asked Dr. Krupnik.
"Gorgeous. Sunny and warm. My hotel has a pool, and of course I'm too busy all day to use it, but there are a lot of people who lie around the pool all day—glittering, I think, Anastasia. How's the food holding out, by the way? Don't forget you can call the store and have things delivered if you need anything. What did you have for dinner tonight?"
"Chicken," said Dr. Krupnik.
"Hamburger," said Anastasia at the same moment.
"Hot dogs," said Sam along with them.
But apparently Mrs. Krupnik didn't notice. "They're taking me out to dinner tonight," she went on. "It's three hours earlier here, remember? So I've just finished work and I'm getting ready to go out to dinner. You guys ought to treat yourselves to a dinner out, too—maybe Friday night, at the end of the week," she suggested.
"Well, ah," began Dr. Krupnik.
"Bludoth, Daddy," muttered Sam.
"What was that?" asked Mrs. Krupnik. "I couldn't hear what Sam said."
Sam said, "I'm only talking about trucks."
"You know what?" Mrs. Krupnik went on cheerfully. "There are palm trees everywhere out here. It almost looks like that painting in the living room, you know that one I sometimes wish you would throw away, Myron? It looks like that scene. Where is it that Annie lives?"
Anastasia covered the mouthpiece of the kitchen phone with her hand and yelled toward the study: "BLOOD OATH, DAD!"
She put her ear back to the phone and heard her father mumble, "Guatemala."
"Right. Well, I ought to hang up because I have to change my clothes. It's just about your bedtime there in Massachusetts, Sam; have you had your bath?"
"Yeah," said Sam, "I had a burping bath with baking—"
"Blood oath, Sam!" Anastasia and her father roared together into the phone.
"This is an odd connection," Mrs. Krupnik said. "But even so, it's great hearing your voices and knowing that everything's okay." She made some kissing noises into the phone. "Love you all," she said.
When everyone had hung up, Anastasia went back to the study. Her father was sprawled on the couch, looking drained and miserable. "I'm a nervous wreck," he announced. "A basket case."
"Hang in there, Dad," said Anastasia. "Only eight more days to go, till Mom gets home."
Sam came down the stairs and appeared in the doorway of the study. He looked puzzled. "Anastasia," he asked, "what
is
a bludoth?"
6
Now it was interesting and exciting, all of a sudden, being in charge of a house. There was laundry, but Anastasia didn't do it. There were dirty pots and pans in the sink, but she didn't wash them. Those things didn't seem important anymore. The important thing was that she had three days to make a daydream come true: the daydream of her very first date.
On Wednesday morning, she looked through the drawers in the pantry and found a pair of purple candles. High on a shelf she found a pair of silver candlesticks.
One of the articles she had read—the one called "Creating a Romantic Evening"—had recommended a color scheme. Purple was not one of Anastasia's favorite colors. In fact, she had always despised purple. But the article had rated colors according to romance, and purple had rated very highly. Purple, the article said, was the color of passion.
All right, thought Anastasia when she found the two purple candles, passion it is.
She put the candles into the candlesticks and arranged the pair in the center of the dining room table, for a tryout. It didn't look very passionate. In fact, Anastasia decided, it looked stupid. But maybe that was because there was a stack of Sam's coloring books on the table, and Sam's crayons and her father's pipe, in an ashtray, and Anastasia's old blue sweatshirt was hanging on the back of one of the dining room chairs.
She removed all of those things and looked at the table again. It still didn't look very passionate. It needed a tablecloth.
Anastasia went to the linen closet and poked through the stacks of things that her mother stored there. There was an
"Gorgeous. Sunny and warm. My hotel has a pool, and of course I'm too busy all day to use it, but there are a lot of people who lie around the pool all day—glittering, I think, Anastasia. How's the food holding out, by the way? Don't forget you can call the store and have things delivered if you need anything. What did you have for dinner tonight?"
"Chicken," said Dr. Krupnik.
"Hamburger," said Anastasia at the same moment.
"Hot dogs," said Sam along with them.
But apparently Mrs. Krupnik didn't notice. "They're taking me out to dinner tonight," she went on. "It's three hours earlier here, remember? So I've just finished work and I'm getting ready to go out to dinner. You guys ought to treat yourselves to a dinner out, too—maybe Friday night, at the end of the week," she suggested.
"Well, ah," began Dr. Krupnik.
"Bludoth, Daddy," muttered Sam.
"What was that?" asked Mrs. Krupnik. "I couldn't hear what Sam said."
Sam said, "I'm only talking about trucks."
"You know what?" Mrs. Krupnik went on cheerfully. "There are palm trees everywhere out here. It almost looks like that painting in the living room, you know that one I sometimes wish you would throw away, Myron? It looks like that scene. Where is it that Annie lives?"
Anastasia covered the mouthpiece of the kitchen phone with her hand and yelled toward the study: "BLOOD OATH, DAD!"
She put her ear back to the phone and heard her father mumble, "Guatemala."
"Right. Well, I ought to hang up because I have to change my clothes. It's just about your bedtime there in Massachusetts, Sam; have you had your bath?"
"Yeah," said Sam, "I had a burping bath with baking—"
"Blood oath, Sam!" Anastasia and her father roared together into the phone.
"This is an odd connection," Mrs. Krupnik said. "But even so, it's great hearing your voices and knowing that everything's okay." She made some kissing noises into the phone. "Love you all," she said.
When everyone had hung up, Anastasia went back to the study. Her father was sprawled on the couch, looking drained and miserable. "I'm a nervous wreck," he announced. "A basket case."
"Hang in there, Dad," said Anastasia. "Only eight more days to go, till Mom gets home."
Sam came down the stairs and appeared in the doorway of the study. He looked puzzled. "Anastasia," he asked, "what
is
a bludoth?"
6
Now it was interesting and exciting, all of a sudden, being in charge of a house. There was laundry, but Anastasia didn't do it. There were dirty pots and pans in the sink, but she didn't wash them. Those things didn't seem important anymore. The important thing was that she had three days to make a daydream come true: the daydream of her very first date.
On Wednesday morning, she looked through the drawers in the pantry and found a pair of purple candles. High on a shelf she found a pair of silver candlesticks.
One of the articles she had read—the one called "Creating a Romantic Evening"—had recommended a color scheme. Purple was not one of Anastasia's favorite colors. In fact, she had always despised purple. But the article had rated colors according to romance, and purple had rated very highly. Purple, the article said, was the color of passion.
All right, thought Anastasia when she found the two purple candles, passion it is.
She put the candles into the candlesticks and arranged the pair in the center of the dining room table, for a tryout. It didn't look very passionate. In fact, Anastasia decided, it looked stupid. But maybe that was because there was a stack of Sam's coloring books on the table, and Sam's crayons and her father's pipe, in an ashtray, and Anastasia's old blue sweatshirt was hanging on the back of one of the dining room chairs.
She removed all of those things and looked at the table again. It still didn't look very passionate. It needed a tablecloth.
Anastasia went to the linen closet and poked through the stacks of things that her mother stored there. There was an
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