Ann Martin - Stacey's Broken Heart

"Yup. We have an intern at work and there's really not much for her to do, so I asked her to go stand on line at the TKTS booth and get us half-price tickets for a Broadway show."

"You shouldn't have made your intern do your personal stuff," I scolded. "That's not right."

Dad pulled off his tie. "She was glad to do it. She wanted the chance to get tickets for herself, too."

"I suppose that's all right then," I said. I was glad about the tickets. If I'd had to sit around the apartment thinking about Robert all night I might have gone nuts.

We went to Joe Alien's again for dinner and then to the theater. The musical we saw was fun and uplifting. Dad was great, too. He didn't mention Robert or ask me how I was feeling. It was just what I needed.

The next day, entering the Walkers' apartment was like walking into a hurricane. People from the gallery carried out paintings and illustrations. The Walkers themselves both worked feverishly, adding last-minute touches to the artwork still in front of them.

Ethan hurried past me carrying one of Mr. Walker's paintings. He smiled and nodded at me, but was too rushed to stop. "Come on,

kids,” I said, going down the hall to Henry's room. "We're going out."

Grace hopped out into the hall. "Hurray! Hurray!" she cried, bouncing as if her feet had springs.

Henry came out and folded his arms.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"No one is paying any attention to us," he complained. "This morning, Mommy told me to pour my own cereal."

"You're big enough to do that," I said with a smile.

Henry shook his head. "The Rice Krispies fell on the floor and I spilled the milk."

"Bummer. What did your mom do?"

"She looked up at the ceiling and said, 'Give me strength!' How could the ceiling give her strength?"

"Cereal is not heavy," Grace added.

That made me laugh. "She didn't need strength to pick up the cereal. She just . . ." How could I explain it? "She's just very busy right now. We'll go out so she can get her work done."

I took the kids to the Central Park Zoo. They had a great time, especially watching the seals perform their tricks. We had lunch in the park. They ate hot dogs and I ordered a knish from a vendor. I bought them helium balloons from

another vendor and let them run around in the park, trailing their balloons behind them.

It was a fun day. Late that afternoon, when we returned, everything was quiet. We read books and soon Mr. Walker came in, still paint-splattered but looking much calmer.

"You can go home early," he told me. "Get ready for the opening. That's what Mrs. W. is doing right now. We'll bring Henry and Grace to the opening and you can meet us there."

"All right," I said, dosing the picture book I was reading to the kids. "Good luck."

I went home and showered. I decided to wear the black dress and a pair of black sandals. I fixed my hair in a French braid and put on a pair of gold hoop earrings. After a quick salad, I cabbed it to the Fitzroy Gallery.

There were actually limousines in front of the gallery when I arrived. I hopped out and went inside. Everything looked great. The paintings were all framed and hanging. Small lights shone across some of them. Mrs. Walker's illustrations and Mr. Walker's paintings were on different walls, but in the same rooms. Jazz music wafted through the gallery. At the far end of the main room people milled in front of a refreshment table. A huge bouquet of tall, orange flowers with pointy petals sat in the middle of the table looking like exotic wild birds.

"Stacey!" Mrs. Walker called me. She looked gorgeous in a flowing gold, purple, and orange African print gown. Her dangling earrings glistened with metallic pieces. (Very artistic. Claudia would have adored them!) Henry and Grace were with her. Henry wore a white shirt and black pants. Grace had on a wonderful party dress of cobalt blue with a lace collar. "You look lovely," Mrs. Walker told me.

"You too!" I said sincerely. "So do you, Henry and Grace." I took their hands and we walked over to the refreshment table. They picked at the wide array of foods. I bit into a fat, fresh strawberry and looked around. I spotted Ethan wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and a lightweight gray sports jacket. He looked awesome.

In a minute, we made eye contact. He waved and came over. "Pretty cool, huh," he commented.

"Extremely," I agreed.

"You look gorgeous," he said.

"Thank you. You look great, too."

I can't begin to tell you what a wonderful night it was. Henry and Grace were angels. Ethan stayed with me as much as he could. Every once in awhile he had to rush off to help with something, but. he came back often. He pointed out all the important artists and art

dealers, museum curators, and gallery owners. He knew everyone — who they were and what they did. Being there with him as a guide was so much more interesting than it would have been otherwise.

Henry and Grace both got sleepy around eight o'clock. I told Mr. and Mrs. Walker I would take them home. "It's all right," Mr. Walker said, "there are two beds set up in the office here. Put them to sleep and then stay and enjoy the rest of the show."

I stayed in the office with Grace and Henry until they fell asleep. Ethan came in and laid his sports jacket over Henry. I found a small blanket for Grace. "Come on, I'll give you the official tour of the show," Ethan offered in a whisper. "I can tell you everything about each piece."

"Terrific," I said, tiptoeing out of the office. Ethan and I returned to the main room, which was now very crowded. It was amazing how much Ethan knew about the artwork, and about art in general.

The evening flew by. And I didn't think about Robert even once.

Chapter 13.

Saturday was my last official day of babysitting for the Walkers. They needed me so that they could be at the gallery to greet people who were coming to see the show. (It was going to be there for three weeks.) Grace and Henry were tired so we had a stay-at-home day, just watching videos, drawing pictures, and reading books.

That night; when I returned to Dad's, Abby called me. "I heard about the Robert thing," she said. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk or anything."

"Thanks, but I'm okay," I told her. "How did the festival go today?"

"It was pretty wild."

When people arrived around noon, the festival wasn't nearly ready. The booths weren't completely built. The food was still heating in Mary Anne's oven. Mallory and Jessi were still concocting the fruit punch. Everything was half done.

But cars were pulling into Mary Anne's driveway and parking out on Burnt Hill Road. I guess everyone had end-of-summer boredom and parents were dying to find fun things for their kids to do. Our clients were among the first to show up: the Newtons, the Prezziosos, the Papadakises, the Braddocks. Carolyn and

Marilyn Arnold came wearing identical Mexican hats. Charlotte Johanssen wore a Mexican dress her parents had brought back from vacation.

"What do we do?" Abby asked, panicking. "We have to tell them to come back later."

"We can't!" Claudia cried. "That would be terrible."

Claudia, Jessi, and Mary. Anne looked at one another. What could they do? "What would Kristy do?" Claudia asked.

"Forget about Kristy," Abby scolded. "You have to make me a sign that says dosed."

"Kristy would find a way to stall, yet keep everyone happy at the same time," Mary Anne said, frowning as she thought hard about the problem.