1912
February sunshine seemed unable to penetrate the overcast of clouds, which trapped the beams in its grasp, and golden streaks hovered in the blanket of gray. The exodus of children leaving the public school after the final bell hardly cared, just as long as the weather stayed cold enough for them to skate on the pond. Friday was finally here, and no early-spring thaw would cut short their fun.
After dropping his school books at his house (and enjoying the cup of cocoa which Rosemary had waiting for him), Schroeder grabbed his ice skates and hockey stick and charged out the back door, cutting through the neighbor's yard to reach the patch of snowy ground that led to the pond. A trail of footprints already in the snow led him right to Charlie Brown and Linus, who also carried their skates on one shoulder and their hockey sticks leaning against the other. Linus greeted Schroeder with a cheerful wave as the latter fell in behind them, but Charlie Brown barely raised his head to nod at him.
"What's his problem?" Schroeder asked Linus.
"He's still thinking about St. Valentine's Day," Linus explained.
"But that was two days ago," Schroeder pointed out, turning to his older friend. "You can't still be sore about that."
Charlie Brown gazed at his boots shuffling through the snow.
"I couldn't work up the nerve to give that Little Red-Haired Girl a valentine," he said. "I really tried this year — but I didn't send it. And nobody sent me anything, once again."
Linus gave him a patient look.
"Cheer up, Charlie Brown," he said. "Bigger things are happening all around us. Arizona was just admitted into the Union, and there's an expedition going on in the South Pole as we speak. Surely, that is more interesting than a few unreceived valentines, right?"
Charlie Brown exhaled. "I know there are more important things going on, Linus, but I can't help thinking about it. Nobody likes me, so I never get any valentines. Nobody even sends me a vinegar valentine."
Schroeder looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "You mean those insulting cards they sell at the general store?"
Charlie Brown nodded sadly. Linus stopped in his tracks and rounded on his best friend.
"Charlie Brown," he chided, "would you honestly wish for someone to insult you on a nice holiday like St. Valentine's Day?"
Pausing as well, Charlie Brown gazed back at him with that Pierrot-like expression.
"At least that would mean they thought I was worth spending a penny to insult."
Schroeder had slowed his trek, and he laid a hand on the sighing boy's shoulder.
"Oh, Charlie Brown," he said with a look of deep sympathy, but mirth danced in his eyes. "Real friends insult you for free."
Charlie Brown shot him a frown. "I can always count on you, can't I, Schroeder?"
"Doch natürlich," Schroeder responded with a broad smile before he maneuvered around to the front of the group, leading the rest of the way to the pond.
Although he saw him almost as an older brother, Schroeder had learned at a young age that endlessly assuring Charlie Brown that he was liked did not work on the self-conscious boy. The more Schroeder insisted Charlie Brown was his friend, the more Charlie Brown insisted he had no friends, so around the age of five, Schroeder had switched to ribbing him instead. Sometimes, a blast of annoyance was enough to kick Charlie Brown out of his melancholy when nothing else worked. As Schroeder predicted, Charlie Brown followed after him, too indignant to feel sorry for himself now.
"It's all well and good for you to say that," he chided Schroeder — his wishy-washy ways rarely prevented him from chiding Schroeder, who was one of the few people he felt comfortable enough to scold off the baseball field. "You always get valentines from girls, even those who like you only as a friend. I bet you got one from Lucy again and probably one from Patty and Freida and Tapioca Pudding and— and Violet!"
"Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't," Schroeder replied breezily.
"As for vinegar valentines, Charlie Brown," Linus cut in before his best friend could lob a retort, "they can be pretty mean. Lucy got twelve anonymous ones just this year, all criticizing her for being a suffragist."
Charlie Brown rounded on him, still annoyed. "Well, it's nice to receive something, isn't it?"
Fortunately, they crested the last hill then, which revealed the frozen pond before them. All thoughts of valentines, vinegar or otherwise, were driven from their minds as they slipped and slid down the sloop to meet their friends already gathering on one edge for a hockey game. The three boys paused on the snowy shore long enough to put on their skates, and they joined the others just as a light snow started to fall.
Shermy, Pig-Pen and Quintus (commonly called "5") had already begun to set up for the game. Peppermint Patty and some of her neighbors had also shown up, taking advantage of their precious leisure hours. Bright-eyed and ready for fun, the children wasted no time dividing into teams. Patty, as one of the captains, picked Schroeder, Linus, Snoopy and Charlie Brown, and they all retreated towards their portion of the ice. Shermy, who always got the best toys for Christmas, had brought along his hockey nets, and he loaned the second one to their side. Schroeder took his place as goalie while Patty began to formulate a play for them.
Just as Patty was reaching the end of her plan, a familiar voice called to them, "Hey, are you able to take two more players?"
Their team turned to see Lucy skating toward them, accompanied by a pair of twin boys about eight or nine. They looked perfectly identical with short black hair and pale skin from the winter months, even down to their blue coats and black skates, except one looked calm and wore a pair of round glasses while the other had a more scampish carriage.
At the sight of the brothers, Schroeder had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He peered around the approaching trio to the patch of pond they had just left. On the opposite shore, a tall boy, about a year older than Schroeder and already in long trousers, was making lazy figure eights for the amusement of his triplet little sisters. Like his younger brothers, he had black hair, which had been slicked with pomade, and he had a more easygoing gait than any of his siblings.
Schroeder gazed solemnly at the older boy for half a second before he returned his attention to Lucy and the twins, who had skidded to a halt beside their team. Lucy stood tall in her yellow winter coat, looking rather like an ambassador introducing a pair of diplomats.
"Patty, do you remember Sebastian Baxter, my friend from the settlement house?" she asked, gesturing to the boy skating with his sisters in the distance. "These are his younger brothers, Carl and Wilhelm."
"I prefer to be called 'Billy,' actually," said the twin in the glasses, pushing the frames further up his small pale nose.
Lucy nodded to him before turning back to Patty. "They want to play hockey, if you will have room for them."
Peppermint Patty put her hands on her hips, considering the two. "I dunno. You guys might be a little too young to keep up with us big kids. I'm like a steam train on the ice."
"I know them, Patty," Schroeder spoke up. "Their father owns the store where I get my music books, and I've seen the boys practicing stick hockey in the alley behind the shop."
Patty turned her head. "Are they any good?"
"Good enough to try playing with us," he answered. "We could use a sixth player anyway, right?"
Patty thinned her lips, touching her chin. After surveying the little boys, she jerked a decisive nod.
"All right, we'll see if you guys can handle it," she said. She skated around the twins, sizing them up, then pointed to Carl. "I'll take this one here, and ol' Bill can play on Shermy's team, if he wants him. Otherwise, Bill can be our relief player."
Both boys beamed. Billy saluted smartly, and Patty went with him to explain the situation to Shermy's team.
"Have fun then," Lucy told Carl, turning away.
Schroeder hesitated, gripping his hockey stick, then turned to his team.
"Be right back," he told them and quickly started after Lucy before anyone could protest.
Although a good skater, Lucy had to move slowly in her new ice skates, which were really those pattan-like foot-plates on nickel blades that had to be strapped onto her regular shoes like Plimpton roller skates. (Lucy thought they made her look more "grownup" than the more practical ice skates which came with their own boots.) Schroeder soon caught up to her and touched her arm.
"Just a second, Lucy?"
"You can have sixty, Schroeder," she returned cheerfully, braking and turning to face him with a smile. The cold had already pinked her cheeks, and snowflakes had begun to gather on the locks of her pretty hair which peeked out beneath her woolen cap.
Schroeder glanced at her sunny face, then to Sebastian, and he straightened his shoulders, ignoring an uncomfortable thought.
"I wanted to ask about my costume for the tableau," he explained quickly. "Would you be able to work on it this afternoon?"
She shook her head apologetically.
"Actually, my mother wanted me to help her at the settlement house this evening, so I'll be busy until supper. Maybe I can come over tomorrow morning."
"Ah, right," said Schroeder, nodding. He paused and asked, "Is Sebastian going to escort you to the settlement house again?"
"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "He's supposed to take the triplets there today. His mother teaches her dance class on Fridays, you know."
Schroeder thinned his lips in an attempt to hide a sudden frown, and he made a quick approving gesture.
"Well, it's good for you to help out over there," he said as amiably as he could. "Have a nice time at the settlement house then."
"I always do," she smiled, turning to skate back to Sebastian.
Schroeder watched her go, trying to ignore that odd feeling in his chest.
Mrs. Van Pelt and a number of reformist ladies in the neighborhood worked with the big settlement house on the poorer side of town, near where Peppermint Patty lived. There, volunteers and live-in workers offered a wide range of courses and programs, like helping poorer folks learn the skills necessary for better-paying jobs, providing healthcare classes to reduce disease, introducing immigrants to American culture or allowing them to share their own homeland cultures through music and dance. The settlement house taught just about anything that would bridge the gap between people of different economic levels, with the aim of preventing Americans from falling into a class hierarchy like those in Europe. As with her other charities, Mrs. Van Pelt had thrown herself into her latest project, offering a sewing class for children, and she often had Lucy attend as her assistant.
Mrs. Baxter, Sebastian's mother, was among the older married women who volunteered at the settlement house. She was originally from Eisenach, Germany, that shining Thuringian jewel where Martin Luther had translated the Bible into German and where Johann Sebastian Bach had been born. She had moved to America as a young woman, where she had met her husband, and she now spent her spare time helping German-speaking immigrants to integrate themselves into the local culture. She taught English classes for adults and gave both German and Austrian dance lessons for children, and sometimes Mrs. Baxter brought her older children along to act as translators between the German-speaking students and the other teachers in the various classes. That was how Lucy had met Sebastian, who had come to the sewing class to help a little girl who did not speak a word of English.
Schroeder was glad that Lucy could use her sewing abilities to help others, and she seemed to enjoy being an instructress. (Then again, Lucy enjoyed any job that allowed her to tell other people what to do.) Even so, some weeks she did not even come by to visit Schroeder at all, too busy spending time at the settlement house — and, by extension, spending time with Sebastian Baxter.
"All right, team!" Peppermint Patty cried, causing Schroeder to snap out of his thoughts with a jolt. "Let's slaughter these guys!"
His teammates cheered, and Schroeder shook himself quickly, starting back for his goal.
With Peppermint Patty as captain, their team excelled. The puck zipped up and down the ice like a jack rabbit evading a coyote, rarely on one half of the makeshift rink long enough for anyone to score. Carl Baxter made use of his small size by slipping around the bigger kids to where he was open for a shot, but his twin cunningly shadowed him. Even Charlie Brown did pretty well; where he might have struggled with baseball, he was not entirely bad at hockey, and that marginal improvement served their team much more than the self-conscious boy probably realized.
Schroeder attempted to keep his head in the game — he tried to keep his eyes on the relentless puck zipping between skaters — but his gaze kept trailing toward the portion of the lake where Lucy was with Sebastian and his little sisters.
The triplets stood to one side, mesmerized while the two older kids glided in circles and odd lines. Both Lucy and Sebastian kept their heads bent, carefully watching their feet, and the triplets pointed excitedly at the ice. Whatever they were doing, Lucy and Sebastian's odd movements attracted a few girls over: Patty Swanson, Schroeder's next door neighbor; her best friend, Violet Gray; Freida Rich, and Tapioca Pudding. The older girls formed a half circle opposite the triplets, oohing and ahhing, and Lucy and Sebastian continued to glide between them.
Every so often, Lucy braked and pointed to the ice, and she would say something to Sebastian. He would nod and hold out his arm for her to steady herself as she sketched something into the pond with her nickel blades.
Then — to Schroeder's annoyance — Lucy suddenly put her arms on Sebastian's shoulders, and he placed his gloved hands on her waist, looking like they were about to dance the bunny hug. Carefully, Sebastian lifted Lucy up and swung her to his left side, where he then placed his arm around her shoulder to steady her, and—
—That was as much as Schroeder saw, because a pair of small bodies collided into his chest, knocking him back against the hockey net. The net shot away behind him, and Schroeder landed on his back, slamming his head into the hard ice.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Carl and Billy cried together, scrambling off Schroeder. They climbed to their skate blades, promptly holding out their hands to him.
"Time out! Time out!" Patty called, skating over.
Despite the pain on the back of his head, Schroeder managed to roll himself onto his stomach, then to push himself to his knees, and the twins helped him the rest of the way to a standing position. The others gathered around, asking if he was okay, and Shermy helpfully went to retrieve the goal.
"Can you play, or can't you?" Patty asked Schroeder, concerned. "We can have Snoopy be the goalie if you need a breather."
Snoopy looked up in alarm.
"All right, we can have Linus be goalie," Peppermint Patty amended.
Schroeder rubbed his sore head, and the dizziness started to subside enough for him to stand steadily on his blades. He peered over the twins' heads toward where the group of girls remained gathered around Lucy and Sebastian. Whatever the pair had been doing, they seemed to have finished now, and Lucy wore that well-known smirk of self-accomplishment as she pointed to the ice. She patted Sebastian on the shoulder, and he gave her a huge grin.
Schroeder straightened, and the dizziness spiked again.
"Maybe I will take a five-minute break," he muttered to Patty. "Better safe than sorry."
"Sure thing, Schroeder," Patty nodded. "Hope you feel better."
He stepped more than skated away from the hockey game, keeping his eyes on Lucy.
He might as well go see what was making her smile so much.
"We should sell tickets, don't you think?" Lucy was bragging to the onlookers as Schroeder neared.
Sebastian smiled at her. He had large eyes that took in everything with a friendly gleam, but the way they hovered on Lucy now made Schroeder tense.
"We just need to sign it to make it an official piece of art," Sebastian told her, holding out his gloved hand.
Lucy took it, balancing on one blade while using the point on the other to scratch her initials into the ice. Sebastian began to do the same as Schroeder braked beside the scratched-up patch of ice. Lucy's smile dazzled with the eagerness of an artist once she saw her friend.
"Do you like it, Schroeder?" she asked, clasping her hands. "It's our study in ice!"
Violet's face altered with a small smirk. "It certainly looks like something you two drew with your feet."
"You're too kind," Sebastian chuckled.
Lucy did not acknowledge Violet's ribbing, keeping her eyes on Schroeder in anticipation of his verdict. He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, taking in the details of their artistic endeavor.
A huge heart laid in the ice, with smaller hearts and curlicues surrounding it, along with might have been a few doves. Unintended scratches covered spots where they were not able to jump over smoothly, but otherwise the lines had been carefully carved. Right in the very center was a messy but readable scrawl forming the words: BE MY VALENTINE.
"A little late for valentines, isn't it?" Schroeder said at last.
"Well, Sebastian was telling us of a story he heard at the music shop about a young man who wrote a love letter by ice skating. So, then I wanted to see if it was possible to make a valentine, and this is the fruit of our labor." Lucy rested her hands on her hips, looking pleased. "If anyone wants to run home and grab their cameras, it will be an excellent way to immortalize our work. You know, for posterity."
Sebastian beamed at her. "Maybe next year, we can make an even more elaborate valentine, Lucy."
"It might be a nice business." Her eyes gleamed; the older she got, the more unashamed she grew as a businesswoman. "We could charge five cents per valentine."
"Which will get ruined once other skaters want to use the ice," Schroeder pointed out, trying not to frown.
"Not if we got Snoopy to stand guard," she countered, glancing thoughtfully toward the hockey game where the beagle smoothly stopped the puck from shooting past him into the goal.
"We could make valentines, take snapshots, then sell the snapshots," Sebastian suggested.
"Possible, possible." She tapped her chin. "We got a year to plan out all the details, don't we, partner?"
With a burst of creative energy, Lucy retreated a few feet, keeping her eyes rooted on her artwork. She held up her hands as though trying to frame the scene for a snapshot.
"We could serve hot cocoa and cookies on the shore for our patrons while they watched the artists work — we could get my brothers to help us — and it can be a whole show while Sebastian and I make valentines. Maybe Schroeder" — she spun to grin at him — "could provide music while we skate."
"Might be difficult to get a piano down to the pond though," Sebastian put in (a little too quickly, in Schroeder's opinion). "I can bring my gramophone instead. My father's store has a wide selection of music, so we can pick whatever suits us best."
Lucy turned, and a twinkle appeared in her already radiant eyes. "Or you can bring your accordion and play it while you skate."
"That sounds more like a vaudeville act," he laughed.
"Why not do both?" Lucy said. "If you ever need an agent on the next amateur night, we can get you a pair of roller skates and—"
But before Lucy could finish her business proposal, one of the triplets — the sister with wavy blonde hair that fell past her shoulders — suddenly grabbed her brother's gloved hand and yanked his arm like a bellpull.
"Sebby, can you draw a bunny now?" she asked. "You promised you'd draw a bunny after you made the valentine."
"I want a kitty!" cried the triplet in pigtails, waving her arm as though she were in class. "Kitties are the best!"
"Can you make an owl too?" asked the third one, who had a single braid down her back. "I like owls. And flamingos. Can you draw a flamingo, Sebby?"
Sebastian turned to Lucy. "Shall we try?"
"Why not?" she said with a shrug. "It's kinda nice helping the next generation of young women."
Together, Lucy, Sebastian, the triplets and the other girls moved as one toward an unused section of ice, leaving Schroeder standing alone on the edge of the behemoth valentine. He gave it one last look of quiet disdain before he turned, retreating toward the battling hockey players.
He reached the edge just as Peppermint Patty scored a goal, and their team cheered. Seeing Schroeder, Peppermint Patty pumped the air with delight and led the triumphant charge over to him.
"Do you feel good enough to play now, Schroeder, ol' buddy?" she asked, accidentally spraying him with ice as she braked.
"As good as I'll ever be," he said.
"Great! Then everybody get back into position!"
She clapped her hands, and the boys and beagle skated to their places while Schroeder retrieved his hockey stick from where someone had thoughtfully stored it on the shore. Peppermint Patty went back to center with Snoopy and Linus as her wings. Charlie Brown and Carl took the defensemen positions. The latter turned to look back at Schroeder as he got into place at the goal.
"What's Sebby and Lucy working on over there?" asked Carl. "Some kind of new sissy figure skating?"
"They made a belated valentine in the ice," Schroeder answered emotionlessly.
Carl looked appalled. Charlie Brown snapped around, his eyes wide.
"A belated valentine?" he repeated faintly. "You sure?"
"I saw it with my own eyes, Charlie Brown," Schroeder told him.
"A belated valentine…" He touched his head. "I've heard of those, but I've never seen one in the wild before."
Carl raised himself up as far as he could in his skates, peering toward his older brother with a mien of disgust.
"I don't know what's wrong with that kid lately, acting all mushy around girls," the young boy muttered, kicking at the ice. "It's getting to the point where a body can't show his face in public with a big brother like that!"
Meanwhile, Charlie Brown, growing pallid, gripped his abdomen, looking like he would be ill.
"A belated valentine," he said in a strained voice. "Other people are still exchanging valentines. Other people are still receiving valentines…"
"It's not like it's an original Michelangelo, Charlie Brown," Schroeder said, looking heavenward.
Charlie Brown did not seem to hear him. Staggering, he managed to turn himself around and shuffled painfully toward the shore, completely ignoring the game starting up again behind him.
"My stomach hurts," he mumbled.
Snow was falling again when Lucy joined Schroeder in the back parlor the following morning, and after removing her hat and coat, she brushed off the flakes which had gathered on her sewing kit and the cardboard box which contained Schroeder's costume for the tableau.
"You'll be happy to know I added the tassel to the front of the dressing gown after dinner last night," she told Schroeder, passing him the box.
"You're really making a lot of progress!" he praised, impressed.
Instead of looking pleased, Lucy furrowed her brow. "Yes, but I still say you should have picked the younger Beethoven from the Mähler portrait. You'd look more handsome, and the pose is more interesting for a tableau."
"Joseph Karl Stieler's portrait is more recognizable," he answered calmly, tucking the box under his arm. "Beethoven believed in the brotherhood of man, and so I want to help my brothers in the audience to recognize at once who I am."
"And what about your sisters in the audience?" Lucy challenged. "Don't you care about them?"
"That goes without saying," he returned with a dignified look before he — with a rather undignified sprint — hurried up the backstairs to change.
Since many of the mothers in the neighborhood were always contributing to charities, Schroeder's friends had been inspired to do their own fundraiser to raise money for a children's hospital. Violet Gray had suggested they hold a tableaux vivant show — where the actors created "living portraits" and held their positions for at least thirty seconds — and sell tickets for five cents each. Schroeder's idea for "Composers throughout History" to be their theme had won the vote, and it had been his job to find the portraits of composers for everyone to recreate. Violet would hold the show at her house, since it was the biggest. Linus had used his carpentry skills to make some old tables look like harpsichords and pianos, and a wooden crate now looked like a functional pipe organ. Lucy and the other girls, along with the world-famous beagle tailor, had been managing the costumes while some of the boys had been building the sets or gathering props.
Schroeder's mother had promised to help him with his costume, but his grandmother had suddenly taken ill, and Mama had gone to look after her. Lucy had helpfully offered to make the costume for Schroeder in her place, and it was now nearly finished. Papa had given him his old, blue dressing-gown to serve as Beethoven's bulky frock coat, and Lucy had keenly altered it to fit Schroeder, which would be worn over one of his white Sunday shirts. She had copied the design of the hems and lapels quite faithfully, and she had also found him a red scarf to tie under his white shirt collar. A pair of old trousers had been altered to fit Schroeder, who still wore knickerbockers. Lucy had scoured the big trunk full of costumes stored up in her attic, which had produced a curly wig which looked strikingly similar to Beethoven's unruly hair.
Once he was fully clothed, Schroeder visited his parents' room to admire himself in his mother's full-length mirror. Already he felt more dignified and a little like a grown-up. He dropped onto the footboard bench at the end of the large bed, and he held up his hands, pretending to be Beethoven composing the Missa solemnis in the grape arbor.
"This is going to be the best tableau ever!" he told his smiling reflection. He remembered then that Lucy was still waiting in the back parlor, so he jumped to his feet and hurried down the service steps.
"You sure took your time," Lucy said as he joined her. "Were you parading in front of a mirror or something?"
"Does that sound like something I would do?" he returned before he changed the subject, holding up his arms to allow her to inspect the altered robe. "What do you think?"
Lucy frowned slightly, walking around him. "Have you grown since you last tried this on?"
"Not sure. Why?"
"The trousers are a little short," she said, resting her chin on her knuckles. "I'll have to redo the hems. I hope you'll do me the simple courtesy of not having a huge growth spurt before the tableau."
"I shall endeavor to please you," he said dryly.
"Smart move."
She gave a little hum and stepped toward him, adjusting the folds of the robe and checking the stitching. Schroeder stood very still for her, gazing straight ahead.
"You should feel honored, Schroeder," she bragged as she hovered around him. "Someday, when I've married a duke or a Vanderbilt or even a Rockefeller, I'll have my own personal seamstress to make all my clothes, but you will be able to tell everyone that you had a costume handmade by Duchess Lucy — or Lucy Vanderbilt or Lucy Rockefeller. You'll be able to sell these clothes for a lot of money — not that you would need to, because my husband and I are going to be your best patrons. We'll go to all your concerts, and my husband will give you a nice stipend so that you'll never have to worry about where your next meal will come from. We'll always take care of you."
"Hmm."
"Of course we will, Schroeder!" she insisted. "I'm not going to marry any man who won't be friends with you, even if he were a crown prince."
She reached up and adjusted Schroeder's curly wig, then turned his head so that she could look straight into his face.
"Just like you'll probably never marry a girl who won't be friends with me," she beamed with a countenance full of sunshine. "If you get married at all, I mean."
"Who can say?" he said, and his voice sounded a little dull.
She released him, going back to her work.
"If I get married before you do, then I'll have the money to give your future bride the best trousseau a girl could want. We'll probably be like sisters, you know. We'll have to be, if she's going to be good enough for you. And if my husband has a chateau in France, you two can spend the summer with us every year, and your wife and I will go shopping in Paris together and go to all the best theaters. And your children and my children will be great friends—"
"Can we talk about something else?" asked Schroeder.
"Fine," she said, turning her nose up with a superior sniff, "but this is the sort of thing you'll have to think about when you grow up, Schroeder, so make sure to start preparing yourself while you can."
He did not respond but stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace, which provided the only heat in the parlor. Lucy found a loose thread in his cuff, and she quickly retrieved her tools from her sewing kit.
"By the way," she said with a smile as she fixed the hem, "I decided which composer I'm going to play in the tableau. Can you guess? I bet you can't."
"Knowing you, it'll be a lady composer with a grand title," he answered with a small smile.
"I should say so!" She snickered. "Quite a lady too! Violet was positively livid that she didn't think of her first!"
"Who then?"
Lucy gave the needle a miniscule, triumphant shake. "Duchess Anna Amalia of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel!"
"Ah!" Schroeder beamed as well, giving her an approving nod (especially since she had pronounced it correctly). "She wrote some lovely pieces. I was actually glancing at the sheet music for her Divertimento in B Major at Baxter's Music Emporium the other day."
"I shouldn't wonder!" she chirped. "It was Sebastian who told me about her."
"Oh," said Schroeder, and some of the sparkle faded from his eyes. "Did he?"
"Oh, yes! When I said I wanted to play a good composer in the tableau, he recommended the duchess. His father has a book with her portrait in it, and Sebastian is going to loan it to me so that I can copy her dress."
"That's nice of him," Schroeder said slowly, "but you didn't have to bother Sebastian about the tableau. You could have come to me for help instead."
"I probably would have too, if Sebastian and I didn't just happen to be talking about it yesterday." She gave him a merry look. "Kind of funny how a girl who resisted liking classical music for so long ended up being friends with two different boys who are musicians."
"If you can call an accordion player a musician," Schroeder said under his breath.
"Oh, be nice," she said, pausing in her mending to poke him in the chest, but she looked amused. "After all, it takes all types of instruments to make an orchestra, Schroeder."
"If you can call an accordion an instrument."
"Well, you're consistent. I'll give you that." She shook her head with an elaborate sigh. "And Sebastian makes Beethoven sound so pretty on an accordion."
Schroeder rolled his eyes, for even Lucy Van Pelt could not persuade him to like accordions (although she took a mischievous pleasure in getting a rise out of him). Amidst the flare of annoyance, however, a cold thought made his chest feel suddenly tight.
"When exactly did you get a chance to talk to Sebastian about the tableau so much?" he asked.
"Oh, on the walk home from the settlement house," she chirped. "Sometimes, I get to leave early, but my mother doesn't like me going through that neighborhood after it gets dark, so she'll ask Sebastian to escort me home. We talk about all sorts of things while we walk."
"Like what?"
"Business, mostly," she said cheerfully, giving the thread a gentle tug. "Sebastian is going to be a lawyer when he grows up, so I told him that after I'm rich and famous, I'll hire him to look after my affairs."
"And he has no qualms with your mercenary aspirations?" Schroeder asked dryly.
"Oh, I don't think he cares, not that it's any of his business. As I told him, it won't matter if my future husband and I end up hating each other if we're at least rich enough to ignore each other comfortably."
Schroeder studied her, feeling a little aghast. He was used to Lucy being upfront and unashamed — it was one of her better qualities, in the right context — but he wondered how close she must be to Sebastian to converse so freely about her ambitious marital plans. He also wondered if, like him, Sebastian did not take those plans seriously or if, perhaps, he saw them as an intriguing challenge...
"You really shouldn't talk about those things with a boy you hardly know, Lucy," he said, looking away. "It's unladylike."
"A woman is allowed to talk freely to her lawyer, you know," she insisted. "There are some things a woman can say to her lawyer that she can never say to her husband."
She made the last stitch and reached for her scissors to snip the thread. She suddenly lifted her head, inspiration sparking on her face.
"Oh, I wonder if Sebastian's going to the big roller-skating party coming up," she said. "You're going too, right, Schroeder?"
He shot her a pained look. "I thought about it."
"The ticket sales go to helping the poor, anyhow," Lucy hummed, more to herself. "I could let Sebastian ask me to go with him, if he wanted. Our mothers might let us skip a day at the settlement house if we were both going. It's for charity, after all."
The gears were already at work in her head as she plotted her schemes, seeming to forget Schroeder was standing beside her. He rolled his shoulders, and the dressing gown became more crooked on his thin frame.
"What if somebody else asked you—?" he started to say, but a door slam caused him to jump, and they both whirled around toward the door. Footsteps thundered from the front hall to the back hall, and Charlie Brown burst in, waving a small cardboard box over his head.
"Schroeder! Schroeder! Just look at this box of valentines I got from—" he started to say, but his smile widened when his eyes fell upon — "Lucy!"
He paused only to put the box down on a small table before he ran right up to her, grabbing her hands to swing her around and around the parlor.
"I can't believe it!" he shouted with joy. "You really did it! You're the best, Lucy!"
"I know," she smiled, amused with his delight.
"Wait," Schroeder interrupted, grabbing Charlie Brown's arm as he danced past. "Lucy gave you a valentine?"
"A whole bunch of valentines!" he cried, at once releasing Lucy's hands to zip over to the table and back.
He opened the box to reveal an almost full row of valentines about the size of a postcard. He plucked one up and held it for Schroeder to see. It showed two grotesque people, a nervous bald man and a smiling woman. A poem had been typed beneath.
"HOMELY
Handsome is as handsome does,
Which leaves a chance for you,
Since in appearance you are like
A baboon in a zoo."
Schroeder stiffened, comprehending what he was seeing with disgust, and he glared at his friend.
"Charlie Brown, are you aware that this is a vinegar valentine?" he demanded.
"They all are," Lucy said matter-of-factly. "If I knew he'd like them this much, I would have sent him one every year."
Charlie Brown spun around, grinning at her. "How? Why?"
"Well, I overheard Linus saying that you felt that nobody thought you were worth spending a penny to insult," she explained. "So I went to the general store and bought up the leftover vinegar valentines and put them in a box for you. I also threw in all the ones I received because I knew you didn't mind it when Violet gave you that used valentine a few years ago."
"You bought up their whole stock?" he marveled. "For me?"
"But of course, Charlie Brown," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing she would do. "Why, I would spend a whole dollar just to insult you."
Charlie Brown actually laughed. "That's honestly the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Lucy!"
He put the valentine back with the others and tucked the box under his arm in order to grab Lucy's hand, shaking her whole arm like a water pump.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll never forget this, Lucy!"
"You better not!"
He laughed again, looking about as excited as when his baby sister was born. "Oh, I got to show Patty! And Shermy! And Pig-Pen! And—And—!"
He spun and charged out of the room, and they could hear his happy babbling even as he launched himself back into the snowscape outside. Schroeder shook his head, torn between a sympathetic smile for his friend's happiness and a rising disdain over Charlie Brown taking such delight in a pack of rude valentines.
"You certainly made him happy," he told Lucy flatly.
"He kind of grows on you after a while, doesn't he?" she chuckled. "I wonder if he'll cheer like this every year."
Still smiling, she returned her attention to Schroeder's Beethoven costume to give it one last check, and she nodded with satisfaction.
"I guess you can keep everything at your house but the trousers," she said. "I'll fix the hems later — and don't grow any taller in the meantime, if you please."
Schroeder went back upstairs and changed into his regular sweater and knickerbockers. He carried the trousers down to Lucy, who met him in the back hall.
"You don't have to see me to the door, Schroeder," she chirped, tucking the garment under her yellow coat to protect it from the snow. "I know my way,"
But he followed her anyway and opened the door for her. As she stepped out onto the porch, however, he reached for her shoulder, stopping her.
"Lucy, may I ask you something?"
She turned. "Of course."
He met her smiling eyes, then looked at the snowy porch. He tapped his toe against the threshold.
"You and Sebastian," he said slowly, "do the two of you… have an understanding?"
"A what?"
Schroeder lifted his head again but could not fully meet her curious gaze. He stood quite stiff, flexing his fingers at his sides.
"To put in more prosaic terms," he said in a strained voice, "are you two… going steady?"
She blinked a few times.
"I haven't really thought about it," she said as though he had only asked for her opinion on a painting. "He is the son of a music-store owner and isn't even remotely related to the Vanderbilts or European royalty, you know."
"I know."
She lifted her head, thoughtful, then spun toward the front walk again, her shoulders bobbing in an easy shrug.
"Well, I don't have to decide today, now do I?
She trotted down the steps, quick yet careful of the snow — then stopped and spun around. She climbed back up to the porch, facing Schroeder with a sweet smile.
"Thank you for being concerned about me enough to ask a question that makes you uncomfortable," she said. "You're a true friend, Schroeder."
She twirled away and started down the steps once more.
"Right," he said to himself, watching as she bounced away toward the sidewalk. "A friend."
And only that.
A/N:
"Real friends insult you for free." — based on the comic strip for 4/26/57.
Tapioca Pudding — Allegedly, tapioca pudding was invented in 1894, so TP could realistically be named that by her eccentric father in this AU. (The more you know…)
Schroeder as goalie — Although the strip for 1/23/72 had Schroeder play wing, I went with the 2015 film's idea to have him play goalie instead.
Baxter family — There were a number of things about Sebastian's backstory that I didn't get to mention in The Beethoven Debate, like how his father, the Bach fanboy, married a girl from Bach's hometown. While an OC, it was nice to be able to retool Sebastian for this historical AU.
ice valentine — In the "Looking Back" section of Samantha's Winter Party by Valerie Tripp, it mentions a man who wrote a love letter with his ice skates, BUT in trying to research this, I wasn't able to find any historical mentions of it, even as an anecdote. Even so, I thought it would work for this fic. In the strip for 12/7/71, Schroeder refused to be Lucy's partner for her skate club's show ("Forget it! We hockey players wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of those tippy-toe shoes!"), and since Sebastian tends to be a foil for Schroeder, his skating with Lucy is fitting.
Duchess Anna Amalia of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel — not to be confused with Princess Anna Amalia of Prussia, who was also a German princess-composer. (Enjoy looking up both of their compositions on YouTube, if you're curious!)
vinegar valentine — That particular one is real (which you can see on Kovels Antique Trader, and is dated 1910-1920). One common recipient of vinegar valentines were suffragists, so I imagine Lucy would have gotten her own share each year (although that might be a separate story).
going steady — According to Etymonline, this term was in use as far back as 1905. (Fans of The Music Man might remember how Tommy tells Mayor Shinn that he and Zaneeta are going steady behind his back.)