The Thanksgiving Treasure by Gail Rock Page B

remember, and we had always jokingly referred to it as the haunted mansion. Of course, we didn’t take that seriously, but I wondered just what kind of welcome we would get from Constance Payne. She might not want a bunch of kids hanging around.
    We trooped up on the porch, and I knocked on the door a few times. There was no answer, and after a few moments, I knocked again, louder. The house was so big, we wondered if she would ever hear it.
    â€œOh, come on, let’s go!” said Tanya. “She’s not even here.”
    â€œRelax!” I answered.
    â€œWell, she’s not going to say yes to the style show anyway,” Tanya said. “It’s stupid to ask her.”
    I had a feeling Tanya would be secretly pleased if Constance said no. We waited nervously. Finally we heard footsteps approaching the door, and we all self-consciously tugged at our socks and dresses and tried to make ourselves presentable.
    The door opened, and there stood Constance Payne. We were all so overwhelmed by her appearance that for a moment we said nothing. We just stood and stared at her.
    I thought she was the most dramatic, exotic person I had ever seen. She looked a bit sleepy and disheveled, with her dark hair tousled about her face, but she was very beautiful. She was wearing an elegant black kimono splashed with big red flowers, and she wore dark red nail polish and strange, embroidered slippers.
    She was staring back at us with a slightly irritated expression. I thought I had better say something before she closed the door in our faces.
    â€œConstance Payne?” I asked stupidly. As though it could be anyone else!
    â€œYes?” she said in a low, rich voice, sounding impatient.
    â€œI’m Addie Mills … I mean Adelaide.” I quickly thrust the daffodils at her. “These are for you. To welcome you to Clear River. I mean, to welcome you back.”
    She took the flowers. “Well, thank you, Adelaide,” she said, and moved back as though she were going to close the door.
    â€œYou can call me Addie,” I said quickly, trying desperately to make conversation. Carla Mae gave out a big “ah-hem” behind me, and I suddenly remembered to introduce the other three girls.
    Then Tanya blurted out, “Could we have your autograph?” I elbowed her, furious at her bad manners for asking so soon.
    Constance tried to make some excuse about not having time or doing it some other day, but the three of them persisted, and she finally agreed. Then we discovered that none of us had a pen, and Tanya had the nerve to ask if we could borrow one.
    â€œI must have a pen inside somewhere,” Constance said. “Excuse me.” She turned to go, leaving the door ajar. That was all the invitation we needed, and we rushed in behind her and followed her through the big dark hall and into the parlor on the right. When she realized we were behind her, she stopped suddenly and spun around. I thought she was going to throw us out, and we all froze in our tracks. She looked at us for a moment and then gave a sigh and went on into the room and walked over to a big trunk. We followed, taking in the surroundings as we went. It was a dark old room, full of red plush furniture and ornate lamps. Some of the furniture was covered with sheets, and a big carpet was rolled up against one wall. The old trunk was obviously one that had belonged to Constance. It was plastered with travel stickers from cities in Europe and full of little drawers and compartments.
    There was a pair of sunglasses on top of the trunk, and she picked them up and put them on. I wondered why. I had never seen anyone wear sunglasses indoors, and I imagined from that moment on that all actresses did.
    Tanya, Gloria and Carla Mae gathered around the trunk as Constance searched for a pen, but I didn’t want to appear overanxious, so I became interested in some old posters leaning against a table. They announced her appearances in