Best Buds

by Catherine R. Daly

  But being around them made me a little sad, too. It made me miss my grandparents even more.

  “And how are your parents doing down in Florida?” Mrs. McGillicuddy asked my mom, as if she were reading my mind.

  As Mom filled them in on Gran and Gramps’s latest adventures, I took a closer look at Geraldine and Jerome. Fifty years! They sat close to each other and finished each other’s sentences and made each other smile. They certainly had a lot to celebrate. I also wondered what these harmless-looking people had done to incur the wrath of Great-aunt Lily. Perhaps appearances were deceiving.

  As Mom took down the details of the party — in their backyard, under a tent, a catered lunch, fifty people (including their five kids, their spouses, and fifteen grandchildren). She determined that they needed five centerpieces, plus a large arrangement for the refreshment table.

  “And what kind of arrangements are you thinking of? High? Low? Simple? Fancy?” Mom asked them.

  “Maybe low arrangements, on the simple side,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy slowly. Her husband nodded in agreement.

  “And do you know what kind of flowers you like?” Mom asked. “Or would you like to take a look in the cooler and pick out some favorites?”

  Mrs. McGillicuddy looked a little bashful. “Well, I love pink roses. They were the first flowers Jerome ever gave to me.”

  He smiled at the memory. “It was at the homecoming dance,” he said. “You wore a white dress and your hair was up.”

  Mom and I exchanged glances. Mr. McGillicuddy certainly had a good memory!

  He confirmed that with his next statement. “And you carried dahlias in your wedding bouquet.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “You remembered!”

  “Of course!” he said.

  “And when Charles was born you gave me a big bouquet of lisianthus,” she said. She looked at us. “Our first child,” she explained.

  He nodded. “And we had the loveliest hydrangea bush in the backyard of our first house….”

  Mom was scribbling notes down quickly. She looked up. “You’ve given me some wonderful flowers to work with,” she said. “And I just love that each one says something about your lives together.”

  Suddenly, I had an idea. “Hey!” I said. “What if we print up a special document that explains the meaning of each flower to your lives? We could put it in a beautiful frame and put it on a display table.”

  Mrs. McGillicuddy beamed at me. “That’s a great idea!” she said.

  Mom nodded approvingly, and I felt a flush of pride.

  Mr. McGillicuddy raised a hand. “Just in case you need any extra flowers to fill out the centerpieces, I think you should know that there’s one flower we don’t like at all….”

  “They’re these white-and-pink lilies that are very … um … fragrant,” Mrs. McGillicuddy said, clearly not wanting to offend Mom in case they were her personal favorites.

  “You mean stargazers,” said Mom. “Can’t stand ‘em myself. Fragrant is a nice word for it. They stink!”

  “And they’re dangerous, too,” I piped up, remembering one of the many pieces of flower trivia I’d learned from Gramps and Gran. “You have to remove the pollen as the flowers start to open. If any of it gets on your clothes, it totally stains them a hideous shade of orange.”

  “No stargazer lilies,” Mom wrote down. She looked up and smiled at the McGillicuddys. “It just happens that all the other flowers you’ve mentioned will look gorgeous together. We’re going to make sure you have a simply lovely anniversary party.”

  Mr. and Mrs. McGillicuddy stood to leave. They were shaking hands with me and Mom and exchanging thank-yous when the bell over the front door rang.

  I stood to greet the customer. “Welcome to Petal —”

  “Hello, Delphinium,” Aunt Lily said coolly. “I’m on my way to Kitty Dalrymple’s garden tea and I thought I would bring her a bouquet of …” Her voice trailed off as she noticed our customers. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “Hello, Geraldine, Jerome,” she said coolly.

  “Hello, Lily,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy in a grim tone. I stared at her. The sweet tone and smiling face were gone. Mrs. McGillicuddy was not looking very friendly at all.

  “How have you been?” Mr. McGillicuddy asked Aunt Lily.

  “Fine, thank you,” replied Aunt Lily. “I hear congratulations are in order. For your golden anniversary.”

  “Thank you, Lily,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy stiffly.

  “We’re looking forward to the party,” Mr. McGillicuddy said, and his wife gave him a quick look, as if to remind him that Aunt Lily was not invited.

  Aunt Lily seemed very uncomfortable. She pulled her ancient but gleaming alligator purse closer to her and turned away. “I’ll just wait over here until you’re ready,” she said quietly to my mom.

  I stared at Aunt Lily’s retreating back. I knew exactly how she felt, being left out of a big party. But it was totally weird, feeling bad for my frosty great-aunt.

  After the McGillicuddys left, neither Mom nor Aunt Lily said anything about the incident. Aunt Lily got her bouquet and left, and then I ran down to the Corner Café to pick up a couple of sandwiches before the Evil Edwardses arrived.

  To be fair, Ashley’s mom really isn’t all that bad. She only raised the thorn in my side that is Ashley, no big deal, right? But Mrs. Edwards and my mom get along just fine. Plus, I was fairly certain Ashley wasn’t any nicer to her mom than she was to me, so I kind of felt sorry for her. My stomach was so full of dread I could barely finish my sandwich.

  When I heard the bell jangle, I looked up and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. As Ashley and her mom walked inside, I heard Ashley say, “Just let me do the talking.”

  Ashley wore a beaded, pale-yellow and green sarong skirt, green tank top, and dangly earrings with multicolored stones. Metallic sandals laced up her legs. It was more an outfit for a tropical vacation than downtown New Hampshire. But even I had to admit she looked good. I thought about how much time I had put into choosing my outfit and laughed to myself. Foiled again!

  I gave the two of them my best professional smile. Ashley ignored me, but Mrs. Edwards gave me a quick hug, leaving me smelling like fragrant French perfume.

  “So nice to see you, Del,” Mrs. Edwards said. She turned to Mom and air kissed her. “Daisy! Our little girls are turning thirteen! Can you believe it?” I rolled my eyes at the “little girls” part, but stopped as soon as I realized Ashley was doing the same thing.

  Mrs. Edwards tugged at the hem of her short, crisp, white tennis dress as she sat in the chair Mom offered her. Her hair was an expensive-looking shade of blonde, held back with a pink headband. She wore a ring with a large diamond on her left hand. I knew she was about the same age as my mom, but looked a bit older because of all the time she spent in the sun, playing tennis and golf. Rumor had it that she had had some Botox injections to appear youthful, so I hoped she might frown so I could see if her forehead creased. Perhaps I could say something perplexing before the meeting was through. Mrs. Edwards smiled down at her attire. “Excuse my tennis whites,” she said. “But I’ve got a four o’clock court time!”

  For a second I thought she was going to dispute a parking ticket. Or maybe she had been caught jaywalking. Then I realized what she meant. Silly me. The Blooms are so not the Country Club types!

  “So tell us about your event,” Mom said, her purple pen poised above her notebook. “Is it at the Country Club?”

  “No way,” said Ashley snottily. “That’s for weddings and anniversary parties. Lame. My party is going to be at Society Sisters!”

  I clenched and unclenched my fists. I hated how rude Ashley was being to my mom and I hated how her mom was letting her get away with it. But mostly I hated sitting there listening to Ashley plan her stupid party that was ruining my actual birthday.

  Mom let it all roll off her back. “Is that the new place on Old Country Road?” she asked pleasantly.

  “Yes,” said Ashley
proudly. “And my party is going to be their very first event.”

  Mom bit her lip, unsure how to phrase what she had to say. “Sometimes with new venues, it isn’t the best idea to be the very first party,” she said carefully. “They need time to iron out the kinks….”

  Mrs. Edwards leaned toward Ashley. “Honey, she does have a point,” she said. “Maybe we could consider another place before we give them the down payment….”

  But Ashley held up a hand. I glanced over to Mrs. Edwards to see if she was perturbed by her daughter’s rude behavior, but her forehead was wrinkle free. “They’ve assured us that the party will be perfect,” Ashley said smugly. “I’m not worried.”

  Mom gave a tiny shrug. “All righty then. Let’s talk about the theme.”

  Ashley smiled. “One Thousand and One Nights,” she said dreamily. “With jewel tones for the tablecloths and linens, brass genie lamps on the tables, burning incense. We’ll eat sitting on the floor, surrounded by luxurious pillows. The lighting will be dim with flickering candles everywhere….”

  I couldn’t help smiling. Exactly as I had suspected — over the top and totally inappropriate to the season. But I was glad she had the whole thing planned out. At least I didn’t have to help her come up with ideas for her dumb party. Thank goodness for small favors.

  Mom frowned. “So your party is going to be inside in the dark on what will probably be a gorgeous summer evening?”

  Ashley looked crossly at Mom.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Mrs. Edwards. “Wouldn’t a poolside party at the Country Club be more fun?”

  “Mom!” Ashley shouted. “I’ve got it all figured out. And it’s MY birthday. Will you PLEASE butt out?”

  Mrs. Edwards sighed and shook her head. She gave Mom a look. “Well, it isn’t every day a girl turns thirteen.” She patted Ashley’s hand. “You can have whatever you want, dear.”

  Mrs. Edwards looked over at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Hey, Del, isn’t your birthday coming up, too? What are you doing for your big day?”

  Working two stupid parties, I wanted to say. Instead, I answered, “We’re going on vacation to Maine.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Edwards said, clearly not impressed. “Well, won’t that be fun for you.”

  Mom steered the conversation back to the subject at hand. “So I gather we’re talking exotics,” she guessed. “I have some fun thoughts to share. We could do blood lilies and hanging amaranthus with …”

  Ashley shook her head. “I already know exactly what I want.” She reached into her large, white studded leather bag and pulled out a sheaf of pages. They were each taken from a different glossy magazine. She rifled through them until she found the page she was looking for. She placed it on the table and tapped it with one pale pink-manicured fingernail. “This is from the latest celebrity party at Chateau Marmont” — she looked at my mom — “a very fancy Hollywood hotel that all the stars go to,” she explained as if Mom actually cared. “I want you to copy this exactly — studded golden vases with golden foliage, gold branches with crystals hanging from them, and chocolate artichokes.”

  I stared at the garish arrangement. It was a far cry from the mason jars filled with wildflowers that I coveted.

  “How pretty,” said Mom, although I was sure she didn’t really think so. “But do you think it’s a little dark for a summer …”

  “These. Are. My. Centerpieces,” Ashley said firmly.

  Mrs. Edwards laughed nervously. “My Ashley knows what she wants!” she said.

  If Mom was disappointed she wasn’t getting a chance to be creative, she didn’t show it. “I know the best place to order the flowers and the branches and foliage. But the crystals and the vases are going to be pricey.” She glanced at Mrs. Edwards for approval.

  Mrs. Edwards waved a hand. “Whatever it takes. I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”

  Ashley turned to her mother. “Thanks, Mom,” she said sweetly. She was getting exactly what she wanted and now she could afford to be nice. As much as I disliked Ashley, I couldn’t help feel the tiniest bit of admiration for her. She would never be stuck working on her birthday!

  Mom told them that she’d make some calls and present them with an estimate later in the week. Then we’d have to finalize the order one week in advance to be certain we’d get exactly what they wanted.

  Before she left, Ashley turned to me with a sly grin, jangling an earring in her hand. “The RSVPs have been flooding in,” she said. “No one wants to miss the party of the year.” She wrinkled her nose as if she was thinking. “Can you guess who just confirmed that he’s coming?”

  I was pretty sure that I could guess who it was. But I simply shrugged as if I cared so little I couldn’t even be bothered to speak.

  “Hamilton Baldwin,” she said.

  Even though I had been prepared to hear his name, it still sent a little wave of shock through me. “And he asked if he could bring a guest.” She bit her lower lip. “Wonder who that could be?”

  Chapter Six

  “The night is dark

  in the park.

  I walk

  after dark.

  It is dark dark dark.”

  Mom and I had just come home from the store when Poppy had steered us into the living room to join the rest of the family. She now stood in front of us “reading” from a notebook. Her hair was wet from her evening bath and you could see the comb marks in it. Instead of her usual pajamas, she was wearing an old black T-shirt of mine that fell below her knees. She finished and looked at us all expectantly. “The end,” she said, giving us a look. I started clapping, and the others joined in after a moment.

  The rest of my family looked puzzled, but I was pretty sure I knew what was going on with my little sister. I decided to confirm it.

  “Nice poem, Poppy,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “And how was your day?” I asked.

  “Fine,” my normally talkative sister said.

  “Where did you go?” I asked.

  “Water park.”

  The water park is Poppy’s favorite place in the world. Any other day she’d be gushing for twenty minutes about the water slides, the lines, and the concessions. But not today.

  Aster stared at Poppy, realization dawning in her eyes. She turned to me.

  “I’m getting a bad feeling,” Aster said softly. “Or am I imagining this?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s just what you think.”

  Dark clothes. Dark poetry. Strangely silent. Poppy was acting just like Aster. And Aster didn’t like it one bit.

  “But why?” Aster asked me.

  I shook my head. “Why does Poppy do anything?”

  Aster looked at me blankly.

  “Because she feels like it. It will pass.”

  Aster scowled. “I want it to pass now. How do I make her stop?”

  I shook my head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Aster looked annoyed, but I was amused. And it was nice to have something to take my mind off the comment that Ashley had made about Hamilton. Why would he bring a guest to her party? And who could it be? I was obsessing over it nonstop.

  Dad felt so bad about his Ashley birthday mess-up that he gave me the next couple of days off, and he worked in the store. Well, I wasn’t exactly off, since I had three little sisters to keep an eye on. But I managed to squeeze in a quick last visit with Heather and Amy before they went off on their summer trips, which was really nice. And I even enjoyed hanging out with my sisters; I found it pretty funny to see how Poppy’s Aster act, all silent and broody, made my goth sister crazy.

  “It’s cute,” said Rose. “I don’t see why it bothers you so much.”

  As we sat around the kitchen table one morning finishing our bagels, Aster was seized with a sudden inspiration.

  “Hey, Poppy,” she said.

  Silently, Poppy turned to her sister and raised an eyebrow. I nearly choked. Classic Aster move.

/>   “I notice that your bedroom is yellow,” she said. “Have you ever taken a look at the walls on my side of the room Rose and I share?”

  I could see Poppy gulp.

  “What color are they?” Aster asked.

  “Black,” Poppy said softly.

  “I would never have yellow walls, Pops,” Aster said. “Too sunshiny for me.”

  Poppy nodded. She got it.

  The day was supposed to get pretty warm, so I decided we would head to the town pool. They offered free swimming lessons on Tuesdays and I could relax while my sisters swam. Plus, Poppy still loved to splash around in the kiddie pool. I wondered if I’d see anyone from school.

  I showed our family pool card to the bored high school student behind the front entrance and we walked inside. There were three pools — a deep pool with diving boards, a swimming pool with a section of cordoned-off lap lanes, and a kiddie pool. I waved to Carmine Belloni, Penelope Peterson, Chloe Davis, and Mike Hurley, who were playing Marco Polo in the main pool.

  My sisters and I laid our towels down on the white plastic chairs near the big pool and slathered one another with sunscreen, paying special attention to super-pale Aster. Then I walked my sisters over to the big pool for their lesson and sat on the edge, my feet in the water, to watch. Poppy’s group was blowing bubbles in the shallow end and doing the doggie paddle. I watched as Rose, Aster, and two other kids their age each lined up in a lane to determine their swimming ability. Rose was wearing a bathing suit with a big red strawberry on it and a ruffly skirt while Aster had on a black suit with a grinning purple skull. Typical.

  I watched as my sisters dove in the water. Though they hadn’t swum since last summer, Rose and Aster left the other kids in their wake. They reached out to touch the wall simultaneously, looked up, saw each other, and slapped hands. I shook my head. Completely different, yet so many similarities.

  Sometimes Rose and Aster’s closeness makes me feel a little left out. That’s where Becky came in. Except, of course, when she was going away for the entire summer!

  Enough thinking about that. The sun was beating down on me and I was ready to go for a swim myself. I decided to ease myself into the water instead of jumping in, which is never easy. The water was so cold I had to force myself to duck my head underneath. Finally my body began to adjust and I bobbed around for a while.