Best Buds (8 page)

So at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of bumping into Hamilton and his girlfriend.

I straightened my shoulders, put on a fake smile, and dumped a bucket of water over Poppy’s head. Her screams of delight improved my mood. For the moment at least.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the pool, swimming laps, diving off the low board (all of us except Poppy), and having fake tea parties at the bottom of the pool. Finally, sticky from chlorine and sunscreen and totally tired, we decided we had had enough. Poppy, who loved the water so much she had even suggested eating her chili dog in the kiddie pool, had the most shriveled up fingers and toes I had ever seen.

“They look like raisins!” she cried in delight. It was great to have Poppy — and not Poppy-channeling-Aster — back.

We toweled off, changed into our clothes, shoved our feet into our flip-flops, and headed to Petal Pushers to pick up Mom and Dad.

Ring-a-ling-ling.
The air-conditioning in the store sent an icy blast to our wet heads.

Mom brightened as we walked inside. “My girls!” she cried. “How was your day at the pool?”

“We had a good time,” I said, pushing the unpleasant moment with Sabrina and Rachel out of my head. “They all took a lesson. Poppy swam across the whole pool!”

“And Aster and I won a race,” said Rose, her eyes glowing.

Aster nodded.

“Well, let me tell you,” Poppy shouted, throwing her arms into the air. “It was amazing!” As we all watched, our mouths open, she burst into song. A show tune from the musical
Oklahoma!
to be precise:

Aster and I looked at each other. She shook her head in disbelief.

“What’s up with Poppy?” Rose asked with a yawn. “She’s being kind of annoying.”

“Okay, let me get this down correctly,” said Mom into the phone. “You want to double the amount of branches and crystals, add a rose petal and crystal garland, and change the chocolate artichokes to gardenias.” She wrote down the information in her notebook. “You do know how expensive gardenias are, don’t you?” She listened for a moment. “Okay, fine. No problem then. Yes, you can drop off the new magazine picture. Yes, I’ll be sure to follow it exactly.” She nodded. “Okay — I ‘ll have a sample to show you tomorrow and we’ll have to place the final flower order right afterward to get the flowers in time. See you then.”

Mom hung up the phone and sighed. Apparently, an even more grandiose celebrity centerpiece had caught Ashley’s eye, and she wanted Mom to copy that one instead.

“Luckily I have a few gardenia branches left over from Oscar’s last order so I can do a sample arrangement,” Mom said.

“It’s Olivia all over again,” I said. Olivia Post — Ashley’s cousin, go figure — had been our demanding bridezilla client in the spring.

Mom nodded in agreement. “I think Ashley is
meshuga
,” she said, tapping her index finger to her temple. I laughed as I heard the Yiddish word — which means “crazy” — come out of Mom’s mouth. Mom is Catholic and Dad is Jewish, but they both had embraced each other’s backgrounds completely.

“Well, if you think that’s crazy, I heard that Ashley went down to Boston to sample special birthday cakes,” I told her. “They apparently cost hundreds of dollars each.”

“Whoa,” said Mom. “Those Edwardses just like to throw their money away. As if we don’t have the best bakery right here in town.”

I nodded. Bella’s Bakery had been around since my mom was little and their cakes are melt-in-your-mouth incredible.

“Well, if I ever have a birthday party,” I said, “I would
serve Bella’s strawberry shortcake for dessert.” I smiled thinking about it. It was made with just-picked local berries and fresh cream. Mmmm-mmmm good.

Ring-a-ling-ling!
The store bell chimed as the rest of the Bloom family made their entrance. Aster, in a black sundress, Rose in pink shorts and a white tank top and surprise, surprise, Poppy in a pair of pink shorts and a white tank top. I did a double take — Poppy’s clothes were several sizes too big on her and I deduced that she had raided Rose’s closet. Poppy apparently had not been able to locate a belt and had a piece of yarn looped around her waist, holding her shorts up rather precariously.

Rose, my somewhat self-centered sister, was completely clueless about her mini-me. Aster caught me staring at Poppy and gave me a small grin.

“You’re just glad it isn’t still you,” I said.

Aster shrugged sheepishly.

“We came to pick you guys up!” Poppy squealed excitedly.

“Yeah,” said Rose. “Dad took us to the Elwood Falls Historical Society today.”

“How was it?” asked Mom.

“Educational,” said Dad.

“Dusty,” said Aster.

“Let’s put it this way,” said Rose. “Arrowheads. Pieces of old plows. Photos of people in funny-looking clothes. Big yawn.”

“Yeah,” called Poppy from the back of the store. “Big yawn.”

“He took us to Von Schreiners afterward to make up for it,” explained Rose.

Mom looked at the now-dancing Poppy worriedly. “Don’t tell me. Big Rock Candy Mountain?” she asked. Poppy always orders this special sundae with gobs of candy stuck in it. She eats the entire thing and then can’t sit still for hours.

Dad nodded and laughed sheepishly. Poppy was vibrating with energy. “Look at me! Look at me!” she shouted, hopping up and down. Then she decided to attempt a cartwheel. She put her hands on the floor, and kicked up her legs. Unfortunately, at that moment, the yarn holding up her pink shorts broke. So on her way down she realized she had to either stick her landing or grab her falling shorts. Wisely, she grabbed the shorts and was about to crash to
the floor. I was the closest, so I lurched forward to grab her. But I was off-balance and we both landed in a heap on the floor. Luckily no one was hurt, so we just started laughing. The whole family joined in.

And that was, of course, when Great-aunt Lily walked in. She just stood there shaking her head. “Is this any way to run a business?” she asked.

Everyone stopped laughing and stared at me. Hmmf. That was usually
my
line. The similarities between me and mean old Aunt Lily were incredibly annoying.

The next morning, Mom and I were going to the store while Dad, Rose, Aster, and Rose 2.0 were going to the lake. I was a little envious. I love the lake: packing a picnic lunch, swimming out to the float and jumping off, holding my breath as I tried to touch the mucky bottom. But Mom needed my help. The McGillicuddys were coming in that morning to see their centerpiece before we placed the final order for the flowers. And that afternoon Ashley was coming for the same purpose. Ugh.

“But I trust you!” Mrs. McGillicuddy had said when Mom had called her to schedule the appointment. Still, we
convinced her that it was a good idea to approve the centerpiece beforehand. Ashley had said no such thing. In fact, she had said, “It better look good!”

Mom was still shaking her head over that one. “That girl has no manners,” she said as we finished up our quick breakfast.

“Tell me about it,” I replied, putting my dish in the sink.

Poppy bounced down the stairs. Dressed all in pink, she sang out, “Twenty-two!” and stretched out her arms as if she was a Broadway star.

“Good morning, my love,” Mom said. She looked at me. “What’s up with Poppy?” she whispered to me.

“Poppy is Rose,” I told her. “She used to be Aster.”

Mom considered this. “Oh, okay” was all she said and took one last sip of her coffee. Nothing Poppy does ever fazes her.

At the store, I cleared off the worktable, and Mom placed Mrs. McGillicuddys centerpiece on it first.

“Oh, Mom,” I said. “It’s beautiful!”

Mom had chosen antique-green hydrangeas to go with
the lisianthus, dahlias, and pink roses, which gave a real old-fashioned look to the arrangement. This classic look was enhanced by the vintage saltine cracker tin that was the vase. The centerpiece was simple, lovely, and homespun, just like the McGillicuddys themselves. (Except, I remembered, when Aunt Lily was around.)

“I think the McGillicuddys are going to love it,” I added.

Mom said, “I hope so,” but she looked pleased.

Then Mom got a funny look on her face. “Now close your eyes,” she said. I did. I could hear her slide open the cooler door and I heard a small grunt as she placed the heavy metal vase on the table. “Okay, open them.”

I laughed out loud. Ashley’s arrangement sat before me. The vase was heavy and awkward looking. Mom had spray-painted some branches gold and hung crystals from each one. She had also spray-painted some greenery the same garish color. The gardenias were beautiful, but totally overshadowed by all the shiny stuff and the rose petal and crystal garland. It was huge and ostentatious, especially compared with the charming McGillicuddy arrangement it dwarfed.

“That’s going to take up the whole table,” I chortled. “There won’t be any room for dinner plates!”

Mom reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the magazine page Ashley had dropped off. I compared the two.

“But it matches exactly,” I said with a shrug.
There is no accounting for taste,
I thought as I looked at the sweet, simple arrangement and the huge, imposing one.
To each his own
as Gramps always says.

Ugly flowers or not, I still felt a stab of envy as I thought about Ashley’s elaborate birthday plans and how they were ruining my actual birthday. I wished I could talk to Becky about it. But her camp had a strict “no cell phone” policy and she was allowed one weekly call on the camp’s lone pay phone. And I didn’t feel like calling my other friends and explaining the whole story to them. My thoughts briefly went to Hamilton. But I hadn’t heard from him since our awkward texting. Plus it seemed pretty clear he really did have a girlfriend. I felt totally alone.

Mrs. McGillicuddy was so happy with what Mom had done, she was speechless.

“Oh, thank you!” she finally said. “This is more beautiful than I even imagined.” She touched each flower in turn. “So many memories …” she said softly. Mr. McGillicuddy looked pleased that his wife was so happy.

After the couple had left, Mom pulled out her notebook and wrote up the final orders. Mrs. McGillicuddys was a snap. Mom had already picked up a slew of antique cracker, candy, and coffee tins in different shapes and sizes at the local flea market. Then she ordered the flowers all from the same supplier. “Done!” she said. “That was easy.”

Ashley’s order would not be so simple. If the little princess okayed the arrangement, the gardenias would have to be ordered from one place, the branches from a different one. And the crystals and the vases from yet another place. When Mom told me how much they were going to cost, I nearly choked.

But things were falling into place. Whether I liked it or not, we were ready for our two July 7 events. Not counting any unforeseen disasters.
But how often does that happen?
I thought.

You could tell that Ashley wanted to find something to criticize, but since the arrangement was exactly what she asked for, there was nothing she could say. But instead of thanking Mom, she simply said, “Now you’re sure you can do ten of these just like this one?”

“I think she means to say thank you,” said Mrs. Edwards, apparently trying to cover for her ungrateful daughter.

Ashley shrugged. “Thanks,” she said with a total lack of sincerity.

I gave her a dirty look. She smirked back at me. “Jealous much, Delphinium?” she said snarkily.

I stared at the floor. She was right. I
was
jealous. But not that I wasn’t invited — I had no desire to celebrate Ashley’s thirteenth birthday. I realized I wished that it was
my
party.

Just then a cell phone began to ring a somewhat familiar tune. I leaned forward to hear better. It was an old ‘50s song — “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To.”

“So lame, Mom,” said Ashley.

Mrs. Edwards laughed sheepishly and pulled the phone
from her Chanel bag. “Hello?” she answered. “Yes, this is she.” She paused and frowned. “Wait, what are you saying?” Her face suddenly grew pale. Mom and I glanced at each other. Was everything okay? “I don’t understand how this could happen!” Mrs. Edwards said angrily. “What kind of a business are you running?”

She held her hand over the phone and hissed to Ashley: “It’s Society Sisters. They’ve double booked the night of your party.”

Ashley’s mouth fell open. “What?” she shrieked. “Are you kidding me? I don’t get it!”

I get it
, I wanted to say.
Your birthday has been ruined. Welcome to the club.
But wisely, I kept my mouth shut.

“They just realized they’ve booked a wedding there the same night.” Mrs. Edwards explained. “And they are honoring their reservation, not ours.”

Ashley’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

I had never seen Ashley lose her cool like this.
See Ashley
, I thought,
sometimes things don’t go exactly as you planned.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Mrs. Edwards said
into the phone. “My daughter is freaking out. All thanks to you.” She snapped her phone shut. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” she said to the strangely silent Ashley. “They’ve offered to host your party in their barn instead and extend your party for an hour.” Ashley just stared at her mom. “They use the barn for storage now, but they can clean it out. Maybe we could do a barbecue,” she suggested. “That could be really fun,” she said halfheartedly.

“But … but … I can’t have a party in a barn!” Ashley wailed. “I was so excited about everything …” Ashley’s voice trailed off and her lower lip trembled. Despite her expensive clothes and her perfectly glossed lips, she looked exactly the way she did in preschool on the day that her favorite stuffed rabbit, Mr. Wiggles, accidentally got run over by a pickup truck.

I felt a sudden rush of sympathy. So what if she was my sworn enemy and the meanest girl in school. She was disappointed. And if anyone knew how that felt — my friends gone, my birthday postponed, my crush having a girlfriend — it was me.