gardella from downstairs. “We’re going to be late.”

  “Coming!”

  Carrying Tara, I followed Mrs. Gardella downstairs. She and her husband took turns kissing the baby good-bye, and then they made a big scene over the pets.

  “You be a good, good boy,” said Mr. Gardella to Bird while Mrs. Gardella gave Mouse one last hug. “Come up and say good-bye,” he added, patting his chest to show Bird what he wanted. Bird jumped up, put his front paws on Mr. Gardella’s chest, and licked his face.

  “Oh, Peter,” said Mrs. Gardella. “Now you’ve got paw prints on your white shirt.”

  “Well, we match. You’ve got cat hair all over your dress,” he
answered. They laughed as they headed out the door.

  I shook my head. Then I looked down at Tara. “Are you hungry?” I asked. Bird’s ears perked up at the word “hungry,” and Mouse started to rub against my ankles. “Okay, I guess we’re all hungry,” I said. “Let’s get some dinner.”

  It took me a while to get used to eating at such a big fancy table, especially this particular big fancy table, especially this particular big fancy table, with a cat sitting in the middle of it, calmly eating chicken livers out of a silver bowl. But the dinner went smoothly, and so did the rest of the evening.

  I put Tara to bed after we’d played for a while in the living room, and then I played with Mouse and Bird. Bird mainly wanted to be scratched behind the ears, and Mouse seemed to enjoy batting his toys under the couch and then waiting for me to “rescue” them.

  By the time the Gardellas came home, I was pretty tired. I felt as if I’d been sitting for three kids!

  “Did Mouse eat all his dinner?” Mrs. Gardella asked, just seconds after they’d walked in the door.

  “Was Bird a good boy?” asked Mr. Gardella.

  I answered their questions while they said hello to Mouse and Bird, who seemed overjoyed to see them. Then Mrs. Gardella finally asked about the baby. “Did Tara get back to sleep all right?” she said.

  “She was fine,” I answered. “She’s a wonderful baby.” Then Mr. Gardella paid me (and gave me a pretty good tip) and drove me home. I had enjoyed the evening. But I couldn’t help thinking that the Gardellas were a little bit weird. Really, really nice — but definitely weird.

  “Stacey.” I heard someone calling my name. I tried to answer, but it was as if I were underwater; no sound came out. “Stacey, wake up!” the voice said again.