While the Bowden children stared at their new nanny, the woman herself stared back from beneath straight black brows. She was short and squat and everything on her crackled with newness. Her neat skirt and blouse, her sensible low-heeled shoes, and even the twin suitcases that she clutched in each fist seemed to have been slipped from their plastic packages and arrayed on her person just moments before she appeared at their door. Her eyes flickered over them and for an instant her straight brows drew together.
And then she smiled. It was a smile that seemed to glide out from the middle of her face on a slick coat of syrup. Wearing this slippery grin and gripping her suitcases, she leaned toward David. They were almost the same height.
"Hi, sweetie?" she said. "I'm your nanny?"
Her English was nearly perfect, with only a trace of an accent. But for some reason both comments came out as questions. Was David supposed to confirm these facts? "Right," he said.
The nanny laughed a tinkling laugh, as if he had said something adorable. Then she leaned toward Katie, her interest in David apparently exhausted. "And you?" she asked in the same sugary voice. "You're the sister?"
No, she's the brother, thought David as Katie took an involuntary step backward. Luckily their mother arrived at just this moment.
"How nice to see you-welcome!" Mrs. Bowden's warm voice sailed over their heads from behind as she joined them in the doorway.
Their visitor abandoned her pleasantries with the children and directed her gaze upward toward their mother, who was eagerly beckoning her in. As David and Katie scrambled out of the woman's way, she put one foot heavily across the threshold and reached back to close the door.
It was then that something went wrong. A black streak shot across the slick wooden floor and darted between the woman's feet, headed for the great outdoors. Both children gasped and threw themselves on the escaping cat, tumbling against the woman's legs as they did so. She stumbled and, piercingly, she shrieked. The sound ricocheted off the walls and ceilings of their enormous home.
"Slank-no! Did you get him?" Mrs. Bowden cried. The children hunched over the struggling animal. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She turned her attention back to their guest. "Are you all right? He's not supposed to get out!"
The sugary expression was gone, wiped away like so much spilled syrup. A stony fury had replaced it.
"He wants to go back to our old house," offered David apologetically. The dark oval of his face gazed up, worried, from the floor. "Cats have a homing instinct. If we let him out, he'll run back to where we used to live and that's not-"
"He could be hit by a car!" pleaded Katie. "He's not safe outside!"
"Kids," said their mother, cutting in, "we'll tell our visitor about Slank later. Just put him away for now and we'll all get acquainted." She turned back to the still-glaring woman. "I'm Sandra. And please," she added, reaching for her guest's bags, "let me help you with your things."
At the sound of Mrs. Bowden's voice the woman seemed to remember herself. The angry lines relaxed. "No thanks?" she said. "I'd prefer to keep them?"
By now Mr. Bowden had arrived to join everyone, and his hearty voice boomed into their awkward circle. "Welcome!" he called. "I'm Alan Bowden. You must be…?"
There was a short silence, then the smile slid back into position as the nanny craned her neck upward. Mr. Bowden towered above her.
"I'm Trixie?" she answered. And then she laughed, revealing her sharp white teeth. "Nice to meet you!" she sang.
···
For days the Bowdens had talked endlessly of what they must tell Trixie. But now she was with them and Katie and David could remember none of it.
It was her fault, thought Katie as the five of them sat at the dinner table. Every time you tried to talk to her, you got that icky smile.
David didn't like the smile, but he could have lived with it. He just couldn't stand how everything had to be a question, as if they'd be mad if she just said stuff or something.
They tried to chat with her. While their dad slid the pizzas from the oven and their mom tossed the salad, Katie timidly displayed their orange trees and described their morning ritual. But Trixie's reply stopped her cold.
"And you're the little gardener?" she asked.
David found that although she asked a lot of questions, Trixie was strangely uninterested in their answers. She asked about their new school, but when he started to tell her about it, her eyes went skittering around the room. He stopped answering and she did not seem to notice.
Then as they took their seats for dinner the cuckoo clock chimed. A woman who made a question of her own name would surely ask something about the small bird who popped from a door to warble six chirps. Not Trixie. She did not even seem to hear it.
But their parents were, if anything, even more puzzling than their guest. They did not seem to notice how weird Trixie was. They plowed straight ahead, eating their pizza, enthusing about their new daughter, and filling Trixie in on the nuts and bolts of the family's life.
Mr. Bowden reviewed their weekly routine. The garbage was picked up on Tuesdays, he said. The piano teacher came on Thursdays, and the children-here he turned to them and smiled jovially-were to practice for half an hour every day. While he talked, Mrs. Bowden ran her fingers through her dark bangs, trying to remember what else they must discuss.
"Yes-the children," said their mother. "Let's see. It's still summer, so there's no school, of course. But they can walk to the pool. And a little TV in the evenings is fine. Of course," she added, brightening, "when it's evening here, it will be almost morning in Katkajan." Her eyes lit up as they always did when she thought of Theo. "Two days from now we'll be with her!" she exclaimed.
David cut a sideways glance at Trixie, then turned to his father. "Just keep that phone on," he said.
"Always," answered Mr. Bowden. "You know our ringtone!" he added.
Now that they had piano lessons, Katie had learned to play "You Are My Sunshine," and she and David had to sing it for their first recital. Their parents had loved it so much that they'd demanded a repeat performance later at home, which they had recorded and loaded into their phone. Now their children's supposedly adorable voices could be heard every time somebody called their number.
Both Katie and David found this excruciating and usually supplied a sarcastic retort when it was mentioned. Now, though, they exchanged a look that said neither of them cared to share this family joke with Trixie.
"Yes," said Mr. Bowden, perceiving it was best to move on. "Well. And you also know, of course, that if you can't get through on our cell you can try our hotel. The hotel's in Taq-that's the capital city."
"We know!"
"The number's-"
"The number's on the refrigerator. The number of the hotel in Taq, capital of Katkajan. We know." David sighed.
"Trixie." Mrs. Bowden spoke brightly. "Tell us about yourself. You speak such beautiful English! Were you born in Katkajan?"
Trixie's honeyed smile had not so much as faltered since the family sat down to dinner. Now, though, David thought he saw a flash of annoyance behind it. It only lasted an instant, but it had been there.
She doesn't like questions, he thought.
But Trixie's smile had already slid back into place. "Katkajanians?" she said. "We're very good at languages?"
No one knew quite what to say to that. There was a pause, and then Mrs. Bowden called out, "Kids! Dishes." Trixie began to lift her plate. "No, no!" said Mrs. Bowden, stopping her with a polite hand on her arm. "You'll be working hard, starting tomorrow. Tonight you're our guest." She began clearing the table, and David and Katie rose to help her. Trixie wandered into the adjacent rooms. Though she was short, she was solid, and they could hear her heavy, thudding walk as she paced.
Both kids drew a sigh of relief now that the family was left alone. And why, thought Katie, was that? Their guest had been perfectly nice. If anything, she had been too nice. There was no reason why tears should fill Katie's eyes as she scraped her uneaten pizza into the garbage.
The nightly news murmured on the TV that glowed in the kitchen wall. It was the new secretary of state, and she was talking about Katkajan. Mrs. Bowden paused from her cleaning to listen.
"What is it?" asked Katie dully.
"Katkajanian politics," said her mother briefly. "Some people there don't like their government. I like this new secretary of state, though," she added softly, sharing a rueful glance with her husband. "It's very sound, what she's saying."
Katie gathered up the trash and set off through the pantry to carry it outside. But as she rounded the corner, she collided with the sharp edge of an open drawer. It was a special drawer lined with felt and it contained the family's new silverware: fancy silver, expensive silver, for company. Staring into the drawer and poking amid the forks and spoons was Trixie.
They had bought this silver when they moved to the new house. They were going to use it this year at Thanksgiving. That drawer was always kept closed.
A thick, uneasy feeling was in Katie's throat. Trixie looked up and their eyes met. They were alone together and the pantry was very small.
"That's for our new dining room," said Katie awkwardly.
Trixie stared. The smile was completely gone now. For almost the first time that night, she said something that wasn't a question. "You have a lot of stuff," said Trixie.
···
Sunlight penetrated through Katie's closed eyes and she awoke. With the first drowsy blink she remembered.
They were gone. She was here.
This almost hadn't happened. After dinner, Katie had crept to her parents' room and asked them not to go. She did not like Trixie, she said. Maybe Theo could wait for just another couple of days. Maybe they could find another nanny, and go then.
Her mother and father were concerned. What had bothered Katie about Trixie? The nanny was a little stiff, her father acknowledged. She had perhaps been overeager to please.
"She was a little on the smiley side," Katie's mom admitted. "But that's not a bad thing, honey."
Katie did not want to tell them about the silver. It would be so hard to explain what that moment was like. "I don't like how she makes everything a question," she said instead.
But even to Katie this had sounded sulky and inadequate. And unfortunately, David had walked in while she was saying it. He dismissed her discomfort at once.
"Trixie's fine," he said to his mom and dad. "I don't figure we'll be best friends, but you'll be back in a week. Go."
Katie was annoyed. David had butted in, and he was bossy, too. But she did not want to be the only bad guy. So she had said good-bye to her parents and slunk away to bed.
Now she groaned and, punching her pillow, rolled away from the light that crept beneath the shade. It was so peaceful here in her room, and outside it was all weird. It would be an uncomfortable day, with their mom and dad gone and a stranger there instead. Maybe she could get up late-very late-and skip breakfast with Trixie.
But she heard David moving in his room across the hall. A moment later, her door swung open and he walked in.
"Get up," he said cheerfully and without ceremony. "Breakfast!"
Katie stared at the ceiling, not replying. Just what she wanted. Her brother had been replaced by an alien channeling a camp counselor.
And why was that? she wondered, feeling suddenly more awake. David did not usually stop to get her before going downstairs to breakfast. He had acted unconcerned last night, when they talked about Trixie after dinner. But he must feel strange too.
Well, they could not avoid the kitchen for a whole week. Sitting up, Katie swung her feet to the floor. It must be faced.
···
"Maybe she isn't in there," said Katie in a low voice. "I think I'd rather eat breakfast with just us."
Both kids were hovering outside the kitchen door, reluctant to go in.
"I figure she is there," replied David. "And the sooner we get used to her, the better." With that, he shouldered open the swinging door and both of them walked in boldly.
But no boldness could have prepared them for what they found in the kitchen. Trixie was there, and she had…changed.
Gone were the skirt and blouse. The sensible low-heeled shoes were nowhere to be seen. Trixie was dressed like-like-
"A soldier?" whispered Katie.
"Wow," said David. "She changed her clothes."
The neat matron of the previous night now sat before her breakfast with her chair tilted back and her feet on the table. And what feet! They were huge, as today they had been laced into real-life, waffle-stomping combat boots. The rest of Trixie was largely concealed by the newspaper that she held open before her short person, but the children could see enough to know that a pair of worn fatigues printed in a camouflage pattern went with the boots. On top of her head, just visible over the edge of the newspaper, was a squat military-style hat with a jutting brim.
Trixie must have heard them enter, because a corner of the newspaper flicked down, revealing her face. They waited for the syrupy smile and the sugary greetings that sounded like questions. But these did not come. Instead, the kitchen was silent, as the kids stared at Trixie and Trixie stared right back.
Then the newspaper snapped back up, and the new nanny returned to her reading without a word.
Were they supposed to talk first? "Good morning," said Katie stiffly. But Trixie said nothing.
David and Katie stared at each other. They were too astonished to speak and, frankly, they were too uncomfortable. But eventually David, shrugging, proceeded into the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out a bowl. This was certainly weird, but it wasn't going to stop him from eating.
Katie followed and poured herself some cereal. Her back tingled with the certainty that peering eyes were upon it.
This would never do. Resolutely, she put down her spoon and addressed her brother in a normal voice.
"I forgot my orange," she announced. Then she headed to the sunporch where the trees basked greenly in their pots. Feeling awkward, but willing herself to act normally, she strolled amid them, searching for the brightest color that hung from their boughs.
Something soft slinked past Katie's ankles. She stooped to scoop up Slank and kiss the top of his sleek head. Setting him down again, she plucked an orange for herself and carefully picked one for Trixie as well.
Bearing a heavy, round fruit in each hand, Katie marched awkwardly toward the table and planted herself at Trixie's side. Reluctantly, the paper came down and the woman's eyes met hers. Katie smiled and held out her offering.
Surely no one could refuse a fresh-picked orange in the morning.
No one but Trixie. There was a brief silence.
"Does it look like I'm reading?" Trixie asked after this icy pause. "You're interrupting my paper?"
The rudeness! Katie felt as if she had been hit. Astonished, she let her arm fall to her side. From across the room David spoke. He had heard the whole thing.
"C'mon," he said with a faint, indignant tremor in his voice. "C'mon, Kat. Let's eat in the family room." With his bowl in one hand and the cereal box in the other, he turned his back on Trixie and walked away from the kitchen. "Get the milk," he said, departing.
With dragging feet, Katie followed. Well, she thought to herself, so much for breakfast. Only about twenty meals to go.
···
Breakfast turned out to be the worst part of that day. The remainder was OK-not fun, but fine. Trixie was awful, of course; there was no longer any doubt about that. That subject was closed. But they soon learned they could avoid her. This proved to be easy to do. In fact, it was shockingly easy, David pointed out, considering that she was there to look after them.
After their hasty breakfast the children retreated upstairs, and by the time they crept down again, late in the morning, their visitor had vanished into their parents' offices. These were a pair of rooms joined within by a connecting door.
"She shouldn't be in there!" said Katie indignantly, finding both outer doors shut tight. She could faintly hear Katkajanian music playing inside. She recognized the soft, wailing sound of it.
"Probably not," agreed David, pulling her toward the living room so they wouldn't be overheard. "But let her. She's listening to music-I don't care. If she downloads something weird or messes up their computers, they'll fix it when they get home. Let's go to the pool."
And they did. They stayed at the pool all day and eventually felt almost normal. A few kids they recognized from their new school were there as well. Katie had already met one of them, but that girl was tightly clustered with others who were obviously her best friends. They were giggling and whispering and tearing around, and very definitely not noticing Katie. There was no way she would try to break into that.
Floating wistfully in the water, Katie found herself forgetting about Trixie and wondering whether next summer she'd be part of that group. It seemed impossible.
"Today's Monday," said David, drifting lazily on his back beside her. High above his furrowed brows the sunlight flickered through the leaves. "If Katkajan is…"
Oh. So he was thinking about their parents and Theo.
"If Katkajan is nine hours ahead of us, and the flight takes-"
Katie cut him off, anticipating where he was going. "They won't even get there till tomorrow," she said. She had worked all this out days ago. "We can call them when we wake up-it'll be Tuesday afternoon for them. But they'll be really tired. And they won't be getting Theo until Wednesday."
"At ten o'clock Wednesday morning," said David. Privately he was glad that Katie had figured this out. He didn't like to admit it, but he found time zones sort of confusing.
"Right," said Katie. "They'll get her on Wednesday, at ten their time. But that'll be the middle of the night again for us. We'll be asleep. If we get up at seven, though-"
"Eight," corrected David.
"I'm saying seven," continued Katie. "If we get up at seven on Wednesday we can call them again, and they won't even have eaten dinner yet. And they'll have the baby. David," she added.
"What?"
"When we call them tomorrow? When we wake up Tuesday morning and call them? I really want to tell them about Trixie. About how mean she was this morning, and the weird clothes and the offices and stuff."
"You know we shouldn't bug them with that."
"I know. I'm not going to do it."
"They're going to be really tired, Katie. They'll have been flying for, like, forty hours or something."
"Twenty-two!"
"Whatever. They'll be wiped out. So if they ask us how she is-and they will ask us-we're going to say she's fine."
This bossiness annoyed Katie. "Since when are you in charge?" she retorted. "I said I'm not going to do it! I just want to, that's all." She kicked irritably off the side of the pool toward which they had drifted.
"Anyway, I get to talk first," said David. "When we do call."
At this Katie seized his ankle and jerked it sharply downward. He went under, sputtering, and she shot off before he could get her back.
···
"Sweetie?" The voice crackled and sounded as far away as, in fact, it was. "Katie, it's Mom-is that you?"
"Mommy! Just a minute." Katie had slept with the phone by her bed so she could call her parents first thing in the morning. But she hadn't even needed to. Their parents had called them, and though they had woken Katie from a deep sleep, still she clutched the receiver tightly to her ear. She wanted to hear every word.
Slank was curled in front of her bedside clock so she could not see the time. With one elbow she shoved him aside. It was just seven a.m.
"How are you, darling?" came the voice. "We're here in Katkajan; we landed just a few hours ago. Is everything OK?"
Katie's door burst open and David, in pajamas, hurried in. He'd heard the phone too. He started to speak but Katie, intent on the receiver, shushed him with a wave of her hand.
"We're fine," she said. "It's normal here. Are you at your hotel?"
"Yes-oh, you sound good. I'm relieved. Here's your dad." Apparently satisfied, their mother handed the phone to their father, who began the whole conversation all over again.
"Honey? Everything OK?"
"We're great. What's it like?"
"Well, we're tired, of course. But the hotel's beautiful-very small. I think we may be the only guests."
The line crackled. "What?" said Katie.
"I said," repeated her father, loudly, "we may be the only guests! So the whole staff knows us. We're getting lots of attention and we're going to be very comfortable."
"Have you seen Theo's orphanage?" David leaned over Katie's shoulder to speak into the phone that she still clutched tightly to her ear. His breath stank and she pushed him away.
"Not yet," Mr. Bowden said. "We tried to drive past it but we couldn't. There were some army guys blocking off the street."
"Army guys?" David had pushed his way back.
"Yeah-you know, there's political trouble here." Their father spoke through rising static. "So there are soldiers everywhere, and a lot of places you can't go. They'll let us through tomorrow, though." They heard him chuckling over the sputtering line. "I don't think they're going to keep your mom away from our Theo."
"Do they have guns?"
"What's that? Katie, say it again; I can't hear you." Their father's voice was breaking up.
"I said," Katie raised her voice slightly, "I said do they-"
"What?"
The line had gone very crackly. This time David tried. "Do they have-" But the line went dead.
"Call him back!"
"Katie, it was a terrible connection!"
"Oh!" In frustration Katie threw herself backward onto her bed, sending Slank scampering. It was too hard, after waiting a full day to talk to their parents, to be able to say so little.
"We'll try again tomorrow," said David.
"Yeah, and talk for about another five seconds!"
"In which we'll hear about Theo, 'cause they'll have her by then. C'mon." David was already over it. He yanked on his sister's arm and once again assumed his annoying campcounselor voice. "Upsy-daisy!" he cried. "It's time for"-he paused, as if for a drum roll-"Breakfast with Trixie."
Katie moaned.
"Yesterday wasn't that bad," David offered. "We know the deal by now. She's a jerk, and she ignores us! So today'll be better."
···
But today was not better. Today was worse.
It started at breakfast. Trixie, again in camouflage, had fixed herself an enormous meal with eggs and bacon and some kind of mushy gunk they didn't recognize. After she ate she clomped in her booted feet to the family room where the children had retreated with their cereal. Standing in the doorway she ordered them to clean up the mess she had made.
"The kitchen? It's all icky? I want it clean?"
Then she disappeared once again into the offices.
Fearing to contradict her, Katie and David resentfully complied, tiptoeing about their task and murmuring their protests only to each other. Trixie had clogged the drain with whatever that weird stuff was, and it was revolting to put their hands through the stagnant water to clear it.
Katie fled upstairs as soon as they were finished, but David wandered to the living room to practice the piano. When their mom and dad were home, piano practice was something he generally tried to duck. But today-with them gone and Trixie around-he felt a surge of loyalty to the normal rules.
Besides, his father was right. Though David wouldn't admit it, some days he actually did enjoy the piano, and he could tell that today was going to be such a day. The instrument they'd bought for this new house had a velvety sound and the keys were cool and responsive beneath his fingers.
It was good to think about something that wasn't Trixie. David moved into his first piece and the familiar sound and feel began to soothe him.
But then the door to the office burst open. Trixie appeared before him. Her boots were thumping and the eyebrows that too often crawled up her forehead as she asked one of her sugary questions were plunged, low and menacing, over her nose. "No noise!" she barked.
For a moment David was startled into silence. Was this Trixie? Then he found his voice. "But I'm supposed-"
"I'm on the phone…" Trixie exaggerated the word, as if she were talking to someone very stupid. "On the phone, see? And I. Can't. Hear."
"But you can close the doo-"
"You can close your mouth."
David's jaw dropped. Silence rang in the wake of Trixie's words. Katie, who had run to the banister at the first sound of commotion-clapped her hands over her ears.
"You can't-you shouldn't-" David had risen to his feet, but he found himself at a loss for words.
Now Trixie raised her hand and pointed one fat finger threateningly at David. She leaned in toward him and shook that finger right in his face.
"You need to go to your room," she commanded. Her brows drew down even lower than before and she hissed, "Skedaddle!"
Skedaddle?
But apparently that was that. Trixie turned on her heel and marched her short, squat self back toward the office. With her hand on the doorknob she delivered her parting shot.
"Later, when that pool opens?" she said, without even turning to look. "You're going. Till then, don't be in my face. I've got work."
Work? Now David found his voice.
"What work?" he demanded.
Katie had found hers, too. She leaned far over the railing and her indignant words sailed down at them from above. "We'll go if we want to!" she cried. "And we're your work! You're supposed to take care of us!"
At this Trixie let go of the doorknob, put her hands on her hips, and pivoted to confront them. Her face was twisted in anger. She glared up at Katie, drew a deep breath, and opened her mouth. They braced themselves. Katie had surely pushed it too far.
But the shout they anticipated did not come. Instead, Trixie stopped. As if she had suddenly remembered something, she composed her angry features. While they watched, fascinated, the oily smile again stretched itself across her face.
"I am taking care of you?" she said. "You're just fine!" She forced out her tinkling little laugh. "But we have a relationship? So you have to do your part."
"What part?" demanded David. His breathing was barely under control.
"The part where you be really, really good," said Trixie. And with that she was gone. She stepped inside the office and closed the door. In the silence that rang in the hallway, both kids heard the lock snap shut.
They retreated to David's room to confer.
The pool did not open until ten. They would be there when it did; they needed no further urging to swim today. In fact, they did not plan to return from the pool until the gates were shut for the night. But for now, they concentrated on what had just happened, struggling to figure it out.
Katie sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. In a way, she explained, this fight was an improvement. At least the truth was out there now. "If someone's going to hate my guts," she said, "I'd rather just have them hate me, you know? I mean, it was bad when Trixie told us to shut up."
"'Close your mouth,'" David corrected. He was also on the floor, but with his back to the wall and Slank draped around his neck like a stole. With one hand he idly rubbed behind the cat's ears.
"Right; it was bad," said Katie. "But that smirky stuff, and those questions that are all, like, sickly sweet?"
"That's worse. I know," said David.
Katie shuddered, remembering. "But we're wasting time, David," she said, moving to a new topic. "We're worrying about the wrong stuff."
"What are you talking about? And as for time, by the way, we have plenty. We're grounded till ten, remember?"
"We should be worrying about this 'work' thing, is what I mean," continued Katie.
"What are you talking about?"
"Trixie's work. In the offices. In Dad and Mom's offices." Really, David was sometimes slow to catch on. "What's she working on?" pursued Katie. "What's that about?"
"She's in charm school," said David. "She's studying for a test. She's not ready for it either-it's the least of our problems, Kat."
Reaching over, Katie lifted the limp cat from David's shoulders and settled him in her own lap. He began to purr.
"You're wrong," she replied, stroking Slank's silky back. "It's a very big problem. What's she doing in there?"
"She's getting away from us, is all. She goes there 'cause it's private. She listens to her music and she doesn't have to look at us. She doesn't want to be with us any more than we want to be with her. We just have to keep our heads down for six more days. We can do this, Kat."
"Well, I'm not going to tell Mom and Dad or anything."
"You got that right!"
"I said I'm not. But I'm telling you it's more than that. I'm just betting, that's all."
And when they tiptoed past the office door half an hour later-with towels over their shoulders and backpacks loaded for the day-they did indeed hear sounds from within. They were faint, rapid, clicking sounds, barely audible beneath the drone of the music. They were the sounds of someone typing on their mother's computer.
···
That night Katie and David set their alarm clocks, and by six forty-five the next morning, they were in Katie's room awaiting their call from their parents. Neither of them wanted to miss a word. By now their parents would have Theo.
They were not disappointed. The phone rang just a few minutes before seven. Both children snatched at it and together they huddled over the receiver. On the other end of the line-on the other side of the world-was a voice they knew as well as their own: their mother's. And behind her elated hello-snuffling and murmuring and sounding very near-was a voice they had never heard before but loved right away. It was the voice of Theo.
"She's there! Mom, that's her-I can hear her!"
"Mom, put the phone closer!"
Mrs. Bowden laughed for pure joy. "More Theo! Just put on the baby! Never mind me."
"Mom, is she cute?"
"Can't you hear?" their mother replied. "She's adorable! She's as cute as she sounds and more. It's all so worth it! This whole horrible trip and all the trouble-"
Mrs. Bowden broke off as, in the background, an unknown man with a foreign accent made an inquiry they could not hear.
"Not for another three days," she said, her voice muffled, half away from the phone. "There's still paperwork. We'll be here till Saturday." Another murmur came from the unknown man and there was rustling and shuffling as their mom moved off, handing the phone to their dad.
Katie looked at David. "That was short," she said.
David shushed her. "Dad's coming on," he said.
Mr. Bowden's voice sounded muffled too, as-like their mother-he was speaking to the polite voice in the background and not to them. "Right," their father was saying. "Saturday." Then much more brightly he added, "Oh thanks. Yes, thanks; she's beautiful."
At last their father raised the phone to his face and spoke to them. "Hello? Hello, kids? You have a sister! She's a sweetheart!"
David leaned in. "Does she look like her picture?"
"Dad." Katie clutched at the phone so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Did it go OK? Did you have any trouble?"
"No trouble is too great," sang Mr. Bowden happily. "We would have fished her out of a volcano! We would have snatched her from a tiger's jaws! She's-"
But now a warble chirped across his words, briefly drowning them out.
"What?" said David. "We couldn't-" A second warble interrupted David.
"What's that sound?" asked Katie. "Is a phone ringing?"
"It sounds just like our cuckoo clock, from our kitchen," said David, again over the chirping noise. "Do they have a clock like ours, Dad? At your hotel?"
"Clock? I don't know. Never mind; I can hear you. You won't believe this baby!" But though their father could hear, Katie and David missed much of the description that followed, thanks to the series of warbles that continued to interrupt them. Frustrated and perplexed, they gazed helplessly at each other as their father spoke.
"And the most adorable little sneeze!" he was saying. The chirping had stopped now; at last they could follow his words. "I think she must be allergic to my sweater-aren't you, honey?" Mr. Bowden asked in a voice that suddenly went itsy-bitsy.
David rolled his eyes.
Now their mother returned to the phone. "Are you two OK?" she asked anxiously. "How's everything going with Trixie?"
"Fine," said Katie shortly, wanting to say more but seeing David's face.
"Oh, I'm glad!" their mother said through the static. "Well, I hope we won't be long. Theo is a love and they're very nice at this hotel-the whole staff's talking about the Bowden baby! They can't do enough to help us. But I must say that outside our hotel it's awful here. There are men with guns everywhere and I don't like the looks of it.
"We'll tell you the whole story when we see you-it's just too hard on this lousy international line. We miss you so much. Daddy and I can't wait to get home."
"Me too," said Katie, her eyes filling.
"We'll call again tomorrow, but you know you can also call us," her mother continued. "We'll hear our special song and we'll know it is our sunshine. We'll know it's you."
Now Katie's eyes spilled over.
"We'll call you really soon, Mom," she said.
"Bye," said Mrs. Bowden softly, and with an even softer click, she was gone.
Katie sighed and reached over to hang up. But just as she did so, the receiver clicked again.
"Mom?" asked Katie, putting the instrument back to her ear. "Mom, are you still there?" But no one replied. Instead she now heard the flat tone that indicated the line was dead.
David was looking at her. "What?" he said.
"Somebody just hung up," Katie replied sharply. "Somebody else hung up after Mom. Who was that, David? Who else was on the line?"
"Are you sure?"
"David, that was the most frustrating call! We barely heard a thing! And somebody else was listening! I heard them hang up!"
David had grown slightly pale. "It was her," he said slowly. "It was Trixie. She must have been listening on the phone in the kitchen."
"That explains the clock!" said Katie. "That wasn't a clock in Katkajan; it was our clock, striking seven."
"And she's a nosy little snoop," said David, heating up. He could feel his anger rising just thinking of that woman, eavesdropping on their call.
"David, you don't get it!" Katie was practically shouting. "Of course she's a snoop-the question is why?"
"She's a snoop because she's a creep," said David. "Next?"
"What's the matter with you?" cried Katie. "She's up to something, David!"
"Like what?" he said. "You read too many books! She's mean, Kat; she's not an alien."
"I didn't say that!"
"What did you say?"
"I don't know. Get out of my room."
"Fine. You can eat with Trixie. I'll eat by myself."
···
But when Katie crept downstairs a few minutes later, Trixie was not in the kitchen. She had already vanished into her regular haunt, the office. The door was once again shut and the usual music trickled out from beneath it. David, though, was in the kitchen, and he didn't look well. His face was ashen and he was staring into the garbage can.
"What?" Cold fear clutched at Katie.
"She threw them away," he replied, bewilderment in each word.
"She threw what?"
He tipped the can so she could see inside it. Wadded up amid the usual eggshells and plastic bags were the skirt and blouse Trixie had worn the night she arrived at their home. Poking up from beneath the discarded clothes Katie saw the sole-barely worn at all-of a sensible low-heeled shoe.
Katie stared at her brother. "But they were new," she said softly.
"It's like they weren't even really hers," he said. "It's like she bought them just for one night."
"She doesn't need them anymore," said Katie. "She's done." She understood it all; it came to her quite suddenly and she took his arm and shook it urgently.
"They were a costume, David. Like for a play. Like for pretend."
"And now…?"
"And now the pretending's over."
