The Brightest Stars of Summer (22 page)

T
he 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.

M
arigold 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 going 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.

“Zinnie!” she called. “Where are you?” She pulled open the door to the bathroom, startling Lily, who was wearing one of Aunt Sunny's bathrobes and brushing her wet hair.

“Eek!” Lily said, pulling the bathrobe around her protectively. “You scared me. I took a shower just like you said. I washed my hair, rinsed it twice, and even used conditioner.” She held up a lock of her hair as evidence. “You can smell it if you want.”

“That's okay. I trust you. You're a good sister,”
Marigold said, trying to remain calm. “But I'm looking for Zinnie, who's a bad sister. Have you seen her?”

“She's in the office,” Lily said, looking miniature in the oversized bathrobe. “Are you sure she's a bad sister?”

“Yes,” Marigold said, running down the stairs. “You better stay here.” This, of course, just made Lily chase after her—she could hear Lily's little footsteps close behind.

“I like Zinnie!” Lily said.

“I don't,” Marigold said, and opened the door to the office, where Zinnie was sitting at her desk with her headphones on, typing something.
More slander,
Marigold guessed.

“So, you're trying to get a part from Mr. Rathbone, are you?” Marigold said, loudly enough to be heard over the headphones.

“Huh? What?” Zinnie asked, jumping a little.

“Mr. Rathbone was just here and he was looking for you!” Marigold said.

“Uh-oh,” Lily said. “This is baaaaaad.”

“I can explain!” Zinnie said, leaping to her feet.

“Why did you do this?” Marigold paced, feeling like the small room could not contain her anger.

“If you can just calm down, I'll tell you the whole story,” Zinnie said.

“I don't want any more of your stories!” Marigold
grabbed Zinnie by the shoulders.

“No fighting!” Lily said. “Stop it!”

“I wasn't trying to hurt you,” Zinnie said, trying to twist out of Marigold's hands. “I swear.”

“Then why did you do the thing that you knew would hurt me the most?” Marigold asked, tightening her grip and lifting Zinnie so that she was on her tippy-toes.

“I didn't,” Zinnie said. “Let go of me and I'll explain.”

“The rule is no fighting, remember?” Lily said.

“Fine!” Marigold said. Just as she released Zinnie, Lily wriggled in between them and pushed them apart, sending Zinnie into the dressing screen.

“No!” Zinnie cried. But it was too late. Gravity had set her in motion. As Zinnie fell backward, a soft barrier seemed to cushion her landing, and there was the sound of a delicate thing, like a light bulb, breaking. Marigold gasped when a few blackberries rolled out from behind the screen and she saw, by the door, the thin glass beak of the bluebird. They had crushed the cake.

“It was his nephew in the water,” Zinnie said from the floor. “I saved Mr. Rathbone's nephew.”