“Turnips?” Lily asked.
“Come on,” Marigold said, and dragged her upstairs to their little attic bathroom. It was true that she’d never given Lily, or any little kid, a bath before. Even though she was the oldest sister, she hadn’t done much babysitting. She had been too close in age to Zinnie to babysit her, and as soon as Lily was born, there was Berta, who took care of Lily most of the time. But how hard could it be to give her sister a bath?
She filled the tub and told Lily to get in.
“Not without bubbles,” Lily said.
“Lily, come on, we don’t have bubbles here,” Marigold said. “Just get in.”
“You could make some bubbles with the soap. That’s what Berta does,” Lily said.
“Fine,” Marigold said, and rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She took the bar of soap from the dish and rubbed it under the running water until there were at least a few bubbles. “Okay?”
Lily nodded and then dipped a pointed toe in. “Too hot!”
“It is not too hot,” Marigold said, testing the water again.
“If the water’s too hot, it dries out my skin, and I get itchy,” Lily said.
Marigold rolled her eyes and added some cold. “Try it now.”
Lily tested it again with her finger. She was about to climb in when she stopped and said, “Where are the bath toys? I need at least three.”
“Lily,” Marigold said, “just get in the tub.”
“I can’t have a bath without any toys,” Lily said. “It’ll be boring.”
“No wonder Berta looks so tired at the end of the day!” Marigold said. “I’ll be right back.” She ran downstairs to the kitchen, where Zinnie was finishing with the dishes. “I’m giving Lily a bath,” Marigold announced, “and she’s being a brat. She won’t get in without toys.”
“I told you!” Zinnie said as she dried a plate. “Lily gets away with everything! Here, give her these.” She handed her some plastic measuring cups she’d just washed.
“Good enough,” Marigold said, and ran back upstairs.
“Measuring cups?” Lily asked when Marigold returned.
“Or hats,” Marigold said, putting one on her head. “Or boats,” she added, floating another in the tub. “Now get in.”
“Okay, okay,” Lily said, and sat in the tub.
“Get your hair wet,” Marigold said.
“Don’t rush me!” Lily said.
“Dunk!” Marigold said.
“Berta uses the hand-held shower,” Lily said.
“Berta spoils you,” Marigold said.
“I’m her angel!” Lily said.
“You need to learn how to do things yourself, Lily,” Marigold said.
“Fine,” Lily said. She held her nose and lay back, dunking herself.
Aunt Sunny appeared in the doorway just as Lily resurfaced. “Just thought I’d check in on you. How’s it going?”
“Okay,” Marigold said.
“Why, you’re not afraid of the water,” Aunt Sunny said to Lily.
“Of course not,” Lily said. “I’m afraid of the ocean.”
“This whole time I thought you were terrified of going underwater,” Aunt Sunny said.
“Not in a bathtub,” Marigold said as she lathered up Lily’s hair with shampoo.
“I know what you need,” Aunt Sunny said as Marigold used a measuring cup to rinse Lily’s hair. “Swimming lessons. In a pool. We’ll head over to the YMCA tomorrow!”
“I’m ready to get out now,” Lily said. “You can go warm up my towels in the dryer, Marigold.”
“Oh, my,” Aunt Sunny said.
“Just kidding?” Lily said.
“Yes,” Marigold said, snapping open a room-temperature towel. “Definitely just kidding.”
23. The Town Beach
For the next several days Marigold and Zinnie didn’t venture back to the Pruet Yacht Club. Marigold’s phone had been completely ruined by her unexpected dip in the harbor, so the temptation of cell phone reception was gone. And Zinnie didn’t want to risk running into the sailing coach again. He had been firm in his warning that the girls couldn’t be there unsupervised, and Zinnie didn’t know what kind of trouble they would get into if he saw them again. But the biggest reason not to go back to the PYC, Marigold had whispered in the dark one night in the barracks, was Peter Pasque.
Marigold had confessed that although she had been the first in her Girl Scout troop to earn her knot-tying badge, it had been a few years ago, and she didn’t think she remembered any of the other knots. She said that she would die of embarrassment if Peter asked her to try something more advanced before she had a chance to practice.
“And,” Zinnie whispered, “what if he asked his father, the managah, about the Snoopy family? He’d know we were lying, and we’d have to admit that he had been right all along!”
“OMG, we can never see him again!” Marigold said.
“Yeah, no way!” Zinnie said, putting the sheet up to her chin and smiling into the darkness.
So Zinnie thought it was a little odd that while they hadn’t been back to the PYC, they hadn’t exactly avoided walking past it. For the past three days, while Lily accompanied Aunt Sunny on errands or helped in the garden, Marigold and Zinnie had been going to the town beach. There was an alternate way to get there that, although it included a shortcut through someone’s yard, would have allowed them to avoid passing the entrance to the yacht club. But they just took their usual route back and forth to town. This meant they had passed the yacht club a total of six times. Zinnie suspected that although Marigold claimed she didn’t want to see Peter again, she secretly did. But when she confronted Marigold about this as they walked past the yacht club for the fourth day in a row, Marigold flipped her hair and said, “There are more bugs that way!”
The town beach was tiny compared with the beaches in California. If they weren’t going to Santa Monica, with its amusement park, arcade, volleyball nets, and wide concrete pathway with people whooshing by on bicycles and in-line skates, the Silver family went to Malibu for a beach day. There the ocean roared. Often the waves were big enough for tough-looking grown-ups in wet suits to go surfing, and the undertows were so dangerous and powerful that sometimes even their parents wouldn’t go in past their ankles. And although it was almost always sunny in Southern California, the water was often too cold for swimming, at least for the sisters. Of course there were plenty of days in the summer when the water was calm and warm enough for a swim, but the Silver family caught only a few of those days a year. The beaches were at least an hour’s drive from the Silvers’ home, depending on the traffic.
But Zinnie and Marigold could walk to the Pruet Town Beach in ten minutes or less. Instead of taking a freeway to get there, they simply walked down Aunt Sunny’s long driveway, along the shady road lined with mossy stone walls, and down the grassy path between the fishing store and the sandwich shop. Dotted with colored umbrellas, beach chairs, and towels, the town beach wasn’t even as big as the parking lot at the Santa Monica Pier. And because it was nestled in the harbor, there were hardly any waves at all. The only creatures surfing here were the small brown crabs Zinnie and Marigold had spotted scuttling along the shore. But the sand was soft, and the water was always warm enough for swimming, even on a cloudy day. There was a little snack bar that sold soda, ice pops, hot dogs, french fries, candy bars, and little containers of ice cream that came with small, flat wooden spoons attached to their lids. Aunt Sunny said that as long as Marigold and Zinnie stuck together and didn’t swim past the floating dock, they could go by themselves as often as they liked.
Walking to the town beach without an adult was a whole new level of freedom for Zinnie. Without the constant gaze of a parent, babysitter, or teacher, Zinnie felt both more grown-up and a little wilder. Her first thought was that she wouldn’t have to be appropriate all the time. “Appropriate” was a favorite word of teachers and parents. It was used so often that it had become impossible to put her fin
ger on exactly what it meant. Yet she was disappointed to find the only thing she could think of to do that was inappropriate was make fart noises, and Marigold didn’t find them very funny.
Even though this was only their fourth visit to this beach, when they arrived that morning, Zinnie was starting to feel like it belonged to her and Marigold. They had a favorite spot off to the left, near the lifeguard’s chair, close to the water. They had even started to get to know the teenagers who worked at the snack bar. The girl with the bangs had an accent like Peter Pasque’s, only stronger. By their second visit to the town beach, Zinnie knew that her name was Ashley, she was fourteen, this was her first summer job, and she wanted to find a boyfriend. Today Ashley saw Zinnie approaching the snack bar and produced a red ice pop before she even asked for it.
“Can I also get a water?” Zinnie asked.
“Why don’t you just get a drink at the bubblah?” Ashley asked.
“Bubblah?” Zinnie repeated, confused.
“Yeah, y’know, the bubblah,” Ashley said, pointing at the water fountain attached to the snack bar.
“Oh, okay,” Zinnie said. As she turned the handle of the water fountain and a burst of water gushed up her nose, she thought that “bubblah” was a much better name than “water fountain.” Ashley started to sing along with the radio. “You have a really pretty voice,” Zinnie said, wiping her mouth. “You should go on America Sings.”
“You think so?” Ashley asked as she restocked the candy bars.
“I’d vote for you,” Zinnie said. “Like ten times, and that’s the maximum they allow from the same number.”
“Thanks,” Ashley said. “Maybe I’ll try out someday.”
As Zinnie walked back to Marigold, she couldn’t wait to tell her about this new word. Bubblah, Zinnie said to herself, and giggled.
Marigold was stretched out on a towel in her favorite bathing suit. It had a single delicate strap that wrapped around her neck, navy stripes, and the words “Excusez-moi, s’il vous plaît” written in glittery silver sequins across it. Zinnie’s plain blue suit was less stylish. Technically, it wasn’t even called a bathing suit. It was a rash guard, which was what surfers wore. The top was like a T-shirt and the bottom like shorts. She liked that there was no way it would slip off when she jumped off the floating dock, as she’d done at least five times a day since they’d arrived. Also, she never had to worry about her shoulders or back getting sunburned, and because it was a two-piece, trips to the bathroom were a breeze. Though Zinnie did have to admit that Marigold looked like a movie star in training in her fancy one-piece and matching heart-shaped sunglasses as she listlessly flipped through the latest Young & Lovely magazine.
Zinnie knew that the loss of Marigold’s cell phone had been devastating to her. Without it, Marigold couldn’t communicate with her new agent. She couldn’t use the house phone to call and beg for a way to audition because Aunt Sunny had explained that her phone plan allowed only a certain number of long-distance minutes a month. It was even going to be hard for them to talk to their parents.
Aunt Sunny told them that Mom, Dad, and the girls were in three different time zones. Not only that, but Dad was going to be in the forest without reception, and Mom would be in another country, making calls to her very expensive, and they had totally different work schedules. So Mom, Dad, and Aunt Sunny had decided they would limit phone time to a couple of family conference calls while the girls were in Massachusetts. If there was an emergency, the girls could use Aunt Sunny’s landline to leave a voice mail on Mom’s cell phone or to call a special number to reach the cabin that was home base for Dad’s documentary team. Dad probably wouldn’t be there because he’d be up in the trees, but someone would be able to get the message to him.
But it wasn’t just the lack of communication with her agent and family that upset Marigold. Without her phone, she couldn’t text with Pilar, play around with her fashion apps, or surf the web. Aunt Sunny’s internet was pretty much useless. Marigold had confessed to Zinnie during a late-night chat in the barracks that she felt as though she’d been stranded on a desert island.
“Isn’t ‘bubblah’ a funny word?” Zinnie asked, plopping down in the sand next to her sister.
“I guess,” Marigold said, not even looking up.
“I’ll race you to floating dock?” Zinnie asked.
“Maybe in a little bit,” Marigold said.
Zinnie sighed and decided to go for a walk. She was going to see if she could find more of those thin pearly shells that she was planning on turning into a necklace. As she stood up, she noticed that Marigold was looking out at the harbor, where a fleet of small sailboats was racing.
“I bet Peter’s on one of those boats,” Zinnie said.
“Who?” Marigold asked.
“You know who,” Zinnie said, and dusted sand from her backside. “Peter Pasque.”
“You forgot your change,” said a voice behind them. Zinnie turned around to see Ashley, who was holding a quarter in her outstretched palm.
“Oh, thanks,” Zinnie said, taking the quarter.
“You know Peter Pasque?” Ashley asked.
“Yeah,” Zinnie said. “We met him the other day, but we told him our names were Seraphina and Xiomara. You know, like the Night Sprites? I said our last name was Snoopy. And Marigold told him we had a boat and that we could sail!” Zinnie said, laughing. Marigold lifted her sunglasses and glared at Zinnie. Zinnie covered her mouth even though it was too late.
“You two are a couple of kooks,” Ashley said, shaking her head. “And you’ll get to see Peter tomorrow. He’ll be here at the beach for my brother’s birthday party.”
“Really?” Zinnie asked. She was dying to know what Marigold thought they should do, but her sister had lowered her sunglasses back over her eyes and was reading Young & Lovely as if it contained the answers to the world’s most burning questions.
24. Aunt Sunny’s Famous Surprise Brownies
“The clambake starts at noon, and we’ve got several batches of my famous surprise brownies to make, so we’d better get crackin’,” Aunt Sunny said the next morning after Zinnie and Lily had finished their pancakes and Marigold, who had read in Young & Lovely that sugar was bad for the complexion, had polished off her bowl of plain yogurt.
“Actually, I think we’re going to the beach,” Marigold said. Ever since Ashley had told them that the sailing team was going to be at the beach today, Marigold had been thinking about how fun it had been to tie that knot in front of Peter. She was wondering what else she could beat him at. She was pretty sure that he would at least provide some new entertainment.
She and Zinnie had done the same thing for the past four days. They walked to the beach in morning, stopping at the general store for a magazine or for postcards to send to Pilar, Berta, Mom, or Dad. They sat in their usual spot, and Zinnie read her book while Marigold read her magazine. Then they’d switch. They bought ice pops from the snack stand. They swam to the floating dock and practiced cannonballs and jackknives. They searched for shells (Zinnie was making some kind of weird necklace). They played tic-tac-toe in the sand. Then they walked back to Aunt Sunny’s for lunch, passing by the post office to mail their postcards. After lunch they went back to the beach and did the whole thing all over again, only in the afternoon they visited Edith’s Ice Cream Shop instead of the general store.
Marigold was ready to break up the routine. She was ready for a challenge. She was ready to see Peter Pasque. And because the last time she’d seen him she’d looked like such a mess, she’d spent a lot of time that morning getting ready. She’d blow-dried her hair and was wearing her cherry-red tankini with the ruffle on the bottom.
“Zinnie and I were going to make sand angels today, right, Zinnie?” Marigold said.
“Um, we were?” Zinnie asked.
Marigold pinched Zinnie’s thigh under the table.
“Ouch,” Zinnie said, and rubbed her leg.
“Or maybe I could just go to the beac
h alone?” Marigold offered.
“Nonsense, we’re going to the clambake,” Aunt Sunny said, and lifted two mixing bowls from a cabinet.
A shovelful of disappointment heaped on Marigold’s chest. She was starting to get the feeling that she was never going to get to do her own thing here in Pruet. Aunt Sunny didn’t seem to understand that the sisters didn’t always have to do things together. Even though her mom liked it when Marigold included Zinnie and could sometimes be strict about it, she was also fair about Marigold’s having time to herself. If her mom were here, she’d get that Marigold had been with Zinnie for like a million hours straight at this point and would let her have her space. But Marigold could tell that Aunt Sunny wasn’t going to budge.
“I think your parents would be disappointed in me if I let you miss it,” Aunt Sunny said, as if reading Marigold’s mind. “A clambake is an essential part of a New England summer.”
“What’s a clambake?” Lily asked.
“A bunch of us gather on the beach and dig out a hole in the sand and make an oven out of hot rocks, seaweed, and tarps. And then we cook all kinds of wonderful things in there: lobsters, clams, sausage, corn on the cob, potatoes. It’s just delicious. And”—she continued as she pulled a dozen eggs and some butter from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter—“the beach where we have our clambake is my absolute favorite. There are big dunes for climbing, magnificent waves for body surfing, and a pond with a swiftly flowing estuary. You can float on your back and ride the current all the way to the ocean. It’s great fun. I’ve never met someone who doesn’t love it.”
Marigold glanced at Lily, who was pale with fear from all this ocean talk, and said under her breath, “You might today.”
“I think that sounds cool,” Zinnie said.
“I don’t go to the ocean,” Lily said. “Remember?”
“Once you get there, you’ll love it,” Aunt Sunny said, and disappeared into the pantry.
Marigold and Zinnie exchanged a look. Aunt Sunny didn’t get just how much Lily hated the ocean.
The Forget-Me-Not Summer Page 8