“I miss you, Lily,” he said.
“I miss you, too,” she said.
Alex lifted her hand and held it between the two of his. I held my breath, waiting. And then …
Dawn’s staticky voice filled the air. “Incoming! Incoming! Armadillo is headed your way!”
While Delaney was spying on Lily and Alex, I was still on the porch with Burton. We had no idea Lily had run off and were just passing time until the wedding started.
I think I’d just begun telling him all the reasons why he should vote in every election, when all of a sudden, Mrs. Caldwell came out of the house, shouting his name. “Burton! Where are you?”
In a flash, Burton was all upright and looking like his usual nervous self. “Over here,” he called.
Mrs. Caldwell trotted around the corner of the porch and started waving her bony arm toward the horizon. “Lily is up there with that … that … Alex person. You need to march right up there and get her.”
Burton rubbed his nose. “But the flowers …”
“Go and stop this humiliation at once!”
“Wait a second,” I said, stepping in between them. “Alex is Lily’s friend, and this is her house. She has a right to go sit up there if she wants.”
Mrs. Caldwell gave me the meanest, most narrow-eyed, nostril-flaringest expression I’d ever seen in my life. “You are a child,” she said. “And you will, once and for all, quit meddling in things that don’t concern you.”
“It doesn’t stop you. You’re out here telling Burton what to do.”
“He’s my son,” she hissed.
“She’s my sister,” I hissed back.
“Enough!” She put up her hand and turned away from me. “Burton, go and get your bride.”
“Burton, you’re a grown-up. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I said.
Burton looked from her to me and back again. He also took a yearning glance at the road behind us.
Finally, he smiled at me, and for a second, I thought he’d come to his senses. Then he gave a defeated shrug, trudged down the steps, and began marching up the hill.
I ran after him, yanking my walkie-talkie out and shouting a warning to anyone who might be listening.
By the time we reached the top, Alex, Lily, and Delaney were waiting for us.
“You,” Burton said, pointing at Alex. Then he sneezed.
“Burton, you shouldn’t be up here,” Lily said.
He turned and pointed at Lily. “You,” he said, and sneezed again. But this time, it was three sneezes in a row. Something was wrong. His breath was too fast and a deep rattling sound was coming from his chest.
Burton shook his finger one last time at Alex, staggered sideways, and fell to the ground.
By now, the guests had filed out of the house, so everyone got to see Alex carrying Burton all the way down the hill. Lily followed behind in her big white dress, with Delaney and me skipping along beside her.
We could see Mrs. Caldwell pacing around and as soon as we reached the bottom of the hill, she started yelling at everyone. She accused Darby, Delaney, and me of interfering — which, to be fair, was true. She accused Alex of stealing the bride. She accused Lily of being ungrateful. And she told Burton that none of us were any good and that he needed to call off the wedding. Burton mumbled something that sounded like “No mo wehhing,” which I guess was his way of ending it.
Meanwhile, the guests stood around and watched as if it were all a crazy play we were putting on for their enjoyment.
Mrs. Caldwell told Mavis and Felicia to gather their things and had Reverend Hoffmeyer and Mr. Neighbors help Burton to her car. After they got him buckled in the passenger seat, Lily stooped down beside him and said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“It is not okay,” Mrs. Caldwell said. “Young lady, I’ll have you know that —”
“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” Dad interrupted her. His polite smile couldn’t hide the sternness in his voice.
Mrs. Caldwell lifted her chin. “Well,” she said, turning to Mom, “I hope you’re happy.”
“Actually, yes. Yes, I am,” Mom said. “Come on back inside, everyone. No reason to leave just yet. We’ll enjoy the rest of the food.”
So there ended up not being a wedding, but we celebrated love all the same — love of our family and friends and neighbors. Love of life and good food and our muddy dog. Aunt Jane started up a poker game at the dining room table, and Bree won most of the chips. Ms. Woolcott gave Lily a spray of real flowers from her garden, and Mrs. Neighbor even brought over some homemade peach ice cream. And Darby, Delaney, and I gave the rehired ring bearer ten dollars for helping us in our plotting — even if it hadn’t been on purpose. Everyone was laughing and having a good time.
Mom and Dad had us explain all of our shenanigans to them, and we told them the truth — mostly. Luckily, they were in too good a mood to punish us. It was great to see them joking around with each other again.
Later, after we’d had our fill of canceled wedding food and had just poured ourselves some cherry-lemon punch, Darby asked, “Where’s Lily?” We then noticed that Alex was missing, too.
The three of us went out to the backyard and, sure enough, there they were, silhouetted against the sunset at the top of our hill. Lily was resting her head on his shoulder.
“Think they would have gotten back together if this whole mess hadn’t happened?” Delaney asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It sure seems like fate to me.”
“Kismet,” Darby said.
Delaney bounced on her toes. “I think I’d call it serendipity.”
The three of us clinked punch glasses.
We’re a great family. Divorce can’t change that and neither can an almost-wedding. As Lincoln said, a house divided cannot stand, and I’d like to add that a house united can take on dang near anything.
Deepest gratitude goes to David Levithan and Erin Black of Scholastic for sharing their vision and guiding me through this project. Like the Brewster triplets, we are an unstoppable team of three.
For her support, both moral and industry-related, my agent, Erin Murphy, deserves many thanks, hugs, and gooey desserts. I am blessed to be part of the magical EMLA team.
During the creation of this book, many wonderful people kept me focused, offered insight, and helped with the care and feeding of me and my family. Thank you to Gene Brenek, Shana Burg, Tim Crow, Carol Dawson, Clare Dunkle, Debbie Gonzales, Lisa Holden, Varian Johnson, April Lurie, Amanda North, Sean Petrie, Margo Rabb, Beth Sample, and Cynthia and Greg Leitich Smith.
Much inspiration was drawn from my own eccentric yet loveable family, including Jim and Esther Ford, Amanda Ford, Jason Ford, Owen Ziegler, Sage Barton, and Fletcher Barton. Special thanks goes to my daughter and beta reader, Renée Ziegler, who gave invaluable feedback and was an early cheerleader of this story.
Finally, I give love and gratitude to Chris Barton, my critique partner and life partner, who married me during the creation of this book. Here’s to many more sunsets in our Hill Country romance.
Like the Brewster triplets, Jennifer Ziegler is a native Texan and a lover of family, history, barbecue, and loyal dogs. Although she has only one sister, she does know what it is like to have four kids living in the same house. She is the author of several books for older readers, including Sass & Serendipity and How Not to Be Popular. Jennifer lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, author Chris Barton, and their four children.
Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Ziegler
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, June 2014
Cover photography © 2014 by Michael Frost, with images from Shutterstock Inc. and Getty Image
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Cover design by Natalie Sousa and Theresa Venezia
e-ISBN 978-0-545-56143-3
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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