Best Buds (10 page)

“So how are Ashley’s centerpieces coming along?” I asked cautiously as I twisted floral wire around the flower stems. I knew Ashley and her mom were coming in later that day to see them and I hadn’t had the nerve to ask Mom the night before.

Mom smiled and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Believe it or not, I’m done,” she said. “I have four arrangements I like. I think we’ll be okay.”

I took a peek in the cooler. The arrangements did look very pretty.
But are they special enough for Little Miss Persnickety?
I wondered.

By noon, my entire family was in the store. Our house is an old Victorian with what Dad calls “ancient wiring” and the only room that has air-conditioning is my parents’ bedroom. We don’t often need it, as the New Hampshire nights are generally pretty cool. But the house was crazy hot already, per Rose.

“Crazy!” shouted Poppy with an emphasis on the “azy.”

So we spent the day in the store. Rose paced around doing singing exercises and generally driving everyone crazy. Poppy, of course, was pacing and singing right along with her. “Maaa, mooo, meee, mooo,” she sang. When Aster and Dad got bored they would wander out to pick up Fourth of July delicacies like popcorn balls and lime rickeys and corn dogs, and come back to the store to share them with the rest of us in the A/C.

At quarter to one, Dad put down his paper and stood up. “It’s almost time for the parade, girls,” he said. “I wish it went down this street; I’d watch it from the front window instead of facing the heat!”

“We’ll be right behind you guys,” I said as Dad left with my sisters. Mom and I had agreed to close the store for an hour to watch the parade. But Ashley and her mom were running late and still hadn’t arrived. Finally Mom sent me on my way. “No sense both of us missing the parade,” she said. “I know how much you love it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I nodded and pushed open the door. The heat hit me like a big, hot, wet, wool blanket. Yuck. The crowds were out in full force, but everyone looked pretty miserable. The only happy person I saw was Ed Heins, who was manning the Shaved Ices — 21 Delicious Flavors! booth. People were lined up down the block for the iced treats.

I spotted Dad, Poppy, and Aster, who luckily had found a spot in the town square under a shady tree. We watched as the high school marching band, sweat pouring down their faces, marched down the street playing “Stars and Stripes Forever.” One of the majorettes dropped her
baton and looked like she was considering leaving it behind and going home. She finally picked it up and halfheartedly marched on.

All the little kids dressed in their finest red-white-and-blue outfits were dragging their feet. One little guy sat down on the curb right in front of us and refused to go on. The kids on their tricycles, who usually zipped down the street in excitement, had to be pushed by their parents. There was no breeze and the red-white-and-blue ribbons from their trike handles hung limply.

Finally, the floats appeared. Little George Washington looked like he was going to keel over as he chopped down the cherry tree. The Statue of Liberty was fanning herself with the big book she carried. Betsy Ross sewed her flag rather halfheartedly, I noticed. And finally, the Uncle Sam float rolled down the street. He always brought up the rear of each parade, like Elwood Falls’s version of Santa at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. He was tossing handfuls of candy to the now rapidly thinning crowd. I laughed out loud. Instead of his usual patriotic three-piece suit and star-spangled top hat, he was wearing red-white-and-blue swimming trunks. Genius.

When we returned to the store, we found Mom with a scowl on her face.

“I missed the parade for the first time in thirty-seven years,” she said sadly. “Ashley was here for so long. She hated all the centerpieces. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“She hated them?” Dad cried, his face falling.

I gulped. We had saved the party — but what were we going to do about the flowers? Gran and Gramps had taught me that the customer was always right. But everything about Ashley was just so very wrong.

As the day went on, my family and I tried tossing around ideas for Ashley’s centerpieces, but nobody came up with anything we could use. We sent Dad and Aster out for root-beer floats, but even those didn’t inspire us. The customers had stopped coming in, so we sat around the table dejectedly slurping our drinks.

Rose glanced idly at the wall clock. “Yikes!” she yelled. “I’ve got to go!” She grabbed the bulging plastic bag she had hauled to the store with her and disappeared into the back room.

“Holy petticoats!” said Aster as Rose emerged from the back. She looked miserable in a long, old-fashioned dress, a stiff-looking bonnet, and pantaloons.

Mom gasped. “Oh, Rose,” she said. “You look so uncomfortable.”

Dad shook his head. “It’s way too hot out for that getup.”

Rose straightened her bonnet. “The show must go on,” she said.

Poppy stared at her. She nodded. “The show is on,” she echoed.

Rose gave her a funny look. Then she shrugged. “See you afterward, for the fireworks!” she said, giving us a deep curtsy.

“Break a leg, Rose!” called Mom.

We closed up the store, collected our picnic basket and blanket, and made our way to the baseball field for the pre-fireworks show. It started with a “funny” skit with one-liners from the Founding Fathers. George Washington and Betsy Ross sang a duet. There was a short play dramatizing the signing of the Declaration of
Independence. And finally, our Rose, singing “America the Beautiful.”

The crowd had been buzzing during the rest of the show. But a silence fell over everyone as Rose began to sing. She really does have a lovely, clear voice. And believe me when I tell you, she really belted that song out. By the time she got to the end: “From sea to shining seaaaaa!” the crowd was on its feet.

“Hooray for Rose!” I yelled.

“Bravo!” shouted Dad.

“That’s my girl!” Mom cheered proudly.

Rose’s face was bright red under her bonnet. You could tell she was dripping with sweat, even from where we were sitting. But she had a big smile on her face as she waved to the crowd and curtsied.

I turned to Poppy. “So will that be you onstage someday?”

She looked me in the eye. “No way, José,” she said, removing her pink headband. “That didn’t look like fun at all!”

I guessed her Rose Period was over. Who knew what would come next?

It was just too hot to move. So we lay down on the blanket and sweated in silence as we waited for the fireworks to begin. Rose soon joined us, her face glowing with a combination of perspiration and excitement. We congratulated her on her performance, then opened the picnic basket, filled with fried chicken and potato salad. But we just picked at our food. It was just too hot to eat.

Finally, the sun went down and the fireworks began. Our town goes all out for the Fourth of July fireworks. They are really big, really colorful, and really,
really
loud.

I love them all, but if I had to choose I’d have to pick those white ones that glimmer as they trail down, kind of like the branches of a giant, weeping willow tree. I watched, entranced, as the sky lit up with a multicolored torrent of flashes, sparkles, corkscrews, and bursts — the pops, bangs, crackles, and sizzles reverberating in my ears.

I noticed that the crowd seemed to like these new fireworks that exploded into round, colorful smiley faces and peace signs, but they didn’t really do it for me. I’m a fireworks traditionalist, I suppose.

As always, Dad shook his head. “I remember when I was little, in 1976, I saw an American flag, made entirely of fireworks,” he said.

“Sure, Dad,” we said, like we always do.

Then it was time for the finale. A relentless and spectacular barrage of colorful explosions, with the
boom-boom
booming deep in the pit of my stomach. And then finally, regretfully, it was over.

The air was thick with smoke and smelled of sulfur. I thought about the glowing lights, the shimmering sky, and the patriotic reds, whites, and blues.

As the smoke cleared, I grabbed Mom’s arm.

“I have a totally awesome idea for Ashley’s centerpieces!” I cried.

The next morning at breakfast, Dad looked up from the paper. “It was a hundred and one degrees yesterday, can you believe it? One of the majorettes had to be taken to the hospital for heat exhaustion!” he reported. “But sales of concessions were way up this year.”

“We sold a lot of corsages,” Mom offered.

“There isn’t an air conditioner or fan to be bought in the area,” he said. “And today’s going to be just as bad.” He thought for a moment. “Girls, shall we go to the lake or the water park today?”

“Movies!” cried Poppy.

Last night had been unbearable and, one by one, my sleepless sisters and I had dragged our blankets and pillows to camp out on Mom and Dad’s floor. When Mom
woke up and saw us she had laughed. “I’m surrounded by Blooms!” she had said.

Today, Mom and I would be putting together the centerpieces for both parties. When Mom called Mrs. Edwards with my idea for the flowers to run by Ashley she had simply said, “Just go for it.” I guess she couldn’t stomach the thought of yet another centerpiece viewing. Neither could we. So we were going for it. I felt confident that even Ashley wouldn’t be able to have anything bad to say about these arrangements. Or at least I hoped so.

The store was nice and quiet after the craziness of the previous day. I was looking forward to spending some time cleaning and organizing. So I was more than a little disappointed when my whole family piled into the store shortly after we arrived.

“The movie doesn’t start till noon,” Dad explained. “And it’s just too hot in the house.”

So I put everyone to work. I handed Rose the broom, Poppy and Dad each got a feather duster, and I sent Aster into the cooler.

“Thanks, Del!” she said sincerely.

I headed over to the phone and started listening to the messages when Poppy’s voice broke the silence.

“Here, let me show you how to do that,” she said impatiently, dropping her feather duster and heading over to Rose. “Give it to me.” She grabbed the broom. It was way too big for her and she nearly fell over. “Really, Rosie. You don’t just move the dust around. You make piles!”

I realized everyone was staring at me.

“Why are you being so bossy, Poppy?” I asked. Then I took a closer look at my sister. She was wearing a green T-shirt and denim skirt. I was wearing a green T-shirt and denim skirt. And she had a pair of sunglasses on top of her head, holding back her hair. I raised my hand to my head. I had a pair of sunglasses on top of my head!

“Poppy, are you being … me?” I asked.

Poppy nodded.

“Well, I am not that bossy!” I spluttered.

Poppy nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, you are!” she said.

Rose snorted and Aster hid her smile behind her hand. I ignored them.

Finally, it was time for Dad and the girls to go to the movies. I went into the back of the store so I could work on Ashley’s centerpiece in private. I wanted to surprise Mom. I hadn’t been quite sure how to pull it off, so I’d had to consult the Internet. But I was pretty sure I had figured it all out.

When I was finished, I waited until Mom was busy in the cooler. Then I brought my arrangement to the worktable and turned out the lights.

Mom stepped out of the cooler, a bucket of roses in her hands. She gasped when she saw the arrangement. “It’s so … it’s so …”

“Amazing?” I offered.

“Amazing,” she agreed. “And innovative.” She looked at me again and a big smile spread scross her face. “And really cool!” She gave me a squeeze. “Del, I think you did it!”

The rest of the day was business as usual. Then later that afternoon, Dad came in, leading Poppy by the hand.

“The twins discovered that they outgrew their water shoes and need to go shopping before we go to Maine,” he
said. “But Poppy refuses to go to the mall. She keeps insisting on going to the pool.”

I looked at Mom. She shrugged. “It’s pretty dead in here,” she said, and it was true — we hadn’t had a single customer drop in while I worked on Ashley’s centerpiece. “Tomorrow’s going to be a late night,” Mom added. “Del, why don’t you leave early and take her?”

I shrugged. “All right,” I said. Actually, a dip in the town pool would be pretty nice.

Dad took us home and waited while we got our swim-suits, some towels, and our family card that let us in. Then he dropped us off at the pool.

“See you later!” he called as he drove off.

“This was a good idea,” I told Poppy as we approached the front desk. “I can’t wait to jump in.”

“Me neither!” Poppy said in a confident, grown-up-sounding voice. I gave her a look, but she just smiled sweetly at me.

As I anticipated, the pool was crowded. Poppy and I dropped off our clothes and towels on the lone free chair we could find, and headed over to the main pool. We swam for a while and I tried to teach Poppy how to do the
dead man’s float. She didn’t like putting her face in the water, so I wasn’t very successful.

Then I had to go to the ladies’ room. I deposited Poppy on our white plastic lounger with strict instructions not to move.

When I came out of the bathroom, I noticed a big crowd gathered around the diving pool.
I wonder what’s going on?
I thought. I took a quick detour to check things out. I frowned. Everyone was looking up at the high board and pointing to it.

I shielded my eyes and looked up, too. And there, to my disbelieving eyes, was my little sister, frozen in fear at the end of the board, high above the crowd. It looked like she was crying.

“Mother-of-pearl,” I said, one of Gran’s favorite fake swears. The lifeguard was standing at the top of the high board’s ladder, trying to coax Poppy to come to him. But she wasn’t moving.

I pushed through the crowd.

“Poppy, hang on!” I cried. I went to the bottom of the ladder and called up to the lifeguard. “Hey, I’m her sister! Maybe I should try,” I said.

He shrugged and climbed down. He looked embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have let her climb up,” he said. “But she insisted she was brave and could do it.”