The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost Page 8

  “Traditional,” Mart put in.

  Honey fluttered her hands. “You know how Mother loves tradition, Juliana. If there’s a way to find a wedding dress on such short notice, wouldn’t you wear it?”

  “Well....”

  “Mrs. Vanderpoel is about your height,” Honey coaxed.

  “If you say she’s the same size, 111 insist that Dad send you to have your eyes examined, Honey Wheeler,” Jim said.

  “Three Julianas would fit inside one of Mrs. Vanderpoel’s dresses,” Dan scoffed.

  “Don’t be so sure about that, Dan,” Honey said.

  “Mrs. Vanderpoel was young once.”

  “Judging from her bone structure,” doctor-to-be Brian said, “she may have been Juliana’s size when she married. What do you think, Moms?”

  “Let’s go find out!” Trixie jumped up, ready for action. Reddy hadn’t given up shadow watching. When Trixie stood, so did he, and every hair on the ridge of his spine bristled like a porcupine quill.

  The Bob-Whites, plus Juliana, Hallie, and Hans, ran to the station wagon parked in the deep shadow of an ancient oak. Just for an instant, Trixie felt crowded, as if too many people were present. Then she was distracted by the sudden movement of Reddy chasing the thump of running feet.

  “Don’t hurry me, Hans. It’s too dark to see where I’m going,” Juliana said breathlessly.

  “Who’s hurrying you?” Hans asked.

  “Aren't you?” Juliana asked. “I thought you took my hand, Hans.”

  “Only when you let me,” Hans teased.

  Jim fished a flashlight out of the glove compartment and explored the curve of the lane. Peter Belden called from the porch, “Everything all right out there?”

  Jim called back, “I think so, sir.”

  It wasn't a long drive to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s yellow brick house in the woods. Short and plump, she smiled a welcome when she opened her door. “Now, how did you know I baked windmill cookies today?” Mart planted a kiss on the gray bun of hah on top of her head. Mrs. Vanderpoel was his favorite neighbor. “We didn’t know. We hoped.”

  Trixie was quite at home in this house crowded with antique furniture. Mrs. Vanderpoel lived alone but took an active part in the life of her neighborhood. She’d been involved in more than one of Trixie’s mysteries and had lent her furniture for the Bob-Whites’ antique show. Trixie didn’t hesitate to ask her for another favor.

  “Juliana had planned to be married in her best summer dress, but Miss Trask has invited so many people and made so many plans that we think Juliana should wear a real wedding dress.”

  Mrs. Vanderpoel’s eyes twinkled. “Let me guess: You thought of my attic?”

  “Right,” Honey agreed with a bright smile for this good friend.

  Mrs. Vanderpoel fluttered dimpled hands toward Hallie. Trixie said quickly, “My cousin Hallie.”

  “You’re Harold’s daughter! I should have recognized those long bones. You look like your father did when he was a teen-ager,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “Now, my attic.”

  “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Brian said, “we fellows will show Hans your house.”

  “Make yourselves at home.”

  On the way up the stairs, Juliana explained, “Our wedding is being quickly arranged. As you know, Hans came in search for me while my memory was lost. His time off from work is almost used up. Any wedding plan must be kept very simple.”

  “I do wish you well, child,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said sincerely. She ushered the five girls into an attic that was as neat as most people’s living rooms, then led them to a huge cedar chest. When she lifted the chest lid, the smells of cedar and lavender ticlded their noses.

  For Trixie, the next hour was one of sheer delight. She was no fashion fanatic, but she loved beautiful fabrics. These dresses, folded away in tissue paper, were proof that women had lived and loved. Their lives were woven into the very fabric of the Hudson River valley. With Trixie, the rest of the girls exclaimed over silks, satins, taffetas, and laces. They measured dress after dress against Juliana’s tiny frame. The verdict was always the same—too big.

  While Juliana watched, Trixie, Honey, Di, and Hallie sashayed about in dresses, swished skirts, and dreamed dreams. Finally they rewrapped the gowns and repacked the chest.

  “I’m sorry, Juliana,” Trixie said. “I was sure—”

  “Don’t give up so easily,” Mrs. Vanderpoel advised. “You haven’t seen my own wedding dress.”

  She opened a small trunk and drew out still another tissue-wrapped package. When she shook out folds of sheer white cotton, Trixie knew the search was ended. This was Juliana’s wedding dress.

  Almost shyly, Trixie took the dress from Mrs. Van-derpoel’s hands and held it up by the shoulder seams. As if she were putting a dress on a paper doll, Trixie held it up against Juliana’s body. Of simple design, the handmade dress was trimmed with rows and rows of crocheted insertions in the sleeves and the skirt.

  “It won t have to be altered one stitch. It could have been made for you, Juliana,” Honey said softly.

  “I was married during the First World War,” Mrs. Vanderpoel explained. “I made my own dress while I waited for my soldier to come home from France.”

  “Even the lace?” Trixie asked, greatly impressed. “Every stitch.” Mrs. Vanderpoel unwrapped a wide-brimmed white leghorn hat wreathed with daisies. “I was married in the garden behind this house.”

  Trixie clasped her hands under her chin. “The garden at Manor House is so lovely. I can just see Juliana walking past all those flowers at the birdbath. We could all wear dresses like this—” She stopped abruptly. “Where would we find them?”

  Honey was practical. “We’d make them, of course.”

  “A garden wedding,” Juliana whispered. “I know Hans will agree to that!”

  The Ring • 9

  TRIXIE WAS HAVING sudden second thoughts about her own agreement with this idea—she hated to sew. She asked Honey, “What do you mean, make them?” Honey spread the skirt of the white dress. “This isn’t as hard to do as it looks. The skirt is just a long wide strip sewed onto a band. The top is a simple bodice with long sleeves and a throatband instead of a collar. It’s the lace that makes it special. We needn’t use as much of that, and we’d certainly buy factory-made lace. We don’t want to outshine the bride.”

  “As if anyone could!” Di said.

  Honey’s blue eyes sparkled with interest. “We could use strips of lace for throatbands and put lace from the shoulder to the cuff of each sleeve.”

  “That sounds hard,” Trixie declared.

  “It isn't!” Hallie contradicted her. “Didn’t you ever make doll clothes, Trixie? You just split the sleeve, insert lace the length of the sleeve, and sew it back together.”

  “You don’t sew, Hallie Belden!” Trixie scoffed. “Oh, don’t I!” Hallie said. “Wait till I open my suitcase, and I’ll show you. I made every stitch I brought with me.”

  “That you didn’t bring with you!” Trixie corrected. Honey remembered the week’s previous arguments and pretended not to hear the irritation in Trixie’s voice. “We won’t have to worry about what’s easy and what’s hard. Miss Trask will call a fitter to help us.” Trixie sighed with relief. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in anything I made.”

  “Neither would anyone else,” Di giggled.

  “Ribbon sashes,” Honey planned, “with big flat bows, the ends of the ribbon touching the floor, and matching ribbons on our hats, and—”

  “—and daisies,” Di added.

  “White gloves,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said, “and white slippers. And even white stockings.”

  “Oh, yes,” Juliana agreed happily. “Let’s go tell Hans about our new plans.”

  Five excited girls went down the two flights of stairs to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s living room. Trixie ran ahead with the cry, “We found it!” and Juliana danced into the room, waving her hands.

  Trixie had grown used to the flash of Juliana’s engag
ement ring, and now she missed it. “Juliana, let me see your hand.”

  Juliana held out both her hands and cried in dismay, “My ring! It’s gone!”

  Her cry caught everyone’s attention immediately: “No!”

  “It can’t be!”

  “Maybe it’s snagged on your skirt.” Juliana stood in the middle of the room and allowed a careful search of her clothing. Hans thought she should undress in Mrs. Vanderpoel’s bedroom, in case the ring had slipped inside her clothes while trying on the gowns.

  “No,” Juliana said worriedly, “I didn’t tiy on the dresses. They were too large, all but one. Oh, Hans, what am I to do? Your lovely ring!” She cried, and Hans comforted her.

  Hans suggested an inspection of the floors and stairs. Mrs. Vanderpoel handed out flashlights and turned on every lamp from the front door to the attic. Inch by inch, Juliana’s route through the house was retraced, but the ring was not to be found.

  “It may have caught on the material of one of the dresses,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said.

  In the attic, the sober group sat in a circle. Each person took a tissue-wrapped package, made a thorough examination of the material inside, and handed it back to Mrs. Vanderpoel. “No ring,” Mart said, dismally echoing the verdict of the others.

  Although they knew there was little chance for success, they searched the porch, the walk, and finally the station wagon itself. Not a flash of gold or diamonds did anyone see. Juliana cried inconsolably, distressing Hans. “You 11 make yourself sick, Juliana. I’ll buy another ring—one that fits.”

  “But it wont be the same. This was your family’s heirloom ring!”

  “You’ll get it back,” Dan said earnestly.

  “How can you be so sure?” Trixie wondered.

  Mrs. Vanderpoel offered to serve cookies and milk, but not even Mart was interested in food. It was a silent group that left the yellow brick house. Juliana didn’t even remember to take the wedding dress and the daisy-wreathed hat.

  Back at Crabapple Farm, Trixie didn’t go to bed until her brothers came in from the bam. They’d helped Dan saddle Spartan for his ride back to Mr. Maypenny’s cottage. Trixie could hear Dan whistling in the dark, and the sound was so sad that it made her feel lonesome. The evening had begun with gaiety, but it had ended with gloom.

  Her blue mood lingered in her dreams. She was surprised that Honey could make a cheerful call early Friday morning. The Beldens were at breakfast, so Trixie took the call at her mother’s kitchen desk.

  “Miss Trask is all in a dither about wedding plans,” Honey said. “She’s already sent Jim to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s to pick up the dress and hat. She’s making lists of the materials needed for our outfits, and she wants to take our measurements. Di’s riding over in a little while. Can your mother spare you and Hallie?”

  Trixie obtained Mrs. Belden’s permission, but Hallie insisted, “I’m going to stay on the phone today till I convince Cap Belden that I need my clothesl Just because he doesn’t care if he ever sees his grubbies again, he thinks there’s no reason why I should want my suitcase either!”

  When Trixie had relayed the information to Honey and hung up, Hallie placed her call to Idaho. “Knut!” she cried. Without bothering to cover the mouthpiece, Hallie announced to the breakfasting Beldens, “He’s the one with sense. Now I’ll get action.” Over the top of his newspaper, Peter Belden grinned at his. wife.

  Mart declaimed pompously, “I detect in my sire’s surreptitious glance an acknowledgment that second sons of Belden clans are notably lax in the application of velocity to tasks at hand. Now, let me say in defense of my kinsman Cap, who, like me, has an elder sibling of irreproachable behavior, that undoubtedly he must make a superhuman effort to assert himself as a distinct and separate personality. That—”

  “Cap’s personality stinks, all right!” said Hallie inelegantly as she put down the phone. “He went to the lake and left my bag sitting right there in the hall. Knut says he’ll put it on the next flight out, and when Knut makes a promise, he keeps his word!” Hallie’s black eyes flashed with such fire that Mart put up a hand to shield his face. Brian stiffened his spine and adjusted an imaginary halo. Trixie, who had awaked thinking she might never smile again,

  couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

  At Manor House, Trixie and Hallie found Miss Trask in the sewing room, measuring Honey and Di. Armed with a notebook and a tape measure, she cornered the Belden girls.

  Hallie backed away. “Don’t bother with me, Miss Trask. I’m not in the wedding.”

  “Of course you’ll dress to match the other girls,” Miss Trask said briskly. “Now, come here and let me measure you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hallie said meekly.

  Juliana came in while Miss Trask was figuring the yardage of sheer white voile and wide satin ribbon needed. The Dutch girls eyes showed that she had been crying, but her welcoming smile was genuine. Trixie wondered if she herself would be as brave in a similar situation.

  “What color do you want, Trixie?”

  Flushing with confusion, Trixie focused her blue eyes on Juliana’s face. “Excuse me?”

  “Choose,” Juliana invited.

  “Ribbon color,” Honey explained.

  “Blue,” Trixie managed to say, knowing blue was her best color for anything from ribbons to bathing suits. She had been so concerned about Juliana’s tears that she had completely lost track of the sewing room conversation.

  Honey chose gold, and Diana wanted lilac. “To match my eyes,” Di said, preening just a little. “Guess that leaves pink for me,” Hallie said. “I can’t have red?” She glanced at Miss Trask.

  “No, you can’t have red,” Miss Trask declared. Hallie grinned. “Just testing.”

  Miss Trask bustled about the room gathering up the lists she’d made. “Honey, will you please call Tom to bring around the car? I’ll get my hat and bag and meet him in the porte cochère.” She turned at the door to announce, “I’ll leave word in the kitchen that there’ll be guests for lunch. You’ll stay, all of you?” Putting the previous night’s worry out of their minds, Honey, Di, Trixie, and Hallie darted down the stairs and out the side entrance to the garden, where the ancient birdbath stood.

  Honey reached for Trixie’s hand. “Can’t you just see it? We’ll arrange the chairs in rows on the grass. Hans and Jim will walk from the summerhouse with the pastor. The light will be on their faces in the late afternoon.”

  “Half after four o’clock,” Trixie said dreamily. “And over there,” Honey went on, pointing toward a great mass of daisies, asters, pinks, and gladioli, “Juliana will walk down that winding stone path.” Starry-eyed, Di asked, “Where will we be?”

  Hallie flung both hands above her head. “Oh, we’ll be there, too, but the ones who matter are Hans and Juliana.”

  Carried away by the romance of the picture she could see, Di cried, “Let’s give a shower for her!”

  “Let’s!” chorused the rest of the girls.

  “We’ll have the shower at the farm,” Trixie volunteered. “Moms will love it.” She saw Spartan in the alleyway near Jupiter’s stall and knew Dan was on an errand. She hurried down the path to the clubhouse, shouting over her shoulder, “Dan’s at the stable. Let’s ride home with him. We can plan the details of the shower later.”

  Regan wouldn’t allow another bareback ride, even when Hallie coaxed. Hallie’s grin wrinkled her flat cheeks. “Well, I can try to get out of saddling a horse, can’t I? I’m more at home on a motorbike!”

  “Let me help you,” Dan offered.

  “And don’t worry about cleaning tack when you get back,” Regan added. “I’ll see that Strawberry’s taken care of.”

  “I’m riding Strawberry today,” Di stated positively. “That leaves Starlight for you,” Regan told Hallie. “Are you sure you can manage?”

  Trixie doubted that her cousin could handle Starlight. Generously she told Hallie, “You take Susie, and I’ll ride Starlight.” Pertly she informed Rega
n, “And I’ll clean her tack, too.”

  “See that you do, missy,” Regan retorted.

  “That was nice of you, Trixie,” Honey said warmly. “Why not?” Trixie returned. “She’s my relative.” The girls enjoyed their ride to Mr. Maypenny’s cottage. The old gamekeeper had been told about the lost ring and asked if it had been found.

  “No, not yet,” Dan said firmly.

  The girls kept careful track of the time to be sure that they’d be home when Miss Trask returned from her shopping expedition. As they were leaving, Mr. Maypenny asked Dan, “Did Regan send an answer to my note?”

  Dan put a hand in his pocket. He looked worried. “I must have left my wallet at the stable. I’ll ride up for it later.”

  “Don’t bother,” Honey told Dan. “Trixie and I will be glad to bring it back to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Unused to Hallie’s hands, Susie was becoming skittish. Dan spoke soothingly to the small black mare and smoothed a flank with a gentle hand. He stepped off the trail to allow the others to fall in line. He waved as they left the clearing but he didn’t smile at them. Dan hadn’t smiled much at anything lately.

  “Dan’s an okay kid,” Hallie declared. Trixie agreed.

  At the Manor House stable, Hallie asked, “This beast doesn’t bite, does she? Looks like I’m stuck with unsaddling her after all. I’ll stay close to Di and do what she does.”

  Trixie grinned and went with Honey to find Regan.

  “Dan must have left his wallet on my desk,” Regan told them. “He was messing around there when Tom asked him to give a hand with Jupiter.” Regan went to the ancient rolltop desk in the comer of the tack room and raised the lid.