"Babysitters Club 041 Mary Anne Vs Logan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

every single sitting job. There are a lot of details involved here, but I'm good at details. Besides, Kristy thinks I have the neatest handwriting of any of us.
Our treasurer is Stacey. She's a real math brain. Her job is to collect our weekly dues, put the money in the treasury (a manila envelope), and hand out money when it's needed - for instance, to buy refills for the Kid-Kits, to help pay Claud's phone bills, and to pay Charlie for driving Kristy to and from meetings now that she lives across town. Stacey also records the money we earn. (This is just for our interest. We don't pool our earnings and then divide it up. The money each of us makes is ours to keep.)
Dawn is the alternate officer of the BSC. That means that she can take over the job of anyone who misses a meeting. She knows the responsibilities of everyone in the club. That way we'll never have to go without a secretary, a treasurer, or etc. Dawn is like an understudy in a play, or a substitute teacher.
Mal and Jessi are our junior officers. This simply means that they're younger than the rest of us, and aren't allowed to sit at night unless they're watching their own brothers and sisters. They can baby-sit after school or
on weekend days, though, which is good because it frees us older club members for evening jobs.
Can you believe it? Even with seven members of the BSC, people sometimes call and offer us a job that none of us can take. That's because we're so busy. Aside from baby-sitting and homework, most of us have other activities or responsibilities. Jessi takes ballet lessons, Claud goes to art classes, Mallory has appointments with the orthodontist. . . . When we realized that there were going to be occasional times when we'd have to disappoint a client and tell him or her that nobody in the BSC was free to sit, we signed on two associate members. The associate members don't come to meetings, but they are good backups (also good baby-sitters). They're people we can call on in a pinch. One is Shannon Kilbourne, a friend of Kristy's (she lives in Kristy's neighborhood) and the other is ... Logan Bruno!
Our club is very efficient (thanks mostly to Kristy), and it's businesslike and professional, which is why it's successful.
I am proud to be a member of the BSC.
When Kristy said, "Come to order!" the rest of us sat up a bit straighter. We paid attention to our president.
"Okay," Kristy went on. "It's Monday, dues day. Fork over."
Most of us groaned as we reached into our pockets for money. Stacey, however, passed around the treasury with a gleam in her eye. She loves collecting money. (But she hates parting with it. She makes a big production out of withdrawing funds from the treasury each time any of us needs to replace an item in the Kid-Kit or something.)
When the dues had been collected, Kristy said, "Any club business?"
We shook our heads. Things were running smoothly.
"How's Mrs. Prezzioso?" Kristy wanted to know.
"She's fine," I replied. "She's going to have - "
"Don't tell us what the baby's going to be!" shrieked Jessi.
"I wasn't going to. I was just going to say that she's going to have the baby soon. In a few weeks, I think. But she's the same old Mrs. P."
The phone rang then, and Dawn answered it. "Hello, Baby-sitters Club. . . . Oh, hi, Mr. Ohdner. . . . Friday night? . . . Okay. I'll check and call you right back." Dawn hung up the phone and turned to me. "Mr. Ohdner needs
a sitter next Friday night from seven until about ten-thirty. Who's free?"
I checked the appointment pages in the record book. "Let's see. You're free, Kristy, and so are you, Stace," I said.
"You take the job," Kristy said to Stacey. "You live much nearer to the Ohdners than I do. Besides, Andrew and Karen will be with us that night. I want to spend some time with them."
That's how we usually handle job calls - no squabbling over who gets one if several of us are free. We know there will be other jobs.
Dawn called Mr. Ohdner back to tell him that Stacey would be sitting on Friday.
As soon as she hung up the phone, it rang again. Then two more times. The meeting was pretty busy. One of the last calls to come in was from Mr. Prezzioso, Jenny's father. He hardly ever calls, so Jessi was surprised when she picked up the phone. "It's Mister Prezzioso," she mouthed to the rest of us. Then she went back to the phone call. She was saying, "Three of us? . . . Well, we don't usually take on jobs like that, but this sounds fun. Let me check with the others and call you right back. . . . You're at work? Oh, that makes sense." Jessi jotted down a phone number, said good-bye to Mr. P., and hung up.
"What was that all about?" asked Kristy.
"Mr. Prezzioso," Jessi said, "is planning a surprise baby shower for Mrs. P. He wants three of us to give him a hand that day - one to watch Jenny, and two to decorate the house while Mrs. P. is being taken out to lunch or something, and to serve food, clean up, and stuff like that."
"Well, I think we should take the job," said Kristy. "The Prezziosos are good clients, and besides, there is some baby-sitting involved." She turned to me. "Are three of us free that day?"
Jessi gave me the date and time of the shower. I checked the appointment pages. Claudia, Stacey, and I were free, so we took the job.
When the meeting was over, Kristy announced, "Good one, you guys!" and sent us all home.
Chapter 4.
Ahhh.
I had been looking forward to this for a long time. It was a snowy Saturday afternoon, and I had already finished my weekend homework. I didn't have a baby-sitting job or anything to do. I mean, anything I had to do. In other words, I was free, free, free. And with the snow falling outside, I felt that this was the perfect afternoon to do cozy indoor things. Let's see. I could work on the sweater I was knitting. Or I could start a present for the Prezzioso baby - maybe a knitted blanket, or a hat and booties.
Or I could read.
That was what I really wanted to do. Dad had built a fire in the living-room fireplace, and I was just dying to lie in front of it and reread Wuthering Heights. I'd read it about three times, but Wuthering Heights is like To Kill a Mockingbird. You simply can't read it
often enough. In fact, I think both books get better every time you read them.
So I found my copy of Wuthering Heights, grabbed the comforter off my bed, and ran downstairs. Then I sat in front of the fire, the comforter around my shoulders, and began the book once more. "1801. I have just returned from a visit to my landlord. . . ." As soon as I read those words I was transplanted from our living room to old England, the moors, Heathcliff, Cathy, and romance.
The house was quiet except for the crackling fire. Dawn had gone over to Claudia's to learn how to make jewelry (she likes beaded jewelry), Dad was in the den doing some work (he's a lawyer), and Sharon was running errands.
I was gigundo happy, as Karen Brewer would say.
I had been enjoying the book, the fire, and the quiet for about ten minutes when the doorbell rang. I sighed, then called, "Dad, I'll get it!" and walked reluctantly to the front door.
I peeked through one of the side windows. Guess who was standing on our steps.
Logan.
He hadn't said anything about coming over that day. At least, I didn't think he had.
I opened the door.
"Surprise!" said Logan, grinning, except that with his gentle accent it sounded more like he'd said, "Supprazz!"
I just stood there. Half of my mind was back in 1801 with Heathcliff and Cathy and the moors. The other half was trying to figure out what Logan was doing here.
After a few seconds, Logan said, "Aren't you going to let me in?"
"Oh! Oh, sure." I stepped aside.
Logan entered our front hall, but he didn't bother to take off his coat. "Let's go out," he said. "It's a perfect snow day in the park. Bring your ice skates." (Logan's skates were slung over his shoulder.) When I didn't say anything right away, Logan went on. "I know you're free. Dawn told me you were looking forward to this afternoon."
"I - I was."
"So come on," said Logan. "Ice-skating, a walk in the snow ..."