The Brightest Stars of Summer (12 page)

“D
o you need some more
wah-tah
?” Peter asked once they were safely on the dock.

“That'd be great,” Marigold said, gulping down the last drops from the bottle Peter had on the sailboat. Luckily, she'd been able to rinse out her mouth.

The strangest thing was that it was now a beautiful day again. The squall—which, Peter explained during the awkward rowboat ride back to the dock, was a small, sudden storm that could come out of nowhere—had passed as quickly as it had arrived. Peter had even offered to continue the trip out to Biscuit Island if she was up for it, but she definitely was not. In fact, she didn't care if she ever set foot on a sailboat again. The worst part, of course, was not that their sailing trip had been ruined. It was that Peter had seen her throw up. She felt certain that he
would never want to kiss her again.

“So, is that . . . common?” Marigold asked, still feeling ill as they walked toward the yacht club.

“Nah. It took me by surprise. Normally, it'd be no big deal. If I'd anticipated it, you would've barely noticed. Um, are you okay?”

“I think I just need to splash some water on my face,” Marigold said.

“There's some mouthwash in the bathrooms at the yacht club, too,” Peter said. Marigold nodded and covered her mouth. “I'm not saying you need it, I just thought you might want it because . . .
nevah
mind. Come on in, I'll get you a ginger ale, too.”

They were on their way up the steps to the yacht club when a girl's voice called, “Hey, Pete!” They turned around to see the girl with the windblown ponytail.

“How fun was
that
?” the girl asked, grinning. She was totally serious! She had enjoyed the squall! “We had the best time out there.”

“It wasn't that fun for me,” Peter said. “I was with an inexperienced sailor.”

Marigold swallowed hard as Peter's face turned pink. Marigold looked at the ground.

“I had a wicked good time!” the girl said. “My sister is an awesome sailor, but I wish you'd been with me.”

Peter's face now turned lobster red. Then, as if noticing Marigold for the first time, the girl turned to her and said, “Hi. I've seen you around but we've never met. I'm Lindsey, Pete's girlfriend.”

Girlfriend?
“Hi. I'm Marigold.”

“Do you guys want to go to Edith's?” Lindsey asked.

“Sure,” Peter said.

“Thank you, but I think I'd better go back to Aunt Sunny's,” Marigold said, feeling as though she might throw up again. “I have to do a lot of wedding preparations. And Aunt Sunny's making scallops for dinner, so I can't have ice cream anyway. She wouldn't want me to ruin my appetite.” She was glad she'd taken improvisation classes this spring.

“Okay,” Peter said, his brow furrowed as Lindsey took his hand. “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Marigold said, calling upon her acting skills to produce a sweet and carefree smile. “I'll see you later. Thank you for taking me sailing. I really learned a lot.” The Red Sox hat on her head suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. “Um, do you want your hat back?”

“No, that's okay,” Peter said. “You can keep it.”

Of course he doesn't want his old hat back,
Marigold thought as she headed across the yacht club lawn to the road.
He has a new one.

As soon as Marigold returned to Aunt Sunny's, she flew up the stairs to the attic bedroom. She retrieved her iPad from inside her dresser drawer, tapped it awake, and opened her digital diary. Zinnie knocked on the door, but Marigold told her that she didn't want to talk. Instead she wanted to write about the whole thing. And she did, sparing no detail. She wrote about the squall and throwing up and the moment that she had met Lindsey. She wrote about how she'd thought for some reason that Peter was like Aunt Sunny's house or Edith's Ice Cream Shop—that he'd have stayed the same, just as they had—and then she wrote about how wrong she'd been. She wrote about Lindsey, who was both similar to the Cuties in seeming ordinary, and at the same time different from them, because she really didn't care about fashion. Her jeans were grass-stained! Her T-shirt was two sizes too big!
I must dedicate myself to being more ordinary than ever,
Marigold typed, wiping tears from her eyes. Then she closed her iPad and put her head on her pillow. She gazed out the window, where there was a view of Aunt Sunny's garden blossoming with color. A breeze blew through the open window and a bird chirped in a nearby tree. But Marigold didn't feel like she belonged in this happy country scene. With her fashion sense and love of lip gloss, she didn't fit in here at all. She didn't fit
at school. She didn't fit in Hollywood. As she heard Lily calling her to come down to dinner, she wondered if there was anywhere on this earth where she actually did belong.

“S
he's back!” Zinnie said, rushing to greet Marigold when she heard the front door open. She had been helping Sunny and Lily with dinner, but she couldn't wait to talk to Marigold. It wasn't just because she was wondering how the date had gone, though of course she was dying to know. Zinnie had to hear if Marigold had used any of the romantic lines that Zinnie had come up with last night, like “Let's tie our hearts in a complicated boat knot so they'll always be together” or “How'd you like to sail away with me?”

But even more urgently, Zinnie needed to talk to Marigold about what she'd overheard that afternoon while Marigold was gone. Zinnie had been trying to complete her submission for Mrs. Lee by writing down a conversation between Aunt Sunny and Lily.

“Just ignore me,” Zinnie had said as she sat at the kitchen table with her notebook. “I'm working on a writing exercise, but I need you to pretend I'm not here.”

“Okay,” Aunt Sunny said. She was washing the saucepan they'd used to make the lemon syrup. Lily spied a box of things the sisters had brought down from the attic. It didn't take her long to discover the framed pressed flowers that Aunt Sunny had made when she was a little girl.

“These are actual, real flowers?” Lily asked, holding up the pansies preserved under glass.

“They certainly are,” Aunt Sunny said. “I picked them myself when I was about your age.”

“These very flowers?” Lily asked.

“That's right,” Aunt Sunny said.

“But how can they have they lasted so long?” Lily asked.

“They're pressed,” Aunt Sunny said. “Plants lose their color because of bacteria and fungi, but those things need moisture to live. If you dry and press the flowers, they'll keep for a long time.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Lily asked.

“I'd love to,” Aunt Sunny said, drying her hands on a towel. “Maybe you can start your own collection of pressed flowers to remember this summer by when you're back in California.”

“Yes!” Lily said. As sweet as this conversation was,
Zinnie didn't feel like she was getting any great ideas.

“Hi, Tony,” Zinnie said, when he walked in with the scallops, corn, and peas.

“How are my girls?” Tony asked, placing the groceries on the counter and giving Aunt Sunny a kiss. Aunt Sunny smiled and blushed.

“Aunt Sunny is going to teach me how to press flowers,” Lily said.

“How cool is that?” Tony said, and he tousled Lily's hair. “Your aunt is one smart lady.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Zinnie asked Tony.

“Can't tonight. I have to go see about a job,” Tony said.

“That's too bad,” Aunt Sunny said.

“Can we start picking flowers now?” Lily asked.

“I don't see why not,” Aunt Sunny said, removing her apron and hanging it on its hook. “Come on. Zinnie and Tony, will you join us?”

Tony's phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “I gotta take this, but I'll see you out there in a jiffy.” Tony stepped into the hallway.

“I'll come,” Zinnie said. “I'm just going to put my notebook away.”

“We'll be in the garden,” Lily said, taking Aunt Sunny's hand as they stepped out the back door.

Zinnie went to put her notebook in her writing room when she realized that Tony was in there, talking on the phone with the door closed.

“Sunny has no idea,” she overheard Tony say. Already this was intriguing. Zinnie pulled out her notebook and started to jot things down. “The old girl is a fixer-upper, but that doesn't mean my efforts won't pay off.”
The old girl?
Was he talking about Aunt Sunny? Zinnie leaned her ear against the door. “I can't wait to really get my hands on this property,” Tony was saying. “As soon as we sign the paperwork, it'll be mine. I just have to put on a good act until the wedding is over. Then it's ‘Bye-bye, old girl, hello new beauty.'”

What the . . . ?
Zinnie's heart started to race. Was Tony not who everyone thought he was? Was he a bad person—like a
really
bad person? Zinnie listened to Tony saying his good-byes and then she darted into the garden.

As soon as Zinnie heard Marigold come in the door, Zinnie tried to catch her. Just as she was rounding the corner, Marigold ran upstairs. Zinnie heard her shut and latch the door to the bedroom. Zinnie followed her up, taking two steps at a time, and knocked on the door. Technically it was her room, too, and she really shouldn't have to knock, but something told her to proceed with caution.

“How'd it go?” Zinnie asked, leaning against the door.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Marigold's voice
was quiet and small.

“Are you okay?” Zinnie asked.

“Yeah, just don't come in right now, okay?”

“Okay,” Zinnie said, resting her hand on the door. “I need to talk to you about some stuff. It's kind of important.”

“Zinnia and Marigold, can you please come shell the peas?” Aunt Sunny called from the bottom of the stairs. The sound of Aunt Sunny's voice, so happy and relaxed, broke Zinnie's heart.

“Coming!” Zinnie called back. She went down the stairs to where Aunt Sunny stood, looking expectant.

“How'd it go with Peter?” Aunt Sunny whispered.

“I think she needs some time to herself,” Zinnie said.

“Ahh,” Aunt Sunny replied, “I see.” And she patted Zinnie's shoulder.

“Um, when you marry Tony, does this house become his?” Zinnie asked as they walked to the kitchen.

“Heavens no,” Aunt Sunny said. “It becomes
ours
.”

“Do you have to share it?” Zinnie asked.

“I want to,” Aunt Sunny said. “That's part of the fun of being married.”

“Yeah, okay, but he can't just sell it without asking you, can he?” Zinnie asked.

“Good gracious, of course not.”

“That's great,” Zinnie said, and she sighed with relief.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Zinnie said. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Aunt Sunny so close to her wedding, but what she'd overheard wasn't sitting right with her. She'd just have to keep her eyes and ears on Tony.

Z
innie was dying to ask her about Peter, but Marigold didn't come out of the bedroom until dinner, and then she barely touched her scallops, which were her favorite seafood, or her vegetables, which she usually ate because she'd read that they were good for the hair, nails, and skin. She hadn't brought up the sailing trip once during dinner, and now that Aunt Sunny and Zinnie were clearing the table, Marigold was totally focused on Lily and her flower-pressing project.

“What kinds of flowers did you pick?” Marigold asked Lily as they spread the fresh flowers on the table.

“These are impatiens and these are forget-me-nots,” Lily said. “Aunt Sunny told me they'll press well because they're flatter than other flowers.”

“That's right,” Aunt Sunny said, drying her hands on a dish towel. “And you've done a good job sorting them. Now, I've got plenty of heavy cookbooks to press them with, but will you go and get some clean sheets of paper from the living room, Lily?”

“Sure,” Lily said, and hopped off her chair.

“Time for us to get to work on these tablecloths,” Aunt Sunny said as she placed the stack of tablecloths and napkins that the girls had sifted through yesterday on the table.

“Okay, what happened with Peter?” Zinnie asked—she couldn't wait another second.

“It didn't go well,” Marigold said, resting her chin in her hand.

“Is Peter not your boyfriend anymore?” Lily asked as she bounded back into the kitchen with the paper.

Marigold shook her head.

“Someone has good ears!” Aunt Sunny said as she took some lemon halves out of the fridge and brought them to the table.

“What?” Zinnie said.

“So he can be mine?” Lily asked.

“Sorry, Lily. He has a new girlfriend,” Marigold said.

“Oh dear,” Aunt Sunny said, shaking out a white tablecloth with little blue flowers embroidered on it.

“I don't really want to talk about . . . the details,” Marigold said. “I'd rather clean tablecloths.”

“All right,” Aunt Sunny said. “We're going to look for stains and treat them with lemon juice and salt. We'll let the tablecloths and napkins sit tonight and wash them early tomorrow. See? Like this.” Aunt Sunny located a faint stain in the center of the tablecloth and rubbed a lemon half on it, and then she shook some salt on it.

“Will you help me with the flowers, Aunt Sunny?” Lily asked, handing Aunt Sunny the paper.

“Certainly,” Aunt Sunny said, opening up a big cookbook to a page in the middle and placing a piece of paper inside. “Now carefully arrange your impatiens right here—make sure they don't touch one another or they'll stick together.” Lily placed her flowers on the page and Aunt Sunny placed another piece of paper on top of them and then shut the cookbook and put another, heavier, cookbook on top. “We'll leave them there for a month to dry out.”

“But I won't be here in a month,” Lily said.

“I'll be sure to send them to you,” Aunt Sunny said. “But if you don't give them at least a month, they won't preserve well. And you want to remember this summer for a long time, don't you?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “I can be patient.”

“Okay, now it's your turn,” Aunt Sunny said, opening another big cookbook for Lily. “Do the same with the forget-me-nots.”

As Lily started the process again, Zinnie didn't
think she was capable of waiting much longer to find out who Peter's girlfriend was. “I'm not asking for details, but I need to know—who could Peter like more than you?” Zinnie asked, taking a tablecloth from the pile and opening it. “Seriously, who?”

“A girl named Lindsey,” Marigold said. She'd found a big yellowish stain on an ivory-colored tablecloth and she vigorously ran a lemon half over it. “She's on the sailing team.”

“You need to get him back,” Zinnie said, handing her the salt. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“He seems to really like her,” Marigold said. Her jaw clenched as she shook more than enough salt onto the stain.

“I think that's plenty, dear,” Aunt Sunny said, taking the tablecloth away and putting it in a laundry basket at the end of the table. “We can put all the treated tablecloths and the ones without stains in here.”

“You need to sing to Peter. Like this.” Lily paused her flower arranging, tucked her thumbs in her armpits to make wings, and made an O with her lips. Then she sang a weird, throaty song. Aunt Sunny and Zinnie laughed, but Marigold seemed to miss the humor. Lily took a bow and smiled proudly. “That's what the male shorebirds do when they want a girlfriend. We learned all about birds today at camp.”

“I don't think that would work,” Marigold said. “I'm not a shorebird.”

“Or a male,” Zinnie said.

“Did you ever like someone who didn't like you back?” Marigold asked Aunt Sunny.

“Certainly,” Aunt Sunny said, smoothing out a pale-yellow tablecloth with scalloped edges. “Horace Zanks.”

“Horace?” Lily asked, bursting into giggles.

“I think you make these names up,” Marigold said. “Last summer you told me about someone named Stanley Toots.”

“Oh, the Tootses were a very prominent family in these parts until the youngest Toots, the very Stanley I told you about, married a sporty young woman named Sissy, sold the family estate, and moved to Africa.”

“Look!” Lily said, pointing to her flowers, which were spaced evenly on the paper.

“Well done,” Aunt Sunny said. “Now place the second piece of paper on top of them and close the book.”

“Stanley and Sissy Toots?” Marigold asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Aunt Sunny grinned and nodded.

“But what about Horace?” Zinnie asked. Lily laughed again at the name.

“Laugh all you want,” Aunt Sunny said as she handed Lily a stack of napkins and a lemon half, “but Horace broke many a heart in this town. Handsome Horace, we called him.”

“How old were you when you fell for Handsome Horace?” Zinnie asked as she examined green linen
napkins with an ivory trim. She was curious about when most people found a boyfriend or girlfriend.

“I was thirteen,” Aunt Sunny said.

“And how did you know you liked him
in that way
?” Zinnie asked.

“I just knew,” Aunt Sunny said. “He made my heart go pitter-patter, pitter-patter.” She tapped her hand on her chest.

“Like butterflies in your stomach?” Zinnie asked.

“Exactly. I can see him now, with his wavy brown hair and nicely fitting dungarees.”

Zinnie's heart had gone pitter-patter when she'd seen Max in the backyard the other day. But didn't it always go pitter-patter when she was happy?

“He didn't like you back?” Marigold asked.

“I asked him to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me and he said no, even though he didn't have a date yet,” Aunt Sunny said.

“What's a Sadie Hawkins dance?” Zinnie asked, holding up a delicate and lacy tablecloth that had been very well preserved. She put it in the laundry basket.

“That's a dance where the girls ask the boys to be their dates,” Aunt Sunny said. “Of course, that happens all the time now. But back in those days it was the boys who asked the girls.”

“Did it hurt your feelings when he said no?” Marigold asked.

“It did. I was very blue about the whole thing. I
moped around for a week at least. But he had eyes for Karla Nickerson. All the boys did. She was what we called a knockout.”

“When I get a boyfriend, I'm going to call him my puppy,” Lily said as she rubbed a stain out of a napkin.

“That's a good name,” Aunt Sunny said.

“So you didn't go to the dance?” Marigold asked.

“Of course I did! I took my friend Bill. He had a quick wit and fast feet. He was a very good dancer, so I knew I'd at least have fun. Bill and I danced the night away. We did the jitterbug, the Lindy, the West Coast swing, the bop, and the twist. And of course we boogie-woogied. Oh, we had fun! Poor Karla Nickerson couldn't put one foot in front of the other without tripping. She and Horace sat in the corner all night.”

“Did Horace like you when he saw you dancing with Bill?” Zinnie asked.

“He asked me to go for a stroll the next Saturday,” Aunt Sunny said.

“Did you?” Zinnie asked.

“I did. We walked along the harbor on a lovely winter afternoon.”

“So it turned out he did like you?” Marigold asked. “Once he saw you having so much fun with another boy?”

“I like to think that Horace became interested in
me because he saw me really being myself, dancing and laughing and whooping it up with Bill. Anyway, I learned on that walk that Horace wasn't very bright. I lost interest. I was glad that he had his looks to fall back on.”

“And those butterflies in your stomach just . . . flew away?” Zinnie asked.

“That's the thing about butterflies. They don't stay put for long, do they? They flutter around one flower, then they flutter around another.”

“They're eating,” Lily said. “Butterflies feed on nectar and pollen.”

“You are learning so much,” Aunt Sunny said, and holding up the basket of linens, she added, “and we have treated all our linens. Tomorrow we'll wash and hang them.”

“What happened to Bill?” Zinnie asked. “Did he ever become your boyfriend?”

“We dated for a few weeks in high school, but it turned out we were better off as friends. We're still in touch,” Aunt Sunny said, yawning.

“Would you ever get back together with him, like if things don't work out with Tony for some reason?” Zinnie asked.

“That's a weird thing to say,” Marigold said.

“Don't you worry, Zinnie. Weddings bring up all sorts of emotions in people, but you can rest assured
that things are going to work out with Tony. He's a wonderful man and he brings me a lot of happiness. Now, I don't know about you girls, but I'm about ready to pack up my tent. Why don't we all get in our pj's and I'll show you a postcard Bill sent me from Peru.”