The Brightest Stars of Summer

by Leila Howland

  “It’s actually a really important job. Max, can you watch Lily?”

  “Sure,” Max said. “I’ll watch this mermaid. Then I’ll catch her by the tail!”

  “They’re not called ‘wild beach roses.’ They’re Rosa rugosa,” Lily said. She giggled as she swam away from Max. “They’re not a native species.”

  “Whatever they are, I have to get them now,” Zinnie said, turning toward the beach. Sometimes Zinnie felt like she was not a native species either. Her teachers called her “unique,” her principal called her a “stand-out,” and her dad called her a “one of a kind.” They all meant it in a good way, but sometimes it seemed like it would be easier to be just a more normal sort of girl. Maybe Marigold was right. Maybe she was too much of a spaz to ever have a boyfriend.

  “Honey, you okay?” Dad called as Zinnie wrapped a towel around her waist. He was sitting on a blanket up the beach a bit. Marigold and Peter were walking down the beach, together.

  “I’m going to get the beach roses,” Zinnie called back as she headed toward the dune. Zinnie knew that if she came within ten feet of Marigold she would want to tell her off, and she had given her word to her parents that she and Marigold wouldn’t argue in front of Aunt Sunny.

  As she climbed over the dune and out of sight of her family to the patch of beach roses, Zinnie tried to make sense of the situation. Lily said that Max had asked Marigold to dance last night, which meant this happened before Marigold had read Zinnie’s story. So it wasn’t just an act of retaliation. It was pure, unprovoked treachery!

  Zinnie was so lost in her own angry thoughts as she picked the roses that she didn’t even notice the golden retriever that had decided to join her until he licked her on the cheek.

  “Ah!” Zinnie said, startled by the wet nose in her ear. It was almost impossible to stay mad as the dog covered her face in kisses.

  “There you are, Bandit!” said a voice. She looked up to see Mr. Rathbone with a leash in his hand.

  “Zinnia Silver,” Mr. Rathbone said, his whole face lighting up. “How fortunate to run into you again!”

  “How’s Cameron?” Zinnie asked as Bandit rubbed up against her hand, begging to be stroked. Zinnie happily obliged.

  “He’s doing just fine. I can’t tell you how grateful my family and I are. We saw you on the news. You did a great job. Your parents must be so proud of you.”

  “Yes,” Zinnie said, though they certainly weren’t proud of her for reading Marigold’s diary. They had made that very clear.

  “My family and I have been thinking about you a lot,” Mr. Rathbone said. “And I know that you said that all that you wanted was ice cream, but that just doesn’t seem like enough. I’m fortunate enough to have a lot of resources—”

  “I know who you are,” Zinnie said. She almost bit back her next thought, but Zinnie didn’t really care about hurting Marigold’s feelings at the moment. She decided to just say what was on her mind. “And I loved the movie Night Sprites.”

  “I’m so glad,” Mr. Rathbone said. Zinnie was surprised to see that he did seem genuinely pleased. She thought famous people like Mr. Rathbone wouldn’t care about compliments from a kid, but his smile felt real. “And I’d truly love to grant a wish for you. My whole family would.”

  “Like a fairy godfather. Or a genie!” Zinnie said, smiling as Bandit nosed her neck. Zinnie scratched his back and thought, Hmmm.

  “Take your time and think about it,” Mr. Rathbone said, “and don’t be afraid to dream big.”

  “Thank you,” Zinnie said, contemplating this gift of a lifetime. There were so many possibilities. The most obvious one was to ask him to put her sister into another movie, but why should she do that? Why should she give her one wish away, especially when Marigold thought she had no chance of ever having a boyfriend, and on top of that, Marigold was going to have a special dance with the only boy Zinnie had ever been friends with. She was mulling this over when a familiar voice brought her back to reality.

  “Zinnie!” Marigold was calling her from the other side of the dune. “Where are you?”

  “Coming!” Zinnie called back, and she picked one last beach rose. She didn’t want Marigold to see her with Mr. Rathbone. Not only was it sure to start World War Three, she was not ready to share the news of a soon-to-be-granted wish. She did not want to be pressured or even influenced. The wish belonged to her. Not everything had to be shared with her sisters.

  “Let me give you my infor—” Mr. Rathbone began.

  “Are you up there?” Marigold called from below. She was getting closer. “Did you get the roses?”

  “Thank you so much. I’d really better run,” Zinnie said. She ran down the dune as fast as she could, hoping that Bandit wouldn’t follow.

  44 • Anticipation

  Marigold awoke bright and early with her checklist next to her. She sat up and smoothed out the paper, which was rumpled and smudged from having been slept on. She had fallen asleep going over it. She looked out the window and saw a clear sky. The weather was on their side!

  Her sisters were sleeping soundly as she looked over her list. There was so much to do. She needed to: (1) Make sure that her ceremony setup was still in shape and give the chairs one more wipe-down. (2) Cover, decorate, and set all the tables. Thank goodness Jean, Peter, and some of the yacht club staff were going to help with that! (3) Assemble the cake tiers that they had frosted yesterday. This needed to happen by noon in order for the cake to reach room temperature. Aunt Sunny had told her that cake tasted best that way. (4) Get her sisters into their dresses and looking presentable. What was she going to do with Zinnie’s hair, she wondered as she looked at her sister, with her mass of wild curls spread on the pillow.

  Marigold got out of bed and peered out the window at the wedding tent, which, with the dance floor, band platform, tables, fairy lights, and paper lanterns, seemed to be anticipating the party. Even though she was aware that Peter had a girlfriend, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining a dance with him, especially since he had been so attentive last night at the clambake.

  He’d been able to see something was wrong when they’d all gone swimming after dinner and she and Zinnie weren’t speaking to each other at all. It was too hard to pretend to be happy and play games with everyone when she was so mad inside, so she’d decided to walk to shore and sit with the grown-ups instead. To her surprise, Peter followed her.

  “I know something’s eating you,” Peter said, splashing her lightly. “What is it? Come on, spill the beans.”

  “I’m really embarrassed about something,” Marigold said as they walked ankle deep in the calm evening surf.

  “What happened?” Peter asked.

  “I’m not going to tell you,” Marigold said. “That would make me even more embarrassed!”

  “My mom once told me that embarrassment isn’t the end of the world,” Peter said, stopping to pick up a piece of sea glass for his collection. “And you know what? She was right.”

  “When were you embarrassed?” Marigold asked, not believing it was possible for anyone to be more embarrassed than she had been recently.

  “Last year at the talent show,” Peter said. Marigold felt her cheeks warm. That had been her fault. He had said he didn’t want to perform and she had pushed him into doing it anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” Peter said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. But I was really embarrassed. After that, the whole town knew that I can’t sing and that my face is capable of turning as red as a lobstah!” Marigold laughed. Peter did, too. “Seriously, I thought I was never going to be able to go out in public again. But you know what my mom said to me?” Marigold shook her head, then turned to him and listened intently. She was ready for some wisdom. “She said, ‘No one survives life without getting embarrassed at least once really bad. Better to get it out of the way early so you can learn how to laugh at yourself and move on.’”

  Marigold considered this. She
had seen how embarrassed Peter was that night, and now he did seem able to laugh about the whole thing. Was this going to be funny one day? Impossible.

  Peter tossed the sea glass, which wasn’t quite smooth enough yet, back into the ocean and continued. “Then Mom said, ‘It could always be worse.’”

  “How could that have been worse for you?” Marigold asked.

  “That’s easy. Singing it in my underwear,” Peter said. Against all odds, Marigold found herself laughing again. In fact, she was in near hysterics.

  “What?” Peter asked with a smile. “Is the idea of me in my underwear so funny to you?”

  “No, no!” Marigold said. She hadn’t even tried to picture that, though now that Peter had put it out there, it was hard not to think about. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just the way you say ‘underwear.’ ‘Undah-weh.’”

  “Hey, that’s a good imitation!” Peter said. “No wonder you’re an actress!”

  For the first time since the Night Sprites debacle, she didn’t protest the title. At least not aloud.

  Now, as she looked at the wedding tent in the morning light, she imagined it tonight after the sun had set, alive with music and aglow with candles. She knew she was going to have her goofy dance with Max, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering: Would Peter maybe ask her to dance, too?

  45 • Building a Cake

  The whole family gathered in the kitchen for the cake assembly. Later they were going to need to transport the cake from the house to the tent, and Zinnie had the brilliant idea of placing it on Aunt Sunny’s old slide projector cart, which they could cover with one of the antique tablecloths. Dad and Zinnie went up to the attic to get the cart, and Marigold and Lily picked out a few lacy tablecloths to layer on top of it. The girls watched as Aunt Sunny and Mom lifted the bottom tier of the cake, which was on the cake decorator’s turntable, from the fridge to the cart. Then they carried the other tiers to the table. Aunt Sunny brought out a handful of plastic straws and asked Zinnie to cut them all in half with kitchen shears. These would give each tier of the cake stability. Once they were cut, Aunt Sunny instructed Lily to insert one in the center of the twelve-inch tier.

  “Push it all the way to the bottom,” Aunt Sunny said. “Marigold, you work on the other pieces. Put them about an inch and a half from the center straw.”

  Aunt Sunny trimmed the straws so that they were level with the top of the cake; this made each layer sturdy. Aunt Sunny then lifted the nine-inch tier, still on the cardboard, and placed it on top of the twelve-inch tier. The girls repeated the process with the straws for the nine-inch tier.

  “Why don’t you girls put on the top tier?” Aunt Sunny suggested.

  “Oh gosh, Sunny, are you sure?” Mom asked.

  “You don’t trust us, Mom?” Zinnie asked.

  “It’s a very important cake,” Mom said.

  “It’s my cake,” Aunt Sunny said. “And I trust them. Girls, go ahead.”

  “Be careful,” Dad said.

  Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily made eye contact, counted together, and on “three” they placed the six-inch tier on top. Mom exhaled loudly.

  “Zinnie, since you were the one who found the bluebird, you do the honors,” Aunt Sunny said. Zinnie lifted the bird from the box. The blown-glass object felt cool and delicate in her sweaty hands. She nestled its feet on the frosting and Aunt Sunny pushed them into the cake so that the bird appeared to be resting rather than standing.

  “Oh, how I wish Beatrice could be with me here today,” Aunt Sunny said as she tucked a beach rose next to the bird. “I really think she would like Tony.”

  “Me too,” Mom said, standing up and putting her arms around Aunt Sunny. Zinnie saw tears gathering in their eyes as they hugged.

  “You girls are so lucky to have each other,” Aunt Sunny said. “You must never forget it.”

  “Don’t make me cry, too,” Dad said, reaching for a tissue.

  “You are so sensitive, Daddy,” Lily said, and climbed onto his lap. This made everyone laugh.

  They all looked at the cake. This wasn’t the perfect kind of cake that could be found in a supermarket or a bakery. The middle layer was ever so slightly sloped, the piping was uneven in spots, and the frosting wasn’t smooth the way it was on store-bought cakes. Aunt Sunny’s cake looked more like the surface of the sea on a breezy day. But Zinnie found it unspeakably beautiful. It had history. It had originality. It had love. It had everything that was not for sale.

  “I’ve got to get my hair done now,” Aunt Sunny said, checking her thin silver watch, the face of which she wore on the inside of her wrist. “Marigold, you were so smart to suggest I take a shower early this morning. You were absolutely right about the day getting away from me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And don’t forget about your nails,” Marigold said, for she had made the appointment at the salon. “Toes, too.”

  “My first pedicure!” Aunt Sunny said.

  “It’s in ten minutes,” Marigold said. “You’d better get going. I’m going to put the final touches on the table decorations. Lily, you get the first shower. Zinnie, you’re after her. And only seven minutes each so we don’t run out of hot water.”

  “I’m on my way. Wish me luck,” Aunt Sunny said.

  “You’ve really got things under control, haven’t you, Marigold?” Dad said.

  Marigold nodded proudly as she marched Lily upstairs.

  “She’s been like this since we got here,” Zinnie said to Mom and Dad. The three of them stood back to admire the cake again.

  “I think we should put this out of the way,” Mom said. “What with everyone whizzing in and out of the kitchen all afternoon.”

  “I know. Let’s put it in my office,” Zinnie said.

  “Good idea,” Mom said.

  Together they wheeled the cake into the room. The only problem was the shaft of sunlight that was coming through the window. In preparation for Tony’s move-in, Aunt Sunny had removed the pink curtains.

  “It might be better off in the kitchen,” Dad said. “It’s so bright in here. We don’t want it to melt.”

  “Aunt Sunny has one of those dressing screens in the attic,” Zinnie said. “We can put it behind that.”

  “Is there anything that attic doesn’t have?” Mom asked.

  “The internet,” Zinnie said, and they all laughed.

  46 • An Unexpected Visitor

  Marigold had a vision for the seed packets. She’d written the guests’ names and table numbers on them, so everyone would know where to sit. Now she was pinning them up by the corners on a bulletin board with thumbtacks. At the top of the driveway, she had set up the desk with a chair and a jar full of sharpened pencils for people to use to write their messages to Aunt Sunny and Tony. She’d just realized that she could add some rulers and other school supplies to really create a scene when she noticed a familiar figure walking down the driveway. It took her a moment to place the man in the dark jeans, white button-down shirt, and round glasses, but once she did, her heart almost stopped. It was Philip Rathbone.

  What was he doing at Aunt Sunny’s? Was he invited to the wedding? She supposed it was possible, because he had made a large donation to the Piping Plover Society, and anyway, it seemed like everyone in this small town was coming over today. But it wasn’t time for the guests to arrive yet. And wouldn’t Aunt Sunny have told her if he was coming?

  Her pulse sped up as she wondered if he had changed his mind about cutting her out of Night Sprites. Although it didn’t really make sense, a part of her hoped that somehow he had put her back into the movie, and that a new version would be released—with her in it. And all her friends (and enemies) at school would see that she hadn’t been lying. She really was a star on the rise! She didn’t have time to elaborate on her fantasy any longer, because he was standing in front of her now. Time seemed to slow to a halt as he opened his mouth to speak. Her stomach clenched, her heart pounded, and her eyes refused to blink. Was he go
ing to apologize? Ask her to be in another film? Confess that he had made a horrible mistake?

  “Excuse me, is this where Zinnia Silver lives?” he asked.

  “What?” Of all the things Marigold imagined he might say, this was not one of them. Even worse, he was looking at her as though she were a stranger. Did he not even recognize her? She put a hand to her short hair, wishing she hadn’t cut her signature locks.

  “Yes,” Marigold said, as her heart seemed to audibly crack. “That’s my sister.”

  “Would you give her this card for me?” He reached into his back pocket and handed her a business card. It had a simple sketch of a movie camera and his name and phone number.

  “Why?” Marigold asked.

  “I owe her a wish. Like a genie.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “But I can’t grant it if she doesn’t know how to get in touch. That’s my number, and I’ll be at the Village Café for the next few hours if she’d like to see me.” With that he tipped an imaginary hat and walked away like a cowboy in one of those old westerns.

  Marigold stormed into the house, her blood heated to the boiling point.

  “Zinnie!” she called, feeling her cheeks color. No answer. She was probably upstairs in the shower.

  Everyone always thought Marigold was the mean older sister. But it wasn’t true. Zinnie was mean. She was worse than mean. She was a criminal. A thief! Acting in movies was Marigold’s life’s goal. It always had been her ambition. And now it was all over and it belonged to Zinnie? She had stolen Marigold’s dream as if it were nothing but a pair of shoes! How and where and when had Zinnie found Mr. Rathbone and charmed him into being . . . what? . . . a genie? Maybe Marigold was the sister who boys liked, but when it came to adults, Zinnie was some kind of cruel magician.

  Marigold’s temper was blazing, and this time she wasn’t going to tamp it down. She had promised her parents not to fight with her sister for Aunt Sunny’s sake, but Aunt Sunny was getting her hair and nails done at a salon two miles away. And their parents were out in the wedding tent setting the tables, so they were out of earshot. Besides, Zinnie had barely even gotten in trouble for having read Marigold’s diary and written a story about her most embarrassing moment in life. If I had done that? Marigold thought. I’d have been grounded for life for hurting my poor, innocent younger sister. It wasn’t fair. If their parents weren’t going to enforce any justice in this house, she was. Marigold was ready to let her sister know that it was not okay to mess with her like this. She would not resort to wrestling again. As their mother had reminded her, she was above that. But she was not above telling her sister off.