Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.

As she threw the tiny pebbles into the lake, she watched her reflection ripple in the mirror-like surface. The same sandy blonde curls, blue eyes, and freckles that had been staring back at her for almost eighteen years were reflected there as well today. Trixie Belden stuck her tongue out at the blonde and then rolled over onto her back with a sigh.

Fluffy, white clouds skittered across the blue sky in the April breeze. The day was one of those idyllic spring, chamber-of-commerce type days – totally at odds with the young woman scowling at the twittering birds in the nearby pine trees.

If the birds didn’t stop their chattering, Trixie swore to herself, she was going to march into Regan’s stable, grab his shotgun, and practice her target shooting on the irritating little songsters.

She closed her eyes. The birds kept singing, clearly not alarmed by her threat. In the distance, she could hear Reddy and Patch barking back and forth to each other in a doggy language that only Bobby claimed to understand. Good grief, Trixie thought. Exactly how loud did her little brother have to be if she could hear him yapping right along with the dogs?

It figured. It totally figured that, even down at the Wheelers’ lake, she was still interrupted by Bobby. She should have stayed in her room at Crabapple Farm with her head buried under her pillow.

At that moment, one of the Manor House’s garage doors noisily opened, and Tom Delanoy, the Wheelers’ handsome chauffeur, walked out.

"Good morning, Trixie!" Tom called out to her in surprise as he glanced down towards the lake.

"Morning!" Shielding her eyes from the sun, Trixie acknowledged him with a slight raise of her head.

"You’re out kind of early, aren’t you?"

"Yes, Tom!" she yelled back. Trixie liked Tom; really, she did. He was a wonderful friend to the Bob-Whites, but she felt kind of silly shouting back and forth from the lake to the garage.

"Are you waiting for Honey? You want me to ask Celia to find her?"

"No thanks, Tom!" The birds in the tree were squawking at her now for disturbing their peace.

"Well, okay, . . ." Clearly, he was bemused as to why she was lying on the boat dock by herself, but prior years of knowing Trixie and the other Bob-Whites had taught him that, sometimes, he was better off not knowing. "I’m going to work on the sedan; the engine’s knocking!"

Trixie didn’t think that required a response, so she turned her attention back to the clouds. That one definitely looks like Mr. Lytell, she thought idly.

"Enjoy your morning, Trixie!" Tom called out with a final cheerful wave before he turned back into the garage.

With a resigned sigh, she raised up once more and waved back. "You too, Tom!"

Great. Just great. While their voices may not have awakened Honey, who was a heavy sleeper, with Trixie’s luck, it probably wouldn’t be very long before Jim came down. Unlike Honey, her adopted older brother was an early morning kind of person.

And, Jim, home from college to escort her to her senior prom that night, was the last person Trixie wanted to see. He seemed to almost have a sixth sense when it came to Trixie, and, in the nearly five years that she had known him, she had never been very good at keeping secrets from him. If Jim joined her this morning, she knew he would soon discover what she was desperately trying to keep hidden.

The slight breeze ruffled through the curls around her face. What had it been about this particular morning that caused her to wake up and say to herself, Gleeps, Trix, it’s a gorgeous day! Why don’t you go down to the Wheelers’ lake? She was trying to avoid Jim. So, when did traipsing to the exact place where he resided become a good idea? Trixie rolled her eyes in self-disgust. Brilliant move, Detective! She could just imagine what Mart would say if he were here, "What goes on in those cerebral hemispheres of yours, O Sister Mine?" Trixie ruefully admitted to herself that she was no longer very sure.

Inside the garage, muted tones from a radio drifted out, and Trixie could hear various tools clanging together, the sounds echoing off the bright yellow walls of the pristinely kept and well-ordered building. The car’s engine was revved and cut off shortly. Then, as though to compensate for the noise of the engine, the radio’s volume was turned up. Evidently, Mrs. Wheeler wasn’t at home. Were Saturday mornings sacred to no one anymore?

Trixie groaned. She suddenly had the desire to dunk her head in the lake. Of all the songs, Tom had to blast this one, a song that reminded her of yesterday and what brought her here today.

Trixie practically danced off the school bus when it stopped to let her out at the end of day. With curls bouncing, she waved to Honey and ran up Crabapple Farm’s driveway. Honey responded with an excited, "I’ll call you later!" before she too skipped up the pebbled drive to her own house.

Spring of their senior year had gloriously sprung. It was Friday, and tomorrow was Prom Night at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. The Bob-White men were coming home from college to escort their ladies, and Trixie couldn’t be in a better mood.

Letting the screen door slam behind her, Trixie rushed into the farmhouse’s cheery red and white kitchen. She was surprised to be greeted, not by her mother’s warm presence, but by the blare of the family room’s television.

Trixie carelessly tossed her chemistry and literature books onto the kitchen table and followed the noise into the adjoining room. Her younger brother lay sprawling on the sofa, totally engrossed in a television program, and scattering crumbs from a bag of barbecue potato chips.

"Where’s Moms?" she asked by way of greeting.

"She went to the store for more food ‘cause Brian and Mart are coming home," he answered around a mouthful of chips, not looking away from the screen.

Trixie snorted when she saw what he was watching. "Gleeps, Bobby! Aren’t you a little old for Sesame Street?"

"Couldn’t find the remote. And, ‘sides," he looked up and grinned cheekily at her, "I can’t play any video games ‘cause of my last report card."

Glancing from Cookie Monster and his cookie crumbs to Bobby and his chip crumbs, Trixie rolled her eyes and handed him the remote that she’d dug out from between two sofa cushions. "Maybe you should find a new role model," she wryly suggested.

"Whatever," the ten-year-old shrugged.

"Well, you better clean up those chips before Moms gets back," Trixie retorted over her shoulder as she stepped over Bobby’s backpack and walked to the doorway.

Heeding his older sister’s warning, Bobby dusted the crumbs off his t-shirt and the cushions and onto the floor where he then raked them under the sofa. Shaking her head in disgust, Trixie headed for the stairs and her bedroom. Before she could get very far, though, Bobby yelled, "Hey! You got a letter today!"

"I did?" She came back in the room. It wasn’t unusual for Trixie to receive letters. Occasionally, there were letters from her older brothers or from Jim or Dan or any of the other people she’d met over the years. Bobby just wasn’t her usual messenger service.

"Oh, yeah! It’s an IM-PO-O-OR-TANT letter too!" he announced gleefully.

"Well, where is it?" she demanded. "There wasn’t anything on the kitchen counter."

"You’re supposed to be the detective. Figure it out!"

"Bobby!" Trixie threatened.

He ducked the pillow she threw at him and chortled, "It’s in the fridge!"

A sense of déjà vu settled over Trixie. Transported back to a long ago winter’s day, she was thirteen years old again and hearing a six-year-old Bobby’s childish voice call out to her as she came into the house –

With a snickering Bobby trailing along behind her, Trixie went into the kitchen and opened the door of the refrigerator. A cream-colored box emblazoned with the name of the local florist sat between a bowl of leftover stew and the juice pitcher.

Trixie took the box off the shelf, closed the door, and turned back to her brother. "Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

"Not really." He smiled innocently, but, seeing the look on Trixie’s face, he held his hands up and sighed, "I’m going! I’m going!" However much he may have wanted to stick around, watching Cookie Monster and the gang appeared to be his more prudent choice.

While Trixie impatiently watched, Bobby shuffled slowly back to the family room. Then, alone with just the dust particles floating in the rays of late afternoon sunshine, Trixie took her "important letter" out of the little envelope that was taped on top of the box.

She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t stop the sudden flight of butterflies in her stomach as she read the words. Trixie traced the letters of his name with her finger and then, laying the card aside, opened the box.

"It’s not green onions," she whispered quietly.

Nestled on a bed of tissue was an exquisite wrist corsage of white jewel orchids and light pink sweetheart roses with an iridescent blue ribbon woven among the flowers. When Trixie picked up the corsage to sniff its delicate aroma, she noticed a small pink rose lying at the bottom of the box. The little note attached with a ribbon read, Just because . . .

Trixie’s breath caught in her throat. The butterflies were positively swarming now. She felt like twirling giddily about the kitchen, but, remembering Bobby in the next room, she simply stood there, a soft smile of wonder gracing her face.

Leaving the flower out, she carefully put the lovely corsage back in its box and placed it in the refrigerator. As she did so, Trixie thought of the silvery blue dress hanging on her closet door upstairs. A month ago, she and her mother, along with Honey and Diana and their mothers, had scheduled a "Girls’ Day Out", and they had had a marvelous time together in the city choosing their dresses. Trixie knew it was completely unlike her usual tomboy self to be so excited about wearing a dress, but she couldn’t wait. She loved her dress, and the corsage would match perfectly. Moms or Honey must have told Jim the color of her dress, she decided. Trixie hoped he liked it. Dreamily, she imagined him walking through the door and being totally blown away by her appearance. She giggled self-consciously. Why did she feel like she’d been waiting for forever for tomorrow night?

Three years ago, Jim had asked Trixie to go with him to his senior prom. However, since Brian and Honey had ridden with them in the Bob-White station wagon, it hadn’t seemed all that different from any of the other dances the Bob-Whites had attended. At the time, Trixie had been fifteen and wasn’t allowed to single date anyway. Then, Brian and Jim had gone away to college. The boys were home frequently for different events and holidays, but Jim and Trixie hadn’t really had many opportunities to develop their relationship beyond their usual fond glances and a few moments shared here and there.

Trixie touched the lighthouse charm on her necklace remembering one of those moments from the summer after Brian and Jim graduated. She could still recall exactly how the sand had felt squishing between her toes when Jim had given her the necklace. For three years, Trixie had held on to the promise of the lighthouse. She picked up the fragrant, pink rose. Reading Jim’s note again, she wondered if tomorrow night would be a fulfillment of that promise.

The butterflies started chasing each other. Did Jim mean that tomorrow night would be special just because it was her prom, or did he mean something more? How could she know? Her so-called relationship with Jim wasn’t something Trixie felt comfortable discussing with Di and especially not with Honey. She supposed she could talk to Moms, but Trixie definitely wasn’t in the mood for a relationship chat with her mother. Her parents were acting like they too realized that tomorrow night wouldn’t be the same as other dances. Even though she was nearly eighteen, all week long, her father had been reminding her of tomorrow’s curfew while Moms kept saying, "Wouldn’t it be more fun if you all went together?" This time, Trixie wasn’t going to the prom in the Bob-White station wagon. Jim was picking her up in his dark green Mustang, and they would be going by themselves.

Wincing inwardly, Trixie prayed that the car wasn’t the only difference from three years ago and made a mental note to ensure that Crabapple Farm’s front porch was completely clear of any tripping hazards. That evening, as she and Jim stood on the steps saying good-night, her shoes had become entangled with Bobby’ pogo stick, and, in typical-Trixie fashion, she had fallen headlong at Jim’s feet. When he tried to help her back up, Jim, in turn, had tripped on her long skirt. Brian had already disappeared into the house, but, hearing the loud sounds of a crash and rending fabric, her oldest brother had reopened the front door to find Jim and Trixie in a tangle of legs, dress, and pogo stick. While assisting them both to their feet, he had shaken his head sadly and remarked, ‘You know, the evening normally ends with something besides a salaam to each other." The night had definitely ended with laughter but without Trixie ever having known if Jim had meant to kiss her. She sighed wistfully. Regardless of what else happened or didn’t happen this time, Trixie did hope for a more special ending to tomorrow night.

Closing her eyes, she let the rose trail alongside her cheek and her mind drift even further back to another April –

Was she ready for something more? She and Jim shared a unique, soul-mate kind of friendship. What if they did let their relationship develop into something more, and it didn’t work out? Where would they be then? Annoyed at herself, Trixie irritably shook her head at the flower. She was crazy! Jim probably wasn’t thinking the same way at all and hadn’t meant a thing with the rose and the notes. She was worrying for nothing, Trixie decided. Suddenly, the telephone rang, as telephones are wont to do, interrupting Trixie’s reverie.

"Guess what?" Honey’s voice squealed into her ear as soon as Trixie picked up the kitchen extension.

"What?" She couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm in Honey’s voice.

"Just wait ‘til I tell you! It’s the most exciting thing!" Honey continued breathlessly, "Jim just called. He and Brian were able to get away earlier than they thought! They’ve already picked up Mart and Dan, and they’re on their way. They’ll be here in time for supper! And guess what else? Miss Trask thought that, since it’s such a nice day and all, we should have a welcome home picnic for them down at the boathouse. She’s helping Cook pack a picnic basket for us right now!"

"Gleeps, Honey! It’ll be just like old times!" Trixie said, as excited as Honey, but wondering too why she unexpectedly felt nervous.

"Exactly like old times!" Honey agreed happily. "I have to call Di now. See you at the boathouse at six! And tell Moms that she doesn’t need to fix a thing!"

Before she hung up, Honey added, "Oh, Trixie! This weekend is going to be perfectly perfect!"

Perfectly perfect weekend, huh? Trixie thought to herself an hour later as she wrinkled her freckled nose at her image in the mirror. Totally irritated with herself, she had finally decided on a pair of jeans, a soft blue t-shirt, and her Keds. Five other shirts lay crumpled on her bed, testament to her sudden "what to wear" panic attack moments earlier. She snorted derisively as she threw a tube of lipstick on her dresser. Jeepers! What is wrong with me? Trixie ran a comb through her stubborn curls, trying not to eye the blue prom dress innocently hanging on the back of her closet door. Perhaps she shouldn’t wear a blue shirt tonight since she was wearing blue tomorrow. Maybe she should change again. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Trixie tried to decide and started rummaging through her dresser once more.

"Oh, forget it!" She said, slamming the drawer shut. "I’m done. I’m ready, and I’m leaving. Now."

Trixie marched down the stairs, grabbed the dish of potato salad that her mother had insisted upon making, hollered "Good-bye!" to her parents, and left through the back door. She used the walk to the lake to clear her head, enjoying the stillness of the early evening. Arriving at the boathouse, Trixie saw the rest of the Bob-Whites before they spied her. They were all there. Even Dan, although he wasn’t attending the prom, had come home to join in the fun. It had been so long since the group had been together. Forgetting, for the moment, her earlier tumult, Trixie sighed contentedly. It really was like old times.

Apparently, Di had selected which music would be played in the boathouse’s stereo. Calling out a greeting over the sounds of Wilson Phillips, Trixie ran to join her friends. Honey rescued the potato salad as Brian and Mart, who had not yet been home to Crabapple Farm, enveloped their sister in hugs. Trixie next turned to greet Dan, and, finally, Jim.

His strong arms enclosed her, and Trixie breathed deeply of his woodsy cologne. They had hugged before, but had it always felt this sublime? Had they always fit together so . . . perfectly?

"Thank you for the flowers," she whispered shyly.

Jim grinned down at her. "Oh, good! You got them. I didn’t know what time we’d be home today, and I wasn’t sure if the florist made deliveries on Saturday. I hope they were okay."

"They’re gorgeous." Trixie smiled back at him.

Jim responded by tugging an errant curl. "Special flowers for a special girl . . ."

His voice trailed away, and Trixie, mesmerized by her reflection in his eyes, found herself at a loss for words. They stood together, gazing into each other eyes. She tried to think of something witty to say, but her mind was a complete blank. The spell was broken by her almost-twin.

"Hey! Are we going to persist with the meet and greet portion of the evening festivities, or are we going to partake of the sustenance?" Mart asked.

"In other words, Mart’s hungry!" Honey giggled and then added, "And so am I!"

Laughing along with everyone else, Jim and Trixie stepped away from each other and grabbed some plates. Soon, the group was enjoying Cook’s delicious picnic supper of crispy fried chicken, baked beans, macaroni salad, crunchy vegetables, oven-baked rolls, and refreshingly tart lemonade. The hungry seven also devoured Mrs. Belden’s potato salad, and, for dessert, they sliced into a triple-layer chocolate cake donated by Mrs. Lynch.

"Well, that sure beats dorm food," Dan commented as they began cleaning up the table.

Mart slapped him on the back. "Dan, my man, for once, I would have to agree with you."

Brian, who shared an off-campus apartment with Jim, rolled his dark eyes. "Mart! I know for a fact that Moms sends both you and Dan food from home."

Diana added, "And I get Harrison to send them snacks all the time!"

"It’s never enough . . . never enough," Mart sighed dramatically while patting his lean stomach.

Di blushed prettily as Jim mischievously asked, "And why aren’t Brian and I getting packages from Harrison?"

Dan quirked a dark brow at Jim. "I think Moms keeps you and Brian well supplied," he said and then winked at Honey and Trixie. "And, if she doesn’t, I’m sure there are two others in this vicinity making sure you get treats from home."

The two girls suddenly found themselves very busy repacking the picnic basket.

After the sun set, the Bob-Whites sat companionably around a bonfire, roasting marshmallows and catching up with each other. They discussed various topics ranging from term papers to summer plans to the delicate art of achieving a finely toasted marshmallow. Trixie, however, was uncharacteristically quiet; her thoughts fixed on a single pink rose. Why did Jim send it to me? Why not just a corsage? she wondered. The note had said, "Just because . . ." But what did that mean? Should she say something to him, or wait until he said something? During moments like this, she wished she were more like Honey or Di; then, perhaps, she could begin to understand this mystery. Trixie sighed as her dark-haired friend spoke up from her place beside Mart.

"So, College Men, tell us some good stories from school that don’t have anything to do with your classes," suggested Di.

"But, Sweetie, you know we stay so completely consumed with our academic pursuits, that we lack the time necessary for anything else," Mart told her.

"Yeah, right!" Trixie couldn’t help but interject.

"You guys have to lead more interesting lives than we do!" exclaimed Honey.

Jim laughed. "Our lives are practically boring until we come home. Right, Brian?"

"Of course!" his friend swiftly agreed with him.

Jim expects us to believe that? Trixie thought incredulously. Like she didn’t remember the time she had called their apartment, and a girl had answered the phone? Oh, woe! She had sort of forgotten that. Now that she had remembered, she glared at Jim for adding to her worries.

Sensing a stubborn mutiny in the girls, Dan stroked his chin thoughtfully. The guys obviously weren’t going to get away with saying nothing. "I suppose," he drawled, "I could tell you about the time we were in the park – "

Brian broke in, "He could tell you, but he wouldn’t want to corrupt your young minds."

Di giggled and batted her eyelashes at Dan. "Oh, Danny! Corrupt us!"

Scowling at Dan, Mart put his arm possessively around his violet-eyed girlfriend. Brian looked sideways at Honey as she nodded her golden head and chimed in, "Yes, do tell, Dan! The most excitement we get around here is Nick Roberts kissing Amy Morrisey in the art department closet, and that was last year!"

Dan shrugged nonchalantly and began, "A couple of Saturdays ago, a bunch of us were in the park tossing around a football. Well, Mart here threw a wild ball, and – "

Dan paused for a minute as he was interrupted by Mart’s loud protests that he had not, in fact, thrown a wild ball but that it had been Dan, instead, who couldn’t catch said ball. "Anyway," he continued, "I went to get the ball from behind the bushes where Mart had thrown it and nearly tripped over a couple who were, let’s just say, doing the horizontal tango on a beach blanket."

Dan waggled his dark brows suggestively while Di silently mouthed, "Horizontal tango?"

At the same time that she figured it out and asked, "They can do that in the college park?", Honey, hazel eyes round with disbelief, gasped out, "Right there in the open?"

All four guys, even Brian, laughed uproariously at the comical expressions on their faces.

Trixie, though, had completely tuned everyone else out.

A log fell over in the fire sending sparks shooting into the night air. Snapped back to reality, Trixie blushed hotly and looked up to find the object of her fantasy staring fixedly at her with his penetrating green eyes. She gulped nervously, her mouth dry. Where had THAT come from? She stared back at him from across the fire as Jim slowly winked at her and then turned his attention back to the others. Oh . . . my. He couldn’t know, could he? Trixie wondered desperately. It was a very good thing she was sitting; else she’d be a puddle on the ground. Since when did a wink from Jim cause her knees to go weak?

Mart said something about becoming a dance instructor, and Jim threw back his red head and laughed. I love his hair, Trixie thought inanely. I love the way he laughs. Suddenly, the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she came face-to-face with what her heart must have known for a very long time. I love him.

The fire had eventually died, and the last marshmallow had been eaten. And, after confirming various plans for the next day, the group had departed for their separate homes. Trixie had been in such a daze that she didn’t remember what she had said to anyone. Hopefully, she had made some sense; however, now that she was thinking back on it, she did recall Jim looking at her rather oddly once.

All night long, she had tossed and turned with visions of flowers and notes and beach blankets dancing in her head. And, now, here she was – on the boat dock, praying that Jim wouldn’t join her and wondering what she was going to do about the evening to come. No matter her feelings, was she ready to confess them to Jim? Honestly, she’d rather face down hardened criminals. Trixie knew full well that she could be completely wrong about the flowers and the notes. Goodness knows, she’d read people incorrectly before. She also knew that Jim could read her like a favorite book. This new awareness of her feelings changed everything between them, and Trixie hated that. Positively, really, absolutely hated it. She groaned again and abruptly sat up, resting her chin on her knees. She was just plain, snub-nosed Tomboy Trixie, and he was Jim, the most wonderful boy in the world. And, although she had felt irreversibly connected to him since the very first moment he had glared at her over that dirty mattress, she wondered if he would ever want anything more from her than a special friendship.

She watched two fish swim lazily by without a care in the world. She was tired of worrying, she decided.

This time, Trixie chose to ignore the butterflies and, instead, let the words bathe over her, washing away the doubt and soothing the foolish beat of her heart. She took a deep breath of the spring morning and suddenly laughed out loud. At least, she was no longer worried about tripping over pogo sticks.

Trixie grinned at her reflection sparkling on the water. Humming along with Tom’s radio, she stood up, dusted her jeans off, and walked back to Crabapple Farm. She had to get ready for what promised to be a special night.

These characters are not my own. Trixie Belden is the property of Random House Publishing and the creation of Julie Campbell.

THANK YOU to my editors, Kathy (KayRenee), Kaye (KayeKl), and Susan (Susansuth). Thanks for catching all those little things that needed to be caught and for telling me, "No, really, it’s not too sappy . . . honestly . . ." (Yeah, right!)

A special thank you to Susan, not only for your continued support and encouragement, but also for always keeping an eye out for me & for saying, "How many fits is the story giving you?" ;)

As always, much gratitude and appreciation to Dana! I am so amazed by your talent and touched by your generosity and support.

And, finally, "Reflections" is my Jixemitri Initiation Story (Woo-hoo!!!) and is for Cathy. Cathy, thank you for creating the most wonderful place on the web. I remember the first time I read the words, "We begin in 1994 . . . Do you remember your first kiss?" and realizing, I’d come home. Dreams do come true . . . the Bob-White story didn’t end at Book #39 but continued just the way I always imagined. You have provided a haven where both the pages of new stories and the doorway to new friendships are opened. Thank you for welcoming me to Jix and then for bringing me back when I went missing. I am honored to join the ranks as a Jix author. (And pretty darn excited too! J ) I love you!

"Reflections" is a Jixemitri CWP #1. The elements are as follows:

• Sex in a Park – Dan tells the girls about interrupting a couple doing the "horizontal tango" on a beach blanket

• Mention or Presence of a Pet – Trixie hears both Reddy and Patch barking

• The Song, "Saturday in the Park" – Tom plays this song loudly while he’s working on the sedan
  ("Saturday in the Park" was written by Robert Lamm and was first released on the album, Chicago V, in July 1972. It is used here without permission.)

• A Pogo Stick – Trixie tripped on one while telling Jim good-night on the evening of his senior prom

• A Bright Yellow Room – The inside of the Wheelers’ garage is painted bright yellow
  (NOTE: Yes, it may be a "stretch" to imagine the Wheelers’ garage as bright yellow. However, if we ever get finished with the main rooms of our house, I plan to paint the inside of our garage a cheerful bright yellow with black and white racing stripes, so it could happen! J )

• The Word "Gleeps" Used at Least 3 Times – "Gleeps" is uttered by Trixie in 3 different sentences

• A Picnic Basket – Miss Trask helps Cook pack one for the Bob-Whites

• A Very Important Letter – Why, Trixie’s note from Jim, of course! J

• A Sesame Street Character – Bobby watches Cookie Monster eat cookies on TV
  (NOTE: Cookie Monster is copyrighted by and Sesame Street is a production of the Sesame Workshop. Both are used without permission, and no profit is being made from the mentions.)

• Mention or Appearance of a Secondary Character Who Appeared or Was Mentioned in the Books –
  -- In Order of Appearance (I think): Bobby, Regan, Tom, Celia, Mr. Lytell, Helen Belden, Madeleine Wheeler, Mrs. Lynch, Peter Belden, Miss Trask, Cook, Harrison, Nick Roberts, and Amy Morrisey

"Reflections" takes place on a Friday and Saturday in April 1991. (I searched through on-line calendars to ensure that the 19^th and the 20^th really were a Friday and a Saturday in April 1991. In 1991, Easter took place in March.)

At the beginning of "Reflections" I use a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I discovered the Emerson quote on a graduation card in 1991. I liked it so much, that I quoted it during my valedictorian speech for our class’ commencement exercises in 1991. It is used here without permission.

Yes, *sigh*, I am aware that I have perpetuated the "Where is the Lake Mystery" with this story. In "Reflections", I have the lake in both sight and hearing distance from the Manor House. I’m basing this on 2 things: (1) In the books, Miss Trask and others frequently carry food and various other things back and forth from the lake to the main house, so I’ve always assumed that the lake is within relatively easy walking distance from the house. (2) I also assume that, for aesthetic purposes, the Manor House (& some of its surrounding grounds) would have views of the lake. (Of course, as stated, these are only my assumptions, but I hope I’m not too far off from what Julie Campbell intended.)

In "Reflections", Jim drives a Mustang. The Mustang logo is owned by the Ford Motor Company. It is used without permission, and no profit is being made from the mention. Although if someone wanted to give me one, I wouldn’t mind doing some free advertising! (I asked Jason, if he could have had any car he wanted in 1991, what would it have been? Without hesitation, he replied, "A Mustang." Therefore, Jim has a Mustang.)

The "It’s not a lemon meringue pie" conversation with Bobby that Trixie recalls is taken from The Mysterious Code

The idea behind the note that came with Trixie’s corsage, "Dear Schoolgirl Shamus, Special flowers for a special night, See you tomorrow, Jim" is taken from the note that Trixie received from Jim in The Mysterious Code – "Dear Schoolgirl Shamus, Is this your first orchid? I hope so. See you tonight. Jim"

The line, "It’s not green onions", is also a reference to The Mysterious Code

The lighthouse necklace that Trixie is wearing is from my story, "The Secret of the Lighthouse", of which only the first chapter has been written.

The "You know what it means, don’t you" conversation that Trixie remembers is taken from The Happy Valley Mystery. (Ya’ll remember that bracelet scene, don’t you? J )

The line, " . . . the telephone rang, as telephones are wont to do . . ." is for Anna. On the messageboard, Julie (Macjest) started a thread which was entitled, "Bad Metaphors and Cliches to Avoid" listing several hilariously bad metaphors and cliches. One of these was "Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do." Anna challenged everyone to include one of the really bad metaphors or cliches in his/her next story, so I did. However, I changed it just a wee bit. J

In the story, Trixie decides to wear jeans, a blue t-shirt, and Keds to the picnic. Keds are casual tennis shoes that were popular in 1991 (at least, I spent most of my time in my Keds). They are used here without permission, and no profit is being made from their mention.

When Trixie arrives at the boathouse, the song "Impulsive" by Wilson Phillips is playing on the stereo. "Impulsive" was a Top 40 (#4) song from 1990 and was written by Steve Kipner and Clif Magness and included on the 1990 album Wilson Phillips. It’s the type of pop song that I think Diana Lynch would have liked. And, I have to admit that I loved it too in a totally teen-age-y way. It is used without permission.

In the story, Brian says, "He could tell you, but he wouldn’t want to corrupt your young minds." I attended a very small school (there were only 9 in my graduating class), and my best friends were Jason (who was not, at the time, my boyfriend) and his best friend (who was, at the time, sort of my boyfriend). As guys will do, the two of them would share jokes and often make "comments". Being both blonde and naïve, I would repeatedly say things like "What does that mean?" and "I don’t get it." And, Jason, who was even then very much the gentleman, would ALWAYS respond with "We would tell you, but we wouldn’t want to corrupt your young mind." It used to drive me crazy! And I imagine Brian saying things exactly like that! Not that Dan isn’t a gentleman, . . . J

When Trixie refers to Jim as "the most wonderful boy in the world", it is a reference to the letter she wrote to her brothers in The Gatehouse Mystery.

Finally, as one can tell, I’m a huge Jim and Trixie fan. No, really, I am! J I’m also dedicated to endeavoring to keep the spirit that unites the Bob-Whites alive. 3 of my top 5 favorite Trixie Belden books are The Gatehouse Mystery, The Mysterious Code, and The Happy Valley Mystery which is why I reference them a lot in this story. For my initiation story, I tried really hard to write a story with both typical Bob-White moments and some Jim and Trixie moments. I hope I succeeded.