Baby-Sitters Beware (10 page)

We promised we would.

Kristy looked at her watch. "This meeting of the BSC is officially adjourned."

"Allll right!" I cried. "Shadow Lake, here we come."

Chapter 12.

Abby.

"My skis," Kristy said with a gasp. "Did you put my skis in?''

"They're in the van," said Charlie, "with all of ours."

Stacey said, "You're sure I can rent skis when I get there?"

"Sure you can," Kristy told her as Charlie reached out for my skis.

"Hey, be careful with those," I warned him. I looked at Claudia, who was standing next to a large duffel bag. "Did he treat your skis like that?" I said. I was kidding, of course.

Charlie grinned. Claudia frowned. "No," she said.

"Hey, are you playing favorites? Or what?" I asked Charlie.

"The binding is broken on one of my skis," said Claudia. "I have to rent them."

"See, Stace? You can rent skis just like Claudia."

"Not if it doesn't snow," Kristy put in. Suddenly she leaped forward. "I'll take that," she said to Watson, and jerked a suitcase out of his hand so quickly he almost lost his balance. "Where do you want it?"

Watson looked surprised. "Uh, thanks, Kristy. It goes in the luggage rack on top of the station wagon."

Mr. Brewer was driving a van. Mrs. Brewer was driving a station wagon. If anybody had been hovering overhead in a helicopter, we would have looked like a bunch of ants on an anthill, running back and forth from the house to the cars, and from car to car, trying to pack everything in.

But at last all the gear was tied on, tucked in, stowed away, and accounted for. That left only the people.

Kristy said, "Why don't we divide up into two groups of two baby-sitters? We can keep an eye on Karen, David Michael, and Andrew."

"Fine by me," I said. "I think I'll go in the van. Keep an eye on the skis, too."

Claudia said, "Then I'll go in the station wagon."

Kristy looked faintly surprised, and I myself was a little taken aback at how grim Claudia sounded. Maybe she hadn't counted on babysitting on this trip. If she'd asked me, I could have told her that with Kristy around, we'd be organized into doing something.

Karen announced, "I am riding in the van. It has taller seats. You can look down into the cars you pass and see what is in them."

"It'll be dark, Karen," said David Michael. "It already is."

"Well, if the cars we pass have ghosts in

them, we will be able to see those in the dark," Karen began, her blue eyes growing huge behind her glasses. Karen has what some call a "vivid imagination." Sometimes I think she's plugged into Mars. I mean, I've never met a kid like her.

"Ghosts?" David Michael's eyes grew huge, too.

"We're not going to pass any cars full of ghosts," I said. "They only travel on Hallo-ween. That’s a ghost rule."

David Michael nodded seriously. But he said, "I think I'll ride in the station wagon." Watson scooped Andrew up. "Why don't you ride in the van with us, Andrew?"

"Okay," said Andrew, and yawned. I could tell he'd be asleep in no time. Charlie said, "The van for me." Stacey looked from the car to the van. Then she looked at Sam, who was climbing into the station wagon, talking to David Michael. "I'll go in the van," she announced.

"Okay," said Kristy. She stopped. "Claud. Is something wrong?"

Claudia was glaring after Stacey. She said (with complete and obvious insincerity), "No."

I suddenly realized that Claudia and Stacey might want to ride in the same car together,

because they were best friends. "Hey, you can go with Stacey," I said to Claudia. "No problem. Because I can — "

"I'm not a child," snapped Claudia. "Don't humor me!" She walked to the car with her nose in the air and got in.

I shrugged. I climbed in the van, and Kristy climbed in, too.

Mr. Brewer said, "Now, does anybody need to go to the bathroom?"

No one did.

We pulled out.

By unspoken agreement, we didn't mention the mystery we were leaving behind. I think we felt a guilty relief that we were out of it, at least for a long weekend. Andrew nodded off almost immediately. Karen, who'd claimed the seat in the front of the van next to Mr. Brewer, became his "chief navigator." She spent a lot of time pointing out signs and trying to figure out the mileage from the map by the light of a little reading lamp mounted on the dashboard. She also read us a great many interesting facts from the Atlas of the United States that Mr. Brewer kept under the passenger seat, including all the discounts we could get with the coupons at the back.

"But we're not stopping at a motel on the way, Karen," her father kept saying.

"I know," Karen would counter. "But if we did, listen to this!"

When we made a gas and bathroom stop, Andrew didn't even wake up. Kristy and I stayed in the van with him while everyone else piled out. Stacey returned to the van with a container of juice. "Claud needed french fries," she reported. "But I wasn't hungry."

Kristy frowned and said, "I hope Watson remembers to avoid fried foods. They're not good for his heart."

"Your mom's .with him," Stacey pointed out. "I'm sure she'll remind him if he forgets."

"Oh. That’s right." Kristy relaxed. Slightly.

"Chill, Agatha Kristy," I said. "We're on vacation here."

"Yeah." She paused. "I have to say I'm kind of relieved to be leaving Stoneybrook. It was beginning to shred my last nerve."

Stacey sighed. "Me, too. I just hope everyone else is okay. If someone's stalking the members of the BSC, for whatever crazy reason, it could get pretty hairy."

"We'll solve it soon," I said, sounding much more certain than I felt. I mean, solving mysteries is for Claudia's Nancy Drew books, right? It doesn't really happen all that often — not even to us.

Right?

Everyone piled into the station wagon and the van again, and then we were off. As we neared Shadow Lake, I was relieved to see snow on the ground. At least there was some snow for skiing, even if it was old.

Then Karen shrieked, "Shadow Lake! Sixteen miles!" We turned off the main road. We drove through a little town and then headed more or less uphill on a winding two-lane road.

And then we turned off that road and bumped down an even smaller road. A few minutes later, a big house with a porch that wrapped all the way around it came into view.

"That's a cabin?" I asked. I should have known that a "cabin" that could hold all the Brewer-Thomases and friends (including every member of the BSC) had to be huge. We walked into a big room with a fireplace, which was the kitchen, dining area, and living room all in one. Doors to the right and left of the living room led to two dormitory-style bedrooms, each with six bunkbeds in it. One room was for the girls and one was for the boys. Bathrooms were at the front end of each of the dorm rooms. Two small bedrooms and a bathroom were also at the far end of the living room.

The cabin was big, but pretty basic. There

were braided rag rugs on the worn wood floors throughout the cabin. In both dorm rooms were tables made of dark wood, and white bureaus. Patchwork quilts were folded neatly at the foot of every bed. Windows lined the outer walls of the dorms, looking out from beneath the eaves of the porch and into the woods.

It wasn't late, but suddenly, I found myself yawning as widely as Andrew had been. I realized I wasn't the only one. Karen's eyes were drooping behind her glasses, and David Michael was rubbing his eyes with his fists.

We might have stayed up, anyway. But Watson, entering the cabin with a suitcase (which he put down before Kristy could swoop in and grab it), said, "Whew! That's it."

"I'm tired!" Kristy said, suddenly and firmly. "I think we should turn in, catch some Zs, try for an early start."

"But . . ." Charlie began.

Kristy gave him a fierce look. I realized that Kristy was worried about Watson's overdoing it.

Fine by me. "I'm tired, too," I announced. I stretched and yawned.

Stacey and Claudia caught on, too. "Early to' bed, early to rise and ski," said Stacey cheerfully.

Claudia said to Karen, "Lovely Ladies need their beauty sleep."

Karen nodded.

Charlie shrugged. "Okay."

We sorted out our luggage and claimed our bunks (Karen went for a top bunk, but the rest of us stayed low).

I was shocked at how dark it was when the tights went out. No houses nearby to give off tight. No street lamps. No traffic signals.

No noise, either. Silence. Silence and darkness.

Good thing we left that mystery back in Stoneybrook, I thought sleepily. Or I might be pretty scared.

I yawned one more time and fell asleep.

First thing after breakfast the next morning, we decided to go exploring. Karen and David Michael wanted to go skating on Beaver Pond, a small pond near Shadow Lake that freezes over in the winter. Shadow Lake is so big and so deep in some places that it hardly ever freezes enough to be safe for ice-skating. Mrs. Brewer had decided to go with them. Mr. Brewer was taking Andrew to the bunny slope for some skiing, even though, as Kristy put it, the snow was so old it would probably wrinkle under your feet.

I could tell Kristy was disgusted with the lack of new snowfall, and I shared her feelings. (It wasn't .cold enough to make snow yet.) I could live with old snow, if I had to, but I was willing to hold out a little while longer for some of the new stuff.

Charlie had found an old pair of snowshoes he wanted to try out. He and Sam spent most of breakfast arguing over them, until Watson pointed out that they could rent another pair at the lodge.

We all walked to the lodge together. I noticed that Sam had fallen into step with Stacey. "Ravishing here, isn't it?" Sam said to Stacey. Then for some reason, they both started laughing.

"Oh, brother," I heard Kristy mutter.

We split up when we reached the lodge. Kristy stood for a moment, watching Watson walk toward the ski rentals, hand in hand with Andrew. Watson was carrying his own skis, but Andrew didn't own any yet. He'd only been skiing once before.

Even though it was early on a Saturday morning, the lodge was jumping. We went to the information desk to see if they had any maps for hiking trails around Shadow Lake.

"Snowshoeing?" the woman behind the information desk asked. She was wearing a royal

blue shirt with the words Shadow Lake Lodge Staff embroidered on the pocket in white.

"No, walking," Kristy replied.

"Ah. Well, you'll need to stay on pretty packed trails, then," the woman said. She rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a map. She marked several trails with a pen. "These are good and packed. They're nice, not-too-long hikes."

"That one takes you to a waterfall," said a voice behind us.

We turned and saw a college-age guy with dark brown eyes and short, neatly cut, dark brown hair. He was holding a pair of snow-shoes under one arm.

"Thanks," said Kristy.

"I'm Woodie Keenan," he said. "Have you been here long?"

"Just since last night," Claudia said.

"Most people come up here to ski," he commented.

"We'll be skiing," I said. "Probably this afternoon."

"Could I have some help here?" a voice asked crossly. We looked around to see a tall, thin man with a thin mouth and thinning brown hair standing near the entrance of the lodge. He wore a patch over one eye which,

with his mean expression, made him look sinister.

"Of course, Mr. Federman." A young blond man with a Shadow Lake Lodge Staff shirt hurried over to him. "What can I do for you?"

Mr. Federman scowled harder and pointed to a large package on the floor. "When I asked for this to be delivered to my cabin, I meant my cabin — not the front porch of the lodge," he said.

"Nice guy," I remarked.

Woodie Keenan was frowning. But all he said was, "Yup. Well, see you later."

"The waterfall?" suggested Stacey.

"Yes," said Claudia. "Let’s do it."

We were almost out the door when a short, red-haired woman burst inside. She collided with me, and we both fell backward. She dropped the bag she had slung over one shoulder.

I bent to pick it up, but she grabbed it before I could hand it to her.

"I've got it!" she said sharply.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you," I said.

"It’s all right." The woman looked over her shoulder, then around at all of us. She hurried to the information desk without another word.

"My key. Is it here?" she said breathlessly.

"I don't know. What’s your name, please?" asked the clerk.

"Kris Renn. Ms. Kris Renn. Kris with a 'K,' R-E-N-N." Kris Renn looked over her shoulder again.

"And you are from?" the clerk prompted, her pen poised above the registration forms.

"Uh, New England. Uh, Maine," said Kris Renn. "You know. Portland."