The Brightest Stars of Summer

by Leila Howland

  “You look fetching, my dear,” Aunt Sunny said, taking an apron from its hook and handing it to Marigold. “Better put this on. I’m putting you on syrup duty.”

  “My job is to make sure the frosting tastes just right,” Lily said, taking one more pinkie scoop and considering the flavor. “Hmmm. Yes, I still think it’s delicious.”

  “I’m in charge of the blackberry jam and blackberries,” Zinnie said, her gaze fixed on the jar of jam.

  “And we all have cheerful positions!” Lily said with frosting on her lips.

  “Dispositions,” Marigold and Zinnie corrected her at the same time. They locked narrowed eyes for a second, and then Marigold turned away. As she tied the apron around her waist, she looked out the window. Her parents were setting up the folding tables that were on loan from the casino. Tomorrow morning the girls would cover them with the tablecloths and napkins they had found in the attic, turning the dingy tables into works of art that were unexpected, fun, and cozy, just like Aunt Sunny herself. Marigold was proud of her design.

  “Is it just me, or is it too quiet in here?” Aunt Sunny asked as she cut the twelve-inch cake horizontally with the serrated knife. “Did something happen?”

  “Nope,” the three girls answered in unison.

  “We are helpful and happy,” Lily said. Aunt Sunny eyed them with suspicion.

  “We’re just focused, Aunt Sunny. We want this cake to be perfect,” Zinnie said as Aunt Sunny placed the layers on cardboard rounds.

  “Let’s put on some music,” Marigold suggested. She tuned Aunt Sunny’s radio to the classical station. “So we can concentrate.” The less we have to talk to each other, the better, Marigold thought.

  “Good idea,” Aunt Sunny said as the notes of a piano concerto filled the room. “Marigold, please brush the top of each layer with lemon syrup. Zinnie, you stir the jam until it’s totally smooth. Lily, you give that frosting another taste. Make sure it’s still fresh.”

  “It’s as fresh as a pinkletink, also known as a spring peeper frog!” Lily said. “They live in the freshwater pond that feeds into the estuary.” Aunt Sunny laughed and the tension cracked for a moment.

  “I think this cake is like a story,” Zinnie said, sighing as she stirred the jam. Marigold rolled her eyes. She’d had quite enough of Zinnie’s stories. She dipped the brush into the syrup and began to lightly coat the layers with the sweet golden liquid.

  “What do you mean?” Aunt Sunny asked.

  “First we found the recipe card, written by your mom. It made you cry to see her handwriting again, remember?” Zinnie said. “And we made the cake layers.”

  “That was when I first I started camp,” Lily said.

  “Zinnie, spread some jam on one of the layers, please,” Aunt Sunny said. “Right over the syrup.”

  “We went to the town beach and collected shells,” Zinnie said, using a spoon to plop jam on one of the layers and then a special spreading tool to cover the layer evenly.

  “And Lily got some glitter in the cake batter,” Marigold said, and playfully tugged on one of Lily’s curls.

  “It was just a pinch,” Aunt Sunny said. She placed the layer with jam on the cake-decorating turntable. “Perhaps it will give our cake a little extra structure.”

  “So some of Lily’s story is in the cake,” Zinnie said.

  “What an enchanting idea,” Aunt Sunny said as she carefully inverted another layer on top of the one with jam and removed the cardboard. “Lily, come sit on the table right over here by me and I’ll show you how to frost the top.” Lily climbed on the table and sat cross-legged in front of the cake. Aunt Sunny scooped two cups of frosting on top of the layer. Lily used her finger to scrape frosting from the cup.

  “The next thing we did was make the frosting,” Zinnie continued. “That was when Max came over.”

  “He’s why this frosting is so sugary,” Marigold said as Aunt Sunny guided Lily’s hand with the spreader, coating the top layer with the creamy frosting. “Zinnie was distracted and she added two extra cups . . . because she thinks Max is cute and she has a crush on him.”

  Zinnie scowled.

  “I don’t think anyone will complain about extra sugar in the frosting,” Aunt Sunny said, raising an eyebrow at Marigold as she and Lily finished frosting the top. Marigold bowed her head in shame. She shouldn’t have taken that dig at Zinnie. It had flown out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Okay, Zinnia,” Aunt Sunny said. “Scatter a few handfuls of the halved blackberries.”

  “Jean gave us the blackberry jam,” Zinnie said as she added them. Marigold felt a wave of embarrassment as she remembered thinking she was going to get back together with Peter only to find out he had a new girlfriend. “Marigold was just dying to see Peter and—” Zinnie started, but Aunt Sunny cut her off.

  “Let’s say that the jam symbolizes the friendship that has gone into making this cake,” Aunt Sunny said. “And the good fortune of having kind neighbors.”

  “Great idea,” Marigold said, tossing a sidelong glance at Zinnie.

  “Move aside for a moment, Lily,” Aunt Sunny said. “I need to add the third layer. This will take a steady hand. And I’m going to request a moment of silence for this one.”

  The girls watched with breaths held as she lifted the third twelve-inch layer of cake off of the cardboard and placed it on top of the cake. They collectively exhaled at the successful execution.

  “Phew. Another layer of jam, Zinnia,” Aunt Sunny said, dabbing her perspiring forehead with the edge of her apron.

  “We made the lemon syrup next,” Zinnie said as she added more jam. “The day we washed all those tablecloths. We used some of the lemons to get out the stains. Of course, there are some stains that can’t be removed with lemon juice. Stains on the heart made by words.”

  “Oh, please,” Marigold said, knowing Zinnie was talking about the words she’d read in her diary. “Everyone knows actions sting worse than words.”

  “Girls, may I remind you that the cake story is still in progress,” Aunt Sunny said, gesturing toward the remaining cake layers on the table. “The lemon syrup provides exactly the right amount of bitterness. We wouldn’t want to add any more.”

  “Of course not,” Zinnie said.

  “No way,” Marigold said.

  “We have cheerful positions,” Lily said. This time no one corrected her.

  “Okay, here goes,” Aunt Sunny said, taking a calming breath as she inverted the final layer of the bottom tier. The girls gasped as it landed two inches off center.

  “Not to worry, not to worry. This is a mistake I can fix,” Aunt Sunny said. With careful, gentle hands she rotated the layer until it was centered. “Ta-da. Now we’ll frost the whole tier, put it in the fridge, and get to work on the other tiers. Tonight we gather the beach roses for the baskets. Tomorrow we’ll assemble the cake and add the piping and any other finishing touches.”

  “We’ll write the final chapter,” Zinnie said.

  “It will be the sweetest chapter of all,” Marigold said.

  “We promise,” Zinnie said.

  42 • A Sleeping Dragon

  After they finished spreading the filling for the nine-inch and six-inch tiers and placed them in the fridge, Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily went about their other wedding duties until the rehearsal of the ceremony. Zinnie double-checked that there were enough candles, vases, and shells for the table arrangements. Marigold rolled the dinner napkins and tied them with twine, which gave them a rustic charm. Lily gathered the daisies that Mom was going to use to make wreaths for their hair. Mom and Jean hung the fairy lights in the tent while Dad and Mack hung the paper lanterns. Taking several trips back and forth to do it, Tony, Max, and Peter brought eighty chairs over from the casino in Tony’s pickup truck. Max and Peter were in charge of setting up the chairs, which would start out in the ceremony area and then be transferred to the tent before dinner.

  Marigold supervised the boys as they set up the chairs in front of the s
tone archway where Aunt Sunny and Tony would exchange their vows.

  “The aisle needs to be wider,” she told them. “I have baskets to place along the edges. I don’t want Aunt Sunny to trip! And, Peter, make sure the rows are neat and even! And, Max, help me tie these ribbons on the chairs on the end. We need some more color!”

  “You’re not as shy and humble today,” Max said as he fumbled with the ribbons.

  “Was she evah?” Peter asked, using a ruler Marigold had found for him to ensure that the chairs were evenly spaced.

  “I don’t have time to be shy and humble,” Marigold said, distributing the baskets along the aisle to see which arrangement looked best. “I have work to do. And I definitely don’t have the time to dress like a slob anymore.”

  “Huh? That doesn’t make sense,” Peter said. “What does how you dress have to do with time?”

  “Ugly clothes slow me down,” Marigold said, dashing back into the house for the craft scissors that cut the edges of the ribbon so nicely.

  “What the heck?” she heard Max say behind her. Her statement may not have made sense to the boys, but it made sense to her. It was hard work pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  The justice of the peace arrived, and Marigold poured him an iced tea and found him a shady spot where he could relax while she kept everyone else on task. Tony’s oldest daughter, Sara, arrived next from New York City. She was followed by Tony’s other daughter, Meg, who lived in Atlanta and had twin babies. Marigold set them up on a picnic blanket nearby and made sure they had snacks, lemonade, and toys to keep the little ones occupied. Cindy, Max’s mom, joined them and thanked Marigold for being so organized. When the tent was set up with the lights, lanterns, and tables, and the ceremony area was dressed up and organized to Marigold’s standards, it was time to practice the ceremony so that everyone knew what to do when.

  First Tony and Paul, who was the best man, took their places by the altar. Marigold whispered in Lily’s ear when it was her turn to walk down the aisle. “Slow and steady,” Marigold reminded her. Lily mimed the tossing of rose petals—it was the moment she had most looked forward to since they’d learned of the wedding. Usually flower girls were the last to walk down the aisle before the bride, but Lily wanted to be first and Aunt Sunny said that was just fine with her. Max walked down the aisle next. He was the ring bearer, though for this rehearsal he was only pretending to carry rings. He would have the real ones tomorrow. Zinnie followed Max, and then Marigold followed. When they reached the archway, the three girls stood by Aunt Sunny, and Max stood by his grandpa.

  As the justice of the peace talked Aunt Sunny and Tony through the vows, Marigold slipped away to a chair in the back row to make sure that every seat had good visibility. She surveyed the arrangements of hydrangeas artfully placed by the white rose bushes at the archway, the blue velvet ribbons strung along the aisle, and the baskets lining the path, and she knew that she had kept her promise to Aunt Sunny. While Aunt Sunny had been busy working, Marigold had taken care of all the details, and now that everything had come together, she knew the wedding ceremony was going to look beautiful. Her chest swelled with pride.

  Then it was Zinnie’s turn to read the Shakespeare sonnet. Ah! A good time to check for acoustics, Marigold thought as Zinnie began to read: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” As Zinnie continued, Marigold felt herself deflate. It wasn’t that Zinnie was doing a bad job. She was projecting just fine, though her hands were shaking as they held the paper. And while she didn’t have a grasp of iambic pentameter, she read well enough that the meaning basically came across.

  The problem was that hearing the words was making Marigold want to perform. She knew how to make words sing, to express them with clarity and feeling. She was certain that she was done being ordinary, but she wasn’t sure if she could ever act again. It hurt too much to get rejected, to put herself on the line and be told no. She could feel her talent like a small dragon inside of her. It was sleeping now, curled up in a dark cave in her heart.

  43 • A Genie among Wild Beach Roses

  Dear Zinnie,

  I’m writing with good news. I received your story and you are a finalist for the workshop. I’ll be making my decision tonight or tomorrow. I send out this email to make sure that every girl is certain she is ready to make the commitment that the Writers’ Workshop requires. Please let me know and I’ll proceed with my decision making.

  Hope you’re having a fantastic time on the Cape!

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Lee

  Dear Mrs. Lee,

  I can definitely promise that I’m ready to make a commitment to the Writers’ Workshop! I really hope I get in!

  Sincerely,

  Zinnie

  The good news that she was a finalist for the Writers’ Workshop had put Zinnia in a great mood, despite everything that had happened with Marigold.

  “I’m the salty sea monster,” Zinnie said as she rose above the surface of the ocean water, her hair hanging in front of her face like a wet black mop. “And I like to capture little sisters and eat them for dessert!” She lunged at Lily, who giggled as she pinched her nose, shut her eyes, and dunked back under.

  “I’m the Cape Cod kraken,” Max said, sticking a pile of green seaweed on his head. “I destroy the sea monsters who eat the little sisters.” He dove under the water and grabbed Zinnie’s ankle so that she lost her footing and flopped onto her back, laughing. A boy had never touched her ankle before! The thrill of it sent her into a backward underwater somersault.

  They were at the big beach with the estuary and dunes, where close friends and family were gathering for a clambake dinner before the wedding. The kids had already had plenty of clams, lobster claws, and corn, and Zinnie, Lily, Marigold, Max, and Peter were playing in the water while the adults watched them from the beach blankets.

  Zinnie loved swimming in the evening. It was, she decided, her most favorite thing in the world. At least for right now. The air had finally cooled off. Yet the water had somehow captured the day’s sun. Now that she was used to the temperature, it felt warmer in the ocean than out of it, and it was delightful to crouch so that the warm water covered her shoulders. She liked to pop up into the cool air and then huddle down again. They had been hard at work all day with wedding chores, so this evening dip, or “sea bath,” as Aunt Sunny would call it, was an especially welcome rest. The only wedding duty left, for tonight anyway, was to gather the bright pink beach roses for the baskets. On the car ride over, Zinnie had volunteered to do it, because she wanted to show her parents that she was still a helpful and good person even though she’d read Marigold’s diary.

  Though now that she was bobbing up and down in the salty sea, she wished she hadn’t volunteered to collect the beach roses. The sun was beginning to set, casting a glow on Max’s face and Lily’s, and hers, too, she imagined. She wished she could stay in this watery bliss forever, especially since Marigold had headed out, walking toward the shore with Peter. Good, Zinnie thought as she watched Marigold and Peter traipse through the shallow surf. Go.

  Even though she and Marigold had avoided each other all day, except for the cake tier assembling, the Atlantic Ocean still didn’t seem big enough for both of them. Especially since Max couldn’t take his eyes off Marigold in her one-shouldered turquoise bathing suit, or “maillot,” as she called it. (“This is my favorite my-o,” she’d said when they got to the beach, showing off her French pronunciation.) Zinnie was actually shocked that Max hadn’t followed Marigold onto the shore but instead had stayed to play this underwater monster game. She hoped that Marigold and Peter were at this very moment falling back in love with each other so that she and Max could spend the whole wedding having fun together.

  “If Zinnie is the salty sea monster, and Max is the Cape Cod kraken, then I’m the magic mermaid who can zap you both with my laser tail,” Lily said. Now an expert swimmer, she flipped onto her back and splashed water in
their faces with her feet. Max and Zinnie feigned dramatic deaths. Lily laughed so hard she snorted. “Max, are you going to be so crazy when you have your special dance with Marigold tomorrow night?”

  “Special dance?” Zinnie asked as she pushed her hair off of her face and planted her feet on the sandy sea bottom. “What do you mean, ‘special dance’?”

  “Max asked Marigold for a special dance last night,” Lily said.

  “And what did she say?” Zinnie asked, feeling like the ocean floor was falling out from under her. She knew Max liked Marigold, but Marigold had promised not to like him back.

  “She said yes,” Lily said. Then she paused the conversation to do an underwater handstand. Zinnie stood absolutely still, staring into the middle distance as the water lapped at her chin. A small wave brought a chilly current. It wrapped around her body, sending goose bumps all the way up to her cheeks. Lily resurfaced and announced, “And then he kissed her!”

  “What?” Zinnie asked, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

  “On the hand!” Max said, blushing even though his lips were starting to turn blue. “Jeez!”

  “Like this,” Lily said, smooching her own hand. Little pecks gave way to full-on slobbering.

  “It was not like that,” Max said, gently splashing her. “I was as courteous as a knight. A servant of the king, one who rides by night along the perilous shores!” He gave a formal bow. Zinnie could tell he was trying to start up a new game, but she was too busy imagining the kiss to respond.

  “I gotta go,” Zinnie said, gathering her composure. “I need to pick some wild beach roses.”

  “Oh, come on, we have plenty of time! Our parents haven’t even had their coffee yet,” Max said, looking back at the grown-ups. Then he added in a deep, gravelly voice: “And never mind about the knight. The Cape Cod kraken lives! He has seven lives. So even though the magic mermaid killed him, he’s not dead!”