The Candy Cane Caper Read online

  THE CANDY CANE CAPER

  Cynthia Blair

  Chapter One

  “Christine Pratt, what on earth are you doing?”

  Susan Pratt had just strolled into her twin sister’s bedroom, planning to show her the Christmas card that had arrived in the mail earlier that morning, the very first one of the holiday season. She expected to find her twin whiling away this cold Saturday morning in early December listening to music or daydreaming or perhaps even doing some homework. Instead, the seventeen-year-old girl had opened the bedroom window up wide and was leaning out as far as she possibly could.

  Despite her sister’s alarm, however, Chris was quite matter-of-fact.

  “I was looking for snow,” she replied with a discouraged sigh. She turned around to face her twin, slamming the window shut behind her. “And I couldn’t be more disappointed. Between the bright sun and that blue sky—not to mention those puffy white clouds up there—I don’t think a single snowflake is on its way!”

  Wearing a deep frown, Chris plopped down on her bed. “At this rate, not only will the Pratts of Whittington not see a white Christmas this year; I’ll never be able to muster up a drop of holiday spirit!”

  Susan couldn’t help laughing at her twin’s distress. “Don’t despair, Chris. I suspect that holiday spirit is contagious—and that means you should be catching it from me any minute now! And believe me: I’ve got a very serious case of yuletide fever!”

  It was true; as far as Susan Pratt was concerned, this brisk wintry day was the perfect time to welcome in the holiday season, and she had already gotten the festivities under way. That morning she had whipped up a tremendous batch of gingerbread dough and cut it into different shapes with cookie cutters, stars and bells and wreaths and even gingerbread boys and girls. In fact, at that very moment, her second trayful of cookies was baking in the oven.

  “Besides,” Susan went on, “as soon as I show you what we just got in the mail this morning, I bet you’ll change your mind.”

  “Oooh, what is it?” Chris squealed, rushing over to see what her sister was hiding behind her back. “A present? A fruitcake? Or maybe an invitation to a Christmas party?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. It’s only a Christmas card—but it’s the very first one this year.” Susan handed it over to her sister. “And it is kind of pretty....”

  “A Christmas card? Well, I suppose that is one sure sign that Christmas is just around the corner. Even so, I’m still not feeling any Christmas spirit....”

  “At least take a look at the card!” Susan pretended to be exasperated.

  Chris took the card out of its envelope and studied the picturesque snow scene on the front. A quiet New England town complete with farms and houses, old-fashioned horse-drawn sleighs, and a quaint white church with a steeple was covered in snow. The snow practically glowed in the soft yellow moonlight, it was a lovely card, and Chris really did feel moved—as if something deep inside her were starting to realize that Christmas was, indeed, less than three weeks away.

  “It is pretty, Sooz,” Chris admitted. “And that looks like the perfect place to celebrate the holidays, doesn’t it? I can just imagine going for a sleigh ride on a cold, snowy night and then coming home to a warm house with a fire burning in the fireplace and a huge Christmas tree, all decorated ...”

  “Stop!” Susan cried. “You’re making me wish it were Christmas right now! At the rate I’m going, I’ll never be able to wait until December twenty-fifth!”

  “You’ve forgotten one thing.” Chris was suddenly serious as she sank down onto the bed once again. Pensively she began to pet Jonathan, the girls’ cat, who had just wandered into the room, leaped up on the bed beside her, and purred insistently, demanding attention. “We’re not going to have much of a Christmas if we don’t get some snow soon. Oh, I wish we lived in the town in the picture!”

  Susan looked at the card once more. “You know, Chris, this town reminds me of a real place. Someplace we’ve both been. Someplace where there’s lots and lots of snow in the winter....”

  “Ridgewood!” Chris exclaimed. “Of course! It does look like Ridgewood!”

  The town that Chris and Susan were thinking of was a small town in Vermont where their grandparents lived. Although their father’s parents, John and Emily Pratt, came to Whittington every year to spend the Christmas holidays with their son and his family, the girls hadn’t been up to their house in years. Even so, they had only the fondest memories of the quaint New England village nestled among the snow-covered hills and fragrant pine forests.

  Even though Ridgewood was close to several of the popular ski resorts in the area, it had managed to remain untouched by crowds of tourists. It consisted of just a few stores and public buildings surrounded by a scattering of houses that looked very much like those in the picture.

  “Gee, Sooz, I just had a wonderful idea,” Chris suddenly said. “What if we all went up to New England and spent Christmas up there this year, instead of having Grandma and Grandpa come here? We’d have plenty of snow, and fires in the fireplace, and sleigh rides....”

  “It sounds too good to be true.” Susan thought for a minute, then frowned. “But there’s one problem with that plan.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Well, we’ve always had Christmas here in this house ever since we were born. It’s become kind of a family tradition. And, frankly, I have a feeling that Mom and Dad would be disappointed if we wanted to go someplace else for the holidays.”

  “I know what you mean,” Chris agreed. She was pensive for a few seconds ... and then her face lit up. “Hey, I have an idea! Maybe you and I could come up with some kind of prank that would allow us to celebrate Christmas in Ridgewood without disappointing Mom and Dad!”

  Susan smiled mischievously. “Maybe we could. After all, we’ve certainly managed to pull off some terrific capers in the past!”

  That was no exaggeration; Susan and Chris already had quite a history of playing practical jokes. And more often than not, they took advantage of the fact that they were identical twins in order to do something that they wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise—sometimes to help other people out, sometimes just to have fun, but almost always learning some important lessons along the way.

  And they did, indeed, look similar. Both girls had the same chestnut-brown hair, now cut short as the result of their most recent adventure, the Marshmallow Masquerade, in which Chris pretended to be a teenaged boy for a week so the twins could learn something about what made the opposite sex tick. They also had identical features: dark brown eyes, perky ski-jump noses, and high cheekbones.

  Despite their similar appearances, however, Susan and Chris were really very different. Susan was quiet and shy, and her favorite hobbies were reading and painting. In fact, she hoped to go to art school after high school graduation. Chris, on the other hand, was outgoing and talkative, preferring to spend her free time going out with friends or talking on the phone. She was a member of both Whittington High’s girls’ swimming team and the cheerleading squad, and she often participated in afterschool activities like the Dance Committee.

  Both girls, however, had a few things in common. They were both bright, quick-thinking, fun-loving ... and they would go to almost any lengths in order to carry out one of their mischievous pranks.

  At the moment, however, none of these traits seemed to be serving them very well. Although they had both lapsed into silence, daydreaming about how spending Christmas in a quaint Vermont village would be like something out of a fairy tale, at the moment neither one of them could come up with a single idea as to how to make that fairy tale come true.

  “Oh, well,” Chris suddenly said with a sigh. “I guess you and I will end u
p spending Christmas in good old Whittington again. I, for one, can’t think of any way we could talk Mom and Dad into spending the holidays away from home.”

  “Well, it’s not so bad.” Susan tried to sound optimistic.

  “Maybe it’s not the most exciting or adventurous or romantic place in the world, but you and I have always managed to have a merry Christmas before!”

  Suddenly she snapped out of her dreamy state. “Hey, look at the time! It’s eleven-thirty, time for me to take my second batch of gingerbread cookies out of the oven! Want to help?”

  “Sure.” Lazily Chris dragged herself off the bed. “Maybe the smell of fresh gingerbread will help put me in a holiday mood.”

  “Or maybe washing bowls and wooden spoons and cookie sheets will!” Her sister laughed. “I sure hope so. I could use a hand!”

  When the twins scrambled into the kitchen, whooping and laughing as they teased each other about who had done more baking over the years—and who had done the majority of the cleaning up—they found their parents sitting at the table, munching gingerbread boys and girls with raisin eyes, noses, and mouths from Susan’s first batch of cookies.

  “Whoa—you caught us red-handed!” chortled Mr. Pratt, guiltily clapping his hand over his mouth. “Don’t blame me, I couldn’t resist! Surely you couldn’t expect me to be in the same room as freshly baked cookies and not eat at least one!”

  “One!” Mrs. Pratt exclaimed. “Why, if I’m not mistaken, I’d say I’ve already seen you devour at least five of these poor little gingerbread people!”

  “Five! Not five!” Mr. Pratt protested. “Well ... maybe. But I was just testing them for you. You should thank me!”

  “It’s okay, Daddy.” Susan laughed as she picked up two potholders, took her second tray out of the oven, and slid in a third. “That’s what cookies are for—to eat. Especially Christmas cookies!”

  “I don’t know about that,” Chris teased. “I think that there should be some kind of law that says no one is allowed to eat a single Christmas cookie until there are at least three inches of snow on the ground.”

  “In that case”—Susan groaned—”we might never get to eat any!”

  The twins noticed then that their parents were suddenly looking very serious. It had all started when Chris first mentioned snow....

  “It’s funny you should say that,” said their father. “We were just talking about that very subject. Snow, I mean.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Pratt agreed. “We were both saying how nice it would be to get away from all this cold weather for a change.”

  Susan and Chris exchanged worried glances.

  “As a matter of fact,” Mrs. Pratt went on, “we were talking about how nice it would be to go someplace warm for Christmas. Someplace exotic. Someplace ... well, someplace like Mexico.”

  “Mexico!” the girls cried in unison.

  “But there’s never any snow in Mexico!” Chris wailed.

  Mr. Pratt cleared his throat. “Your mother and I were thinking that maybe the two of us would go together ... alone. You know, as sort of a second honeymoon.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Susan said heartily. “But ... what about us?”

  “Well, we were thinking that you girls might like to visit your grandparents for the holidays, instead of having them come here.” Mrs. Pratt looked from one of her daughters to the other, a hopeful look on her face. “I know we wouldn’t all be together, but you’d still get to see Grandma and Grandpa....”

  “And there’d be plenty of snow,” Mr. Pratt interjected. “December in Vermont practically guarantees that!”

  “And I just know they’d love to have you spend your school vacation with them. Why, it’s been years since you’ve been up to New England. They’re always asking us when their two favorite grandchildren are going to come for a visit.” Nervously Mrs. Pratt asked, “So, girls, what do you think?”

  Chris and Susan looked at each other ... and then burst out laughing.

  “It looks as if we’ll be enjoying a white Christmas after all!” Susan cried.

  “I’ll say it does!” Chris agreed. “And do you know what, Sooz? Maybe it’s the smell of gingerbread, maybe it’s the prospect of spending Christmas in Vermont ... but all of a sudden, I’m positively bursting with yuletide cheer!”

  “Terrific!” Susan exclaimed. “Why don’t we go call Grandma and Grandpa right away and tell them that their ‘two favorite grandchildren’ are going to be arriving soon ... ?”

  “And that they’d better brace themselves,” Chris added merrily. “Because the two of us are going to be bringing along so much Christmas spirit that a town the size of Ridgewood will never forget it!”

  As Chris happily popped a gingerbread star into her mouth, she never suspected how true her teasing prediction would turn out to be.

  Chapter Two

  “Do you see what I see, Sooz?”

  Chris had just woken up from a catnap, but her eyes, still heavy with sleep, suddenly grew round as she looked out the window of the bus. “Snow! Look at it! There’s snow everywhere!”

  Susan, who had been awake during the entire bus ride out of Montpelier, wasn’t at all surprised by the winter wonderland that surrounded them as they sped down the highway toward Ridgewood. After all, she had been staring out the window, enthralled, the whole time. And she had been enjoying every minute, even though so far there was little to see besides the snow-covered pine forests that lined both sides of the road. Just knowing that she was in Vermont was enough to get her so caught up in making plans that she felt as if at any minute she might jump out of her seat, rush to the front of the bus, and beg the driver to get them to their destination even faster.

  “You’re right, Chris! That white stuff all over the place has simply got to be snow!” Teasingly, Susan added, “How’s your Christmas spirit now?”

  “Well,” Chris returned, her brown eyes twinkling merrily, “let’s just say that if we could somehow manage to harness all my Christmas spirit, we could easily run this bus with it!”

  It was Saturday afternoon, exactly two weeks after the twins and their parents had decided that the girls would spend their school vacation in Vermont while Mr. and Mrs. Pratt flew off to warm, sunny Mexico for their holiday. It was also one week before Christmas. Early that morning, Chris and Susan had flown into Montpelier, then hopped onto a bus headed for the small town in which their grandparents lived. With each passing mile, Susan grew more and more excited, even though her twin took advantage of the end of their journey to rest up before descending upon Ridgewood—and officially beginning her Christmas vacation in a place that looked as if it were Santa Claus’s real headquarters.

  When the bus stopped in Ridgewood a few minutes later, it took Chris and Susan only a few seconds to gather up the things they had brought along with them for their weeklong stay at their grandparents: two small suitcases, two pairs of ice skates, one pair of skis, two shopping bags filled with presents from their parents, and a huge tin stuffed to the limit with an assortment of the Christmas cookies that Susan had been baking ever since she and her twin found out that their dream of spending the holidays in a snow-covered New England village was going to come true.

  Juggling all their belongings was no small feat. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they got some assistance.

  “Hey, there, need some help?” asked a friendly but unfamiliar voice.

  Chris turned and found herself face-to-face with a boy who looked as if he were about her age, with red hair, green eyes, and an impish grin.

  “Do . . . do I know you?” she asked, a bit confused.

  “No, you don’t, as a matter of fact,” the boy said. “But I think I know you. Or at least who you are. That is, if I’m not seeing double ....”

  “You’re not,” Susan assured him with a chuckle. “There really are two of us.”

  “In that case, I guess it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re Susan and Christine Pratt, right? Well, I’m
Andy Connors. I do odd jobs for your grandfather after school and on weekends. I offered to come pick you girls up this afternoon to save him a trip.” He looked over at all the suitcases, shopping bags, and sports equipment that the girls were struggling with. “How long are you girls planning to stay, anyway?”

  Chris and Susan burst out laughing.

  “Let’s just say that we believe in being prepared for anything,” Susan quipped.

  “That’s right,” Chris agreed. “When it comes to having a good time, Sooz and I don’t leave a single thing up to chance! By the way, I’m Chris, and this is my sister, Susan.”

  “Hi, Chris. Hi, Susan. Listen, I have a question: Is there any convenient way of telling you two apart?”

  “It’s easy once you get to know us,” Susan insisted. “We may look the same, but we’re really very different.”

  Andy looked skeptical. “If you say so.... Anyway, I’ll figure all that out later. In the meantime let’s get this stuff into the trunk of my car and get on our way. I know for a fact that there are two people waiting for you ... and they’re very anxious to see you!”

  Sure enough, as Andy’s car pulled up in front of John and Emily Pratt’s home, a white shingled Colonial-style house with a big front porch, a white picket fence, and a smiling snowman in the front yard, both Mr. and Mrs. Pratt were standing in the doorway eagerly watching the road as they waited for their two granddaughters to show up.

  “Grandma! Grandpa!” the twins cried as they scrambled out of the car and raced up the walk. “It’s so great to see you!”

  It was, indeed, wonderful to see them again: John Pratt, with his thick gray hair, gentle manner, and sense of humor—something he had passed on to his son, the girls’ father; and Emily Pratt, equally warm and generous, always going out of her way to make her “two favorite granddaughters” feel welcome.

  “How was your trip up here?” asked Mr. Pratt, once all four had exchanged hugs and kisses and the twins had passed on their parents’ regards.