Chapter: 20

Messages from Fabio

"Well, thanks again for not saying anything," Trixie told Dan once the two were finally alone. She handed her dish-washing helper the last tea glass to wipe and then drained the hot soapy water from the sink.

Brian had gone upstairs to freshen up before three-thirty, and Mart was in the living room speaking with Jim on the phone. The middle boy had cut Trixie and Honey's conversation short so that he could update his fellow conspirator on the morning's photo shoot. But at least now Honey knew enough to longer fear what her adopted brother had cooking in the garage. Jim was merely rebuilding his JF-16 rocket. And Trixie had told her friend they'd talk more later on at the ball game.

Reaching for her watch, which she'd set on the window ledge so it wouldn't get wet, Trixie went on to say, "The last thing I need right now is for my scoundrel pirate brothers to catch wind that Tinkerbelle thought Never Land was being invaded by mind-controlling pod-people. I really let Cosmo Mc Naught and the Sinister Circle get me carried away, didn't I?"

Dan grinned as he hung the damp dishtowel over the oven door handle to dry. "Yeah, maybe a little," he confessed. "But some weird things have been going on around here lately, Trix. There's still a crop circle sitting out back. And you can't take away seeing that U.F.O. But hey, it's like you said. Best friends keep secrets. You keep mine; I'll keep yours. Deal?"

"That goes without saying," the earnest young lady replied. "And I guess you're right. We don't know how Bobby came to know all of that Play-At-Ease stuff, either."

"Exactly," the young man replied with a serious air. "It pays to be careful, Trix. And I'm glad this all happened, really. At least we have a plan in place should things go south."

As Trixie turned to leave to fetch Bobby his radio, Dan caught the rushing girl by her arm and looked her straight in the eye.

"But Trixie," he added firmly, "I want you to make me a promise. If it turns out that you were right about aliens taking over. And something happens to me. I still want you to head straight to Ted's. And if that's not an option? And I know this is going to sound ridiculous. Then go to Mr. Lytell's. "

Trixie might have giggled if it weren't for the grim blackness of the boy's eyes. "OK," she promised him quietly. "But nothing's going to happen to you," she went on, getting an odd sense that he needed some reassurance. "You're way too street-smart to let it. We're going to make it through this, no matter what the future holds," Trixie finished firmly. "All of the Bob-Whites will. And we'll do it together."

At about three-twenty, Mart, Trixie, and Dan gathered in front of the T.V. in the Belden's living room. Channel 4 was re-running one of its usual afternoon sitcoms. And nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So far, there had been no breaking news. In fact, for the first time in a couple of days, things felt, well, almost normal around the farmhouse. At least the "new" normal, Trixie sighed.

The terrible man-eating alien was back to bouncing off the walls in his bedroom to "his radio". And Moms, who'd returned from lunch with Mrs. Lynch just a few minutes before, was already in her apron in the kitchen planning an early supper. It seemed like just another day in Never Land.

That is until Brian Belden rejoined the crew. And it was at that moment that Trixie felt a new timeline begin. The discomforted girl knew there was no stopping it. The future was determined to march on, taking the kicking and screaming Tinkerbelle right along with it. And for a brief instant, she blamed Brian for that.

You see, the ole cap'n was again sailing in all of his spicy glory, but to everyone's amazement, the young man had also taken up his razor and trimmed his scraggly beard and mustache into a clean, crisp style which he called an "Anchor". Trixie immediately understood how the beard had gotten its name. Its overall shape resembled a nautical anchor, looking somewhat like a pointed Goatee with a Handle Bar mustache.

The cut gave her older pirate brother a dashing and sophisticated appearance. And Trixie suspected that once the fair maiden Wheeler caught a glimpse of the ole cap'n, her friend would be a goner for sure. Oh, Brian was still Brian, alright. But this new version had an adult air of mystery about him. And Trixie figured Honey would find that irresistible.

Moms hadn't been able to resist Daddy's mustache, anyway. And her father had been a senior in high school when he first grown his out, too. The unsettled girl couldn't help but think that Honey would react the same way as Moms had. Brian was the mirror image of his handsome father, after all.

"Wait until Honey gets a look at you!" Trixie whistled, bringing a sparkle to the young man's eyes.

Only that was all anyone had time to say on the matter.

For over the television's speaker bar came three abrupt beeps, followed by the announcement, "News Center 4 interrupts our normal programming, to bring you this special eye-witness report…."

Trixie and her fellow Bob-Whites groaned. And Brian called out for his mother. Would the excitement never end?

As Mrs. Belden ran into the room, Mart turned up the set's volume. On the flat-screen, in front of him, an angry mob of International Pine picketers surrounded the Wheeler's sleek limousine at Manor House's front gate. And Trixie shuddered as the hauntingly familiar chant of "Pine Stay! Wheeler Go! Pine Stay! Wheeler Go!" filled her ears.

Unable to tear her eyes away from the unfolding scene, the silenced girl studied Spider Webster and the Safe and Sound Security guards as they stood poised, observing the crowd of riled people. Usually, the law enforcement officers would be moving to remove the picketers? And Trixie found it more than a tad suspicious that they weren't.

"Something fishy is going on," the young detective said to the others as she watched Megan Wolf push her way toward the Wheeler's stopped vehicle in a cloud of fellow news reporters and camera people. But then something even more unpredictable happened. Officer Wilcox moved to the limo's left passenger car door and opened it.

As Mr. Wheeler stepped out, a series of loud boos burst from the group of ugly protesters. And it made Trixie nervous to think that Mr. Wilcox was posing as her friends' father's bodyguard -especially since his wife, Mrs. Wilcox, was at the forefront of the mob, leading the disruptive upheaval.

But as Trixie more carefully scrutinized the unraveling events, her anxiousness eased. The rough and tumble officer had just given his wife a covert motion of his hand, which Mrs. Wilcox, in turn, passed on to the crowd behind her. Almost immediately, all noise ceased.

"Good friends! Neighbors! Hear Me out!" Mr. Wheeler projected so loudly that trails of his speech could be heard, echoing through the valley. "One week ago today, International Pine approached me, urging that I sell my timber. Mr. Turner, acting on the companies behalf, said that if I did not comply, the factory would be forced to relocate.

As you are aware, I turned down Mr. Turner's offer. But what you do not know, is that Mr. Banks, the owner of International Pine, was already in Maine, finalizing the move, when Mr. Turner came to me."

As the masses let out a dramatic gasp, Mr. Wheeler's sober face twisted with a smirk, and Trixie thought, "Why that crafty devil! He planned this whole thing! And Mr. Wilcox and his wife are in on it!" It seemed Mr. Zabatino and Mr. Lynch weren't the only ones who were good at arranging publicity stunts.

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen," the savvy businessman went on. "With or without the last of our community's fine resources, International Pine planned to relocate, taking your jobs along with it."

Mrs. Wilcox initiated another chain of boos, which didn't end until our young detective noticed Officer Wilcox again giving his wife one of his secret hand signals.

When all was finally silent, Mr. Wheeler raised his open arms to the air. "But fear not, for your families' futures, dear friends. For today I have come bearing good news."

Honey and Jim's father motioned for Dandy Andy to open the opposite car door. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the business showman went on with flare, "let me introduce to you my partner and friend, Mr. Michael J. Brandio – Sleepyside's newest employer and owner of Brandio Aeronautics!"

As Mr. Brandio climbed from the car, cheers rose not only from the crowd but also from the Belden's family room. In a matter of five minutes, Mr. Wheeler had gone from Satan to their once dying town's savior!

A short time later, Dan was headed toward the front door when Mrs. Belden stopped him with one of those motherly smiles of hers.

"Aren't you staying for dinner, Daniel?" the lovely lady asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. The invitation was an opened ended one for all of her children's friends.

"I thought I'd boil up some hot dogs and top them with that chili you like? I took it out of the freezer just for you?" she added as the young man stood hesitating.

Dan had to admit he was sorely tempted. Mrs. Belden was such a sweet lady that he found it hard to tell her no. Besides, no one could top her chili dogs, and they were his favorites. But, as Brian had also pointed out earlier, he looked an awful sight.

"Gleeps, Mrs. B., you know I'd love to," Dan replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling. "But I really should get back to the cabin and get cleaned up before the big game tonight."

Mrs. Belden rolled her eyes. It was one of those family mannerisms that always made the young man grin.

"You're staying," she informed him staunchly. "I'll call Mr. Maypenny while you take a shower.

"Martin," Mrs. Belden called out to her middle son as he and Trixie passed by. "Take Dan upstairs and find him a fresh towel and something to wear, won't you, dear? And Trixie, sweetheart, he'll be joining us for dinner. So please set an extra place at the table."

The Belden's dining room was in no way formal. For generations, it had served scores of hungry hardworking farm people. From celebrations of births to those of wakes, its four walls had held the family together.

The sturdy oak table, with its many leaves, sat at the center of the room. It had long stout benches providing plenty of "squish-able" seating on both sides, with a high-backed chair of honor placed at each end. The table had been crafted by the same two hands which had built the house. And it put the assembly line furniture, which International Pine churned out today, to shame.

Across from the room's bricked colonial fireplace, extra chairs hung along the wall on wooden pegs. They were all miss-matched, but then again, they weren't. Each may have been of a different design, yet they all looked alike, just like the Beldens themselves.

Against the final wall, tall cabinets ran from floor to ceiling on each side of the window opposite the door. One housed great-grandmother's English bone-china and silver-plated flatware. These were reserved for special occasions. But the other cupboard was home to Moms' everyday hand-thrown pottery and stainless steel tableware. And it was these, which the family would be using this afternoon.

As Trixie went about setting out the daily ware, she couldn't help but reflect on all of the wonderful meals she'd had in this room. First those of grandmother Belden's, then, once she'd passed on, her own mother's. It was hard to think that one day, it would likely be Brian's wife who'd be serving up supper at the table. But then again, the somewhat saddened girl had to wonder if that might not be her honey-haired friend? And believing so made everything seem better.

Heading for the kitchen, for the waiting pitcher of milk, Trixie encountered Mart and Dan, coming down the staircase.

"I feel like I'm dressed for Halloween," Dan told Mart, half ready to go back up and change. "Maybe I'll just skip the game tonight. He was sporting a pair of the other boy's jeans and one of his bright Hawaiian shirts.

"Fiddle-faddle!" the wardrobe's owner exclaimed. "You never looked more dapper, Dan. And tonight's game promises to be one for the record books!"

Trixie giggled as she caught sight of the arguing pair. "See, I told you, you could pull off Lame Brain's pineapple look," she teased the darker-haired boy. "Ready for the luau? Moms says things are about ready."

"That does it!" Dan remarked, spinning on his heel. "I can't do this. I won't do it."

Mart grabbed his protesting friend's arm, giving him a fiendish grin. "Remember Truth or Dare," he cautioned. "Either you wear the Maui button-down, or you tell me why you popped that flick knife on me this afternoon."

The blackmailed boy glanced over at Trixie pleadingly, and she gulped. One of them was going to suffer at Mart's hands tonight. And by all rights, the already sheepish girl knew it should be her.

Preparing to 'fess up, Trixie was about to open her mouth when Dan's frown turned upside down. And it looked almost as sinister as her brother's.

"Tell you what," he said. "I've changed my mind. I'll wear the duds to the game. But only if your sister puts on that new Tinkerbelle get up your mom was hemming for her the other day."

"Oh no!" Trixie burst out, ready to take a lunge at her friend in the tropical shirt. "I'm not wearing that dress, and you can't make me!"

"Oh no?" Mart replied, crossing his arms. "Truth or Dare. Either you come clean about why you snuck out to see Jim Tuesday night. Or you wear that frilly clown outfit of yours."

"It's not frilly," Trixie told him angrily. "But I guess the two of you leave me no choice. I'll wear the stupid thing, alright?"

Trixie wasn't sure who she was more upset with. Devious Dan or Meddlesome Mart. Either way, she had a bad feeling Mouthy Miles Murdock would have something to say about the dress.

The Beldens and their dinner guest were finishing up dessert when a car horn blew out front.

"That's my ride!" Mart cried, bouncing from his seat. Kissing his mother on her cheek, he grabbed the last bite of his sticky lemon meringue pie using his fingers and then made a dash for the door.

As Trixie jumped up to go with him, explaining that she wished to say hi to Jim, her mother told her to sit back down.

"You may say 'hello' to the young man this evening after the ball game," she said. "Be glad that your father and I are allowing you to go to the party, following."

The disappointed girl plopped back down and toyed with her pie with her fork. Why did Moms always have to be right?

Just before the family had sat down to eat their spicy chili dogs, Honey had called Trixie, bubbling over with excitement. Mr. Wheeler, it turned out, had rented out Whimpey's entire diner for a big celebration following the game. Malted-milks and burgers were going to be on the house! And all of the players, as well as their friends and families, were invited!

Honey's father and Mr. Brandio planned to attend the events too. And her pretty friend was going to ride into town with the gentlemen and then catch up with Trixie and the other B.W.G.s at the stadium. Mrs. Wheeler wouldn't be joining them on this occasion. The frail woman needed to rest up from her trip.

Honey had also indicated that the party was her father's way of patching things up with Jim. And according to Trixie's friend, both Mr. Wheeler and his adopted son seemed to have put their differences behind them. And boy had Trixie been glad to hear that!

And yet, she had to wonder how Jim was feeling about having both men there to watch him play ball tonight. Was the rocket thing somehow different? Maybe it was. Mr. Wheeler attended his son's games whenever he could. And Jim never seemed stressed by it. In fact, he was always pleased when his adoptive father was in the stands.

Of course, the athletic young man also knew that he was an excellent ballplayer. So the musing girl was sure things would just be just fine. Rocketry was somewhat new to Jim. And the less than perfect flight of the JF-16 had apparently shaken the boy's confidence in that department. But given time, Trixie was sure that her red-headed friend would be an expert there too.

As Brian kicked his lost-in-space sister under the table with his foot, she glanced up from her pie and asked testily, "What?"

First frowning at her lack of eloquence, big brother Brian ignored the question and instead said to their mother, "Do you and Dad plan to go to the celebration at Whimpey's, tonight Moms?" Mr. Belden had stayed in town after work to help Mr. Lynch with some mysterious project. He hadn't given his notice at the Bank yet. But Moms had told the children that their father intended to at the end of the month.

Daddy and Mr. Lynch would grab something to eat at the stadium. Moms and Bobby would ride to the game with Brian, Trixie, and Dan and then come home with Mr. Belden when the festivities were over. Trixie's mother and her family planned to meet the two hardworking gentlemen, as well as the Wheeler's and their guest, at the front gate at six o'clock before taking their seats.

The game against the Waterloo Wombats was another home game, and the opening pitch had been pushed back until seven-thirty for some unknown reason. Still, Mr. Belden had insisted that his family arrive early to get parking and good seats together.

"No, we plan to come home after the game," Moms told her oldest boy. "Your father didn't get much sleep last night and needs to kick back a little."

Brian looked over at Bobby. "Why don't you let us take Bob to the diner with us, then?" he said. "He's a big guy now, aren't you, Bob? That will give you and Dad a little quiet time alone? Trixie won't mind looking after him, right, Trix?"

Trixie put down her fork at glared at the ole cap'n. In all honesty, she'd rather walk the plank. Wasn't it bad enough that she had to put on that silly sundress? Only refusing to watch her little brother would be terribly selfish of her, and Trixie knew it. Brian was simply being his usual thoughtful self by suggesting it. "Right," she sighed as Bobby let out a tremendous cheer.

Of course, Moms had to think about it a bit. She was very protective of her youngest duckling. But finally, their mother caved in. But it wasn't until the crafty ole pirate had suggested that the young quacker would be a swell asset when it came to sounding the red-head alert.

And for that, Trixie, in turn, told Moms that the dirty scoundrel could help with the dishes. "Brian won't mind, right, Bri? I have to go up and change before the game."

"Change?" her mother echoed, voicing her surprise.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to wear my new blue dress," Trixie replied.

Mrs. Belden's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Tonight, with three handsome sons and a beautiful daughter, she would be the proudest mother in the stands. Only that would have been the case whether Trixie had chosen to wear the gingham dress or not.

At six o'clock on the dot, Brian threw the jalopy into park, and everyone climbed out. There were more cars in the lot than Trixie expected there'd be this early. And even more surprisingly, there was already quite a crowd of people milling around the ball park's front gate.

But as the happy group strolled closer, the mystified teenager understood why. Mr. Lynch and Daddy had surely been working some magic! And at the speed of light at that!

For outside the fence, two portable folding tables, which had been placed end to end, offered all kinds of fabulous goodies for sale. One held purple Comets hats and T-shirts, emblazoned with their flashing white logo. And the other overflowed with a wide range of shirts and memorabilia celebrating Sleepyside's crop circle and triangular U.F.O.

Later, the google-eyed girl would discover that a similar table had been set up inside the park next to the concession stand, too. But by selling items outside the stadium, the sharp businessmen were hoping to catch not only the ticket-holders' trade, but that of the people passing by as well. And their plan was definitely working!

Catching sight of her father, chatting with Mr. Brandio and Mr. Lynch, Trixie let out the Bob-White whistle hoping to draw Honey from the crowd. As Mrs. Belden and her youngest son went to join the men, a grinning Miss Wheeler made her way toward the waving teens.

"And here I thought I was going to be overdressed!" Honey laughed as she politely made her hellos. The lovely-as-always girl was wearing a strappy sundress too. And this made Trixie feel much, much better about her own.

"Why Dan," Honey went on, making the bashful boy blush. "That shirt really shows off your tan. You should wear bright colors more often. And Brian," she nearly gasped. "I almost didn't recognize you. I was about to ask Trixie who her handsome friend was."

Honey's large eyes were as round as saucers, and Trixie scoffed. Yep. As expected, the new and improved Cap'n Brian had sent her friend over the moon.

"What about me?" Trixie clucked, giving the mesmerized girl's arm a yank. "Notice anything different?"

"Oh, why yes," Honey stammered, pulling her eyes away from the good-looking boy. "That's a very nice purse you're carrying. Was that a gift from your Aunt Alicia?"

"I meant the dress," Trixie giggled. "But thanks for not noticing. Maybe no one else will either."

Dan had heard enough girl talk. Ushering his friends up to the busy sales tables, he said, "I wonder how Mr. Lynch got all this stuff printed up so fast. I mean, it's great. But wow!"

"Isn't it, though?" Honey agreed, picking up a silly bobble-headed alien figurine with "Sleepyside, NY" printed on its base. "Mr. Lynch was telling Daddy that everyone in town's been chipping in to work miracles. Not only have Nick Roberts and his father been working non-stop since the day of our brainstorming session. But from what I've heard, Mr. Lynch has people, who in turn have people, who have people, working on what he calls "Project Sleepyside". It's incredible what a community can do when they put their minds to it and pull together."

"It sure is," Brian agreed. "And now that we have a little more time on our hands, the Bob-Whites should be pitching in too. Dad says that there is a volunteer sign-up sheet at City Hall. I think we should take a swing by there tomorrow and add our names to the list."

"That's a wonderful idea," Honey said as she set the violet souvenir back down. "But we'll have to go in the morning. I'm sad to have to tell you this, but it may be the last outing we take in the B.W.G. station wagon. Jim got a call this afternoon from a young couple who are interested in looking at it. They'll be stopping by the house at two tomorrow to take a test drive."

Everyone grew silent. As much as the young people knew they had to sell their prized ride, their saddened friend's news still came as a blow.

"Gleeps, I never imagined it was going to happen so soon," Trixie said quietly, voicing what the others were thinking. "When we get back from town, we'll have to wash the car up and get it all spiffy looking. Not that Tom doesn't insist that we keep it that way all the time."

As more and more people began pushing in at tables, Brian noted that the teenagers better be getting their seats.

"Why don't you go on ahead," Trixie told her brother and Dan. "Honey and I would like to poke around here a little more. Right, Honey?"

Honey knew Trixie wanted to talk to her alone, to finish up the conversation the two had been having, which Mart had interrupted. "You don't mind holding seats for us, do you?" she asked Brian, batting her eyelashes.

It was rare to see the ole cap'n blush, but that eye-catching anchor of his was definitely cast in a sea of red. "Sure thing," he said, combing back his hair with his fingers, "We'll see you in a few. Come on, Dan," he added as the two strolled away. "I want to stop by the dugouts. Jim says Coach Jackson is going to let him open today. So I need to make sure he's still icing that shoulder."

After the young men were out of earshot, Trixie filled in the missing holes in her earlier account as the two girls continued to brows. "At least Dan's agreed not to tell anybody we thought the boys were possessed by E.T.s," she said as a wrap-up.

"Well, that's good," Honey agreed with a smile. "Though I'm sorry it ended with the two of you getting roped into that silly game of Truth or Dare. But it's a very pretty dress, Trixie. And light blue's definitely your color. You do look awfully nice."

"Thanks," Trixie replied, though she didn't feel very "nice". She felt awkward. The dress was cool, but it was cumbersome. Worse, since it had no pockets, she'd been forced to carry a purse, which the frustrated girl had already snagged once, trying to get out of the car. She'd nearly lost her balance as a result too, but thankfully Dan had grabbed her arm, or else she would have tumbled face-first in the gravel. However, despite this gallant rescue, Trixie was still sure she'd be taking a header before the night was through. Bleachers and flip-flops didn't mix. And the self-conscious young lady was sure she would have looked like a goon if she'd worn her hole-in-the-toe sneakers with her new dress.

Still, in retrospect, Trixie knew she probably should have worn them. If she slipped and broke Mart's camera, she'd be dead meat. And she'd promised her insistent brother she'd get some good pictures tonight.

Before Jim had picked him up, Mart had transferred the shots from the morning's photo-shoot to his laptop. Then he'd copied them onto his thumb drive for Mr. Trent. That left Trixie with a clean memory card and instructions to load it back up. To use Mart's own words, this photography gig he had going with the newspaper was proving lucrative. And the colorful events happening around Sleepyside lately hadn't been slowing down. Who knew what tonight was going to bring?

"Boy, I sure wish all of my allowance hadn't gone to dues," Trixie sighed as she returned her gaze to the enticing items filling the tables.

"These tees with the crop circle are really very reasonably priced," Honey noted. "For two cents, I'd get one for Dan, so he doesn't have to wear that wild Hawaiian shirt of Mart's. Do you think he takes a size large or a medium?" she asked.

"Oh no, you don't!" Trixie replied as her charitable friend reached into her pocketbook for her coin purse. "You can't buy someone out of a dare. Besides, I think Dan looks pretty good like that."

Honey grinned. "Why you do?" she said, with a sing-song tease. "And I bet Dan thinks you look 'pretty good' in that dress, too, doesn't he?"

Trixie gave her friend the evil eye. "Now don't you get me started, Miss Honey 'Who's-your handsome-friend?' Wheeler," she warned.

As Honey flushed, both girls started to giggle. But then Honey's face dropped.

"Oh, Trixie, I almost forgot to tell you!" she gasped. "I found out what's been bothering Miss Trask lately. She and Mr. Lytell have broken up."

Trixie let out a sigh of "oh no". "Was it because of our jam?" she asked.

"I think in part," Honey admitted sadly. "Though the poor dear claims not. She said it's because she finally realized how closed-minded Mr. Lytell is. Miss Trask also said that she thinks that ridiculous tinfoil hat of his has fried his brains. She finally spoke up about their breakup when she saw the picture of Mr. Lytell in the newspaper this morning. Of course, Miss Trask has no idea Mart took the photo."

"Oh, woe!" Trixie moaned. "I'm sure that article didn't help. I never did understand what she saw in him," she added.

"Me, neither," Honey admitted with a sigh. "Miss Trask deserves someone just as wonderful as she is. But I do feel sorry for her, Trixie. I think Miss Trask really liked Mr. Lytell."

Trixie began chewing on her knuckle. "Should we do something to try to get them back together?" she asked.

"I don't know what it would be," the other girl replied. "It's probably best we stay out of it."

Trixie knew this was true. But she still felt like she'd helped drive Miss Trask and Mr. Lytell apart. She wasn't a big fan of the surly shopkeeper. That was for sure. But she loved Miss Trask almost as much as Honey did.

As the two girls fell silent, lost in thought, Trixie's sharp ears picked up on the conversation the ladies behind the table were having.

Mrs. Wilma Connors, and Mr. Lynch's secretary Connie Slater, were chatting away as they took people's money and bagged up their purchases. Mrs. Connors was an older widowed woman and Connie's soon-to-be mother-in-law. Mrs. Connors was also the one who'd reported that she'd been visited by a long-haired alien on the night of the U.F.O. sighting.

"That's right, Connie," the older woman went on. "And Fabio has come to me twice, since."

"My, weren't you scared?" Miss Slater asked with a shudder. "I know I would be if I woke up in the middle of the night to find a strange man sitting on my bed."

Trixie had to wonder if Connie might not be thinking that her fiancé's mother ought to be committed. And she gave Honey an elbow to the ribs and a knock of her head to indicate that her friend might want to hear this.

"Oh goodness no!" Mrs. Connors went on as the two girls eavesdropped. "Fabio is here to help us. On his second visit, he forewarned that dark times were about to descend on our town. And that during these shadowy days, we wouldn't know who was our friend and who was our foe. Fabio also warned that this would be a time when the right choice would seem the wrong choice. But he wanted us not to run towards fear, but to stand still and wait for the heavens to rumble and open up with three flaming angels. This would be our sign that all will be well."

Honey had covered her mouth with her hand, and Trixie heard her let out a little squeak. Honey's eyes were also almost as big as they'd been when she'd first gotten a look at the new cap'n. But this time, there was amusement playing there.

And Trixie was smirking herself. It was hard to swallow what she'd just heard with any sense of belief. And from the dubious wrinkling of Connie's high forehead, the observant girl was sure Mr. Lynch's down-to-earth secretary was feeling the same.

"I don't know what to say?" the stunned young woman admitted. "Other than, it still would have frightened me. What did Fabio have to say on his last visit?" Connie ventured nervously.

Mrs. Wilma Connors' face turned more serious. "If I tell you, dear, you must promise you won't panic?"

Trixie and Honey didn't like the sounds of that. And they looked at each other anxious to hear more. When Connie promised, Mrs. Connors went on.

"Fabio predicts that the Mowing Devil is going to return," she said so softly that the girls had to strain to hear. "He claims that our great fortune will strike fear in the evil one, and it will anger him. According to Fabio, the devil will burn his creation to the ground, and his wicked flames shall stretch their biting fingers far beyond their intended rim and spread throughout the valley. Men and women shall fight for one day and one night with hopelessness. But again, the heavens shall open up to save us. And it shall rain for two days and two nights and drive the devil back into his black hole."

Trixie gulped, and Honey grabbed her hand. It was time to find their seats.