Wedding Bell Blues (2 page)

“Me too!” said Jayden. “I want to help.”

“And me,” said Eliza. “If you could use another person.”

Soon everyone in the spa had volunteered to help. No one was angry about their appointments being canceled.

Aly ran over to Isaac, who had been waiting by the Sparkle Spa's polish wall. “Okay,” she said. “We'll all help. Just tell us what you need.”

Isaac pulled out a stack of photos from his camera
bag. There were pictures of him and Joan hiking, skiing, walking through a museum, blowing out birthday candles. They were all black-and-white shots with a single color added to each one, as if Isaac had painted it on. In one Joan had really red lips. In another Isaac's tie was neon blue.

“These are so cool,” Brooke said.

Aly thought so too. She especially liked the photo where Joan and Isaac were feeding ducks, and all of the ducks were bright yellow.

But Isaac wasn't paying attention to what the girls were saying. He was digging around in his camera bag. When he brought his hand out this time, he was holding a skein of ribbon and some clear tape.

“Okay,” he said, “I was hoping you could cut the ribbon and attach it to the pictures, then hang the ribbons all over the salon. I'm going to run out and pick up the rose petals for the floor. Sound like a plan?”

“Aye, aye, Isaac,” Brooke said, saluting him.

“No problem at all,” Aly said, glad so many friends were helping them. This seemed like a pretty big project, actually. Isaac really should have asked them sooner. Aly could have at least precut the ribbon!

While Isaac was gone, the girls cut, taped, and hung fifty-five pictures. Lily, Aly's other best friend and the salon's chief financial officer, had counted each one and made sure they were placed perfectly around the room.

Charlotte was admiring a shot of Joan and Isaac standing on a mountaintop, a bright green backpack on Joan's back. “This is so romantic,” she said with a sigh.

Aly agreed.

Isaac burst through the salon's back door, holding
up bags of rose petals. “I've got them, girls.” He stopped in his tracks. “Wow,” he said. “This looks even better than I'd imagined it would. Joan's going to flip!”

He handed the petals to Aly, Sophie, and Brooke, and the three of them carefully spread handfuls on the floor. When they were finished, the girls couldn't believe how magical the back room looked. Even Sparkly barked his approval.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, “I think our work here is done. Everyone except Aly and Brooke should probably leave. But make sure to come back for your new appointments.”

“Again, we're sorry again for canceling,” Aly added.

“No problem at all,” Annie said. “This was so much cooler than having my toes polished.”

“Are you ready?” Brooke asked Isaac when
everyone was gone. “Because I don't think I can wait a minute more.”

Aly felt the same way. She had never seen anyone proposed to in real life, only on TV.

Once again, Isaac rubbed his chin. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this!” he said. “Can one of you ask Joan to come back here?”

“I'll do it!” both girls said at once.

“We'll both go,” Aly said. She was trying not to feel nervous, but so much excitement bubbled up inside her.

The sisters walked into True Colors, not paying any attention to the customers or even to their mom, who was at manicure station number one, giving Mrs. Franklin a French manicure.

“Joanie!” Brooke said, running over to Joan's regular station, number seven. “We need you in the Sparkle Spa.”

Joan looked up from Mrs. Howard's As Red as It Gets manicure. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

Aly nodded. She felt like she needed to come up with an excuse so Joan wouldn't get alarmed. “We just . . . we just . . .”

“We made a really cool design on the nail polish wall that we want to show you,” Brooke said.

“When you're done with Mrs. Howard,” Aly added.

Joan smiled. “Well then, you're in luck,” she said, “because all I have to do is three more fingers of top coat and Mrs. Howard will be ready to dry.”

Aly watched Brooke tug her braid; it made her wish she had one to tug. She couldn't wait to see Joan's reaction.

A minute or so later—which seemed like ­forever—Joan got up and walked with the girls to the Sparkle Spa. When they got to the door, Aly
said, “Joan, why don't you go in first, so you can see the, um, pattern we made right away.”

Joan gave Aly a funny look, but she walked ahead anyway. Then she gasped. “Isaac,” she said. “What's . . . what's going on?”

Aly and Brooke watched as Isaac got down on one knee, opened a ring box, and asked Joan to marry him.

At first Joan didn't say anything. Aly held her breath. Brooke tugged on her braid.

And then Joan answered. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Isaac stood up, and they kissed, just like they were on TV.

Aly started clapping, and Brooke started cheering. Before they knew it, everyone else in True Colors had joined them.

Aly turned around, surprised to see Mom standing behind her, eyes dripping quiet tears. “Isn't this beautiful?” she asked Aly.

“Do you think we're going to get to be flower girls?” Brooke whispered to Mom. “And do you think Sparkly's going to get to be a flower dog? He'd look great in a dog tutu.”

Mom shrugged her shoulders and smiled mysteriously. “I think you'll find out soon enough.”

“I hope both things come true!” Brooke said.

Aly wasn't so sure. She'd never heard of anyone having a flower dog before. And as a fifth grader, she thought she might be a little too old to be a flower girl.

T
he night after she became engaged, Joan called the Tanner house. Brooke picked up the phone and started right in asking Joan what she thought about dogs wearing tutus: Were they cute? Was pink the best dog tutu color? But instead of answering like she usually would, Joan asked if she could talk to Mom. She promised Brooke that they could have a very long conversation about dog tutus in the salon later that week.

“Sure thing,” Brooke said, putting Joan on speaker.
“The dog tutus can wait. I'll go get Mom.” Then she yelled,
“Mooooooom! Phooooone! It's Jooooooan!”

“That doesn't sound quite like getting her to me,” Joan said with a laugh on the other end.

“Close enough,” Brooke told her.

Mom didn't pick up, so Aly went to find her. She walked upstairs and poked her head into her parents' bedroom. Mom was there, talking on her cell phone.

“Hey,” Aly whispered. “Joan's on the phone.”

“Tell her I'll call her back, sweetie,” Mom said. “I'm on with Dad.”

Aly nodded. Dad traveled a lot for work and usually came home on Friday nights. But he was on an especially long trip this time and wouldn't be making it home for the weekend. She wanted to say hi to him, but it seemed like Mom had some more important things to talk about, so Aly quietly left the room.

The girls went to bed that night thinking about Joan and her wedding.

“Do you think there's anyone else she could possibly ask to be her flower girls?” Brooke said from her side of the room.

Aly rolled over to face her sister. “I don't know. Maybe she isn't planning on having flower girls. Or maybe Isaac has people to ask.”

Brooke gasped. “Isaac's people! I hadn't thought of that.”

“But Joan loves us,” Aly added. “So she'll probably pick us.”

“Probably,” Brooke repeated.

Aly still wasn't sure how she felt about being a flower girl. All the flower girls she'd seen were three or five or maybe seven years old. She was ten and Brooke was eight. Was there an age limit?

The next morning Mom woke the girls up earlier than usual. “Rise and shine!” she said. “I spoke to Joan last night after you two fell asleep. She asked me to bring you to the bridal shop today.”

Aly stretched and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Does Joan want us to come because we're going to be flower girls?” Brooke asked.

Mom just smiled. “She asked me to be her matron of honor, but she didn't mention anything about you two. She also asked me to figure out a way to donate the extra food from her wedding to a charity in town. I'm going to have to do some research on that today. Maybe you girls can help.”

“We're going to be flower girls, and Sparkly's going to be the flower dog—I just know it, ” Brooke said, getting out of bed and sliding on her glasses.

“Of course we can help,” Aly told her mom. But
she wasn't really thinking about the food donation. She was thinking that ten years old was practically eleven, which was really close to being a teenager. And teenagers were never flower girls.

“Maybe Joan wants us to help her choose her dress,” Aly offered. “Or choose the color for her bridesmaids. We're very good color pickers.”

Brooke nodded. “That's true, we are. But we could do those things
and
be her flower girls.”

Brooke had a point. Then again, Brooke
always
had a point.