She spun around. The jumpsuit had a paintbrush made out of rhinestones on the back! We all laughed.
“I have just the job for you,” Dad said.
He teamed her up with Beckett to finish painting the window trim. Beckett grinned, and Mrs. V said, “Would you empty your pockets before we begin working together? I want to make sure you’re not going to spring another dead frog on me.”
Finally, with two days to go, the painting and other final touches were done. We’d set up tables and chairs, and tomorrow we would decorate.
I found Mom in the restaurant kitchen and gave her an update. While most of us had been working on the event space, Mom had been working on the food.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“I’m doing some prep for the appetizers for the wedding,” she said. She let out a big yawn.
“Do you need help?”
“I sure do, but there are some dairy ingredients in these. I know it makes you uncomfortable to cook with what you can’t eat.”
“It did,” I said, nodding. But I realized that that was at the beginning of the summer, when I was first getting used to my diagnosis. I still didn’t like being dairy-free, but I did like not feeling sick all the time. This new normal was starting to feel … kind of normal. “I think I should try again,” I told Mom.
“Oh, Blaire, that’s great!” Mom pulled me in for a hug.
Mom always says that cooking is a form of love. There was no way I was going to let my food issues stop me from showing Cat and Gabe how much I love them.
I stood at the edge of the orchard, holding my bouquet of wildflowers. I was surprised that my hands were shaking.
“You okay?” Thea whispered, straightening the sash at my back. I felt like the fanciest junior bridesmaid in my blue dress with its delicate floral pattern. The cap sleeves were so sheer, they felt like fairy wings. My favorite part was the skirt, which was longer in the back than the front. I basically never wanted to take it off.
“I’m nervous,” I whispered back. “And excited. Nervous-ited.”
“That makes two of us,” Cat said from behind the row of bridesmaids.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Thea assured us. “At this point, what could possibly go wrong?”
Thea took her seat as the guitar player started “Here Comes the Sun.” That was my cue. Gabe, standing in front of the gazebo, gave me a small nod. He looked completely relaxed.
I took a deep breath. Here we go. One foot in front of the other.
As I started walking down the aisle, everyone turned to look. All those smiles felt like spotlights shining on me. I thought about what Grandpa had told me this morning. “Just enjoy the moment.”
So instead of focusing on my nerves, I focused on how beautiful everything was. We had decorated the gazebo with wildflowers from the field and copper-colored paper fans that shimmered in the sun. I saw the arch to the orchard, which was draped in lavender tulle. The nearby apple trees were hung with more coppery paper fans, which swayed gently in the breeze. It was all simple and romantic and perfect.
I made it to the gazebo and took my place on one side. Dad, Mom, and Grandpa beamed at me from their seats in the front row. Beckett rolled his eyes and tugged at the bow tie around his neck.
After Gabe’s two groomsmen walked Cat’s bridesmaids down the aisle, everyone rose. Cat practically floated across the lawn. She was wearing a sleeveless cream-colored dress overlaid with lace. Her brother, in his military dress uniform, looked so proud to be escorting Cat down the aisle.
When they reached the gazebo, Lorenzo kissed Cat on the cheek. She squeezed his hand, and I could see both of them tearing up. I knew without a doubt it had been worth it, to rush the planning so that he could be here.
Lorenzo took his place next to Mom, and everyone sat down. Cat took a deep breath and stepped toward Gabe. She looked more nervous than I’d ever seen her.
But instead of taking Cat’s hand to lead her into the gazebo, where the minister was waiting, Gabe turned, picked up a bag from the ground, and pulled out a sandwich.
HUH?!
“Turkey sub?” he asked.
Cat started laughing.
“What, we’re not just having a picnic in the gazebo?” Gabe asked with a straight face. Then he grinned and tossed the sandwich to one of this groomsmen, who unwrapped one end and took a big bite. All of the guests cracked up.
As Gabe took Cat’s hand and led her to the gazebo, I could see that Cat wasn’t nervous anymore. Gabe’s sandwich stunt had calmed her down. That’s why they were meant to be together.
After the ceremony, as Cat and Gabe posed for pictures in the gazebo, Dad introduced me to the reporter from Empire State Weddings. Cat had agreed to let someone from the magazine review the wedding because she knew the exposure would be good for the farm. It was her gift to us for hosting her wedding.
“Blaire helped plan the wedding,” Dad told the reporter. “She did all the decorations herself.”
The woman from the magazine nodded and wrote something in her notebook.
“Wait till you see the barn,” I told her, hoping she would be impressed with it.
Cat and Gabe climbed onto the tandem bike, which Thea and I had decorated with wildflowers and lavender colored ribbons. As they set off through the orchard, the guitarist played “A Bicycle Built for Two.” Cat and Gabe rode under the arch and down the path to the barn, which was lined with luminarias we’d light later in the evening. The wedding guests followed on foot, and Thea and I hurried ahead to make sure everything was ready.
Once we were inside the barn, Thea flipped the switch on Mrs. V’s bubble machine. As my eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine, I saw bubbles floating out into the breeze, and vases of wildflowers wrapped in tulle, and chickens pecking the floorboards near the head table.
Wait. Chickens?!
They were everywhere. Chickens strutted across the dance floor and hopped up onto the bales of hay that had been set up to hold gifts. Several were perched on the newly painted windowsills. Dandelion was next to the chicken crate card box, examining the painted eggs.
“Dandy, no,” I said, scooping up the Silkie.
Behind me, Thea said, “Um, I don’t remember this as part of the plan.”
“Thea, we have to get the chickens out of here before anyone else sees. Quick—close the front door!”
“Too late,” Thea whispered, as Cat and Gabe appeared. Mrs. V was right behind them, with the magazine reporter beside her.
“You’re going to love this space,” Mrs. V was saying to the reporter. “It’s absolutely perfect—”
“Better make that birdfect,” Thea said as Mrs. V let out a shriek. The reporter started scribbling something in her notebook.
I looked at Cat, horrified that her reception was overrun with chickens. But Cat just started laughing. As guests began streaming in, she greeted them by saying, “Welcome to farm fancy!”
“Yes,” Gabe added. “Find your seat. It may include a free chicken.”
“Well, at least Cat and Gabe don’t seem too upset,” Thea said to me.
“Thank goodness for that,” I agreed, handing Dandy to Thea. “But we’re going to have to explain this to the magazine reporter.” I saw Beckett come into the barn, and I waved him over.
Beckett looked guilty as he crossed the room. “I guess I must have left the coop open after I collected the eggs this morning,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
“We’ll talk later,” I said, pointing to his bow tie. “Right now, I need that.”
“Take it!” he said, pulling off the tie. “It’s choking me.”
“Thanks. Now get me one other chicken, and then get the rest of them out of here.”
I tore a piece of tulle fabric off one of the centerpieces, pulled a flower from my bouquet, and made a mini makeshift veil. I managed to tuck the veil into the feathers on Dandy’s head.
Beckett handed me another chicken. I took the bow tie and slipped
it over the bird’s head.
Ta-da! Picture-perfect junior bride and groom. We presented the chickens to Cat and Gabe, who laughed as they posed for photos with them.
The magazine reporter took some photos and then came over to me. “This is quite the setup,” she said. To my amazement and relief, she sounded impressed.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “We do whatever we can to make weddings special here at Pleasant View Farm.”
Once Beckett and Thea got all of the chickens out of barn and we did some fast cleanup, the waitstaff came through with trays of appetizers. I watched one guest try the spinach cheese puffs I’d helped Mom make. She smiled after she took a bite, then reached for another one. I couldn’t have any, but it sure made me happy to know she was enjoying them.
When it was time for dinner, Grandpa held out my chair so I could sit down. Then he took the chair next to mine. “Well, Blaire,” he said, “I think you pulled it off. Are you happy?”
“I am,” I said, nodding. “Are you happy?”
“I am,” he admitted. He paused and looked around the room. “You know, I wish my parents could see this happening in their old, run-down barn.”
“I think they’d be pleased that we created this place for people to come together, don’t you?”
Grandpa put his arm around me. “I think you’re right. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but bring on more weddings!”
When dinner was finished, Cat and Gabe fed each other spoonfuls of crème brûlée. Mom brought me a dish of the dairy-free version and I dug right in. Even if I find out that I can start eating dairy again, this coconut crème brûlée will be a keeper.
I was scraping up the last delicious bite when Cat and Gabe took the microphone from the DJ. “We want to thank everyone for celebrating with us,” Gabe said. “And we want to thank the Wilsons for making this such an incredible day.”
“We owe a special thanks to Blaire Wilson,” Cat added. “Sprout, this song is for you.”
With that, the DJ started playing “Do the Funky Chicken.” Mrs. Vandegriff and Lorenzo were the first on the dance floor, followed by Gabe and Cat, then Mom and Dad. Thea grabbed Beckett and they began strutting around the dance floor, pretending to be chickens.
I went to get Mom’s phone to take some pictures. But then I saw the wedding photographer shooting candids of all the dancers, and I realized there would be plenty of photos. So I headed to the dance floor, too. The best way to enjoy this moment was sharing it with the people I loved, right here, right now.
I stepped on the dance floor and flapped my arms like chicken wings.
Everything’s good.
Jennifer Castle grew up writing stories in her head on long school bus rides and was constantly looking for ways to turn her idea-sparks into reality. These included dozens of poems, a homemade magazine that lasted three issues, a barrette-making business, and a cruise boat made of branches and cardboard for the creek behind her house. Eventually, one of her “big ideas” became a published novel, and since then she has written more than ten books for kids and teens, including the Butterfly Wishes series, Together at Midnight, and Famous Friends. Jennifer lives among the mountains, woods, and bountiful farms of New York’s Hudson Valley with her husband, two daughters, and two striped cats, who also work part-time as her writing assistants.
With gratitude to Lindsey Lusher Shute, Executive Director and Co-founder of the National Young Farmers Coalition and co-owner of Hearty Roots Community Farm in New York’s Hudson Valley; Dr. Amanda Cox, Assistant Professor of Pediatrics in the Division of Pediatric Allergy and Immunology and fellow of the American Academy of Allergy, Asthma, and Immunology; Dr. Megan Moreno, Academic Division Chief: General Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine, Vice Chair of Digital Health, and Principal Investigator of the Social Media and Adolescent Health Research Team (SMAHRT); and Kamille Adamany, Director of Restaurants at American Girl, for their insights and knowledge.
Keep reading for a preview of Blaire’s second novel!
You learn something new every day.
That’s what Grandpa always says. Here’s my something-new for today:
It’s not easy to put pajamas on a baby goat.
“Dash! Sit still!” I scolded this particular goat. Dash was a four-month-old kid, brown with a thick black stripe down his back. Right now, though, he was acting more like an octopus, wriggling his little hooves as I tried to slip them into the pajamas. His best friend, our lamb Penelope, was already prancing around their pen in her pink-flowered pj’s. At least she recognized a fashion Do when she saw it.
My own (human) best friend, Thea, knelt down beside me. “Need help? Two human kids should be able to get one goat kid into pajamas.”
“Yes, please!” I laughed, and she held Dash gently, rubbing his soft ears. It took a few more minutes, but Thea and I finally managed to get tops and bottoms on this goat. “Whew,” I said as Dash squirmed out of our arms. “That was a workout I didn’t expect.”
“Purple polka dots are so you, Dash,” Thea said as he raced to the other side of the pen.
“Comfy, right?”
In the coop next to the pen, the chickens clucked loudly. I wasn’t sure if they approved or if they were laughing at Dash. He didn’t seem to care. He bounced up onto a hay bale and then jumped down to the ground. Up onto the hay, then down again. It was like he had springs in his legs. Dash ran over to Penny and they sniffed each other’s pajamas before he started chasing her around the toddler-sized play set we’d put in their pen. Penny jumped to the top of the plastic slide and skittered. Dash followed.
“Looks like it’s thumbs-up on the pj’s,” I told Thea. “Or, I guess, hooves up.”
“Too. Much. Cuteness,” Thea said in her robot voice. “System. Overload. May. Explode.”
“I didn’t know I’d be sew successful,” I told Thea, spelling out my joke for her. “The pj’s were just a fun project with all my spare time after Cat and Gabe’s wedding.”
Caterina Minardi was our farm manager. She and her fiancé, Gabe, had just gotten married in the renovated barn here at Pleasant View Farm, my home and my family’s business. Cat felt like a member of our family, and I was thrilled when she’d let me help her plan the wedding. But once the wedding was over, I had a lot of time on my hands. So my hands made pajamas, from an idea I got watching an online video about creating kids’ pj’s from old blankets.
Baaaaah.
Penny was standing between me and Thea, giving us the lamb version of the stink-eye.
“What is it, Penny?” I asked. “Are you mad that we’re not in our pajamas, too?”
“We’ll take care of that right away,” Thea added, and we both climbed into the two-person tent my dad had set up on the lawn just outside the animal pen.
This wasn’t just a pajama party … it was a sleepover with a lamb and a goat.
“I’m so happy we’re finally doing this!” Thea said as she pulled a pajama top over her head. “No more wedding craziness.”
I nodded. I’d been promising Thea we’d do this sleepover for two months—ever since my family adopted Dash and Penny. But then Cat and Gabe’s big event took over my life.
“Better September than never,” I said. “But you have to admit, that wedding was fun!”
“The wedding, yes,” Thea agreed. “The planning? Not so much.”
“Well, things are back to normal now,” I said as we finished changing and climbed out of the tent. “It’s just you and me and a couple of baby animals in pj’s.”
Penny and Dash were still hopping around the pen.
“Hey!” Thea shouted at them. “You guys started the dance party without us? How dare you!” She turned and pointed at me. “Cue the sleepover soundtrack.”
I grabbed my tablet, found the music playlist I’d made for this special occasion, and turned the volume all the way up.
Thea and I shimmied and shook. Penny and Dash boomeranged back and forth across the pen, which was obviously the goat and
lamb version of dancing. I stood Penny up on her hind legs, holding her front ones so it looked like we were doing a waltz. We took about a zillion selfies with the animals and sent them to our friends.
After a couple of songs, Dash and Penny made a beeline for their water trough. Thea and I collapsed into a pile of hay.
“Best … dance party … ever,” Thea gasped as she tried to catch her breath.
Baaaah, Penny agreed.
“Um, why are the animals wearing pajamas?” a voice above us asked.
I looked up to see my little brother, Beckett, standing outside the pen in a sequined silver vest and a black top hat.
“Um, what are you wearing?” I asked, sitting up.
“This is my costume,” Beckett said. “Dad said Dash could be the main attraction at our booth for the Bluefield Harvest Festival. I’ve got two weeks to work on our act.” Beckett straightened his hat. “Can I show you the tricks we’ve got so far?”
“Go for it,” I said, then whispered to Thea, “This should be good.”
As Beckett opened the gate, he pulled a container of licorice-flavored goat treats out of his pocket and shook them. Dash rushed over to Beckett as if someone had just flipped Dash’s On switch.
“Okay, Dash,” Beckett said. “First, give me a high five.”
Beckett held out his hand, and Dash put one of his hooves in Beckett’s palm.
“Good boy!” Beckett gave Dash a treat as Thea and I raised our eyebrows at each other. “Now,” continued Beckett, “show me your best goat disco moves.”
This time Beckett held his hand way above his head and started walking backward. Dash stood up on his hind legs and “danced” as he followed Beckett.
“That’s a pretty great move,” Thea whispered to me. “What should we call it?”
“Maybe instead of the ‘Nae Nae,’ this could be the ‘Maaaah Maaaah,’” I murmured back.
While Thea and I were giggling, Beckett was still backing up. And since he’d left the gate to the pen open, he was headed right for our tent.
Blaire Page 10
