The Brightest Stars of Summer (20 page)

B
efore the assembly of the cake tiers began, Marigold took a shower and got dressed. As she toweled off and combed her hair, one thing was certain. She was done being ordinary. She had nothing to show for it but a boring bob and a slanderous story. She pulled an eyelet dress out of the closet and slipped on a pair of sandals. She added a silver cuff bracelet and a pair of studs. Deciding that her outfit required a little more oomph, she took the sash from the dress she'd lent Zinnie yesterday, and which Zinnie had hung up wrinkled and crooked in the closet, and tied it on. A splash of color and a cinched waist. Much better.

Though her anger at Zinnie simmered under her skin, dressing like her old self cooled her down enough to allow her to put on a brave face. She was not about
to fall down on the job as wedding coordinator. It had been her idea to come here early and help Aunt Sunny, and she had promised her aunt her dedication and hard work. Not only was she planning to make sure the decorations were perfect, she was also going to keep everyone on a schedule so that Aunt Sunny didn't have to worry at all. And as for Zinnie, well, Marigold would wait until the wedding was over to really let her have it. As soon as they were on their way to the airport, she was going to list all the ways in which she was planning on exacting her revenge. But for now she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw that Aunt Sunny, Zinnie, and Lily had already begun to work. The ingredients they had made or gathered since they'd arrived in Pruet were set up on the long kitchen table. There were the twelve-, nine-, and six-inch cakes wrapped in plastic. The jars of blackberry jam. The lemon syrup. The cream cheese frosting, which Lily was taste testing with her pinkie. The blackberries, which Zinnie was slicing in half. The special cake equipment was set out as well: the cardboard rounds, the frosting spreader, the serrated knife, and the big cake-decorating turntable that had been borrowed from Jean and that Aunt Sunny was wiping with a sponge.

Even though it wasn't yet nine a.m., it was already a hot day. Aunt Sunny had the windows open, the
back door ajar, and the big fan going fast enough that Marigold's hair was blowing slightly in its breeze. Even with the ventilation and the steady whirring of the giant fan, the tension between Marigold and Zinnie was as thick as the cream cheese frosting that was sitting in the green ceramic bowl.

“You look fetching, my dear,” Aunt Sunny said, taking an apron from its hook and handing it to Marigold. “Better put this on. I'm putting you on syrup duty.”

“My job is to make sure the frosting tastes just right,” Lily said, taking one more pinkie scoop and considering the flavor. “Hmmm. Yes, I still think it's delicious.”

“I'm in charge of the blackberry jam and blackberries,” Zinnie said, her gaze fixed on the jar of jam.

“And we all have cheerful positions!” Lily said with frosting on her lips.

“Dispositions,” Marigold and Zinnie corrected her at the same time. They locked narrowed eyes for a second, and then Marigold turned away. As she tied the apron around her waist, she looked out the window. Her parents were setting up the folding tables that were on loan from the casino. Tomorrow morning the girls would cover them with the tablecloths and napkins they had found in the attic, turning the dingy tables into works of art that were unexpected, fun, and cozy, just like Aunt Sunny herself. Marigold was proud of her design.

“Is it just me, or is it too quiet in here?” Aunt Sunny asked as she cut the twelve-inch cake horizontally with the serrated knife. “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” the three girls answered in unison.

“We are helpful and happy,” Lily said. Aunt Sunny eyed them with suspicion.

“We're just focused, Aunt Sunny. We want this cake to be perfect,” Zinnie said as Aunt Sunny placed the layers on cardboard rounds.

“Let's put on some music,” Marigold suggested. She tuned Aunt Sunny's radio to the classical station. “So we can concentrate.”
The less we have to talk to each other, the better,
Marigold thought.

“Good idea,” Aunt Sunny said as the notes of a piano concerto filled the room. “Marigold, please brush the top of each layer with lemon syrup. Zinnie, you stir the jam until it's totally smooth. Lily, you give that frosting another taste. Make sure it's still fresh.”

“It's as fresh as a pinkletink, also known as a spring peeper frog!” Lily said. “They live in the freshwater pond that feeds into the estuary.” Aunt Sunny laughed and the tension cracked for a moment.

“I think this cake is like a story,” Zinnie said, sighing as she stirred the jam. Marigold rolled her eyes. She'd had quite enough of Zinnie's stories. She dipped the brush into the syrup and began to lightly coat the layers with the sweet golden liquid.

“What do you mean?” Aunt Sunny asked.

“First we found the recipe card, written by your mom. It made you cry to see her handwriting again, remember?” Zinnie said. “And we made the cake layers.”

“That was when I first I started camp,” Lily said.

“Zinnie, spread some jam on one of the layers, please,” Aunt Sunny said. “Right over the syrup.”

“We went to the town beach and collected shells,” Zinnie said, using a spoon to plop jam on one of the layers and then a special spreading tool to cover the layer evenly.

“And Lily got some glitter in the cake batter,” Marigold said, and playfully tugged on one of Lily's curls.

“It was just a pinch,” Aunt Sunny said. She placed the layer with jam on the cake-decorating turntable. “Perhaps it will give our cake a little extra structure.”

“So some of Lily's story is in the cake,” Zinnie said.

“What an enchanting idea,” Aunt Sunny said as she carefully inverted another layer on top of the one with jam and removed the cardboard. “Lily, come sit on the table right over here by me and I'll show you how to frost the top.” Lily climbed on the table and sat cross-legged in front of the cake. Aunt Sunny scooped two cups of frosting on top of the layer. Lily used her finger to scrape frosting from the cup.

“The next thing we did was make the frosting,” Zinnie continued. “That was when Max came over.”

“He's why this frosting is so sugary,” Marigold said as Aunt Sunny guided Lily's hand with the spreader,
coating the top layer with the creamy frosting. “Zinnie was distracted and she added two extra cups . . . because she thinks Max is cute and she has a crush on him.”

Zinnie scowled.

“I don't think anyone will complain about extra sugar in the frosting,” Aunt Sunny said, raising an eyebrow at Marigold as she and Lily finished frosting the top. Marigold bowed her head in shame. She shouldn't have taken that dig at Zinnie. It had flown out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Okay, Zinnia,” Aunt Sunny said. “Scatter a few handfuls of the halved blackberries.”

“Jean gave us the blackberry jam,” Zinnie said as she added them. Marigold felt a wave of embarrassment as she remembered thinking she was going to get back together with Peter only to find out he had a new girlfriend. “Marigold was just dying to see Peter and—” Zinnie started, but Aunt Sunny cut her off.

“Let's say that the jam symbolizes the friendship that has gone into making this cake,” Aunt Sunny said. “And the good fortune of having kind neighbors.”

“Great idea,” Marigold said, tossing a sidelong glance at Zinnie.

“Move aside for a moment, Lily,” Aunt Sunny said. “I need to add the third layer. This will take a steady hand. And I'm going to request a moment of silence for this one.”

The girls watched with breaths held as she lifted the third twelve-inch layer of cake off of the cardboard and placed it on top of the cake. They collectively exhaled at the successful execution.

“Phew. Another layer of jam, Zinnia,” Aunt Sunny said, dabbing her perspiring forehead with the edge of her apron.

“We made the lemon syrup next,” Zinnie said as she added more jam. “The day we washed all those tablecloths. We used some of the lemons to get out the stains. Of course, there are some stains that can't be removed with lemon juice. Stains on the heart made by words.”

“Oh, please,” Marigold said, knowing Zinnie was talking about the words she'd read in her diary. “Everyone knows actions sting worse than words.”

“Girls, may I remind you that the cake story is still in progress,” Aunt Sunny said, gesturing toward the remaining cake layers on the table. “The lemon syrup provides exactly the right amount of bitterness. We wouldn't want to add any more.”

“Of course not,” Zinnie said.

“No way,” Marigold said.

“We have cheerful positions,” Lily said. This time no one corrected her.

“Okay, here goes,” Aunt Sunny said, taking a calming breath as she inverted the final layer of the bottom tier. The girls gasped as it landed two inches off center.

“Not to worry, not to worry. This is a mistake I can fix,” Aunt Sunny said. With careful, gentle hands she rotated the layer until it was centered. “Ta-da. Now we'll frost the whole tier, put it in the fridge, and get to work on the other tiers. Tonight we gather the beach roses for the baskets. Tomorrow we'll assemble the cake and add the piping and any other finishing touches.”

“We'll write the final chapter,” Zinnie said.

“It will be the sweetest chapter of all,” Marigold said.

“We promise,” Zinnie said.

A
fter they finished spreading the filling for the nine-inch and six-inch tiers and placed them in the fridge, Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily went about their other wedding duties until the rehearsal of the ceremony. Zinnie double-checked that there were enough candles, vases, and shells for the table arrangements. Marigold rolled the dinner napkins and tied them with twine, which gave them a rustic charm. Lily gathered the daisies that Mom was going to use to make wreaths for their hair. Mom and Jean hung the fairy lights in the tent while Dad and Mack hung the paper lanterns. Taking several trips back and forth to do it, Tony, Max, and Peter brought eighty chairs over from the casino in Tony's pickup truck. Max and Peter were in charge of setting up the chairs, which would start out in the ceremony area and then be transferred
to the tent before dinner.

Marigold supervised the boys as they set up the chairs in front of the stone archway where Aunt Sunny and Tony would exchange their vows.

“The aisle needs to be wider,” she told them. “I have baskets to place along the edges. I don't want Aunt Sunny to trip! And, Peter, make sure the rows are neat and even! And, Max, help me tie these ribbons on the chairs on the end. We need some more color!”

“You're not as shy and humble today,” Max said as he fumbled with the ribbons.

“Was she
evah
?” Peter asked, using a ruler Marigold had found for him to ensure that the chairs were evenly spaced.

“I don't have time to be shy and humble,” Marigold said, distributing the baskets along the aisle to see which arrangement looked best. “I have work to do. And I definitely don't have the time to dress like a slob anymore.”

“Huh? That doesn't make sense,” Peter said. “What does how you dress have to do with time?”

“Ugly clothes slow me down,” Marigold said, dashing back into the house for the craft scissors that cut the edges of the ribbon so nicely.

“What the heck?” she heard Max say behind her. Her statement may not have made sense to the boys, but it made sense to her. It was hard work pretending to be someone she wasn't.

The justice of the peace arrived, and Marigold poured him an iced tea and found him a shady spot where he could relax while she kept everyone else on task. Tony's oldest daughter, Sara, arrived next from New York City. She was followed by Tony's other daughter, Meg, who lived in Atlanta and had twin babies. Marigold set them up on a picnic blanket nearby and made sure they had snacks, lemonade, and toys to keep the little ones occupied. Cindy, Max's mom, joined them and thanked Marigold for being so organized. When the tent was set up with the lights, lanterns, and tables, and the ceremony area was dressed up and organized to Marigold's standards, it was time to practice the ceremony so that everyone knew what to do when.

First Tony and Paul, who was the best man, took their places by the altar. Marigold whispered in Lily's ear when it was her turn to walk down the aisle. “Slow and steady,” Marigold reminded her. Lily mimed the tossing of rose petals—it was the moment she had most looked forward to since they'd learned of the wedding. Usually flower girls were the last to walk down the aisle before the bride, but Lily wanted to be first and Aunt Sunny said that was just fine with her. Max walked down the aisle next. He was the ring bearer, though for this rehearsal he was only pretending to carry rings. He would have the real ones tomorrow. Zinnie followed Max, and then Marigold
followed. When they reached the archway, the three girls stood by Aunt Sunny, and Max stood by his grandpa.

As the justice of the peace talked Aunt Sunny and Tony through the vows, Marigold slipped away to a chair in the back row to make sure that every seat had good visibility. She surveyed the arrangements of hydrangeas artfully placed by the white rose bushes at the archway, the blue velvet ribbons strung along the aisle, and the baskets lining the path, and she knew that she had kept her promise to Aunt Sunny. While Aunt Sunny had been busy working, Marigold had taken care of all the details, and now that everything had come together, she knew the wedding ceremony was going to look beautiful. Her chest swelled with pride.

Then it was Zinnie's turn to read the Shakespeare sonnet.
Ah! A good time to check for acoustics,
Marigold thought as Zinnie began to read: “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” As Zinnie continued, Marigold felt herself deflate. It wasn't that Zinnie was doing a bad job. She was projecting just fine, though her hands were shaking as they held the paper. And while she didn't have a grasp of iambic pentameter, she read well enough that the meaning basically came across.

The problem was that hearing the words was making Marigold want to perform. She knew how to make
words sing, to express them with clarity and feeling. She was certain that she was done being ordinary, but she wasn't sure if she could ever act again. It hurt too much to get rejected, to put herself on the line and be told no. She could feel her talent like a small dragon inside of her. It was sleeping now, curled up in a dark cave in her heart.