The Cupid Chronicles (19 page)

We are such stuff as dreams are made on …

—Shakespeare,
The Tempest

Sam is reading the newspaper, shaking his head when I come down to breakfast. “That's just not right,” he says.

There's another article on the Bramble Library. Mr. Sivler is quoted as saying that despite community support, the council does not expect the required $30,000 goal to be met in time and that negotiations with the town of Falmouth are moving along well. “We believe the residents of Bramble will be even better served by—”

“What!” I am so angry. “They told Mrs. Saperstone $20,000, not
$30,000!”

Stella is just in from her run. “I knew that Sivler slime ball was up to something,” she says, huffing and sweating. “I read the article this morning and I was thinking about it on my run. I bet Sivler wants that library property. He's probably got some business venture going. Listen, Willa, we're nearly empty today, just the Kwans and Kauffmans are left. If you want, I'll go with you to lodge a complaint.”

Wow. Stella is taking my side. My throat clenches. “Thanks, Mother.”

Sam nods at me and winks. “Go get 'em, girls!”

Stella gets dressed for business. I wear my Bramble A uniform. The law offices of Phinneus T. Langerhorn III are three doors down from the Bramble Library. The green ivy hands wave “good luck” as we pass by.

Mr. Langerhorn listens patiently as Stella shrieks and I speak but, in the end, he says he's sorry, there's nothing else he can do. $30,000 by February 15 or else.

This makes my phone call even more urgent.

•  •  •

Mama B is delighted to hear from me. She feels horrible about Gramp, but she rallies back when I tell her the news.

“Papa B, come here,” she shouts, dropping the phone. “We're going back to Bramble. Willa's having another dance.”

I tell Mama B what's going on with the library campaign and how we desperately need the Midwinter Night's Dream to rake in some serious money. And then I tell her my super boy-magnet idea.

“Suzy-Jube will be delighted!” Mama B says. “She won Miss Daisydew USA and she's on to the Miss American Role Model quarterfinals next month. You're getting her right between engagements. Let me put her on.”

Suzy-Jube says “yes” in a Daisydew minute. “Insulted? Why, of course not, Willa, honey. I'm flattered. If you think I can save your little library, well, consider me booked. Bramble, Cape Cod, here I come! Ya' gotta use it or lose it, Mama always says. Use it or lose it. Now … what do y'all think I should wear?”

I make up the flyer that night. Suzanna Jubilee's photo reproduces beautifully. One very lucky Bramble boy is going to win the dream date of his life.

•  •  •

Once the flyers circulate around Bramble Academy, we can't get to the ticket table at lunchtime quick enough to handle the lines of boys. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, janitors. Tina's old crush, Tanner McGee, is first in line, with the Buoy Boys right behind him. Some guys have been camped out since the lunch ladies cracked the first eggs at dawn. They stare at Suzanna Jubilee's picture and they don't even complain about filling out Tina's silly compatibility questionnaire.

“It's required,” Tina says.

“Suzanna is going to be there for sure?” the boys ask. “And the winner gets a date with her, for sure?”

“For sure,” Tina says, “but you have to answer Tina's Ten. No exceptions.”

Tina's Aunt Amber has agreed to input the data and match the couples.

When I asked Tina if I could add a question, she hesitated, but then agreed it would be good to have a “tiebreaker.” And so we added an eleventh question.

Mrs. Sivler takes us on the CJ, “a little field trip to Boston,” for our gowns.

“The committee is not showing up in otters,” Ruby says.

“Otters,” I say, picturing the animals. “What do you mean?”

Ruby and Tina roll their eyes.

“OTRs,” Ruby explains. “Off-the-racks. Absolutely no otters for the Planning Committee.”

“But, Rube,” Tina says, “there's really not enough time to do originals …”

“Sherry Sivler has ways,” Ruby says. “Lots and lots of ways. Trust me.”

My gown looks like cotton candy. Pink chiffon with thin rhinestone straps and a heart-shaped neckline. Tina picked a black strapless “glam.” Ruby will be red—very, very red. When I showed Stella my gown, she got misty-eyed. “Oh, Willa,” she said. “Sam, come here! Come look at our girl.”

“I know you think it's all about Cupid,” Tina says to me, “but aren't you curious if you'll be the most compatible with JFK? He filled out the questionnaire, you know.”

“Don't fudge the results, Tina.”

“I can't,” Tina says. “The envelopes are sealed. Aunt Amber is the only one who will see the raw data. It will all be computerized and the numbers don't lie.”

“If we're compatibly connected, fine,” I say, “but I'm not giving up on Cupid.”

Tina laughs. “How's the flying streaker doing these days anyway?”

•  •  •

“I'm taking a break from taffy,” Nana tells me. She's making a Bramble line of ‘conversation hearts,' those miniature Valentine's candy hearts with messages stamped on them. “Seal-ed with a Kiss. Beach-bums. Wave Back.” And in the spirit of saving the library: “You're Booked. Read To Me. Mark My Words. Write On!”

Nana is keeping busy at Sweet Bramble Books. She hired a new assistant and Dr. Swammy will be coming onboard when Bramble Academy lets out for the summer.

Bramble is buzzing about Mum and Riley Truth. They're always laughing and holding hands. People are starting to wonder if Riley's planning on moving here.

“Or, maybe Mum'll move away with him,” Stella says at dinner one night.

“No,” I say, “Mum won't leave us.”

Stella and Sam look at each other. “Well, she looks awfully happy,” Stella says. “You'd want her to be happy, right?”

CHAPTER 30
 
Swarming Like Locusts
 

The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne
Burned on the water …
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them.

—Shakespeare,
Antony and Cleopatra

When the Blazers' limousine pulls up in front of the Bramblebriar Inn, the Buoy Boys just happened to be walking by. Jessie and Luke see Suzy-Jube and stop. They can't move. They can't speak.

That doesn't last for long. Within minutes of Suzanna's arrival, word spreads.

By the time I got back from Mashpee Commons where Tina and Ruby and I were checking on last minute details for the Dream, boys are swarming like lovesick locusts all over the grounds of the inn, peaking in windows, climbing trees with binoculars, communicating by walkie-talkie.

There are so many boys, boys, boys, I can barely make my way up the sidewalk. When I finally reach the door, Stella opens it, pulls me in, and locks the door behind us.

“Those boys are
crazy,”
she says. We laugh.

“Where's Suzanna?” I ask.

“Upstairs taking a nap. Chickles says Suzanna needs to rest her vocal cords every afternoon. Her voice needs to be in top shape for her next pageant.”

“What does she sing anyway?” I ask. I never did find out Suzanna's talent.

“Hello, Willa, honey!” Mama B swoops into the room, throwing her arms out for a hug. We hear a voice calling from upstairs. “Oh, good,” Mama B says, “perfect timing. Here comes my sunshine now.”

We watch as the goddess descends from the heavens. There should be trumpets blaring or the Miss America theme song playing or bluebirds flitting around, at least.

“Afternoon, Mama,” Suzanna says. “Hello, Willa girl!” She gives me a hug.

“Hi, Suzanna, thanks so much for coming.”

Sam walks in from the kitchen and takes one good, long look at Suzanna. Stella elbows him. “We apologize for all the commotion outside,” Stella says.

“Oh,
pish,”
Suzanna says, waving her hand in the air. “Don't worry about that a'tall. I'm used to it. You just call those sweet boys up onto the porch and I'll make a brief warm-up appearance. Just a ‘howdy-do and see ya' at the dance.'”

Wait until Tina sees her. Wait until JFK … Oh no, what if he wins the date with her? I hadn't even thought about that!

Bellford T. comes in and kisses Chickles. “Is Mama happy?” he asks.

Chickles beams. “Yes, dear.”

“Good. Cause if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy,” Bellford says, winking at Sam. “Ain't that right, Sam?”

Ex-English teacher Sam-the-man doesn't even flinch at all the “ain'ts.” He nods toward Stella. “That's right, Bellford. We've got to keep these pretty ladies happy.”

Stella smiles at him and he winks at her and in that moment it hits me, Stella and Sam are such different people. It would be hard to find ten things
they have in common. If they filled out that Perfect Ten compatibility survey, I bet Tina's Aunt Amber would never have matched them up. But yet look how much in love they are.

Cupid.

Sam has to call in a Bramble patrol car to escort the boys off the premises. This is so exciting. Tickets for the Dream are sold out. Boys are coming from every high school, from every town on Cape. And wait until JFK sees me in my cotton-candy pink dress. He'll only have eyes for me. Stairway to heaven here we come.

The Midwinter Night's Dream will be perfect. The best dance Bramble has ever seen.

CHAPTER 31
 
Big Spenders
 

… joy delights in joy …

—Shakespeare, Sonnet 8

Early Valentine's Day morning, the morning of the Midwinter Night's Dream, I am bounding down the stairs to help with breakfast when I hear an ear-curdling “ya-da-yo-ee-yo.” I turn around quick to look, and slip, twisting my foot as I land.

Ouch.
I limp to the kitchen for ice. I'll be fine in a minute, just fine.