Chapter: 9

The End of the World

Not long after Diana left, Celia came down from the main house with the Bob-White's dinner. Tagging along behind her, Jim's puppy Patch nosed at the large picnic basket she was carrying. Calling out and waving to the young people, the burdened young woman laughed gratefully as Brian rushed to help her with the heavy load.

Returning, Trixie's oldest brother set the wicker basket on the picnic table, which was sitting in the shade by the landing, and began helping Honey and the pretty maid unpack it. Cook's idea of a "light meal" consisted of shish kebabs of cubed ham, pineapple, and bell pepper, served with a tangy couscous and cucumber salad with French bread on the side.

Although none of the Bob-Whites thought they'd be terribly hungry in the wake of their disruptive day, the food did look incredibly mouthwatering, so Jim went ahead and fired up the cast iron hibachi, which sat nearby.

When the coals were hot, the red-faced chef called for Dan and Brian to bring on the meaty skewers while Honey and Celia set the table for supper. Meanwhile, Trixie and Mart went to fetch their towels and clothing, which they'd left in a heap on the boat dock. Up for a bit of excitement, Patch trailed after the rushing pair, with his bobbed tail wriggling all the way.

"Toss me my hat, will you?" Trixie called to her middle brother as she stepped into her shorts. "I hung it on the piling behind you to keep it from blowing away."

Snagging the red cap, Mart flung it to his sister by the bill, but Patch thought it was all a game and rushed in to play too. With a quick leap, the frisky spaniel snatched the flying object in mid-air and then took off running with it. Reaching the end of the dock, Patch then plunged into the sparkling lake and swam off to the opposite side with his catch.

"That silly dog," Jim angrily snapped as he rushed up and watched his pet disappear into the deep depths of the game preserve. "I'm so sorry, Trix," he added. "I promise, I'll get you a new one."

Trixie laughed and waved off the frustrated boy. "Don't worry about it," she said as they headed back to rejoin the others. "Moms will probably send Patch a nice juicy bone for stealing it. She'll be glad it's gone. I wouldn't have been wearing it, but my hair is such a nuisance."

Hearing the last of the young lady's forlorn confession, the Wheeler's sympathetic maid gave Trixie a knowing smile and then asked her ever so quietly if she wouldn't mind helping her get the teens' drinks, which were in the fridge in the boathouse.

Trixie was more than glad to help, of course, but once the two were alone inside the cabana, Celia went straight to the cupboard in the kitchenette and produced a red bandana which she'd used to line a bread basket with from time to time.

"Sit down at the table," the young Mrs. Delanoy told Trixie nicely, as she folded the square of cloth from point to point and then rolled it into a narrow band.

As the wondering girl did as instructed, Celia ran the bandana under Trixie's hair in the back and then brought it up behind her ears before finishing by tying the ends into a pretty knot on top. Next, Celia used her fingers and quickly fluffed out Trixie's sun-dried waves around the cute headband, leaving a spiraling curl in front of each ear.

"There," she said, approving with a nod. "Go take a peek in the mirror in the dressing room, and let me know what you think? When my hair was shorter, I used to have trouble keeping it under control too."

As Trixie dashed off, Celia began filling the drink tray sitting on the counter.

When the glowing girl returned, she threw her arms around the unsuspecting maid and cried, "Oh Celia, you're such an angel! Thank you, thank you, and thank you! It's perfectly perfect. And so easy, even I can do it! You have no idea how much this means to me! You have no idea!"

Once dinner was over, and the Bob-White's had held a quick meeting to turn in their dues, fines, and weekly work proceeds, Trixie, Brian, and Mart returned to Crabapple Farm, feeling tired, a bit depressed, and more than ready to call it a day.

Putting the jalopy into park alongside the garage, Brian ordered everyone out and then helped Trixie and Mart unload their bikes from the back. It was good to be home. However, something didn't seem quite right?

The house was usually fairly dark this time of night. But tonight, lights were shining in all of the lower windows. And as the weary group grew closer, they realized their normally peaceful oasis was instead thumping to the rafters with old-time Rock-N-Roll music.

"What on earth?" Brain gasped as he and his siblings trudged up the stoop and opened the door.

Trixie giggled and handed her big brother the bag from Mr. Lytell's containing the aluminum foil.

"I have a hunch we're having a little surprise party," she said, grinning. "And whether you feel like it or not, you're on the hook to make Daddy and Bobby's party hats, big brother."

The oldest boy groaned as he looked into the package. "Not tinfoil dunce hats like some of the nuts at the club were wearing today?" he asked.

"Precisely those," Mart replied, chuckling.

Then, as Bobby came crashing into the foyer, the little boy announced that teens were to follow him!

Hurrying behind the excited child to the family room, the newcomers discovered that while they'd been away, the rest of the family had been busy beavers. Daddy, had pulled his old phonograph down from the attic and blown off Grampa Belden's dusty black platters, which he'd found in the garage. The records, now spinning on the outmoded device, came from an era when sock hops, ponytails, and rot-rods were all the rage.

Bobby, meanwhile, had blown up a bag of balloons for party decorations, which were leftover Mart's last Birthday. The colorful orbs, having been tossed about the room, were dancing across the floor to the beat of the music, adding to the bright, lively atmosphere.

The young people's mother, out from the kitchen, was also reveling in the fun. She'd made a big bowl of buttery popcorn for the family and had set it on the coffee table alongside ice-filled glasses of orange drink, which she'd mixed up from a powder. In Moms' mother's day, she claimed the sweet beverage had been christened the breakfast drink of astronauts.

Anxiously grabbing a glass, Bobby took a big swig and then announced gleefully, "Daddy saved the bestest record 'tills you gots here! He's gonna plays it after Brian makes us hats and wes watch me on the TVs."

So, as the family's milliner got busy on their glistening chapeaus, Mr. Belden turned down the music's volume and warmed up the television set. Then, once he and his wife and children had donned their sparkling new head-wear and settled in, the proud father replayed his youngest son's informative interview.

Bob's segment came near the end of the news piece, and as Trixie watched the coverage before it, she just couldn't get over how packed Whimpeys was. If the crowds kept up, Burger Bucket certainly wouldn't pose a threat to Mike's business. In fact, he might actually need to put on a little help, and Trixie made a mental note to mention this to her out-of-work pirate friend.

Of course, the musing girl was also aware that the excitement over the U.F.O. could die down just as quickly as it'd begun. But one just never knew. After more than seventy years, people were still flocking to New Mexico to visit the site of the infamous Roswell incident, weren't they? Could Sleepyside be the next Roswell?

Mayor Murdock, who'd been asked to give an official statement in the first part of the telecast, seemed to be suggesting as much - at least in as far as claiming that the object seen the night before was nothing more than a weather balloon, just as the officials in New Mexico had.

Only Trixie had to nervously laugh as Bobby interrupted the mayor's speech by saying, "Ah, don't yous listen to him. He's just fibbin'. And theys don't likes it, either."

"Hmm, not happy with the mayor, now are "They"?" the disquieted girl thought, chewing her thumbnail. Was that something to be worried about? "At least 'They' and Mr. Lynch shared something in common."

But then, as the camera cut to a familiar cherub face, Trixie's focus returned to the news show.

Once it'd finished airing, Bob's family clapped and cheered as the little boy raised his arms above his head and strutted around the room self-importantly. Of course, Moms and Daddy had no clue that the aliens "They" from Play-At-Ease, really hailed from the star system the Pleiades, but Trixie had to wonder if there were others out there, like Jim, who would make the connection.

Pondering this, she reached for a handful of popcorn as her father snapped off the TV and got back into disc jockey mode.

Carefully sliding the long-awaited forty-five out of its fragile yellowing sleeve, Mr. Belden placed the well-played record on the player and then set the arm into motion.

As the house once again came alive with the crackling boogie-woogie of squeaky saxophones, the family laughed and twisted until the spacey alien hit closed with a cry of "tequila".

Dubbing the song a violet man-eating smash, the children begged their father to play it once more, and Daddy happily agreed.

This time, singing along with the catchy tune, Trixie thought how good it was to be a Belden! Perhaps they were nothing but a bunch of silly ducks in silver hats. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. At least they had each other, and together there wasn't anything they couldn't waddle through.

"What's keeping them?" Trixie moaned the following morning as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Jim had told her to be waiting at the end of the drive at nine o'clock sharp, and it was already nine thirty-five. Had he changed his mind about taking the girls into Mr. Lytell's to pick up their jam? Surely Honey would have called earlier if so?

But then, as the midnight blue station wagon came into view, the impatient girl let out a sigh of relief.

Once it'd rolled to a stop beside her, Trixie opened the car door and crawled into the backseat.

"Am I early, or are you late?" she asked the red-headed boy sitting in the driver's seat.

"We got hung up talking with Dad," Jim replied with a grunt. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Nothing's wrong, is it?" Trixie asked, sensing there was. Honey had said that Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler didn't usually call this early in the morning. "Has Mr. Brandio decided against opening a facility in Sleepyside?"

Honey, who was seated next to Jim, turned around and told Trixie good morning. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her best friend knew immediately that the pretty girl had been crying.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," she told Trixie, forcing a smile. "Mr. Brandio and Daddy have actually reached a deal, and it looks like everything's proceeding nicely. They just need to work out a few more details and arrange the financing."

Trixie would have been pleased to hear such wonderful news if she didn't know there was still something wrong. "Is your Dad upset about your fight at the country club yesterday?" she asked Jim, taking a stab in the dark.

Jim lowered his sun visor, fighting the glare coming off the windshield, and then moved the car in gear. As the teens started down Glen Road, he cast Trixie a glance in the rear-view mirror and said, "You could say that. Dad wants me to apologize to the owner of the club this morning, which I will. But then, he and Mother also want me to tell the Murdocks and the Turners how sorry I am."

The angry young man paused, squeezing the car's steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "But I'm not sorry," he told Trixie through clenched teeth. "And I'm not going to do it, and there's nothing my father can say or do that will make me. My real Dad was the one who taught me how to box. And he also taught me that sometimes a fella's got to defend the things he believes in and those he loves."

Then, as a squirrel darted into the road ahead, Jim stepped on the car's brake pedal and formed a fist. Slamming it down on the horn in the center of the steering wheel, the perturbed young man took out his frustration on the dallying animal. Only unthinkingly, Jim had used his sore hand, and Trixie gulped as she saw him flinch.

"Sometimes, I think everyone would have been happier if I'd stayed with the Smiths," he muttered under his breath as the squirrel took off running into the woods.

Trixie wrapped her arms around herself to keep her insides from coming out. It sounded to her like Jim and Mr. Wheeler had had a real blowout. And she worried what might come of it. Mr. and Mrs. Nat Smith were a kindly couple who owned a farm up north. Jim had lived and worked with them for a time before the Wheelers adopted him. Trixie had always feared that one day Jim, who'd been raised to honor and appreciate the simple things in life, might choose to go back. The Wheelers were fine upstanding people, but their world was far different than the one from which Jim had come. In a sense, he was like an alien stranded on some strange planet.

Pulling the Bob-White station wagon into the small parking lot at Mr. Lytell's, Jim had to circle twice before a space opened up. The store was never this busy, except maybe at Christmastime. And from the license plates Trixie saw, most of the customers had stopped in from out of town. One was even from as far away as Ohio!

"Gleeps," she exclaimed as they climbed out of the car. "I guess last night's news has put Sleepyside on the map! Take a look at that bumper sticker over there. It says 'East Coast U.F.O. Hunters'."

Honey giggled. "I like the yellow warning sign in the window of the coupe next to it that says 'Alien on Board'. "I bet Mr. Lytell's in a good mood this morning with all of the tourists in shopping?"

"We can hope, Trixie sighed, but she still had her doubts. The petunias may have perked up overnight, but chances were good that their grumpy owner hadn't.

Then, as the young people entered the store, Trixie pointed out that yesterday, Mike's had been overrun too, and she suggested to Jim that he might try Whimpey's for a job. As the redheaded boy thanked her for the lead, Mr. Lytell, who was at register ringing up a couples' selection of postcards and snacks, glanced blankly at the teenagers and pointed silently to four plastic milk crates sitting off to the side of the counter with one of his skeletal fingers. Apparently, after Trixie and Honey had stormed out the night before, the shopkeeper had pulled the jam from its display and readied it for pick up.

So without exchanging words, the young people left the busy man to his line of unusual patrons and began carrying their goods out to the car. It was going to take two trips, and as Jim went back for the last container, Trixie and Honey were putting the rear-seat down to make room for the open crates when a middle-aged woman came their way.

"Excuse me," she called out awkwardly, "But I saw your jam in the shop a few minutes ago, and the owner said it wasn't for sale. You wouldn't be willing to sell me a jar or two, would you? It's so lovely, and I've been looking for a little gift to take back to my friends at the office."

Honey's face became all smiles. "Why, we'd love to sell you some!" she replied. "We're asking four dollars a jar. Would you like one or two?"

Laughing, the happy woman introduced herself as Alice and said that at that price, she'd like six.

When Jim returned, Trixie and Honey helped the sweet lady carry the jars to her car, and then they were off to the clubhouse, where they planned to store the rest.

"Boy, oh boy!" Trixie remarked excitedly, this time sitting in the front seat next to Jim, "Six jars! Can you believe it? We just made twenty-four dollars without having to give Mr. Lytell a penny of it, Honey! That couldn't have worked out better, don't you think?"

"Oh, I agree," Honey replied happily. "And I imagine we could have sold every jar if we'd hung out in the parking lot a little bit longer. I do hope it works out that we can set up a stand at the intersection of Glen and Revolutionary Road before the traffic dies down. With only eleven jars left, they should go pretty quickly."

Coming to a stop in front of the Wheeler's gatehouse, Jim put the Bob-White station wagon into park but left the motor running.

The aging cottage, which the Bob-Whites were now using as a clubhouse, sat off an earthen road just inside the game preserve. In horse and buggy days, the windy pathway had been the main route to Manor House. But when automobiles came into use, a new paved driveway went in, and the carriage house was forgotten and fell to ruin. That is until Trixie and Honey stumbled across it and discovered a stolen diamond hidden inside! Later, once the girls had solved the mystery, Bob-Whites fixed up the building, and now the teens held most of their meetings there.

Helping Trixie and Honey carry their raspberry preserves inside, Jim told the girls to put the milk crates outside the door once they'd emptied them. Later, on their way to the ballpark, he and Mart would swing by and pick the reusable bins and drop them off at Mr. Lytell's.

The Comets game wasn't until six pm, after the shop's closing hour, but the players were expected to be there early to warm up. The team usually played twice a week, and today's game was a home game against the Glenview Gators. Mart and Jim usually rode into town together, and the other Bob-Whites would arrive later to cheer them on.

"You're going to be there, aren't you?" Jim called back to Trixie, as he got ready to get in the car to head out job hunting.

"Wouldn't miss it!" she yelled back, giving him a great big smile. "Good luck this morning, and tell Mike I said 'hi'!"

When Jim had gone, Honey pulled back the curtains she'd sewn for the windows as Trixie began rearranging one of the sports equipment shelves along the wall to make room for their jars of jelly.

"Do you think Di will be at the game today?" Honey asked her friend as she began unloading the contents of the plastic containers onto the table. "I tried calling her a couple of times last night, but she never returned my messages. It'd be nice if we could talk to her this afternoon?"

"I imagine she'll be there if Mr. Dreamy is playing," Trixie replied bitterly. "Boy, has he got her fooled! Oh, and speaking of our buddy Miles. Or rather his father. Get this, Honey, last night while we were watching the mayor's speech on TV, Bobby said that 'They', meaning the aliens, didn't like that Mayor Murdock was lying."

Honey nearly dropped the jar of jam she was preparing to place on the readied shelf. "That can't be good!" she exclaimed.

"I don't think so either," Trixie added, grabbing two more of the jars. "And you know Honey, when Bobby said it, it reminded me of something Mart told me."

"What's that?" Honey asked nervously.

"Well," Trixie replied, "According to my know-it-all brother, there are those who believe that aliens use mind control to influence our politics. It's one of the reasons some people wear tin foil hats like Mr. Lytell."

After putting the last of the jam away, Honey pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. "Goodness, Trixie. Didn't you say Mr. Lynch told your father that he thought Mayor Murdock had been acting strange lately? Do you think that the mayor might be under the influence of extraterrestrials?"

"That, or Bobby's 'They' are here to put a stop to something the mayor is doing which they don't like," she replied, joining her friend.

"That makes me wonder if we all should be wearing foil hats," Honey replied. "Do you think they work?"

Trixie shrugged her shoulders. "Mart said there's some evidence they might, but I have my doubts, Honey. Bobby was wearing an aluminum party hat when he dropped his bombshell about the aliens not being happy with Mayor Murdock. If 'They' were in contact with him then, it proves the foil wasn't working."

"Oh Trixie, how smart of you to piece that together!" Honey replied. "Why you're beginning to sound like a space detective too! Maybe, if you and my brother work together, you'll be able to figure out why 'They' came, and solve the big mystery, after all."

Then Honey's face dropped, and her large hazel eyes filled with tears. "That is if Daddy doesn't send Jim away, first," she added as her lower lip began to tremble.

Rising to her feet, Trixie went to comfort her upset friend. Squatting down beside Honey's chair, she looked up at her and said, "Things may be rough between Jim and your father right now, Honey. But they've been at odds before, haven't they? And they've always smoothed things over?"

Honey was now opening weeping and said, "But this time is different, Trixie. Daddy has never been so angry. Last night, when Jim called him and told him about the fight, Daddy and Mother were still at dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Brandio. And from what Jim tells me, Daddy blew up and told him he'd have to call back later once he and Mother had a chance to discuss what had happened."

"And that was this morning?" Trixie asked carefully.

Honey nodded her head and wiped her tears with a tissue she'd pulled from her pocket. "That's when Daddy asked Jim to apologize to the Murdocks and the Turners. And you've already heard what Jim had to say about that. It was so terrible, Trixie! Both of them were yelling at the top of their lungs over the speakerphone."

Trixie patted Honey's knee. "I'm sure it was awful," she said with sympathy.

"Oh, it was!" the sensitive girl went on. "And after Jim refused Daddy's request, Daddy gave his, and I quote, 'adoptive headache', a speech about how people in position need to keep up appearances, and Jim responded by calling Daddy a hypocrite."

Trixie moved her hand to her mouth. "He didn't?" she gasped.

"He most certainly did!" Honey exclaimed. "And that's when Daddy warned Jim that he'd better come to his senses pretty quick, or my brother would find himself in military school this fall, where they'd teach him some manners and knock down his temper a notch or two."

"What did Jim have to say to that?" Trixie asked with alarm.

Honey took a moment to blow her nose then replied. "Nothing. My brother hung up on Daddy. But as he did, I heard Jim murmuring that he'd run away before that happened."

"You don't think your father would really make good on his threat, do you?" Trixie fretted.

Honey again began crying. "I'm sure of it, Trixie," she sobbed. "Mother and Father sent me away to boarding school, didn't they? And I hadn't done anything wrong."

Trixie grabbed Honey in a very tight hug. This was the stuff of nightmares! Why if Mr. Wheeler was to send Jim away, or if Jim ran away...well, it might was well be the end of the world!