After a cloudburst drenched Glen Road Saturday afternoon, Trixie had tossed and turned all night, dreaming that the party would have to be transferred to the Manor House.  Her fears were relieved when Sunday dawned cloudless. By noon, Tom Delanoy, the Wheelers’ chauffeur, and Regan, their redheaded groom, had already delivered a dozen lawn chairs and two patio tables to the Beldens’ driveway.  Brian, Mart, Jim and Dan unloaded them and arranged them on the Beldens’ terrace, while Trixie and Honey wiped down the tables and Diana swept the terrace.

“Do you think it’s too crowded?  Maybe we should have had the cookout at one of your houses after all.”  Trixie frowned and pushed a damp curl from her sweaty forehead.  Then she lifted the tail of her long T-shirt and fanned herself with it.

“Trixie, it’s perfectly perfect,” Honey assured her.  “Of course we would have been happy to have it at our house, but everything looks fine.  Your parents have more people inside during your Thanksgiving Open House than we will today.”  She used the lower edge of her angel top to mop her own brow.  “This feels cozy and … well, more friendly.” 

“Yes, Trix, it’ll be great,” Diana chimed in.  And besides, your dad is much better on the grill than my dad is.  Although Daddy thinks he’s the king of grilling!”  Di smiled affectionately as she spoke of her father. 

Trixie wondered how it was that Diana never seemed to sweat as much as she did.  Then she took a closer look at Diana’s clothes and realized that instead of jeans, Di wore a short lavender scooter-skirt and a matching sleeveless scoop-neck shell top.  She had removed her thin white cotton sweater and taken it inside after the terrace began heating up.  White “teeny-bop” Keds oxfords completed her cool, casual but dressy look, and her long black hair was rolled up in an orange juice can on top of her head to keep it smooth and straight .  Honey’s modest angel top just touched the top of her lightweight jeans, and she also wore tennis shoes.  Her shiny golden brown hair was neatly pulled back into a low ponytail.  Trixie sighed and stared at her heavy jeans and chunky Converse Chucks.  Will I ever look as polished as either one of them? she asked herself.

“Okay, I think it looks just fine now,” she said aloud.  “It’s not one o’clock yet.  Honey, you should have time to run home and shower before Miss Hali’a and the Lynches get here, if you need to change clothes.  I know that’s what I’m going to do.  Come back just as soon as you can!”

“I will!”  Honey waved as she headed toward her home.  “Mother, Daddy, Miss Trask and Regan are all coming down, and we’ll all bringfood when we come.  Have Jim and Dan already left?”

“I saw them riding in the bed of the pickup when Tom took it back to the house,” Diana said.  “What are Tom and Celia going to do this afternoon?”

Honey stopped to answer.  “Celia told me that she and Tom are looking forward to an afternoon by themselves.  Tom’s mother is watching the baby, and they’re going to see a movie and eat out tonight.  See you in a bit!”  She waved again and disappeared from sight in a moment, as she followed the curving, tree-lined path which served as a shortcut to the Manor House.

Trixie and Diana turned to go into the Beldens’ house. “Come up to my room, Di, and help me choose something to wear.  Surely I have something comfortable that’s more dressy than jeans and a T-shirt.”  

While Trixie showered, Diana searched through her closet and dresser.  By the time Trixie returned to her room, wrapped in a towel, her friend had assembled an outfit and laid it out on one of the matching twin beds. 

“How about this, Trix?”  she asked.

Trixie stared at the royal blue, V-necked short-sleeved knit top and the scooter-skirt of royal blue.  A nautical touch of white braid outlined the front skirt panel, and a white appliquéd star accented the lower corner.  Red canvas slip-on shoes and a pair of red, white, and blue post earrings completed the ensemble.

“I’ve had both of those pieces, and the shoes, for a long time – Aunt Alicia made me that scooter skirt for Easter last year, and Moms bought me the top last summer on clearance.  But I’ve hardly worn them, and never together.  Why didn’t I ever think of them as an outfit?”  Trixie turned to Diana and threw up her hands.  “See?  I’m just hopeless when it comes to clothes.  How do you do it?”

Diana shrugged.  “I guess I’ve always liked clothes, and when I was little, Mummy and I spent a lot of time putting outfits together. She wanted me to look nice, but she bought most of my clothes at the thrift shop to save money.  I occasionally got a box of hand-me-downs from a cousin of my dad’s, who had an older daughter.  We had to do a lot of mixing and matching to create a few outfits that would look good.  I do love to try out colors and styles, now that I can buy new clothes.”

Trixie dressed, and Diana helped her tame her unruly curls into the latest hairstyle: a short shag, fluffy on top, with longer ringlets kissing her neck in back.  Next, Diana applied a touch of foundation and blush.  After a whisk of the powder brush, a flick of brown mascara, and a dab of strawberry lip-gloss, she pronounced Trixie ready.

“I don’t feel like myself with all this stuff on my face,” Trixie remarked.  “Not that I’m complaining – you did a great job transforming the ugly duckling into a  … well, not a swan, but at least into a pretty okay-looking girl.”  She watched as her ebony-haired friend removed the orange juice can from her hair and let down the ponytail, brushing her black mane until it crackled, and then smoothed it down with her hands.

Turning to face Trixie, Diana said, “You look great, and Jim will be drooling over you!  Everyone can’t look the same, Trix, and you’ve got to accept that there are different kinds of good looks.  I’ll never look as elegant as Honey does, without even trying.  Honey wishes she had more … um, curves … in her figure.  You know perfectly well that you look exactly like your mom, and no one could say she’s not pretty.  Jim likes you just the way you are, and he thinks you’re beautiful.  So, no more ‘ugly duckling’ comments!  Now – where’s that ukulele of your dad’s?  I know you wanted to show it to Miss Hali’a.”

Trixie pulled the ukulele case from under her bed, and opened it to reveal the instrument.  It was clean and dust-free, and Mr. Belden had had it restrung and tuned after Trixie told him the story of Miss Hali’a’s search.   The two girls touched it reverently.  “Just think, what if this is the one?”  Trixie’s voice was hushed.

“Oh, wouldn’t it be fantastic!”  Diana was equally awed.

“Girls!  It’s about time for Miss Hali’a to arrive.  Didn’t you tell her two-thirty, Trixie?”  Helen Belden’s voice came from the foot of the stairs.  “I think the Lynches will be here soon, too.”

“We’ll be right down, Moms,” Trixie promised.  Carefully, she replaced the ukulele in its case, and she and Diana hurried downstairs, where they found Trixie’s mother arranging a vase of white and yellow jonquils.

“Everything’s ready,” she said.  “The hamburger patties are in the refrigerator in my big roasting pan, and we have three packages of hotdogs, too.  We have plenty of pickles, onions, lettuce, mustard, mayonnaise and catsup; as well as buns.  Your father and brothers are outside lighting the charcoal now; Dad wants to grill some of the corn on the cob that I froze last summer.  I’ve cooked a casserole of baked beans; Diana’s mother is bringing potato salad and cupcakes; the Wheelers and Miss Trask are bringing a tray of crudités, a gallon of lemonade, and a chocolate cake.”

“Mrs. Belden, it all sounds absolutely delicious!”  Diana beamed at her hostess.  “I helped Mummy make the potato salad and the cupcakes last night.  The twins are so excited – Margie and Barbie can’t wait for Miss Hali’a to see the cupcakes they helped decorate.”

“Moms!  The Lynches are here!”  Trixie’s nine-year-old brother, Bobby, stood at the front window.  He was friendly with Diana’s little brothers, who were slightly younger, although the three boys were in the same class.  Bobby gloried in being the eldest in the group for a change, and had been looking forward to their visit so much that he had been more restless than usual all day.  His attempts at helping had generally caused more work, such as when he had filled a cooler full of ice – without noticing that the drain was not plugged.  After filling it, he had discovered it was too heavy for him to move without help, and since everyone else was busy, he had left it in front of the refrigerator.  In an hour, there was a growing puddle of water in the middle of the Beldens’ kitchen floor.  Finally, Mrs. Belden had posted him to sentry duty at the front window, after having him shut Reddy, the affectionate but untrained Irish setter, in the basement.  Neither Diana’s little sisters nor Mrs. Wheeler were fond of large, barking dogs who jumped up on them, despite Bobby’s assurances that “he’ll only lick you to death!”   

If I heard him ask ‘how much longer’ once, he must have asked a thousand times!  Trixie thought.   Aloud, she said, “Why don’t you run outside and see if you can help them carry something?  I think Di said her parents were bringing paper plates and napkins as well as the potato salad and cupcakes.”

“Okay!”  Bobby needed no further urging.  He was out the door in a flash and running toward the Lynches’ Cadillac even before Mr. Lynch could park it.

“I hope Bobby doesn’t forget that he just promised Moms he’d help,” Trixie worried.  But Bobby was proud to be a host and sure enough, he could be seen offering to carry the bag of disposable plates and tableware.  Larry Lynch carried a huge bowl of potato salad, and his twin Terry held a covered tray, presumably the cupcakes.  Mrs. Lynch followed, holding a hand of each of Diana’s little sisters, while Mr. Lynch could be seen heading toward the terrace, where Mr. Belden was checking the progress of the charcoal in his grill pan.  Trixie opened the door for Mrs. Lynch and the children, and while the boys took the food into the kitchen, she and Diana lifted little Margie and Barbie and spun them around the living room. 

As the smaller girls’ giggles escalated into piercing squeals, Mrs. Belden called back from the kitchen, “Trixie!  Outside if you're going to swing the little ones around!  There’s not enough room inside the house and I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Mrs. Lynch joined in.  “Diana Kay!  I’m surprised at you.  Outside this minute!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”  Trixie and Diana spoke in unison, and set the twins back on their feet.  “We’ll go outside and play in a minute, girls,” Diana promised.  “But Trixie and I need to help finish getting ready for the cookout.  Do you think you can watch out the window for Miss Hali’a?”

“Of course we can, Di-di.  We love Miss Hali’a!”  Margie assured her big sister.

“I know she has a little yellow Bug car,” added Barbie, with an emphatic nod which made her ponytails bounce.

Trixie and Diana carried paper plates, cups, napkins, and plastic flatware outside to the table which had been designated as the buffet table.  Salt, pepper, and the other condiments were arranged near the bags of buns at the end of the line.  As they placed the last items on the table, Trixie looked up, toward the Manor House.  Honey and her family were making their way down the path from their house, on the newly flagged pathway, with steps built into the slope where necessary.  Jim carried a cooler, Honey a pitcher of lemonade, and Miss Trask a tray of raw vegetables – crudités, as Mrs. Belden had explained to Trixie.   Mrs. Wheeler, elegant in silky sage-green palazzo pants and a matching shell with a cardigan tied around her shoulders, clutched her husband’s arm with one hand, and a plastic, covered cake holder with the other.

Trixie and Diana ran to greet their friends, taking the cake and vegetable tray from Mrs. Wheeler and Miss Trask.  While Diana set the vegetable tray on the buffet table, Trixie took the cake into the kitchen.  Honey and Diana followed her inside, leaving the elder Wheelers on the terrace with Trixie’s parents.  Matthew Wheeler admired Peter Belden’s grilling expertise, and Jim joined Brian and Mart at the grill which held the ears of corn.  Mrs. Wheeler dropped gracefully into a lounge chair.

“What was wrong with your mom, Honey?” Trixie blurted out as soon as they were inside the house.  “She was as pale as a ghost.”

“Mother has a phobia about falling down stairs when she’s carrying anything,” Honey replied.  “Years ago she fell down some steps while she was carrying a bunch of important papers for Daddy.  They were outside, it was windy, and she was afraid the papers would be scattered, so she fell when she missed a step.  She had to have stitches in her head, had a concussion, and broke her wrist.  Since then she’s very cautious.  One reason Daddy had the path paved was so that she could get some practice.  The steps are shallow and pretty wide.”

“She’s here!  She’s here!”  Margie and Barbie Lynch shouted from their perch on the living room window seat.  “Miss Hali’a is here!”

The three Bob-White girls ran to the living room and out the door to greet their dance teacher, followed by Diana’s sisters.  “Did you have any trouble finding our house?” Trixie asked anxiously.

“No, none at all.  Your directions and map were very good.” Miss Hali’a was dressed in a red mu’umu’u printed with white frangipani blossoms. Her dark, wavy hair hung loosely down her back, and she wore a pair of brown criss-cross sandals.

Diana was the last one to reach the yellow Volkswagen, since she had stopped to close the front door.  “You can thank Trixie’s brother Brian for the directions,” she said.  “He’s very smart, and explains everything so even someone like me can understand.” 

“Miss Hali’a!  You finally came!”  Barbie was jumping up and down in excitement.

“I told you she’d come, silly.”  Margie looked at her sister with an air of superiority.  Then she turned to the dance teacher.  “But Ithought you’d never get here!”

Miss Hali’a tucked up her long dress, and dropped to her knees to give the little girls a hug.  “I’m so glad I could come!”   Each small twin took one of Miss Hali’a’s hands, and pulled her toward the patio table where Mrs. Lynch sat near Mrs. Wheeler’s lounge chair, and where Mrs. Belden was serving tall, frosty glasses of lemonade to the other two mothers. 

“Mummy, Mummy, Miss Hali’a is here!  Now we can have the cookout!”  Barbie, the more outgoing twin, was speaking.  She pulled out a chair next to her mother and begged Miss Hali’a to sit down.

“Mrs. Belden, Mother, Miss Trask, this is our dance teacher, Miss Hali’a.  Miss Hali’a, this is my mother, Madeleine Wheeler, Trixie’s mother, Mrs. Belden, and our estate manager, Miss Trask.  They’ve been very anxious to meet you.”  Honey, always poised and polite, made the introductions.  The five women exchanged compliments on each other’s attire and expressed their pleasure at the beautiful weather, and Miss Hali’a invited the mothers and the teens tocall her simply by her first name, since this was a social occasion rather than a class.    

“Would you like a glass of lemonade, Hali’a dear?”  Mrs. Belden indicated the tray she had carried out, which held several more glasses.

Trixie felt that she couldn’t wait another minute to show Hali’a her father’s ukulele.  What if this is the one? she thought, overcome with excitement at the prospect.  “Hali’a, can I show you Dad’s ukulele right now?  He’s had it restrung and everything!” The words exploded out of her.   

“Thank you, Trixie.  But I’ve waited this long.  Let’s enjoy the delicious picnic your families have planned first.  You can get it out after we eat.”  Hali’a smiled, but Trixie wondered if the hula teacher also wanted to delay the disappointment in case Peter Belden’s ukulele wasn’t the right one.

“Okay, I guess you’re right.  But gleeps, it’s hard to wait!” she answered.

While Hali’a and their mothers talked, the girls wandered around to check on the progress of the grilled hamburgers, hotdogs, and corn. The cooking aromas drew them surely to the opposite side of the terrace, where Brian and Mart had taken their father’s place while he showed Mr. Wheeler around the garden.  Ruffled lettuces, green onions, leafy potato plants and broccoli were growing inside the fenced area, and bean plants were just beginning to twine around their support trellises.

“Is everything almost ready?”  Trixie inhaled deeply as she spoke.

Mart, wearing a chef’s apron to keep splatters off his new blue polo shirt, answered.  “Yes, everything will be ready in just a fewminutes.  Brian just went inside to wash out the big roaster, so we can put the meat into it to serve.  Are Dan and Regan here yet?”

Brian appeared, carrying the roaster, in time to hear the question.  “Dan just pulled up in the truck.  Regan’s with him.  I know Dad talked to Mr. Maypenny and invited him too, but he’s not with them.”

“Too bad!” Trixie was disappointed.  “I guess I wanted Miss Hali’a to meet as many of our friends as possible at one time.  She won’t be here that much longer.”

“Hey!  Neither will I,” Jim teased.  “So how about a nice, friendly greeting?”  He waggled his russet eyebrows at her.

“You goof!  Of course I’m happy to see you.”  To prove her point, Trixie pulled his face down to her level and gave him a kiss, stopping only when she became aware of Brian’s glare.  Mart was too busy talking to Diana to notice his sister.

Brian cleared his throat loudly.  “Jim, why don’t you dish up the corn on the cob?” he suggested.  Giving Trixie a final squeeze, Jim laughed and took the platter for the corn, using tongs to pluck each ear from the embers of the grill.

Her brothers finished placing all of the burgers and hotdogs in the roasting pan, and Brian announced, “Dinner is served!” He carried the roaster over to the buffet table.

“Boys, you’ve outdone yourselves,” Helen Belden complimented her sons.  “That smells absolutely wonderful.  Where’s Bobby now?” A frown puckered her forehead.

Trixie and Diana immediately began calling their younger brothers, but just then, Dan and Regan walked around the side of the house, the three younger boys in tow.

“I hope everything’s ready, Miss Fidget,” Regan joked.  “I’ve worked up a powerful hunger this morning, first exercising all the horses myself and then toting all those tables and chairs over here.”  He rubbed his arms and patted his flat belly to show how tired and hungry he was.

“Everything's ready.  You two go on around to the terrace, while Di and I get these young hooligans washed up.”  Trixie grinned at the Wheelers’ groom.  “And we’ll get all of the tables back afterward, while you relax with the grownups.”

In moments, everyone was lined up to serve themselves from the buffet table.  Soon there was no sound but the birds’ calls, as the party enjoyed all of the delicious foods.  After most of the party took second helpings, no one had room for dessert. 

“I’ve enjoyed an adequate sufficiency,” offered Mart.  “Any more would be a surfeit.”

“Hmph!  That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit you’d had enough to eat!” sniffed Trixie.  “But I know I have.”  She patted her stomach, saying, “I may have to take a siesta before I can move again.”

“Hali’a, the girls say you have been searching for a special ukulele here in Westchester County,” said Mrs. Wheeler, changing the subject. “Can you tell us why you believe the ukulele ended up here, rather than anyplace else in the country – or indeed, the world?”

“My great-uncle had received – as a gift – one of the ukuleles that my great-grandfather made.  This was shortly before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.  When the attack happened, he went straight to the recruiting office and enlisted in the Navy.  He had a wife and baby, and in order to make a down payment on a small house for them, he pawned or sold everything he had that was valuable.”  Hali’a gave a deprecating shrug.  “Not that the ukulele wasterribly valuable, but my great-grandfather had a good reputation.  He could never keep up with the demand for his instruments.  My uncle always intended toget the ukulele out of pawn, but he was put on a ship bound for Midway Island before he could get back.  He was killed in the battle of Midway, and hiswife was too distraught, I suppose, to think much about that ukulele.”

“Oh, how awful!”  Tender-hearted Honey had tears in her eyes.

“Of course she was,” Diana agreed.  “I don’t blame her a bit.”

“Like Jim’s mom – I mean, his real mom – oh, you know what I mean!”  Trixie’s face was scarlet as she glanced first at Jim and then at Mrs. Wheeler in embarrassment.

“It’s all right, dear.  I know what you mean.”  Mrs. Wheeler responded with a warm smile at Trixie.  “When her husband died, she couldn’t think of anything except trying to secure a future for her child and herself.”

Hali’a while the others nodded in agreement.  “Yes, I’m sure that was it.  She gave up her house and went to stay with her family in the country until the end of the war.  At that time, she moved back to an apartment near the naval base, and remembered about the uke.  Her son was nearly old enough to begin music lessons, and she wanted him to be able to play the instrument that was traditional in our family.  She knew the pawn shop her husband had used, and she still had his pawn ticket.  But when she went back, the ukulele was gone.  The owner kept a log book, and just because he liked to keep track of where his customers came from, he wrote down the hometowns of everyone who would tell him where they lived.  The name of the ukulele buyer was nearly obliterated by a blot of ink, but it was easy to read his hometown.  Sleepyside, Westchester County, New York State.”

Hali’a’s audience sat, enthralled by her tale.  Even the little Lynch girls were hanging on her words.  “You mean one of those little bitty guitars, like Bobby’s daddy has?” asked Margie.  “Did that come all the way from Hawai’i?  Back in the olden days?”

“My ukulele did come all the way from Hawai’i,” Peter Belden answered.  “But I’m sorry to say that it’s very unlikely to be the one you’re looking for, Hali’a.  My brother sent it from Hawai’i in 1951, several years after your great-aunt was unable to find it at the pawnshop her husband used.”

Trixie, who had been bouncing in her seat as Hali’a recited her tale, sagged in defeat.  “I was so sure that Dad’s ukulele would be the one!” she mourned.

“I knew it had to be a long shot.  There are so many people here, and it’s been so long.  But when I had the opportunity to spend a year on the mainland studying, I decided to try to do everything possible to locate the instrument. ”  Hali’a was poised; if she was disappointed, she concealed it well.

Trixie bit her lip.  I’m not giving up!  Even if Dad’s uke isn’t the right one, I’m sure the Bob-Whites can locate it, she told herself.

“It’s a shame that you haven’t had any leads, though,” put in kindhearted Mrs. Lynch.  “Have you advertised in the papers for it?”

“Yes, I’ve placed classified ads in every paper published in Westchester County.  I even ran an ad in the New York Times for three weeks.  I’ve been to rummage sales early in the mornings before my Saturday dance classes, and spoken with music teachers in the school systems as well as at the college.  I’ve actually turned up a few ukuleles, but none of them were marked with my great-grandfather’s special symbol.  I’ll be returning to Hawai’i at the end of July, and it’s looking less likely than ever that I’ll ever locate that uke.  I’ve pretty much resigned myself to not finding it now. ”

“Do you play, Hali’a?  Or do you want the instrument for sentimental value?”  Helen Belden asked.

“I do play, Mrs. Belden.  But as I told the girls, I really wanted to find the ukulele because my mother is working on a family history project. My great-grandfather was well-known for his ukuleles and that’s the only one whose location is unknown,” Hali’a explained.

“Do you think you could play for us today?” Honey asked.  “I know Trixie’s dad had his uke restrung and tuned after she told him you were looking for one.”

“Sure.  Run upstairs, Trixie, and bring the uke down.  At least Hali’a can see it, even if it’s not the one,” Mr. Belden readily agreed.

Trixie fetched the ukulele, and everyone held their breath as Mr. Belden removed it from its case.  The instrument gleamed with a fresh coat of wax, and the lovely painted design of colorful tropic flowers appeared bright and fresh.  He turned it over so that Hali’a could see the bottom surface.  There was a faint mark, but as Hali’a traced it with her finger, she shook her head.  “No, this is not an instrument my great-grandfather made.  The mark is very different from his.  But Trixie has told me that you play, Mr. Belden.  Will you play for us now?”

Mr. Belden nodded.  “I can play a few tunes by ear.  When I first got the uke I was in college.  It was a good icebreaker and helped me to start a conversation with girls.  I kept up my playing through college, but haven’t played much since the kids were small.  I hope you’ll all be able to forgive me if I inflict a cacophony – rather than a symphony – on your ears.”  He strummed a few times on the strings, then played a few bars of Aloha Oe.

Hali’a sang along to the music, and the little Lynch girls swayed in their seats for a moment, before standing and beginning to do some of the moves they had learned in hula class.  As the song ended, their audience applauded.  Barbie and Margie blushed and ran to hide their faces in their mother’s lap.

“Girls, that was wonderful!”  Miss Hali’a’s eyes sparkled.  “I’m so glad you’ve learned something in our class this spring.  You’ll be great in the recital.”

“Speaking of the recital, I’ve told Honey that I could play the piano for the hula students if you’d rather have live music than a recording.”  Madeleine Wheeler looked a little shy as she made her offer.  Trixie was very surprised, not only that Mrs. Wheeler had offered to play for them, but also that this glamorous neighbor could ever be shy.

“Mrs. Wheeler, that’s very kind of you.  It’s still over a month until the recital, so if you’re sure it won’t be an imposition, I’d be happy to see that you get the music.  Do you want to play just for the older girls?  We have three different age groups performing, but Trixie, Honey, and Diana are the only ones in their group.”

“I’d be happy to play for all three sections,” Mrs. Wheeler answered. “I love to play, and I’m sure it won’t take too long to learn all three pieces.”

“Mart and I could play guitars for the girls, too.”  Dan spoke up, surprising not only Trixie, but also Mart, who shot him a questioning look.

“We could play,” Dan defended himself.  “I used to take guitar lessons when my mom was alive, and Mr. Maypenny gave me a guitar for my birthday.  I don’t think hula music is that complicated.”

“Okay, but I want to sit where I can see the girls.  My own girlfriend has never let me watch any of their practices yet.”  Mart sounded as if he was reluctant, but Trixie knew very well that he had asked Diana to save some good seats up front for the male Bob-Whites.  She smiled her gratitude at her almost-twin.

“Why don’t you go inside and get your guitar, Mart?  Then we’ll do our hula while Hali’a plays for us.  That is, if it’s all right with you, Hali’a?”  Trixie blushed.  There I go again, offering for other people before I ask them.  

“Trixie, of course I’ll play for you.  You girls have worked hard and I’m proud of how well you have done.”  Hali’a smiled as she complimented her students. 

Mart left his seat next to Diana to go inside and get his guitar, and the girls rearranged some of the chairs in order to have more space for their performance.  When Mart returned, Hali’a showed him the chords that he needed to play, and she began to strum the ukulele.  In a few minutes she nodded her readiness, and Trixie, Honey, and Diana took their positions. 

Despite her anxiety over dancing in front of Jim, Trixie found she was able to lose herself in the music and imagine that she was dancing on a sandy beach, with a tropical breeze lifting her curls.  Her hands moved in the age-old language of the hula, and without even looking at her two friends, she knew they were dancing in unison, as Hali’a had trained them and as they had practiced so many times in Honey’s or Diana’s room.  By the time the music ended, she was confident that they could perform well at the recital.

The adults clapped, Barbie and Margie jumped up and down, and even Bobby, Larry, and Terry had left their complex miniature racecar course to watch.  Trixie found herself blushing as Bobby emitted an ear-piercing whistle of appreciation.

Hali’a offered to sing a few more Hawai’ian songs, and while Jim and Brian cleared away the trash and made sure the charcoal in the grill was totally doused, the girls put away the leftover food and wiped down the tables.  Too soon, it seemed, Dan announced that it was time for him to leave. He needed to patrol the preserve before dark.  Regan had already gone; he had to check on the horses and give them their evening feed.  Hali’a also checked her watch and explained that she needed to return to White Plains and finish typing a paper.  The group broke up; Dan, Mart, Brian and Jim loaded the Wheelers’ chairs and tables into the estate truck, which Jim was driving home.  Brian would help him unload everything, and the two of them would head back to college in another hour.

Trixie watched as her mother bid goodbye to Mrs. Wheeler, Miss Trask, and Mrs. Lynch.  The four women were very different, but they had become good friends.  Just like Honey, Di, and I have, she thought.  Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Lynch shook her father’s hand while Diana gathered her brothersand sisters and Honey collected her mother’s dishes.  Soon, Trixie was alone at Crabapple Farm with her parents, Mart, and Bobby.

Mart turned to her.  “Sis, you girls were really good!  You’re going to wow them at the recital!”

“Thanks, Mart.  I know you wouldn’t say that if you didn’t mean it.”  Trixie smiled at her almost-twin.  “By the way, Diana showed me the drawings you and she made for the backdrop.  It’s going to look fantastic!”

Mart blushed at Trixie’s compliment.  “We’re picking up the canvas this week, and Dan and I will take it to the studio Saturday.  We decided to work on it there, since it’s going to be too big to transport once it’s painted.  I think we can get it done in three weeks with no problem.”