Muses and Memories

Trixie Belden, her lumpy knapsack slung over her right shoulder, scurried down the empty hall of Sleepyside Junior/ Senior High School.  The scuffling noises of her boots on the waxed tiled floor mingled with the animated hum of voices coming from the cafeteria, where Trixie’s two friends, Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch, were waiting. Recognizing the unmistakable aroma of tacos, Trixie picked up the pace, hoping to grab one before they were all gone.  At the entrance to the large room, Trixie, out of habit, looked up at the overhead beams.  She smiled with satisfaction when she saw that a bunch of balloons, left over from a previous dance, were still tangled around one of the light fixtures. “At least the Bobwhites were able to clean up everything when we were in charge of school functions.” Seeing her friends seated at a corner table, Trixie headed in their direction.

“Oh, gleeps!”  she said as she slammed her bag down then slid onto the seat.  “I can’t believe I actually signed up for this stupid ‘Domestic Engineering’ course.”  Trixie’s small fingers made frantic air quotes as she spoke.

“What’s wrong?” asked Honey, pulling her cafeteria tray away from Trixie’s bag.

Trixie raked her hand through her mass of blond curls, then dropped her head onto the table, moaning softly.

“Trixie!  What’s wrong?” Honey’s face registered alarm.

“I have to plan my dream wedding and furnish a first apartment,” groused Trixie.

“Plan a wedding!” squealed Diana Lynch, a dark-haired beauty.  “You get to plan a wedding?  You’re so lucky! In my class, we have to work out a budget for an entire year.  I’d much rather plan a wedding.”

Trixie looked up and scowled.  “I’d offer to trade, but doing a budget for an entire year doesn’t sound like much fun either.”  She glared at her two friends.  “You two said this would be an easy “A” course.”

Honey and Diana looked at each other, then burst out laughing.  

The three girls had been best friends since they were thirteen years old. Living among the gently rolling hills outside the quaint town of Sleepyside, they had shared many adventures.  Now they were in the middle of their senior year and making the final preparations to graduate and leave the familiar school behind.  The spring before, Honey and Diana had convinced Trixie to enroll in the domestic engineering course, assuring her that it would be an easy class that would most certainly help raise her grade point average.

“Oh, come on, Trixie,” coaxed Honey.   “Planning a wedding can’t be that hard.  Just look through some bridal magazines and pick out what you like.”  She flipped her light brown hair back and dug through her own backpack.  “Here,” she said as she pushed a recent fashion magazine toward Trixie.  “You might get some ideas in here for a first apartment. There’s a whole spread on how to decorate using cast-offs and flea market finds.”

Trixie stared at the magazine, her face registering the disdain she felt, then firmly pushed it  back toward her friend.  “No, thank you, Honey.  I plan on moving into a tiny, furnished studio apartment.  Minimal space with even more minimal dusting!”

“Oh, pooh, Trixie,” said Diana.  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It disappeared as soon as school started back in the fall. I can’t believe how much homework I’ve had this year, not to mention the constant projects and papers.  Yuck!”  Trixie stood up and disappeared into the line of students waiting to purchase their lunch.  Returning to the table, she dug into her taco and finished it quickly, washing it down with a bottle of fruit juice.    After shoving her empty cafeteria tray aside, Trixie opened her backpack and began rummaging  through it.

“What are you looking for?” Honey daintily sipped her iced tea through a straw.

“I was sure I had some Starbursts in here.  Oh, yes, here they are.”  Trixie pulled out a flattened and rumpled package of the fruit-flavored candies.  “Hmmm… they look kinda squished.  Want one?”  Trixie held out the treat toward her friends, who both replied with rapid shakes of their heads.  Shrugging, Trixie peeled  the wrapper off one piece, then popped it in her mouth.  “Yum,” she smiled, “I love the red ones.”

Diana wrapped her knuckles on the chipped formica tabletop.  “Let’s get back to discussing your wedding.”

“Diana,” said Trixie impatiently, “it’s not my wedding.  It’s a stupid project.”

“Whatever.  But you said it’s supposed to be your wedding and that sounds like fun to me.” Diana dramatically tossed her sleek black hair over her shoulder.

Propping her chin on her hand, Honey leaned in toward Diana.  “Do you ever think about what kind of wedding you’d like to have?”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Diana.  “All the time.”

Trixie’s jaw dropped.  “Really?  All the time?”

“Tell me about it,” encouraged Honey.

Across from her two friends, Trixie rolled her eyes and began to painstakingly unwrap another piece of candy.

“Well, first, I want my wedding in a big church so Daddy can walk me down a long aisle,” began Diana.  “And even though June is a nice month for weddings, I think a Christmas wedding would be beautiful.”

Honey nodded, her eyes glowing, as Diana described a scene involving a candlelit sanctuary, twinkling Christmas lights, and crimson red dresses worn by her attendants.  Trixie finished her piece of candy and started on a third.

“Of course,” continued Diana, “you and Trixie would be my maids of honor.  I could never choose one of you so I’m going to have you both.  And then my twin sisters will be my  attendants; they’ll be too old to be flower girls.  I plan to have them dressed exactly alike and they’ll be carrying bouquets of white roses and poinsettias.”

Honey exhaled softly.  “That would be so lovely. You could even use Christmas carols for the precessional.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Diana, her excitement evident.

“I’ve always wanted a candle-lit ceremony,” sighed Honey wistfully.

Trixie snorted.

“Did you say something?” asked Honey, twisting around to look at her friend.

Trixie shook her head.  “No.  But I’m just wondering, with all these plans already in place, do you know if I’m going to have to wear a poofy dress?”

Diana smiled, her lavender eyes fixed on Trixie.  “I thought about that, but with your height, a poofy dress wouldn’t look quite right.  My plan is to have you wear something with straight,  simple lines.”

Trixie stared at Diana suspiciously.  “And I suppose this dress with straight, simple lines will somehow include high heels that will make me feel like I’m walking on stilts?”

Diana giggled.  “Of course, silly.”

Trixie shook her head.  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Oh, yeah?  Well, what will your wedding look like?” demanded Diana.

Trixie pondered her two friends thoughtfully.  “Hmmm...well, first of all, it won’t be happening till I’m about 60 years old.”

“What?” gasped Honey.  “Why?”

“I figure I can’t get married until I graduate from high school. And with these stupid projects and constant essays plus my dismal math grades, I assume I’ll be about 60 years old by the time I finally get out of here.”

Honey and Diana’s eyes met and the two smiled.

“You nut!” said Honey.  “I’m pretty sure you’ll graduate this year and then…” she lifted her eyebrows in question at her friend.

“Then what?  I’m not getting married right out of high school.” Trixie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Of course not,” soothed Diana.  “But someday, what if you do get married? What kind of wedding do you want?”

Trixie slowly unwrapped another piece of candy and popped it in her mouth.  She stared at the table, her finger tracing random doodles left by a green sharpie marker.  

“I’ve got it!” she announced.

“What?” asked Honey and Diana.

“When I get married, and let me remind you that will be at the ripe old age of 60, I’m going to have a rule:  If you show up wearing a fancy dress or suit, then you can’t come in.”

“What?” Honey and Diana looked at each other in confusion.

“That’s right!” Trixie unwrapped another Starburst and stuffed it in her mouth.  “I’m not going to have a fancy wedding, therefore, I don’t want my guests to show up in their fancy duds.”  She pointed her index finger at Diana and Honey.  “And I mean it.  It will be written in bold letters on the invitation:  IF YOU SHOW UP WEARING DRESS CLOTHES, YOU CAN’T COME TO THE WEDDING!”  Trixie pounded the table firmly for emphasis.  

“I see.” Honey motioned toward her friend. “And what will happen if somebody does arrive wearing wedding appropriate clothes?”

“Wedding appropriate?” Trixie snorted.  “I thought Mart had already graduated yet here he is, being channeled through you, Honey.”

Diana snickered at Trixie’s reference to her older brother Mart, who had an extreme fondness for big words.

“The question’s still on the table, Trixie,” Honey said sternly.  

“Hmmm… I guess I’ll just go up to the guest and say, ‘Nope, you didn’t follow directions.  Goodbye!’  Then I’ll show them to the driveway and put them back into their car.”

“Trixie!” gasped Honey, “you wouldn’t do that?”

Trixie nodded her head vigorously.  “Oh, yes I would.”

“Wait!” Diana shook her head in confusion.  “Driveway? Car?”

“Yes.” Trixie shifted in her seat.  “I think the wedding should be outside, like at the farm.  And it will be in the middle of summer, so everyone can wear shorts and t-shirts.”

Honey and Diana rolled their eyes.  

“And instead of a reception, I want a barbeque,” decided Trixie, her imagination spinning an acceptable wedding scenario for her. “And, of course, you two will be in my wedding party.  I suppose I could have Mart and Brian as ushers.  But you guys will all have to wear shorts.”

“Oh, Trixie. it’s a wedding,” fretted Honey. “Don’t you want us to wear something a bit nicer?”

“Hmmm...okay. You and Diana can wear capri pants, but nothing with sequins or glitter.”

Diana dropped her forehead onto the palm of her hand. “Dare I ask what you’ll be wearing?”

“Shorts and a t-shirt, just like everybody else.”

“You can’t be serious?” wailed Diana.  “Nobody does that, not even you.”

“Ooh! I know.”  Honey’s eyes lit up with excitement.  “You could wear your mother’s wedding dress.  I”ve seen pictures from your parents’ wedding.  Your Mom’s dress would look adorable on you.”

Trixie snorted.  “There are so many things wrong with your idea, Honey.”

“Like what?”

“First, it’s a dress.  That doesn’t match my casual theme.  Second, I’m way too big to ever fit into my mom's wedding dress. And third, whoever heard of an adorable sixty year old bride!”

“Trixie,” sighed Honey wearily. “I don’t know why you insist on seeing yourself as being bigger than you are.”

“I’m sturdy, or so I’ve been told.”

“What does that mean?” demanded Honey.

Trixie waved her hands through the air.  “Sturdy.  You know, stocky, thick, broad.  Like a sturdy piece of furniture.”

“I don’t know who ever called you sturdy, but I wish you’d get over it.  What size jeans are you wearing today?” asked Diana.

Trixie looked down at her skinny jeans that were tucked into her black suede ankle boots.  “I think these are a size 2.”

Diana rubbed her forehead.  “I fail to see how a size 2 pair of jeans matches the words ‘broad’ or ‘stocky.’”

Trixie shrugged.  “I just know I can’t fit into the clothes you two wear.  They just look stupid on me.”

“That’s because Diana and I are 3 inches taller than you,” exclaimed Honey.  “Now, let’s move on and talk about food.  Do you know what you plan to serve at your wedding?”

Trixie smiled.  “Of course.  We’ll have Moms’ burgers and potato salad.”

“Of course,” Honey agreed dryly.  “And what about your wedding cake?”

Trixie shook her head, making her curls dance around.  “No cake. I’ll have Moms make a really big strawberry shortcake.”

“Well, Honey,” said Diana, “this sounds like quite an event.”

“Yes,” Honey replied.  “It will be a real hoot.”

“I think you mean hootenanny,” correct Diana with a wink.

“Hey,” protested Trixie.  “You guys asked me what I wanted and I told you.” She shoved her empty candy papers into her knapsack.  “I told you this assignment was stupid.”  She kicked at the stained floor beneath her.  

Honey watched her friend.  “You know what, Trix? After thinking about it, I don’t think your idea is stupid.”

“Huh?” Trixie looked up.

“Well, for Diana and me, we would love to have a fairy tale wedding, but that's not you.   I can see you having a lovely ceremony in the orchard of Crabapple Farm, although maybe not with everybody wearing shorts.  But you could certainly have a more casual affair.  And a barbeque sounds like a lot of fun.  But,” Honey held up a cautionary finger, “if you plan on having your guests play a rousing game of Pictionary, I would reconsider.”

Trixie giggled.  “Yeh, that game probably wouldn’t work.  What game should we play?”

“Oh, Trixie.”  Honey shook her head back and forth and smiled at her friend.   “But seriously, I think a wedding in the orchard would be beautiful.”

Trixie grabbed a notebook and uncapped a pen.  “Great.  Now just repeat back to me everything I said so I can write it down for my project.  I don’t want to have to go through this again.”  She opened to a blank page and looked at Honey expectantly.

The sound of the bell ended the conversation among the three.  

“Gleeps.  Time for Biology,” groaned Trixie. “And I thought I was getting a start on this wedding project. We’ll have to go over this again.”

“And I have to go to English,” moaned Diana.

“Ooh, I’ll trade you,” Trixie offered quickly. “I actually love my English Lit class.”

“You can have it.” Diana waved her perfectly manicured hand through the air.  “If I have to read one more chapter about the Okies...?”

“You’re reading The Grapes of Wrath?”  Trixie’s eyes sparkled.  “I loved that book.  Although, come to think of it, it did make me hungry.”

Laughing, the three left the high school cafeteria and went their separate ways, promising to help Trixie write out her plans during the bus ride home that afternoon.

**********

Later that evening, Trixie settled herself down at the large maple table in the kitchen of Crabapple Farm and spread her books and papers around her. After working through her math and reading a chapter in her biology book, she pulled out the notebook in which she hastily had scribbled a few notes earlier.   “And now, back to this project,” she muttered darkly.

“Did you say something, dear?” asked Moms, who had come into the kitchen to make herself a cup of chamomile tea.

“No. Just frustrated with this stupid project for my engineering class.”

Moms smiled at the mention of Trixie’s class.  “Dear, it’s Domestic Engineering.”  She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.  “And what is your project?”

“I have to plan my wedding and furnish a first apartment.”

Moms sat back in her chair, her mouth open in surprise.  “Plan your wedding?  What kind of project is that?”

“I know.  It’s really stupid.”

“Who’s your teacher?”

Trixie sighed.  “I have Mrs. Ripley.”

“Mrs. Ripley!” exclaimed Moms.  “Gracious! She taught home ec when I was there.  Does she still have that platinum blond hair?”

Trixie nodded.  “Yep.”

Moms leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.  “Does she still wear pearls everyday and big bracelets that making a clanking noise whenever she writes on the blackboard?”

“Yep.”

“It sounds like she hasn’t changed one bit.”  Moms frowned. “I can’t imagine the purpose behind having you plan a wedding.” Shaking her head, Moms stood when she heard the whistle of the copper tea kettle.

Trixie watched her mother.  “Hey, could you make me some tea too?”

Moms grabbed another mug, dropped in a tea bag, then filled it with the steaming water.  Returning to the table, she placed the mug in front of Trixie.  “And what kind of wedding do you want?” Moms asked.

“Honey, Diana and I were talking about that today.  They both want the fairy tale wedding, with lots of people and long aisles, and all that junk.”

Moms smiled.  “And you…”

Trixie took a tentative sip of her tea.  “I don’t want a wedding like that.  Honestly, Moms, I’ve never even thought about my wedding.  I can’t imagine wanting to get married now or even in the near future.”

“That’s good,” murmured Moms as she sipped at her own mug.  She brushed a few errant dinner crumbs off the table.

“But, I did realize today that if I had to have a wedding, I’d want mine to be simple, maybe even have it here at Crabapple Farm.  And no poofy dresses!”  Like earlier, Trixie pounded the table firmly.

Moms nodded approvingly.  “I think a wedding here would be lovely, especially if the trees or roses were in bloom.”

“So you don’t think that’s dumb idea?”

“Not at all.  Your wedding is just that, yours!  You can make it whatever you want.  When your father and I got married, we didn’t have a lot of money, so we got married in a small chapel with just a few friends to celebrate with us.”

“Did you have any family there?” asked Trixie. Seeing the family dog, Reddy, wander into the kitchen, she leaned over and gave the dog an affectionate rub behind the ears.

“Of course.  In fact, your Uncle Andrew was the best man.  But we didn’t include any cousins; there were just too many of them and we really liked the intimate feel of a small group.”

“Cousins!” Trixie looked shocked.  “I never even thought about the guests at my wedding.   Would I have to invite Hallie?”

Moms shook her head.  “Maybe, maybe not.  It would all depend on the size of the wedding.  But, it would be a nice thing to do.” She gave Trixie a pointed look.

“So,’” continued Trixie, “you’d be okay with me having an outdoor wedding, the reception being  in the backyard, and me wearing just a simple dress, and not shorts and a t-shirt?”

“Shorts and t-shirts! Who’s crazy idea is that?”

Trixie shrugged and, lowering her eyes, quickly took another sip of her tea.

“Oh, I see,” said Moms knowingly.  “Yes, a simple dress might be perfect for a garden ceremony.”

“You know, I think I’ve got the wedding part of this assignment under control.  I was afraid I would have to go through tons of bride magazines and end up going all bridezilla on everybody.”

Moms laughed.  “I just can’t picture that, Trixie, no matter how hard I try.”

“Maybe I can find some pictures of the orchard in the spring, so Mrs. Ripley can see how beautiful it is,” added Trixie.

“That’s a good idea.   I’m sure I’ve taken a few photos of the apple trees over the years. “ Moms gave Trixie a quick wink. “What’s the other part of your project?”

“I have to furnish a first apartment.”

Moms sighed again.  “I rarely question what you kids do in school, but this seems like such a waste of time.”

“Thank you.”  Trixie tipped her mug toward her mother.  “That’s exactly what I thought too but Honey thought it all sounded like so much fun.”

Moms frowned slightly.  “Maybe for Honey furnishing an apartment is fun.  But when your father and I started out, we had a strict budget.  That can kill the joy pretty quickly.”

“What did you guys do?” Trixie shoved her completed homework into her backpack, zipped it up, then dropped the bag on the kitchen floor with a thud.

“Hmmm… let’s see.  We went to a lot of yard sales and spent a lot of time in the attic right here.  Your grandparents had a lot of old furniture up there.”

“You mean cast-offs?”

Moms nodded.  

“Honey tried to show me an article in a magazine about decorating with old furniture but I thought it sounded like a lot of work.”

Moms face took on a far away look.  “I don’t know about that, Trixie.  Sure, it takes a lot of time and effort to transform the pieces of furniture into something you want to have in your place, but when you’re done, you have wonderful memories.”

“How can an old piece of furniture that belonged to somebody else hold memories for you and Daddy?”

“Finish your tea and I’ll show you.”

Trixie gulped down the rest of her drink, then followed her mother up to the second floor, then to the attic, their footsteps echoing on the bare, wooden steps that led to the unfinished space. In the light of day, the attic was an interesting place to explore.  In the dark of night, the room possessed an eerie feel. A single light bulb lit the center of the cluttered area, but the corners remained dark.  Boxes were shoved up under the eaves, with some bearing neat, legible writing and others bearing scribbles. Bulky piles of forgotten possessions filled the rest of the dusty space.

“Ugh,  All this stuff!  I know I need to go through it, but it seems like such an insurmountable task.”

“What did you want to show me, Moms?” asked Trixie quickly, afraid that her mother might kick into cleaning mode and want to start to work right then.

“Let’s see.”  Moms, her index finger tapping  her pursed lips, looked around.  “Aha, there it is.” She hurried across the planked floor to one corner where a piece of furniture, covered with an old quilt,  stood behind a pile of old magazines.  

“What?”

“This!”  Moms, with Trixie’s help, tugged the piece to the center of the room.  Carefully removing the spread, Moms stepped back.  “What do you think?”

Trixie scrutinized  an old, wooden chair, with its rockers perched upon a wooden base. Dust clung to the coiled springs that were visible underneath the sagging seat cushion. Confused, she looked at her mother.  “It’s a rocking chair, right?”

“Not just a rocking chair.  It was your great grandfather’s platform rocker.”

“So, it is a rocking chair. But it looks kinda small.”

Moms laughed.  “Oh, it is. “  They pulled the chair closer to the single light.  “ That’s one reason why we don’t use it.  Your father could barely sit in it. And getting up out of it was a real struggle.”

“Did you and Daddy have this in your first apartment?”

Moms nodded. “Yes.  Your great grandparents insisted we needed it.  When we got it, the chair  was scratched up and the fabric on the seat was fraying. I didn’t think we could afford to have it professionally refinished so your father worked on it and I scoured the fabric stores here and in White Plains until I found a remnant that I could use on the seat. We actually had fun bringing it back to life.”

“But, Moms, I don’t get it.  What makes this chair so special?”

“Well, when Brian came along, we learned to appreciate it.”

“Why?” Trixie wrinkled her nose.  “It’s just a chair.”

“But it has the smoothest rocking mechanism I’ve ever felt.  And I would rock your brother everyday in this chair.”

“So that’s why it’s special?”

Moms shook her head.  “No.  Your great grandfather loved to rock Brian in this chair.  In fact, he came over several times a week and would rock Brian for hours.  I have to confess:  it gave me a chance to get other things done around the apartment so I really appreciated it.  When our anniversary came around,  he offered to  babysit while your father and I went out to dinner.   Despite Brian’s calm demeanor now, as a baby, he was not always easy to please. He liked things ‘just so.’” Moms smiled at her memories.  “Anyway, Brian didn’t take too kindly to having his evening routine changed and put up quite a fuss.  Finally, your great grandfather settled himself and Brian in this chair and the two rocked the entire evening,  with your great grandpa reciting every single poem he had learned in grade school.  When we got home, Brian was snuggled in his arms with the sweetest little smile on his face.”

Trixie looked at the rocker with new respect.  “And that’s why you keep it?”

Moms’ eyes glistened.  “Yes.  Sadly, a week later, your great grandpa died of a heart attack.”

“Oh.”

“So you see, Trixie, this old broken down rocker became a part of our lives.  And I used it for you and Mart too.  Every single time I rocked you two, I thought about Great Grandpa and how much he loved Brian and how much he would have loved you, Mart and Bobby.”

Trixie looked at the chair, puzzled.  “Moms, I don’t remember you rocking Bobby in this chair.”

“I didn’t. ”

“Why not? I thought it was special.”

“It is special.  But once, when I was rocking you, Mart got his fingers caught between the rockers and the platform.  I thought they were smashed for good.  This chair is great, but it is also a wicked finger pincher.”

“Mart probably deserved it.”

Moms shook her head and laughed.  “I think he wanted me to fix him something to eat.”

“Most likely,” agreed Trixie with a grin.

Moms stopped suddenly and spun around.  “You know, if I remember correctly, there’s a old picture of your great grandfather and your great uncles. And your great grandfather is sitting in this exact chair. Hmmm...” She looked around the attic, then went over to one corner and began rummaging through a box.  “Here it is.”  She held up an old cardboard album with faded gold lettering. Blowing off years’ of accumulated dust from the cover, Moms carefully opened it.   “Look.”

Under the single light, Trixie stood next to her mother and watched as Moms slowly flipped through the pages.  “Here it is.”  She held out the album toward Trixie.

“Is that my great grandfather?” Trixie pointed to a serious and dignified  man. “He looks a lot like Daddy.”  Trixie studied the old photo that showed her great grandfather seated in the rocker with his three sons clustered behind him  

“Yes, your father does indeed resemble his grandfather.  This picture was taken right here at Crabapple Farm, in the living room.  See, the fireplace is behind them.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Trixie pulled the photo closer.  “The living room looks so different.”

Moms nodded.  “That’s true.”  She traced her fingers around the dated furniture.

“Can I sit in the chair, Moms?” asked Trixie.

“Sure.  But be careful.  It’s been up here for quite a while and I don’t know how sturdy it is.”

Trixie gingerly sat at the edge of the seat, then pushed herself to the back of it.  She rocked gently, rubbing her hands along the carved, wooden armrests.  “This does have a smooth motion to it.”  She shuffled her feet on the floor.  “And I think it fits me too,” she smiled.

“Yes, it’s definitely made for somebody shorter than your father.”  Moms watched as Trixie rocked back and forth.  

“Would you like this rocker?” Moms asked suddenly.

Trixie looked up at her mother in surprise.  “You don’t want it?”

“I want it with somebody who understands and appreciates its history.”

Trixie continued to gently stroke the wooden armrests.  “Yes, I would love to have this chair.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Trixie jumped up.  “I’m going to put it in my room right now.”

Moms laughed.  “Maybe we should dust it first.  And maybe you should think about getting rid of some of the extra junk in your room so your new chair will have a place to go.”

“Okay.  I’ll do that this weekend, then move the chair downstairs.  Thanks, Moms.”  Trixie threw her arms around her mother’s neck.

After repacking the photo album, Moms and Trixie shoved the boxes under the eaves, threw the quilt back over the chair, then the two returned to the kitchen.  

“So, Moms,” said Trixie thoughtfully, “If I was on a strict budget, would you and Daddy let me borrow furniture from the attic?”

“Of course we would.  And we’d be quite happy to do it.”

“Hmmm, then maybe for the other part of my project,  I’ll dig around the attic and see what else I can find that I could put into a first apartment.”

“Sounds like a good plan, Trixie.  And while you’re up there, if you happen to feel the need to sweep…”

Trixie laughed.  “Probably not, but I’ll keep that in mind.  Thanks, Moms.”

Trixie gave her mother another hug, then gathered the empty mugs that were on the table and took them to the sink where she rinsed them out and added them to the dishwasher.  After turning out the light, Trixie and her mother strolled into the cozy family room where Moms got to work on her needlepoint picture and Trixie flipped through several tv channels, sighing happily when she found a detective show she liked.

**********

By the end of the following week, Trixie had created two folders:  one with pictures of the orchard and other with spots around the farm that would make for a picturesque wedding, and another with pictures of the furniture she had scavenged from the attic as well as the basement.  Honey had gotten into the spirit of the project and she and Trixie had spent hours poking through the large attic at the Manor House.

“Gleeps, Honey,” said Trixie as she looked at several small, stylishly cushioned chairs.  “If you furnished an apartment using only pieces from this attic, your apartment would look great.”

Honey nodded approvingly.  “There are a lot of really nice things up here.  I’m glad you had to do this project.  It’s given me a lot of ideas.”

“Glad I could be there for you, Honey.”

“You know what I mean.  I think I’ll make a list of everything up here so I can refer to it when I’m ready to move out.”

“I’ve got my rocking chair,” Trixie reminded her friend. “And I’m taking it wherever I go.”

“I know.  I love the story behind it.” She looked wistfully at the various pieces of furniture around her.  “I don’t think any of these pieces have much history connected to them.”

“Then it’s up to you to start it,” grinned Trixie.

“That’s right.  And I will.”  Honey, a determined look on her face, studied the furniture a little longer then suddenly whirled around.  “I’m hungry, Let’s go see if Cook made a cake today.”

“Gleeps! It’s like you read my mind.”

Padding down the lushly carpeted stairs, the girls made several turns until they arrived at the huge kitchen in the rear of the Manor House.  

“Gleeps!” squealed Trixie when she spotted a chocolate cake sitting on a pedestal in the middle of a large island. “I think I’m drooling just looking at that.” She sniffed the air appreciatively.

“Yum,” said Honey. “You get the milk and I’ll get the plates and glasses.”

Within a few minutes, the two were happily forking pieces of the gooey treat into their mouths.

“Perfect,” said Trixie through a mouthful of cake.

“Perfectly perfect,” agreed Honey.

***************

“I just love Taco Tuesday,” declared Trixie as she deposited her backpack on the cafeteria table. “Guard my bag,” she ordered. Then she left Honey and Diana and hurried off to purchase her favorite lunch. Returning to the table a few minutes later, Trixie plopped down her tray and slid onto the bench next to Diana.  

Taking a bite from her salad, Diana asked, “Is your project ready to turn in?”

“Yes. Yours?”

Diana rolled her eyes.  “Yes, but my father had to help me a lot, and by that I mean he basically had to walk me through everything. I’d offer to show you but it’s just a bunch of spreadsheets.  How did yours turn out?”

“Wanna see it?”

“Absolutely.”  Diana pushed her plate aside and waited as Trixie rifled  through her backpack.  

“Here it is.”  Trixie slid two folders toward her friend.  “The first one is my wedding and the second one’s my apartment.”

Diana opened the wedding folder and flipped through it.  “Trixie, these pictures of the orchard of beautiful.  I might change my mind and opt to get married there instead.”

Trixie grinned. “It doesn't have a long aisle, but you could walk all the way up the driveway.”

Across the table, Honey guffawed.  “I can see it now.  We’ll just line up lawn chairs along the driveway, roll a long white carpet out on top of the gravel, then watch as Diana and her father stroll by.” Trixie and Honey high-fived each other while Diana continued to peruse Trixie’s project.

“Is this your dress?” asked Diana, seeing a picture of a short, white frock.

Trixie nodded.

“Let me see that.” Honey grabbed the folder and spun it around.  With a quick glance, she announced, “This isn’t your Mom’s dress.”

“So?” shrugged Trixie.

“I thought you wanted to wear your mother’s wedding dress,” stated Honey.

“No, you wanted me to wear my mom’s wedding dress.  Something about an adorable sixty year old bride…”

Honey handed the folder back to Diana. “Whatever.”

After examining the rest of Trixie’s pictures, Diana sighed.  “I think your wedding looks really nice.  I hope I’m invited.”

“Again, make sure you’re around in sixty years,” said Trixie.

Diana opened the second folder and gasped.  “Look at all this furniture.  You could have a really  eclectic place with all this stuff.”

Trixie nodded. “I know.  And it all came from either Crabapple Farm or the Manor. I even found two complete sets of china packed away in boxes in the corner of our attic.”

“You wouldn’t have to spend much to furnish your apartment.”  Diana closed the folder and gave it back to Trixie.

“No, I wouldn’t. I hope Mrs Ripley likes what I did.  I could really use that ‘easy A’”. Trixie giggled at her two friends.

“You’ll probably get an A+.” said Honey.

“We’ll see.  At least I got this project done.  What do you guys want to do this weekend?”

“How about shopping?” suggested Honey.

“Or a maybe a mani/pedi?” added Diana.

“How about a ride through the preserve and a picnic lunch?” said Trixie hopefully.

With several suggestions, the two discussed and debated how they should spend their precious days away from school until the bell rang.  After gathering their possessions, the three strolled out of the cafeteria, hoping to make their lunch period last just a few minutes more.

***************

The following Monday, Trixie was the first one to arrive at the cafeteria.  She settled herself at a table then promptly pulled a bag containing an overstuffed egg salad sandwich from her backpack.  Using the bag as a placemat, she arranged her lunch in anticipation of the delicious feast she knew awaited her.

“Hey, Trixie.”  Honey slid onto the bench beside the curly blond.  “I brought my lunch too.  Cook made me tuna salad.”  Honey mimicked Trixie’s lunch placement actions.

“Hi, guys.”  Diana arrived, bearing a cafeteria tray holding a salad and a drink.  She plunked down the tray, then slid in opposite Trixie and Honey.

“Trixie.” Diana leaned across the table. “did you get your grade for you Domestic Engineering project?”

Trixie, her mouth full of egg salad, nodded.  

“What you’d get?” Diana drizzled a packet of dressing across her lettuce.

“I got an A.”

“An A?” squealed Honey.

“Actually, it was an A+,” said Trixie sheepishly.

“I knew your project was good,” said Diana.  “I got a C.”  Shrugging, she placed a forkful of salad into her mouth.  “And I don’t care.  I’m just glad it’s over.”

“And I got a really great chair for my room out of this project, so I’m doubly happy.”  Trixie finished her sandwich and shoved her papers into her brown paper bag. She whisked the crumbs from the table and leaned forward, eager to begin planning  their next weekend. “Hi, Mrs. Ripley.” Trixie looked up as her teacher, acting as a cafeteria monitor, approached the table.

“Don’t forget to throw away your trash, girls,” said Mrs. Ripley.

“We won’t,” the three answered in unison.

“Say, Trixie,” continued Mrs. Ripley in her husky, cigarette voice, “was that an egg salad sandwich I saw in your hand.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Ripley toyed with the small pearls around her neck.  “I used to love to bring an egg salad sandwich for lunch.  My mother made the best, you know.” she smiled.

“I’m sure she did,” chimed in Honey.

Mrs. Ripley hugged herself. “I haven’t thought about my mama’s egg salad in years.  You know, my parents had a small farm in Ohio and we had to gather the eggs every morning.  But when I was seventeen, my brother left, so the chickens became my sole responsibility.  You’d think I’d hate that, but I didn’t.  I found the chickens were quite pleasant and kept the secrets I told them.  Taking care of them wasn’t that bad, except during the winter months.  Then it was just cold.”

“I know,” chirped Trixie.  “We have chickens at Crabapple Farm.  Collecting eggs is one of my chores. Winter can be brutal.”

“Then I guess we’re kindred spirits, aren't we?  Do you love the peaceful morning as much as I did?”

Trixie thought for a moment.  “Now that you mention it, the mornings are quite serene, aren’t they?”

Mrs. Ripley smiled at Trixie.  “That they are.  Don’t forget your trash.”

Honey and Diana, their eyes narrowed, stared at Trixie.  “Serene?  Really?  And now who’s channeling Mart?”

Trixie chuckled at the reference to her brother.  “Kinda,” she giggled.  “He called this morning during breakfast and mentioned that living in a dorm is not, and I quote, ‘the serene experience I was in anticipation of experiencing.’”  

“Of course not,” laughed Diana.  “He has to walk too far to get any food.”

“Right,” agreed Trixie and Honey.

“So, what do we want …” Honey broke off when Mrs. Ripley reappeared at their table.

“By the way, Trixie,” said the teacher.

“Yes.” Trixie looked up.

“I thought your project was exceptionally well-done.”

“Thank you, Mrs Ripley.”  Trixie felt a blush warm up her cheeks.

“Your farm looks like a lovely place.  You're smart to want to have a wedding there.”

Trixie nodded unsure of what to say.  

“I bet you thought that project was a peculiar one.” continued Mrs. Ripley.

Again, Trixie nodded.  

“I have found that so many girls today are willing to spend thousands or tens of thousands of dollars on a wedding, then want a first apartment to look like something straight out of a magazine.  That’s just not practical.  And your project totally reflected the sensible girl that I always knew you could be.”

“Um...thank you,” stammered Trixie.

Mrs. Ripley stepped away.  “Remember, don’t leave your trash on the table.”  

“We won’t,” echoed the three girls again.

They watched as Mrs. Ripley moved to the next table, giving another group of students the same admonishment regarding trash.

“Can you believe that?” gasped Trixie.  “She actually approved of my plans and called me sensible.”

“I told you your project was good,” affirmed Honey.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, noting Trixie’s perplexed expression.

“I’ve been able to do a pretty good “sturdy” personae, but I have no idea how to do a “sensible” one.”

Honey stared at her friend for a minute, then started to giggle softly.  Diana joined in and finally Trixie added her own loud giggle to the group.  

“I've got a great idea,” gasped Diana as she settled down.  “It’s supposed to rain this weekend, so I recommend that we watch a movie, or two, or three.”

“How about LA Confidential,” suggested Trixie hopefully.

“No!” responded Honey.

“I’ve got it.” Diana snapped her fingers.  “The boys watched Seventeen Again and thought it was hysterical. I haven’t seen it.  How about that movie?”

Trixie and Honey looked at each other and shrugged.  “Sounds fine to me,” said Trixie.

“Is it a rom-com?” asked Honey hopefully.

Trixie and Diana’s eyes met.  “I doubt it, considering my little brothers loved it,” answered Diana.

“Whatever,” said Honey, finishing her own sandwich and folding her trash into a neat pile.

“So, the movie Seventeen Again, at the Manor House, with lots of snacks,” affirmed Diana.

“Hey, you sound like you’re playing a game of Clue,” said Trixie.  “Wait! We could have a marathon game of Clue that lasts all weekend.  What do you say?”

“No!” answered Diana and Honey together.  

“And if you ask again,” said Honey, shaking her finger at her friend, “the answer’s still the same.”

“Fine,” grumbled Trixie.  “But I’m pretty sure that’s not how you’re supposed to treat a sensible person.”

“Anybody who wants to play a weekend long- marathon game of Clueis not sensible.  Now, make sure you throw away your trash.  The bell’s going to ring any minute.

Smiling cheekily, Trixie grabbed her bag, wadded into a tight ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

“And the sensible one scores,” she announced, raising her arms in a victorious motion over her head.  

“Come on, sensible one,” said Honey as she stood and grabbed one of Trixie’s arms.  

Diana followed Honey’s example and the three ambled out of the cafeteria, arms linked, and their voices chattering as they discussed their upcoming weekend.

word count-7013

Author’s notes:  This story was written for the Jixemitri Special Anniversary CWP 17th Jixanny.  The required elements are:

*reference to a height

*someone fondly remembering the year they were 17 years old

*someone looking through old pictures

*a wedding (in honor of Hans and Juliana’s wedding)

*the color green (in honor of Hallie’s toes)

*furniture

*cousins

*twins

*someone describing what something/someone means to them

*the movie Seventeen Again

A special “thank you” to my daughter, Katie and my sister Judith for their editing and continuity checks. Picture by me!

Starbursts - fruit-flavored soft taffy candy made by The Wrigley Company

Clue - a murder mystery game made by Hasbro

LA Confidential - a 1997 neo-noir crime film

Pictionary-a charades-style drawing game

background tiles from eos.dev.com