Part 2

November 26—Thanksgiving Day

The Beldens’ traditional Thanksgiving Open House was winding down. Outside the farmhouse, in the deepening twilight, Brian and Mart Belden, along with Dan Mangan and Jim, had spent the last four hours directing the traffic so that cars entering and exiting along the parking area up and down one side of the Crabapple Farm driveway could take turns without colliding with each other or with those guests returning to their cars. By now, their work was light, since most of the guests had already gone home. The four boys leaned against Brian’s jalopy, which marked the border of the parking area in front of the house. A flash of red at the front door turned out to be Trixie in a red sweater. She trotted down the porch steps and ran to where the boys stood.

“Just a couple more guests left; Mr. Lytell is leaving now, and Spider Webster is picking up Mrs Vanderpoel and Tad in a few minutes,” she said. “We’ve got plates fixed for all of you, so come on inside as soon as Mr. Lytell is gone, and eat something.” She turned and ran back inside without giving them a chance to agree or disagree.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” Mart called after her with a mock salute, but Trixie didn’t turn around. Jim knew Honey and Diana were inside with her. They’d been helping Mr. and Mrs. Belden all afternoon, keeping serving bowls filled and clearing away empty plates. The girls were probably as tired as they were.

“So, Brian, tell us about your new job,” Dan invited. He pushed his slightly scruffy black hair away from his face. Dan still tended to wear his hair a bit longer than conservative Sleepyside favored, but Jim had grown used to it over the past nine months.

He was a little surprised at the comment, though. Brian hadn’t mentioned anything about getting a job. Jim had assumed his friend’s course load kept him too busy with homework, so he waited for Brian’s answer.

“I’ll deliver the hospital supper trays on trolleys to the patient floors; then I’ll return the trolleys with the empty trays to the kitchen afterwards and run them through the dish washing machine,” Brian said. “It’s only a couple of hours a day, three days a week, for now. But if I want to, I can probably pick up some Saturday and Sunday mornings.”

“Wow, do you think it will cut into your study time?” Dan asked. “That’s the only thing I’d worry about.” Dan was the only Bob-White who already had a regular paid job; as assistant gamekeeper, he patrolled the Wheelers’ wildlife preserve every morning and evening, maintaining riding trails and stocking a couple of feeding stations for deer during the winter months. His free time was very limited, although Mr. Maypenny tried to ensure Dan was able to spend time with his friends outside of school.

“It’s only from four-thirty to six-thirty, three days a week right now,” Brian said. “If I start doing weekends, I’ll do breakfast but probably leave after delivering the lunch trays. They have someone else who comes in during lunch preparation and stays until the kitchen closes. And I’ll only be dealing with the patient trays. They have a tiny little serving station at lunchtime for employees, but I won’t be involved with that.”

“What made you decide to take a job?” Jim asked. “I know you’re a lock for valedictorian, but I thought all of your free time was taken up with studying and chores at home.”

Brian shrugged. “I’ve been doing some research on college costs, and the places I want to attend are crazy expensive. When I told Moms and Dad where my scores were being sent, they sat me down and told me what they could afford to spare for me each semester. I thought it was really generous, but it’s not going to touch what I’ll need. Even if I qualify for some scholarship money, it’s going to be a stretch. So, I decided to try to find a part-time job after school. After graduation I’ll be able to work full-time hours, and I’ll probably try to do that.”

“Yeah, I know my scholarship won’t cover everything either, even at SUNY,” Jim said with a frown. “I don’t think Mother and Dad would approve of my getting a job in high school, so I wanted to check into a work-study job on campus when I go. But I wrote to the financial aid department, and they told me work-study jobs are strictly allocated by financial need.” He drew a circle on the ground with the toe of his shoe, hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s not really fair. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone else. I know I can make my own way.”

Mart and Dan had been silent until now. Jim had figured they were mentally taking notes. But Dan, who had been sitting on the hood of Brian’s car, straightened up at this.

“Jim, don’t take this wrong, but you’re full of … well, you’re crazy. Why should you get a work-study job instead of some poor shmoe who really can’t afford college without it? Your parents could afford to send you anywhere and they wouldn’t even notice the cost. And you’ve said that’s what they want to do.” He slid down off the car and jammed his own hands into his pockets. “Most guys would give their left… hand… to have your chance.”

Jim doubled his fists, and he could feel his jaw clench. “I’m not some freeloader,” he ground out. “I can earn my own way. I don’t want anything handed to me.”

“Easy,” Mart interjected, raising both hands and moving between his friends. “We all know how you feel, Jim. But Dan has a point. There are probably a limited number of work-study jobs. Why should you, who have parents that can afford to send you to college, have a job before say, Loyola Kevins, whose parents are dead and who’s being raised by her grandpa, a retired teacher? Who can afford college better, Mr. Kevins or Mr. Wheeler?”

“Don’t forget, Mart,” Brian warned his brother. “Jim’s birth parents are dead, too.”

“But an adoptive family is a real family—right?” Mart asked.

Jim nodded, a little unwillingly.

“Jim, I know your inheritance from Mr. Frayne is invested and you hope to use it in the future for your school,” Mart continued. “But you do have resources, more than the average person does.”

Jim tried to smooth the scowl he felt forming on his face. Mart had a point. But why shouldn’t he, Jim Frayne, stand on his own two feet and make his own way? Why did people always assume that being adopted by the Wheelers made everything easy for him?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement on the front porch of Crabapple Farm and turned to see Mr. Lytell exiting the house. Before he or the Beldens could make a move to assist the older man or guide him in moving from his parking spot to the driveway, Dan Mangan was at the skinny storekeeper’s side.

“Let me help you make your way to the car and get going,” the former gang member offered. He flicked on a flashlight so that the older man didn’t have to worry about his footing. Jim watched as his friend guided their neighbor’s path.

“Yoo-hoo!” Another voice sounded from the porch—it was Trixie again, with Honey and Diana right behind her. “Boys! Come and get your plates!”

He waved to let her know they’d heard. “As soon as Mr. Lytell‘s safely on the driveway,” he called back.

In a moment, Dan had turned back, and the four boys headed into the farmhouse to enjoy the delicious Thanksgiving food. The girls had set aside plates piled high with each of the boys’ favorite foods, and Mart wasn’t the only one to express his appreciation and enjoyment as they sat together around the kitchen table.

“Where’s your mom?” Dan asked. “I need to let her know how great this feast tasted before I leave.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Belden are both on the back terrace, saying good-bye to my parents,” Diana Lynch told him with a smile. “In fact, I need to leave, too. The twinnies are absolutely worn out and the girls were falling asleep on the sofa almost an hour ago. Larry, Terry, and Bobby spent most of the afternoon up in Bobby’s treehouse, but after they came down to eat, they went up to Bobby’s room to play with his Hot Wheel cars. They were starting to argue, so Mother thought it was time to go.”

“Maybe I’ll be able to come over tomorrow,” Mart said. “I hate that we barely got to see each other today.” He pushed his chair back as the ebony-haired girl donned a sweater. “At least I can walk you to the car.”

After a chorus of good-byes, the two headed for the back door, leaving Jim, Brian, Dan, Honey, and Trixie in the kitchen.

“I don’t see any dishes left for us to wash up, except for our plates and forks,” Brian observed. “What else do we have left to do for clean up?”

“We’ve already put away all of the food, washed up all of the dishes, and taken out the trash,” Trixie replied. “When Moms and Dad come back inside, they can sit down on the sofa or even go to bed if they want to. I don’t see how they do this every year, even with our help.”

“We even mopped the floor, about ten minutes before you boys came inside,” Honey added.

“I suppose Mother and Dad have already gone,” Jim said to his sister.

“Yes, they left about an hour ago,” she said. “You probably didn’t see them because they walked back on the shortcut—you know, from the Beldens’ yard to our driveway just above the clubhouse. They got in from London in the wee hours this morning and wanted to make it an early night.”

“Speaking of an early night, I’m beat from keeping up with all the traffic and parking today, and you look tired too, Sis.” He grinned at Honey and then turned to Trixie. “I hate to be a party-pooper, but since all of the chores are done, Honey and I should head home as well.”

“I’ll walk with you—I’m assuming you’re walking.” Dan raised an eyebrow with a quizzical expression on his face. “Spartan is stabled at the Manor House right now—it was the way I could patrol and still be over here in time to start working the parking with you guys. I’ll saddle him up and ride him back home. He knows the way and won’t mind that it’s dark by the time we get going.” He stood and stretched before slipping into the Bob-White jacket that he’d removed when he came inside.

“Sure, glad to have your company.” Jim was a little surprised. After Dan’s outburst earlier, he’d half-expected the slightly younger boy might not want to be in the same space as Jim. Thinking back to the discussion, Jim wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself. But he’d always valued self-reliance rather than accepting handouts; why couldn’t he continue to do that, even though he was now in a much better and more comfortable situation?

“We’ll walk with you, too,” Trixie exclaimed. “Won’t we, Brian? We’ve barely had a chance to talk today, and we probably won’t see any of you until after lunch tomorrow.” She grabbed her own Bob-White jacket from its hook in the service porch off the kitchen.

“If Mart will check on Bobby, so that Moms doesn’t have to make an extra trip upstairs,” Brian hedged. “It’s awfully quiet up there, and you know what that can mean!”

“Do I ever!” Trixie rolled her blue eyes. ”All right, I guess we’re all ready. We’ll grab Mart on the terrace.”

Just then, Mart entered the kitchen from the service porch, holding the door for his parents. “Are the Wheeler-Fraynes heading out, too?” he asked. “And you, too, Danno?”

“Fraid so,” Dan said. “Patrol time comes early tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep.” He made an exaggeratedly dainty move of patting his mouth as he yawned.

“Boys, thank you so much for all your help with the parking today,” Mr. Belden said with a smile, extending his right arm for a handshake with Dan and Jim in turn.

“And you girls did an absolutely marvelous job in cleaning up this kitchen,” Mrs. Belden said with an approving glance around the room. “You did so much more than I expected. I’ll be a lady of leisure tomorrow.”

“This was the biggest Thanksgiving spread I’ve ever seen,” Dan said, patting his stomach. And every single bite was delicious. Thank you for having me.”

“Dan, we’re so glad you could come today,” Mr. Belden told him with a warm smile. “We can never repay you for what you did for Bobby last winter.”

Mrs. Belden reached out and hugged Dan. “That goes for all of us!” she said, wiping away a tear. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“What Dan said goes for Honey and me, too.” Jim didn’t want to seem less grateful than Dan. “Thanks again, but we’re going to hit the trail now. It’s been a long day.”

The Belden parents headed for the cozy living room, and Jim could hear Mrs. Belden’s soft exclamations over the neat and clean appearance of the room, after the busy afternoon of guests coming and going. The girls really had been busy—probably busier than the guys had been, he reflected.

“Mart, will you check on Bobby?” Trixie asked. “He’s been quiet ever since Larry and Terry came downstairs to go home. Quiet rarely means anything good, unless he’s actually sleeping!” She waggled her sandy eyebrows at him.

“Trixie and I are going to walk over to the Manor House with Dan, Jim, and Honey,” Brian said. “We’re coming straight back home, though. I’m beat, myself, and an early night sounds perfect.”

“Sure, I’ll check on the little prince. If he’s half as tired as all of us, he probably has fallen asleep. Although I’m sure his room looks like a tornado came through.” He waved as the other five headed out the service porch door to the terrace and shortcut.

Although Jim had hoped for some conversation with Trixie, all of the teens were tired and there was little talk between them as they walked. The slightly cool air was pleasant, a perfect late Indian summer evening. He glanced up to the eastern horizon. The moon wouldn’t be visible until after midnight tonight; in the late waning phase it would be only a sliver. He didn’t mind; it would be easier to see the stars, although it wasn’t quite dark enough to see many of those yet. He tried to pick out Venus, popularly called the evening star although it was a planet; it should be visible close to the moon.

Trixie had been walking quietly next to him. As he was searching for Venus, she grabbed his hand. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight!” She pointed to a faint, twinkling white speck low in the southeastern sky. “I’m wishing… wait, I can’t tell you what I’m wishing or it won’t come true!” She laughed and Jim laughed with her.

Thursday, December 3

During the previous week, Jim had been concentrating on his schoolwork, preparing for semester exams. If he couldn’t manage to be granted a work-study job, perhaps he could win an additional academic scholarship from one of his chosen colleges. Between his focus on studying and his research into college catalogs for scholarship opportunities, he had avoided spending extra time during lunch period with his friends. But he couldn’t help overhearing a conversation between Loyola and Mark Nelson, another classmate, in the library one day.

“I’ve qualified for a Pell grant,” Mark said. “But even with a debate scholarship, the tuition, room and board, and fees at Columbia are still more than my parents and I can manage. I’ve decided to apply to Westchester Community College. I’m sure I can at least get the majority of my general education classes there, and it’s less than half the cost of Columbia, my first choice.”

“That’s such a shame,” Loyola sympathized. “My dad’s Social Security benefit will pay for my college, but like you said, it doesn’t cover everything. Even if I only do a year at community college, I’ll save a ton of money, and I can live at home and work to save up for Brooklyn College. After a year at Westchester, I hope I’ll be able to transfer without losing any credits.”

“Did you know Brian Belden has applied to Westchester?” Mark asked. “He told me this morning in homeroom.”

“No!” Loyola’s voice clearly showed surprise. “I thought he was locked into Harvard. As valedictorian and with his GPA, he should be a lock for a full scholarship almost anywhere.”

Jim hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his ears pricked up when Brian’s name was mentioned. Now he leaned forward and tilted his head slightly in the direction of Loyola and Mark.

Just then, the librarian walked over to the table where Loyola and Mark sat, and placed a finger to her lips, signaling they should lower their voices. Although his two classmates continued to whisper, Jim couldn’t make out any more of what they said.

He hadn’t known that Brian was even considering community college. His friend had also hoped to qualify for a work-study. But at least Brian had his own car; he could take an off-campus job. Couldn’t he? Jim didn’t have his own car, and for a moment he considered asking for a car as a graduation present. Just as he decided on the make and model he’d like to have, the bell rang for class change. He gathered his books and papers and as he stacked three textbooks and a spiral notebook on top of his three-ring binder he realized what he was doing.

Get a grip, Frayne! he scolded himself silently. Accepting a car from Dad and Mother is no more earning my own way than letting them pay my tuition, room and board. Grabbing the stack of books, he headed for the door and his next class. Loyola and Mark were still talking and were right behind him. Then he remembered that none of the colleges he’d researched allowed freshmen to have a car on campus. Oh, well. So much for that idea, anyway. Back to the drawing board.

“I hope to be able to do a work-study in either the campus bookstore or the library, even at Westchester. Every little bit helps.”

“You never know, we may both end up working in the same place,” Mark replied. “Although since my scholarship’s in debate, I’ll have to spend a lot of time at practices and meets.”

Later that day, Jim and Honey disembarked from the bus at the end of the Manor House drive. As they trudged up the sweeping drive, Jim noticed two commercial vans parked in front of the house. They had a design on the side panels, but he couldn’t read the words at this distance.

“I guess this is the Christmas decorating service Mother said was coming today,” he said.

“Yes, Saturday night is the Wheeler Enterprises executive Christmas party, and the next week Mother is hosting a luncheon here for the New York City Ballet Foundation board members. After the luncheon, the Christmas tree in the living room will be disassembled and auctioned for the Sloane Hospital foundation’s fundraiser,” Honey explained. “I sent out all of the invitations for the luncheon the weekend before Thanksgiving.”

“So… will we not have a Christmas tree for Christmas, then?” Jim’s forehead furrowed in puzzlement.

Honey chuckled. “I keep forgetting this is your first Christmas with us at home. It was so odd last year when we were in Arizona and didn’t really have a normal Christmas. But every year, Mother has professional decorators come and do the place for the holidays, including a big, decorated tree with some kind of holiday theme, right before the Wheeler party. She did it at the City apartment, too, but of course there wasn’t anything to really do outside.” She waved her arm and Jim noticed men on ladders putting up wreaths at each window on the front of the house. Tall nutcracker figures were already set up on either side of the front door. Another man crouched in the front yard, setting up a spotlight directed toward the front door.

Honey continued. “After the Wheeler party, she always does a luncheon for the ballet foundation people, and then the tree is taken away and auctioned for charity. There’s a second, smaller tree that’s set up when the big one’s taken away, and the same decorators do the lights and some of Mother’s own ornaments before they go. She has a few special pieces she and Daddy bought in Germany and Italy, and she actually hangs those herself.”

“Does she put up all of the Christmas ornaments you made in grade school?” Jim was curious, but also a bit apprehensive. He didn’t have any handmade ornaments to contribute.

“No.” Honey was quiet for a moment. “Wait, she has a tiny tree she takes if she and Daddy travel during the holidays, and she puts my ornaments on it. They’re all tiny things I made with Miss Lefferts; at school we never made ornaments for our parents.”

They trudged on in silence. Now Jim could easily read the words on the side of each van: Winter Wonderlands. Dark green snowflakes color-matched to the script were scattered artistically around the words. The scene still looked a bit bare, as no snow had fallen yet. But Jim could picture the way it would look once a thick blanket of snow lay on the ground—just like an elegant Christmas card.

“Jim?” Honey’s voice was a bit hesitant.

“Yes, Sis?” he answered, purposely using an encouraging tone.

“Do you think we might be able to make some ornaments ourselves? For our family tree? Diana has had some great ideas and we’ve made some pretty decorations for the dance. I think it would be fun to do some of our own decorations.” The last sentence came out in a rush, words tumbling over each other.

“Sure, that would be fun,” he agreed. “We used to string popcorn and cranberries when Mom and Dad were alive.” He swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat.

“We’ll think of something.” Honey smiled up at him, her own eyes watery. “It’s good to be part of a real family, Jim.”

“You bet it is.” He made sure his assent was firm. “And I couldn’t have been any luckier to get the family I have now.” They had reached the veranda, and Jim bounded up the steps and held the door for his sister.

Inside, one man twined the banister with a garland of greenery, while another wound wide silver ribbon and sprigs of frosted red artificial berries into the boughs.

Two men had erected a tree that Jim estimated at ten feet tall—he knew the ceiling was twelve feet high—in the formal living room, and were now winding strands of clear miniature lights over it. An illuminated, glittering silver star topped the tree, and several boxes of ornaments in silver, white, blue, pink, and lavender sat on a table adjacent to the tree. Another box contained a number of glittery ballerina and nutcracker ornaments in the same pastel shades. Mrs. Wheeler stood in a corner of the room, watching the men work. She glanced out into the foyer at her children’s arrival, and her face lighted with a smile.

“Jim and Honey!” She hugged each of them in turn. “How do you like the tree? We’re doing a Nutcracker theme this year. The colors aren’t very Christmassy to me, but once it’s finished, I think it will be beautiful and should get a good bid.” She waved in the direction of the tree, and then turned away from it. “I’m so excited that we’ll all be together as a family for Christmas this year.”

“So am I, Mother,” Honey said with an answering smile. “Finally, we’ll be able to have a real family Christmas—I hope!”

“I’m determined to make that happen.” Madeleine Wheeler rarely showed steely resolve, from what Jim had observed. But her chin went up and her shoulders went back at these words. “I’ve planned our calendar so that the party Saturday night and my luncheon Wednesday are the last social events for us until New Year’s Eve. I don’t know if you children will decide we’ve done well or poorly, but we’re going to try.”

“I’m sure the tree will be wonderful, Mother,” Jim told her. “And as far as Christmas… we’ll all try together. It’ll have to be a lot better than Christmas with Jonesy.”

“I need to check on the workers outside,” Mrs. Wheeler said. “Cook has a lovely dinner planned for tonight. I hope your father will be home in time to eat it while it’s fresh and hot.” She picked up her coat that was draped over the back of a chair in the foyer and went outdoors.

Jim and Honey hurried upstairs to change out of their school clothes. The Beldens were to meet them at the stable to exercise the horses. After supper, each of them planned to work on top-secret handmade gifts. Friday, the Bob-Whites had scheduled a meeting, and Sunday evening they had promised to hand out programs at the community Christmas concert. It was shaping up to be a busy weekend.

By the time Jim and Honey returned from exercising the horses, the crew from Winter Wonderlands had finished their work and left the Manor House. With dusk setting in, Jim had to admit the outside decorations were magical. Three spotlights illuminated the front door and the downstairs front windows, each festooned with a large wreath. Beside him, Honey caught her breath and placed a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Jim! It’s just like a movie!” she exclaimed. “And look! It’s starting to snow.”

Sure enough, in the beam of the spotlights Jim could see fat, white flakes falling, although he hadn’t noticed anything during their ride. He looked up and put his tongue out to catch an icy flake. But after just a moment, he thought about the time.

“We’d better head inside, Sis. I’m sure Mother and Dad are just about to sit down.”

“You’re right, of course. Let’s hurry!” The two picked up their pace and almost ran into the house.

“So, are you two ready for the Christmas break?” Matthew Wheeler asked at supper.

“Yes, Daddy,” Honey answered. “But we don’t have semester exams until the week after next, so right now all the teachers are piling on, trying to get as far into our books as possible before exams.”

“Honey’s right,” Jim agreed. “I’ve been staying up late every night, trying to work ahead a little bit so I’ll have at least seen the material before—but I’m definitely ready for the break!”

“Maybe between Christmas and New Year’s we can take a long weekend and try out Mead’s Mountain,” Matthew suggested. “That’s the name of the ski resort George Kimball and I have been considering. I’d like to get some feedback from younger people about the overall facility, as well as our own impressions of the business.”

“That would be fun, Dad.” Jim hoped his father wouldn’t bring up the subject of college again. The more he had learned about college aid and work study, the less convinced he was that he could manage his expenses without help. And the last thing he wanted to do was to admit he did need his dad’s financial assistance.

But Matthew didn’t bring up the subject. Instead, Madeleine Wheeler introduced the topic of the family Christmas tree, which she had instructed the Winter Wonderlands crew to set up in the family room, on the opposite end from the television.

“I’d really love it if you children would make some ornaments to add to the tree,” she said, with an unusually shy, diffident tone to her voice. “It feels a little impersonal right now.”

“Mother, we’d love to!” Honey exclaimed without waiting for Jim to speak. “Wouldn’t we, Jim?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Maybe we can go to the library tomorrow before the Bob-White meeting and find some books to give us ideas.”

“Wonderful!” His mother looked pleased. “It’s looking a little bare now, but I wanted to leave room for you to do something, if you wanted to. By the way, Honey,” she added. “We’ve already received a few Christmas cards. Do you think you’ll have time to address some of the cards I’m sending on behalf of the Sloane Hospital Foundation and the New York City Ballet Foundation? I don’t want to keep you from your schoolwork, of course.”

“Of course, Mother. I’d be happy to do that.” Honey nodded vigorously. “The Bob-Whites are each contributing money we’ve earned to buy a small gift and card for each resident on one wing of the nursing home. So, I can use the money right now.”

Jim thought about how completely un-ironic his sister’s tone was. Anyone who didn’t know Honey would never believe she was the daughter of a multi-millionaire.

Mrs. Wheeler stood and walked to the serving buffet to pour coffee for herself and her husband as Celia, the Wheelers’ maid, collected the empty plates.

“You children don’t have to wait, if you’re finished,” she said, glancing from one to the other. “I know you have things to do.”

“Thank you, Mother. We’ll be back down later to admire the tree.” Jim pushed his chair back and Honey followed him out of the dining room and upstairs.