Best Buds (11 page)

With a gulp, I realized what was going on. Poppy was dressing like me, talking like me, bossing people around like me, and now she was jumping off the high board, just like me. Just like she had mimicked Aster and Rose before. But why was she doing this? I had to get to the bottom of her behavior.

But first, I had to get her off the high board in one piece.

I took a deep breath and climbed up the ladder, rung by rung. When I got to the top I stood at the far end so I wouldn’t accidentally bounce my sister into the pool.

“Hey, Poppy!” I called out cheerfully, even though my heart was pounding mad fast. “Whatcha doing?” I was trying to be as casual as possible so I wouldn’t freak her out anymore than she already was. But it was hard to keep my cool.

“Del, I’m scared!” she whimpered, not taking her eyes off the crystal blue water below.

“All you have to do is take a step backward,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Just take one big step backward and we’ll take it from there.”

“O-okay.” Poppy sniffled. She nodded and stepped backward. She almost lost her footing and the crowd gasped.

“You’re fine, Poppy, you’re fine,” I assured her. “Now take one more.”

She did it. “And now that you’re away from the edge you can turn around and walk toward me.”

Poppy shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Poppy,” I assured her. “Just face me. You can do it.”

I saw her little shoulders shake. Then she took a deep breath and turned. Her eyes were as round as saucers.

“Great!” I said. “Now put your hands on the rails. Look me in the eyes and walk right toward me.”

Poppy gripped the rails so hard her knuckles turned white. Then slowly, slowly, she took a step forward.

“That’s great, Poppy!” I said encouragingly. “Now a couple more …”

A few seconds later, Poppy was clutching my leg for dear life. After I hugged her and then detached her, I helped her down the ladder. The crowd cheered when we got to the bottom. My legs nearly buckled when I was on solid ground and I realized I was drenched in sweat. That had taken a lot out of me. I had to walk over to our lounge chair, sit down, and take a deep breath. Poppy, of course, was as fine as could be.

“Wanna make soup?” she asked me.

I smiled weakly. “Sure,” I said. Anything to stay on solid ground.

I decided to wait till the walk home to talk to Poppy. “So why did you climb to the top of the high board?” I asked.

“I wanted to be just like you, Del,” she said matter-of-factly.

“First you were Aster.”

Poppy nodded.

“And then you were Rose.”

Poppy nodded again.

“And now you’re me,” I concluded.
Hey,
I realized,
why didn’t she want to be
me
first?

Poppy shook her head. “Not anymore,” she said. “That high board was too scary!”

Well, at least that was taken care of. “But why have you been acting like us all week?” I said. “You’re not Aster, or Rose, or me. You’re Poppy, and we like you just the way you are.”

Poppy looked down at the ground. “You want to be a florist. Aster wants to be a poet. Rose wants to be an actress. You all know what you want to be.”

Realization dawned on me. “Does this have to do with your graduation?” I asked.

She nodded, her eyes still downcast. “I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”

“Oh, Poppy,” I said. “Nobody really knows. I could end up being a doctor. Aster could be a chef. Rose could be a librarian.” I smiled at her. “There’s so much time for you — and all of us — to decide. Just because we like something now doesn’t mean we have to do it for the rest of our lives!”

Poppy raised her eyes and considered this.

“And you are your own person, Pops,” I said. “You don’t need to pretend to be any of us. You’re different, and that’s good.”

She gave me a dubious look.

“I don’t know anyone else who counts the same set of stairs every morning,” I said. “Who wears two different colored socks almost every day. Who could go two weeks only eating foods that start with the letter L.”

Poppy still looked skeptical.

“That was a lot of lettuce and lentils,” I reminded her. I thought of something else. “And who makes up her own words,” I added. “Face it, Pops. You are creative and entertaining, and you’re really funny!”

Poppy had a very thoughtful look on her face. I smiled, confident that I had gotten through to her.

“You’re right, Del,” she said. “I am funny.” Then she threw her arms in the air. “That’s it! I know what I want to be when I grow up. A clown!” I laughed, and she smiled at me. “I feel so …”

“Pondiferous?” I guessed.

She rolled her eyes. “No … intervisable,” she said. At my blank look, she explained. “It means relieved.”

I sighed. Poppy hadn’t
really
gotten my message. But at least she wouldn’t be climbing the high board anymore. That made me feel
intervisable,
too, that was for sure.

I woke up early the next day and started packing. Tomorrow — my birthday — would be crazy busy and we wanted to leave for Maine first thing in the morning on Sunday. I carefully folded T-shirts, bathing suits, underwear, socks, jeans, and sweatshirts and placed them in my suitcase along with sandals, sunglasses, water shoes, and four — no, make that five, to be safe — paperbacks I couldn’t wait to read. I also added a brand-new sundress that I planned to wear to my birthday dinner at Brown’s.

It had taken a while, but I was feeling okay with how things were turning out for my birthday. I’d be doing the things I loved most — arranging flowers and helping out the family business. It still annoyed me that I was giving Ashley an amazing party while I’d be celebrating on a much smaller scale, one day late. But it was what it was.

Mom and I were running late and had to practically sprint to the store to open in time. I had just stepped behind the counter when two older women walked in.

“I’d like a dozen roses,” said the woman with the bluish-white hair.

“Red, white, yellow, or pink?” I asked, indicating the vases in the cooler behind me.

She looked at them all. “Oh, it’s so hard,” she said. “Maybe a mix?”

As I wrapped them up in crackly cellophane, I eavesdropped on their conversation. “So what are your plans for this weekend?” the blue-haired lady asked her friend, who had a snow-white bob.

“George and I are going to the McGillicuddys’ anniversary party tomorrow,” said the lady with the bob.

“Oh, how lovely,” said the blue-haired lady. “Is it their golden anniversary?” she asked.

“It is! Their kids are coming in from all over the country. It’s going to be a wonderful party.”

I stared at them. Dare I ask? Finally, I realized I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

I took a deep breath. “I hate to bother you,” I said once I had stapled the bouquet closed and beribboned it. “But I was wondering if you knew why Lily Hastings and Geraldine McGillicuddy don’t get along.”

The two women looked at me in surprise. The lady with the bob spoke first. “It happened so long ago,” she said, “but I still remember because it surprised me so much. It’s because Lily never RSVP’d to Geraldine’s daughter’s wedding. Geraldine was very offended.”

The blue-haired lady woman gave her a funny look. She shook her head. “No, no, no,” she said. “You have it all wrong. Lily was never invited to the wedding. She told me so. She was crushed. They were supposed to be best friends.”

After they left, arguing over who had slighted whom, I stood there shaking my head. Aunt Lily was a stickler for manners. There was no way she wouldn’t RSVP in a timely fashion to any invitation, especially one from a good friend. I realized what must have happened. Aunt Lily’s invite had probably gotten lost in the mail. Two friends hadn’t spoken in fifteen years, missed all that time in each other’s lives over a simple misunderstanding. It was very sad.

Something had to be done. But unfortunately, I didn’t have the time right then to figure it out.

Happy Birthday to me,
I thought as soon as I opened my eyes the next morning. I was officially a teenager, but I didn’t feel any different. Not six inches taller or suddenly knowing how to apply eyeliner or anything like that. Just me, one day older.

I sat up in my bed. The heat wave had finally broken. As we had walked back from the store last night after finishing the centerpieces for the two parties, we had noticed a drop in temperature. We all opted to sleep in our own beds, and Mom and Dad seemed very relieved. No sleeping bodies to step over in the morning!

From the window by my bed, I felt a slight breeze coming in and I could hear the birds singing again.
Whew.
It was going to be a nice day for both parties, even if neither of them were for me.

After I brushed my teeth, I went downstairs. I heard someone bustling in the kitchen. I wondered if there would be a bouquet of delphinium by my breakfast plate, or if Mom had gotten up early to whip up special pancakes for me — maybe in the shape of a flower or something. Or maybe there would be balloons tied to my chair.

Wishful thinking.

Mom stood in front of the coffeemaker, frowning. “Where’s your dad?” she said crankily. “I never know how to work this thing.”

I stood there, waiting for her to turn around and wish me a happy birthday. But nothing.

My spirits sank. I couldn’t believe it. I shuffled over to the fridge and peered inside forlornly.

“No time for breakfast,” Mom said. “We have to get an early start. We’ll pick up something at the Corner Café on the way in.”

“Okay,” I said. Maybe she needed a little reminder. “Do you think I should wear something special today?” I hinted.

Mom shook her head. “Dress down. We’re going to have a very busy day.”

We kept the store open for a couple of hours, then closed early to set up for the McGillicuddys’ party. I was dragging my feet, feeling completely forgotten. Mom had never wished me a happy birthday. No texts or calls from any of my friends. And Hamilton … what I wouldn’t have given for a birthday text from him. I had had some disappointing birthdays before, but this one took the cake.

As Mom and I loaded up the van with the centerpieces, Mom turned to me, holding an empty gilt frame. “Do we have the flower list?” she asked. She meant the page we had put together of the flowers the McGillicuddys had chosen and their meanings. I had printed several copies (better safe than sorry!) on thick ivory paper, which were still sitting on the worktable. I ran inside, picked two up, and placed them in a pink folder, which I put in my shoulder bag. The frame would be placed on a table set up at the entrance to the tent, along with some framed photos of the McGillicuddy family through the years and a mini version of the centerpiece.

When we got to the McGillicuddys', Mom and I rang the bell, each balancing a box of centerpieces in our arms.
There were several more in the car. Mrs. McGillicuddy came downstairs in a pretty pink dress and diamond earrings, a huge smile on her face.

“Welcome!” she said.

“You look marvelous!” Mom told her.

“Thank you,” replied Mrs. McGillicuddy. “Didn’t we luck out with the weather? What a gorgeous day!”

“Great day for a celebration,” I muttered.

We walked through the entryway and out the back door to the backyard, where the tent was set up. I wanted to pause a moment to take a closer look at their beautiful garden, which prominently featured several different kinds of roses, all in full bloom. But there was no time. As the caterer bustled about and some of the grandchildren ran around in the backyard, we began setting up the centerpieces. Mrs. McGillicuddy hovered behind Mom as she displayed the family photos. She had a comment for each one. “That’s our wedding day!” she said with a sigh. “And look at how cute Annemarie was as a baby!”

Mom finished arranging and took a step back. “It looks great,” she said. She reached into a box and
pulled out the gilt frame. “Now hand me the flower list,” she said to me.

“Sure,” I said, walking over to my bag and grabbing the folder. Then I had a sudden idea. It was last minute and a little crazy. Would it work? “Oh my gosh,” I said. “I can’t find it. I guess I forgot to take it.”

Mom looked at me crossly and, in my current state of disappointment, it nearly brought tears to my eyes. “I
told
you to bring it. That’s so unlike you.” Mom shook her head. “I’ll drive back and get it. But we’re running out of time. We have to finish up here and shoot over to Society Sisters.” She looked a little frazzled.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and began to walk to the front of the house.

“Ask Dad,” she called after me.

But I had other plans. I flipped open my phone, took a deep breath, and crossed my fingers.

“Aunt Lily,” I said when she picked up. “I need your help.”

After we’d spoken, I hung up and took another deep
breath. It had taken some convincing, but Aunt Lily had finally agreed to help us out.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the front door. I opened it to find my great-aunt, not looking too happy.

“Here you go,” said Aunt Lily, handing me the flower list and immediately turning to walk back down the front steps.

“Lily!” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, sounding shocked. (I had told her moments before that I needed her in the front hallway.)

“I was just delivering something to my great-niece,” Aunt Lily explained, looking embarrassed.

“Thank you,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy stiffly.

I plunged right into it. “Look, I don’t know how to bring this up, so I just will,” I said, all in a rush. I was totally nervous this wouldn’t work. “Mrs. McGillicuddy, you think Aunt Lily never RSVP’d to your daughter’s wedding, and that’s why you’re mad. Aunt Lily, you never received an invitation to the wedding and you thought you weren’t invited. And that’s why
you’re
upset.” I looked
at the two of them. “Don’t you see? It was all just a stupid mistake. The invite must have gotten lost in the mail.”

The two women stared at me, looking confused.