“I love that book,” Zinnie said. “I mean, I’ve actually never read it cover to cover, but it’s my favorite teacher’s favorite book, so I know that I’m going to love it when I do.”
“I haven’t read it either,” Chloe said. “But my uncle thinks it’s the best. He gave it to me for my birthday, see?” She opened the book to its first page, where Zinnie read To Chloe, a young poet. With love from your uncle. “And he knows I love to write poems.”
“Cool,” Zinnie said. She knew the power of a book, how it could feel like a door opening to a bigger world. “You know, I have a blog I’m writing for school right now,” Zinnie said. “It’s called Coast-to-Coast Summer Adventures. I’m comparing summer adventures on the East Coast to summer adventures on the West Coast.”
“They are so different, huh?” Chloe said.
“Yeah,” Zinnie said. “But my favorite thing to write is plays.”
“Cool,” Chloe said. “Right now I’m into poetry. Reading it and writing it. There’s this one poet in here named Mary Oliver.”
“I’ve heard of her,” Zinnie said. Mrs. Lee had a quote of hers hanging in the classroom: “What are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?” Whenever Zinnie’s eyes landed on it, she could feel the energy of the writer’s question, which was a kind of challenge, and it thrilled her.
“I love her observations,” Chloe said. “Did you know she used to live on Cape Cod?”
“No, I didn’t,” Zinnie said.
Zinnie had this feeling like she and Chloe had so much to talk about—that the whole world was going to be better understood once they discussed it.
“We should hang out sometime,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, you should come over,” Zinnie said. “My aunt has an amazing lighthouse.”
“A lighthouse?” Chloe said. “I have a thing for lighthouses!”
“Then you have to check it out,” Marigold said, appearing suddenly from behind them. “Actually, maybe you could come over today, after we finish making these signs, and we can talk about school next year. I heard that you can take two electives every trimester, and I have no idea what I’m going to choose. What’s your concentration, by the way?”
“Dance,” Chloe said.
“Awesome!” Marigold and Zinnie said at the same time.
“I have to work for my uncle later today, but I do really want to see this lighthouse,” Chloe said. “Lighthouses are poetic.”
Zinnie knew exactly what she meant. They were poetic: standing at the edge of the sea, watching for lost vessels as they beamed their lights across dark skies. She bet that Mary Oliver probably had at least one poem about lighthouses.
“Oh, um, do you know when they’re going to let people know about casting?” Marigold asked Chloe.
“Oh yeah!” Zinnie said.
“I think sometime today,” Chloe said.
“Do you know who they chose?” Zinnie asked.
“No, I don’t get to go to those meetings,” Chloe said. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see the lighthouse!”
“How about you come over tomorrow at three,” Marigold said. “I’d love to talk about high school.”
“That sounds good,” Chloe said. “I’ll see you then.” She walked down the dock, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
Unlike Marigold, Zinnie had never had one best friend. She’d always sort of been friends with everyone, but not particularly close with any of them. She understood now what it was like to meet a potential one. It was like when she was writing and having a hard time expressing what she wanted to, then thinking for a long time, and finally finding the perfect word.
17 • The Magic of Cake
“Anyone home?” Aunt Sunny called at the end of the day.
“I’m in here,” Marigold called. She was curled up on the sofa with her iPad, researching Pinterest boards about ice cream socials and jotting down ideas. She was trying to keep her mind off two things. First, Peter. He had been so down today that she’d started to worry that maybe Mr. Rathbone’s production really was going to ruin the regatta. Peter was the captain of the team and the best sailor in his class. What if he was too bummed out to lead his team to victory? It would be terrible if Pruet lost! And second, she was starting to get nervous that she’d been too cocky about getting the part in the TV episode. It was nearly five o’clock, and she hadn’t heard a thing. Her dad always said that in Hollywood, good news comes in the morning and bad news comes in the afternoon. Here she sat, watching the shadows lengthen across the yard.
“Oh, good,” Aunt Sunny called back. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“Yes, please,” Marigold said.
Aunt Sunny walked into the room carrying two tall glasses of iced tea with lemon slices floating inside. As Aunt Sunny kissed her forehead, Marigold put her iPad down on the sofa and reached for the tea. Aunt Sunny had made it this morning. She’d poured boiling water over a whole bunch of tea bags and then added entire cup of sugar—the white kind, not the less-bad-for-you brown kind that her mother liked to buy from the organic section. Aunt Sunny had stirred it all up with a wooden spoon and then let the pitcher sit in the sun all day. She must’ve just brought it in and poured it over the ice, which crackled. The tea really did taste like sunshine.
Aunt Sunny took a good look at her niece and said, “Bad day?”
“Kind of,” Marigold said. “I’m not sure yet.”
“One second,” Aunt Sunny said, and returned to the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a slice of pound cake heaped with fresh strawberries and sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar. The sight of it made Marigold’s mouth water, and when she tasted it, it was better than she imagined cake could be. It was buttery and spongy and absorbed exactly the right amount of strawberry flavor. And the strawberries added a brightness and tartness to each bite. “Oh my God, this is so good,” Marigold said. “Thank you.”
“I’d bring you a second piece, but we’ll have dinner in an hour,” Aunt Sunny said, turning her wrist over to look at her watch. “And I don’t want to ruin your appetite. I’ve been to Gifford’s Fish Store and picked up some scallops for dinner. Tony’s getting some silver queen corn and peas from Goldie’s farm stand, and maybe we can all go to Edith’s for dessert. But first, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I really thought I was going to get the part of the waitress in Mr. Rathbone’s TV show, but they didn’t call me,” she said.
Auny Sunny checked her watch and said, “The day’s not over yet.”
Marigold shrugged. The part in the TV show was feeling less likely by the minute, but maybe that would be a good thing. Then she and Peter could both be mad at the Hollywood people, as he called them. But she didn’t want to be mad at Mr. Rathbone. She just wanted to get the job and be happy with him.
“Is there anything else going on?” Aunt Sunny asked. Marigold hesitated. “Does it have to do with Peter?”
Marigold nodded. “How did you know?” she asked.
“I had a feeling,” Aunt Sunny said, putting an arm around her. Marigold leaned against her. “It was something about the way you were looking at him last night. You had stars in your eyes. And some hurt, too.”
“I really like him,” Marigold said. It felt good to just admit it.
“I know, and I think he likes you, too,” Aunt Sunny said.
“He held my hand the other day,” Marigold said, smiling as she remembered the feeling.
“How winsome and romantic,” Aunt Sunny said.
“It was,” Marigold said, snuggling against her aunt. She wasn’t sure about the definition of “winsome,” but she understood what Aunt Sunny meant. “But ever since we learned about Mr. Rathbone using the yacht club, it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore.” Having finally put the right words to her feelings, Marigold found herself on the verge of tears. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing him all year.”
“That must be very disappointing,” Aunt Sunny said. Marigold nodded again.
She was so disappointed. “Peter has been anticipating the regatta all year, and I imagine he’s so frustrated that he can barely see past it. It’s like he’s wearing frustration goggles.”
“I keep trying to help him see the bright side,” Marigold said.
“He’ll come around soon,” Aunt Sunny said. “Once he gets a few good days out on the water, he’ll cheer up. In the meantime, all you can do is be your wonderful, positive self. I know what will make you feel better.”
“Another piece of cake?” she said.
“Yes, cake can be magic. But there’s also something else,” Aunt Sunny said as she stood up.
They went into the kitchen, and Aunt Sunny spread a map out on the table. “I found this over at the historical society today as we prepared for the tricentennial. They were going to throw it away, but I rescued it.”
“I love the way the letters look,” Marigold said, noting the vintage font.
“Isn’t it lovely? But this is what I wanted to show you in particular.” Aunt Sunny placed her finger on the map. “This is where we’ll be canoeing for your fun fourteenth. And here is where we’ll be camping.”
“Great,” Marigold said, but she felt her stomach drop. Her fun fourteenth was coming up faster than she wanted it to.
The screen door opened, and Zinnie and Lily came inside with their hands full of flowers.
“Aunt Sunny, we picked you a bouquet,” Lily said.
“Aren’t they lovely,” Aunt Sunny said.
“We thought they’d look nice on the table,” Zinnie said.
“We should put them in water,” Marigold said. Just then the phone rang.
This, she knew, could be the phone call she’d been waiting for. A huge smile spread across Marigold’s lips as she said, “I’ll get it.”
18 • The Happiness Pie
It was a crazy thought, and Zinnie knew it. And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about how she might actually stand a chance of being cast in Mr. Rathbone’s TV episode. She’d genuinely made Meg, Mr. Rathbone, and Chloe laugh. And then when she’d run into Chloe at the yacht club today, she’d complimented her audition.
In fact, ever since she’d had that conversation with Chloe, Zinnie had been taking whatever chances she could to perfect her Massachusetts accent so she’d be ready in case they hired her. She’d even practiced with Lily in the pear orchard. About every third time, Lily said, “Okay, that one sounded good.”
She was still holding out hope that evening when the phone rang in Aunt Sunny’s house. Zinnie just about dropped the mason jar she was putting flowers into to race to the phone, but Marigold said, “I’ll get it,” and beat her to it.
“Hello?” Marigold said into the phone.
Zinnie put the flowers on the table and then crossed her fingers and put them behind her back, not wanting Marigold to see how badly she wanted this. A day on the set was sure to make an awesome blog entry—and she could even write about how unexpected it was to have a TV shoot in a sleepy East Coast beach town.
Aunt Sunny put a hand on her hip and leaned back a little, which Zinnie noticed she did when she was listening very closely.
“This is Marigold,” her sister said as she pressed the phone against her ear. Zinnie watched as an enormous smile broke out across Marigold’s face. She twisted the curly phone cord with one finger, nodding as she listened. “Yes, I can do that. Absolutely! This is great news!”
Marigold turned to give her aunt Sunny and her sisters a thumbs-up. Aunt Sunny raised her fists in triumph, and Lily started clapping. Zinnie smiled big, but inside she felt a familiar pang of jealousy.
It used to be a lot worse.
She used to want to be Marigold—to have the same hair and wear the same clothes and do all the same activities, especially acting. Since she’d discovered how much she loved writing, she’d become a lot more independent. Or had she? Because here she stood, feeling stung by envy. Why did Marigold always seem to get everything?
A moment later, after jotting down some details on the ancient pad of paper that was always by the phone, Marigold hung up and exclaimed breathlessly, “I got it! I got the part! I’m going to play the part of the waitress in Mr. Rathbone’s TV episode!”
“Yay!” Lily exclaimed, and jumped up and down.
“Congratulations, my dear,” Aunt Sunny said, and rushed to give her a hug.
“That’s awesome!” Zinnie said, though her smile was starting to hurt.
“Well, your day certainly turned around quickly, didn’t it?” Aunt Sunny said to Marigold.
“It did!” Marigold said. “Zinnie, can you believe I got it?”
“Yeah,” Zinnie said. “We all knew you were going to. It’s great.” She’d gotten her hopes up, and now she couldn’t help but feel crushed. “I’ll be right back.”
Zinnie dashed out into the yard and took several deep breaths. A moment later she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Aunt Sunny.
“Will you come help me find those leftover sparklers from the wedding? It’ll be fun to light them tonight,” Aunt Sunny said. “I’d like to celebrate Marigold’s success.”
“Okay,” Zinnie said. She really didn’t feel like looking for sparklers to celebrate Marigold, but it was hard to say no to Aunt Sunny.
“Thanks,” Aunt Sunny said, putting an arm around her niece. “I think I put them in the garage after the wedding.”
“Is that the canoe?” Zinnie asked when they arrived at the garage. She pointed to a boat literally hanging from the ceiling.
“It is indeed. Soon we’ll take it up the riv-ah,” Aunt Sunny said, and Zinnie smiled. She loved the way Aunt Sunny said “river.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Zinnie, glancing up at the canoe’s smooth underside. She couldn’t help but notice some cobwebs. “Um, when was the last time you used it?”
“Twenty-five years ago, I think,” Aunt Sunny said. “But don’t worry. Tony is going to give it a once over and make sure it’s safe for us.”
“An old boat hanging from the ceiling, now a home for spiders but about to hit the water again soon. How . . . poetic,” Zinnie said, thinking of the word Chloe had used to describe lighthouses. Zinnie loved this idea: that things, not just words, could be poetry.
“Aha! Here’s that box of sparklers,” Aunt Sunny said, holding up a container. “If it were a bear, it would have bitten me. Let’s go back to the house.”
After their dinner, Aunt Sunny, Tony, Zinnie, Marigold, and Lily stepped out into the dark pear orchard to light the sparklers. The grass was soft and cool beneath their bare feet, and the crickets were chirping a high, steady song. On the other side of the orchard some fireflies flashed. The sparklers hissed, crackled, and spit sparks. They looked like tiny fireworks and smelled of struck matches. Marigold spun in a circle, creating what looked like a Hula-Hoop of light. Zinnie wrote her name in the sky, as if her sparkler were a pen on fire. Lily leaped like a fairy, leaving a trail of stars behind her. Aunt Sunny and Tony held hands, their faces glowing in the light. As the sparklers burned out, they all cheered for Marigold—all except Zinnie, who smiled tightly. Despite the festive attitude, Zinnie was still having a hard time feeling happy for Marigold. She opened her mouth to congratulate her sister, which she knew she should do, but was so disappointed she couldn’t find the words.
“I’m really excited that I’m finally going to be in a Philip Rathbone production. I have a feeling that this time it’s going to work out,” Marigold said.
“It’s as though things have come full circle,” Aunt Sunny said as she spread a blanket on the ground. Zinnie helped her lay the blanket flat, and then they all sat down and looked up at the stars.
“From what your aunt has told me, this is a dream come true,” Tony said.
“That’s right,” Marigold said, pulling Lily onto her lap. “It is.”
“I remember your first summer here, when you found out that Mr. Rathbone was in town and all you wanted was to be in that movie,” Lily said. “It was the who
le reason we put on that talent show.”
Marigold nodded.
“The talent show was my idea,” Zinnie said.
“And then last summer when you found out you’d been cut from Night Sprites, you were so sad,” Lily said.
“I was,” Marigold said.
“But you gathered your courage, and auditioned again, and look what’s happened,” Aunt Sunny said.
“It just goes to show that sticking to your vision pays off. In my day, they called that grit,” Tony said.
“I’ve got grit!” Marigold said, and held up her fist like Rosie the Riveter in the poster that was hanging in her classroom.
“You all do,” Aunt Sunny said, giving Zinnie’s hand a squeeze, and then turning to her. “Zinnie, honey, would you like to go see the night-blooming jasmine?”
“Sure,” Zinnie said, holding her aunt’s hand. They walked to a quiet corner of the garden.
Aunt Sunny said, “Sometimes it’s so difficult to remember this, but there’s not a finite amount of happiness in the world.”
“What do you mean?” Zinnie asked as Aunt Sunny took a seat on the stone bench. Zinnie joined her.
“It can be easy to think that when one person has a moment of success, there’s less happiness to go around.”
“It feels like that right now,” Zinnie said. “But I guess you could tell.”
“It may feel that way, but it’s not true. Goodness can actually multiply. It can be contagious. One person experiences goodness and then it rubs off on the next person.”
“Really?” Zinnie asked. “How come it doesn’t feel like that?”
“That’s because when we feel disappointed at another’s success, it blocks the goodness from spreading.”
“But what if you can’t help it? I mean, can you force yourself to feel happiness?” Zinnie asked.
“I don’t think I’d put it like that,” Aunt Sunny said. “It’s more that if you can remind yourself that there’s enough happiness for everyone, you find yourself sort of sliding into it.”
The Silver Moon of Summer Page 8