"Think of all the wonderful things we'll have when we move back to the city," said my father. "LincolnCenterand theMetropolitanMuseum of Art."

"Central Parkand the Donnell Library," added my mother.

"Bloomingdale's, Saks, Tiffany's, Benetton, Laura Ashley, Ann Taylor, Bonwit Teller, Berg-dorf Goodman, and B. Altaian's," I added, wondering if my parents would decide I was old enough to get some charge cards.

Mom and Dad laughed.

"That's the spirit," said my mother. "Eat your salad." (She watches me like a hawk, to make sure I stick exactly to my special diet.)

I ate a mouthful of salad, and, for good measure, one of chicken. "When are we moving? I hope it's at the end of the school year. I'm really looking forward to graduating with Claudia."

My parents glanced at each other.

"I'm afraid we can't possibly wait that long," my father told me. "The end of the school year isn't for months. We'll be back inNew York four or five weeks from now."

"Four or five weeks?!" For the second time that night, I dropped my knife onto my plate.

"The company wants me back as soon as possible," said Dad, "and I plan to do what they ask. I feel lucky that we don't have to pick up and move toBoston ."

"We put the house on the market today," Mom informed me, "and we've got real estate agents looking for an apartment inNew York . We're going to try to move back to the neighborhood we were in before. That way you'll be near Laine again. Oh, and I talked to Miss Chardon atParkerAcademy . You'll be able to rejoin your class there."

I couldn't believe it. My head was spinning.

Should I jump for joy and call Laine with the great news, or burst into tears and call Claudia with the rotten news?

Mom and Dad took my silence for shock and rushed ahead with more promises.