The Forget-Me-Not Summer (14 page)

“W
hat a nice surprise!” Jean said the next afternoon when Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily walked through the door of the casino to ask her about putting on a play there. Jean was setting up folding chairs for a town meeting that was taking place that evening. “And just in time. I could really use some help with these chairs. Normally, I'd have done this in advance, but I was out running errands.”

They knew that Jean had been running errands because they'd gone to see her right after lunch and had been waiting for her for the rest of the afternoon, taking breaks to find the library, where Zinnie borrowed two new novels despite having discovered a whole bunch of promising books at Aunt Sunny's, to get ice cream at Edith's, and to see Ashley at the town beach. After each trip, they checked to see if Jean
was at the casino. Now that she had returned and the moment was here, the girls were feeling unusually shy. Zinnie and Marigold each grabbed a chair. Lily knew the chairs were too heavy for her, so she started wandering around, looking at all the pictures on the walls of people from a long time ago.

As Zinnie unfolded a chair, she glanced up at the stage. It was smaller and plainer than the stage at their school, with no curtains or fancy lights, which was okay with her because she had no idea how to use those fancy lights anyway.

“Now I have a feeling,” Jean said when the last chairs were in place, “that as helpful as you've been, you didn't come here to set up chairs.”

Zinnie and Marigold exchanged a glance. Then Marigold nodded at Zinnie, and Zinnie knew this meant she wanted her to ask.

“Actuallllllly,” Zinnie said, stretching out the word, “we were wondering if we could put on a play here in the casino.”

Instead of saying “Yes!” right away as Zinnie and Marigold had hoped, Jean said, “Hmm,” and bit her lip.

Marigold jumped in. “See, Aunt Sunny told us that there were plays here in the old days, and we thought everyone would like it if we brought that tradition back.”

“It's not so simple,” Jean said. “The town pays for this casino, and there's a committee that decides who gets to use it and when.” She sat down on the stage stairs.
“What play were you thinking of doing?”

Zinnie and Marigold looked at each other in a panic. They had just been so excited about having their idea that they hadn't thought it through.

“
The Sound of Music
?” Zinnie said. She had to say something, and who didn't love
The Sound of Music
?

“I don't know, girls,” Jean said. “I admire your gumption, but I don't think it's possible to put on a production of
The Sound of Music
in two weeks, even with a team of Broadway experts.”

“And I can't sing a note,” Marigold said. She sat on one of the folding chairs with her chin in her hands.

“It's true,” Zinnie said, feeling really stupid. “All three of us are tone deaf.”

“Hey, is this Aunt Sunny?” Lily's voice called from the other side of the casino. She had paused in front of a small photo hanging low to the ground in the back. “She looks so silly!”

“Is she wearing a sailor suit?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” Lily said, giggling. “And she's dancing with a man wearing coconuts!”

“That's her,” Jean said.

Marigold and Zinnie had to see this. They rushed over to see the picture Lily was looking at. Sure enough, Aunt Sunny was singing and dancing in a sailor's suit. Her arm was linked with Ham's, and not only was he wearing a coconut bikini top, but he was also in a grass skirt!

“They were doing a number from
South Pacific
,” Jean said. “They really stole the show.”

“Wait a second,” Zinnie said, noticing a banner in the background that read:
ANNUAL PRUET TALENT SHOW
. “Is there a talent show every year?”

“There used to be. In fact, your uncle Ham was the one who started the whole thing. He and your aunt organized it and got the whole community involved. He thought it was a great way for the town kids and the summer kids to come together. But when he died, well, the talent shows stopped,” Jean said.

“Why didn't Aunt Sunny keep it going?” Marigold asked.

“I think it was just too sad for her,” Jean said.

“Maybe it's time to bring it back,” Zinnie said.

“You know,” Jean said, “that's something I could get the town committee to agree on.”

“We may not be able to do
The Sound of Music
, but I bet we can get people to sign up for a talent show,” Zinnie said.

“And we could do a short play,” Marigold said. “Without any musical numbers.”

Jean smiled. “Now you're talking.”

Jean took a look at her calendar and found there was a free night in a little over two weeks, after the big dance and before the girls were scheduled to return to California. Thinking aloud, Jean decided that fifteen acts would be enough for a solid evening
of entertainment. She told them that if they could get fourteen other kids to sign up by the end of the day tomorrow and the town committee approved, they could have their talent show.

They hugged Jean and were halfway down the block when Jean caught up to them and handed the picture of Aunt Sunny to Zinnie. “She should have this.”

“L
ike a band of wild horses!” Aunt Sunny said, taking off her gardening gloves and standing up to greet the sisters, who were bounding through the yard, running toward the fence where Aunt Sunny was working, plucking some small plants that were sprouting next to the brigh-pink flowers that bloomed as tall as basketball players. The evening air was alive with crickets and the sweet smell of honeysuckle, and even though there was still plenty of daylight, Zinnie noticed a faint disk of a moon hanging in the sky. Bursting with their news, the girls were just too excited to walk. Even Marigold couldn't resist breaking into a trot. “I was starting to get a little concerned. You left after lunch, and it's almost time for dinner.”

“Jean was running errands this afternoon,” Marigold explained.

“So we walked all the way to the library, went to Edith's Ice Cream Shop, and visited our friend Ashley at the town beach while we waited for her,” Zinnie said.

“Sounds like a nice afternoon,” Aunt Sunny said.

“Why are you digging up those plants?” Zinnie asked. She liked the tall flower stalks with their abundant pink and red blooms.

“These are what we call volunteers,” Aunt Sunny said, holding up a seedling. “I didn't plant these. They're growing on their own from seeds that the holly-hocks have dropped. But the thing about hollyhocks is that they can't grow too close together. They need their own space or they won't grow properly. Now tell me, did you get a chance to talk to Jean?”

Zinnie nodded.

“And guess what!” Lily said.

“I can't imagine,” Aunt Sunny said.

“We found a picture of you!” Lily said.

Zinnie handed the picture to Aunt Sunny and watched as her face lit up. “Wherever did you find this?”

“It was in the casino,” Lily said. “Hanging in the very back. You and Ham were funny.”

Aunt Sunny ran her hand over the picture. “Yes, we had a lot of fun. My goodness, I haven't thought about the talent show for years and years.”

“Then you'll be glad to know that we, your nieces,
are going to bring it back,” Marigold said.

“Is that so?” Aunt Sunny asked. “Did Jean say yes?”

“Yup. If we can find fourteen acts by tomorrow,” Zinnie said, “and get the approval of the town committee.”

“That's terrific!” Aunt Sunny said. “But you'd better get crackin'.”

“She's right,” Marigold said. “We should start going door to door right now.”

Aunt Sunny raised a finger in protest. “Not until after dinner. I have a chicken roasting in the oven, and I need someone to wash the lettuce.” She reached into her basket and handed the fresh lettuce to Marigold. “Someone to peel the carrots.” She handed carrots to Zinnie. “And Lily, you can husk the corn that's on the kitchen table.”

“I'll race you guys,” Lily said. The girls took off through the pear orchard and under the brick archway toward the little house, but Zinnie stopped when she realized that Aunt Sunny wasn't following them. She turned around and walked back toward the garden. She peeked around the archway. Aunt Sunny was standing in the garden with the fading sun on her face. The old photograph was in her hand, and she was gazing at it with a soft, still smile. Then she tucked the photo into her apron pocket and walked toward the house. Zinnie waited for her.

“Did you guys win the talent show that year?” Zinnie asked Aunt Sunny as they walked together up the stone pathway.

“No, the talent show was always for the children. We just hosted it. But we were quite a team.”

“Would you ever want to be a team with . . . someone new?” Zinnie asked, remembering the way Tony had looked at Aunt Sunny that afternoon at the clambake.

“I'm too old for that,” Aunt Sunny said.

“No one is too old for love,” Zinnie said. She gestured to the pale sky. “Not even the moon!”

“Oh, do you ever have a way with words, my dear,” Aunt Sunny said, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Now tell me, what are you going to do for the talent show?”

“We're going to perform a short play,” Zinnie said.

“Fabulous!” Aunt Sunny said. “And where are you going to find this play?”

Zinnie thought for a moment and then said: “I think I'm going to write it.”

When the phone rang that evening, all three girls ran toward it. They knew it was their parents making their scheduled conference call, and they all had big news to report. Marigold, whose turn it was to do the dishes, leaped from behind the sink without
even bothering to peel the dishwashing gloves from her hands. Zinnie sprang up from the sofa, where she'd been reading a book about a girl detective that she'd discovered on one of Aunt Sunny's bookshelves. But it was Lily, who was sitting on the floor with Aunt Sunny practicing paddling her arms while wearing floaties, who beat her sisters to the phone.

First she told her parents all about the dune she'd so bravely climbed over. Then she described the hairy cows in great detail. Finally she listed everything she'd eaten not only at the clambake but over the past several days. After what seemed like an eternity, she passed the phone off to Marigold.

“I may have the chance to audition for Philip Rathbone after all,” Marigold said into the receiver. Zinnie listened as Marigold breathlessly told the story of the clambake and of discovering that Philip Rathbone lived in this town for two weeks every year. Aunt Sunny shook her head as Marigold added, “And he lives in the most beautiful mansion.” But Zinnie beamed when Marigold told them, “And Zinnie had the idea to put on a show, and we think we can actually make it happen.”

“It sounds like you're having a great time,” Mom said when it was at last Zinnie's turn to talk to her parents. “Tell me about this talent show.”

“I'm going to write a play,” Zinnie said, feeling
herself grow at least a quarter of an inch.

“That's great, Zinnie!” Mom and Dad said at the same time, and even though they were thousands of miles away, she could hear them smiling.

“O
h, no,” Peter said when he saw Marigold approaching him. He was filling a wheelbarrow with bags of ice from the ice machine. “I'm not going to be in your talent show,” he said. Then he took off with that wheelbarrow down the dock.

“Hey, wait up,” Marigold said, and hustled after him. In order to get fourteen other people to sign up, she and Zinnie had split up for the morning. Marigold had taken the yacht club, and Zinnie was at the town beach. They were going to meet up at Edith's Ice Cream Shop at noon and see how many people they had come up with. Aunt Sunny was taking Lily to the local YMCA for a swimming lesson. The classes were all filled up, so she couldn't enroll Lily in any official swimming lessons. Instead, Aunt Sunny said she'd teach Lily herself during free swim.

Marigold was thinking that she and Zinnie ought to take a swimming break today. It was hot even with a breeze. She could feel a trickle of sweat running down her back as she chased after Peter. And once again, Marigold regretted her shoe choice. Her sparkly flats didn't allow her to catch up to Peter as quickly as she wanted to. What was it about this town that made ugly tennis shoes the best thing to wear?

Finally she caught up to him when he stopped in front of a big boat called
Sweet Caroline
. She waited as he handed the bags of ice to a sunburned man on the boat.

“Have fun on the Vineyard,” Peter said to the man, and the man gave him some folded-up money. Peter stepped away from the boat and counted the money.

“Won't you at least think about it?” Marigold asked as Peter shoved the money into his pocket.

“No,” he said. He removed his baseball hat to wipe some sweat from his brow, then put it back on, picked up the wheelbarrow, and headed back toward the clubhouse. “I don't like getting up in front of people.”

“But your mom said you were really good on the guitar,” Marigold said.

“She's my mom,” Peter replied. “Of course she said I'm good. I can only play like four songs.”

Marigold jumped in front of the wheelbarrow, blocking his path. “Come on, Peter, why not?”

“Why not? It's more like . . . why?” He shook his
head when he looked at her. “Why are you always dressed like you're going to a party?” When Peter said “party,” it sounded like
pah-ty
.

“It's called having style,” Marigold said. “And it isn't a crime. Not even here.” It was true that Marigold had dressed up a little more than usual today. She was wearing a yellow dress with daisies embroidered on it and silver flats, and she had her hair done up in a topknot. She had wanted to look her best in order to convince people to be in the show. “I could ask you why you're always wearing that nasty hat.” She pointed to the tattered, faded baseball hat on Peter's head. “You should wash that thing. It's probably carrying diseases.”

“Marigold, if I wash this hat, the Red Sox will have bad luck. Now, would you mind stepping out of the way?”

“Do you really believe that the Red Sox's winning has anything to do with some kid wearing that hat?” Marigold said, not moving an inch.

“I'm not just some kid,” Peter said. “And for your information, I was wearing this hat when I caught a fly ball in Fenway.”

“What's Fenway?” Marigold asked.

“What's Fenway?”
Peter asked.

Marigold wondered if it was a really important country that she should know about. “Wait. Is it the capital of New Hampshire?” she asked.

“What's wrong with you?” he asked. “Fenway is where the Red Sox play baseball. You know? Baseball?” He dropped the wheelbarrow and mimed holding a bat and taking a swing. Then he lowered his voice. “I wouldn't tell anyone else around here that you don't know what Fenway is. And just so you know, catching a fly ball at a Red Sox game is a pretty huge deal. Like, it might be the biggest thing that ever happens to me in my life. I was on TV and everything.” He picked up the wheelbarrow and moved right past her. “I'm practically famous around here.”

“I've been on TV too, you know,” Marigold said.

“I know,” Peter said.

“I'm just saying,” she said, “if you want to be on TV again, maybe my talent show can help. Come on. I'll be your best friend.”

“Why would I want a girl as a best friend?” Peter asked. He returned the wheelbarrow to its place by the ice machine, took out a scoop of ice, and ran a piece over his neck.

“Because girls are the best. We can do anything we set our minds to,” Marigold said, picking out a piece of ice and rubbing it along her wrists like it was perfume.

Peter smiled. “Oh, yeah. Can you sail out to that buoy?” He pointed. Marigold peered out to the thing sticking out of the water that wasn't a rock. It really wasn't all that far away. In fact, she thought that she
could probably swim out there if she had to. And it wasn't as if she'd never been sailing before. She'd done it once for Girl Scouts. Sure, it had been four years ago, and there was a counselor with her the whole time, but it hadn't been that hard. And she had remembered how to tie that knot without any trouble at all.

“Yeah,” Marigold said. “If I wanted to. But I don't really want to. I'm way too busy.”

“Maybe I'm too busy to enter a talent show,” Peter said. “Ever think of that?”

“I think you're scared,” Marigold said.

“Nah,” Peter said. He squinted into the sun. “I just don't want to.”

Marigold put a hand on her hip. She couldn't show up at Edith's without even getting Peter's name on the list. Also, she had the feeling that he was beating her at something. If there was one thing Marigold couldn't stand, it was losing. “If I did sail out there, would you be in the show?”

“Like, if you sailed out there right now?” Peter asked.

“Right now,” Marigold said.

“Is this a bet?” Peter asked.

“Yep,” Marigold said, and held out her hand.

“Wait a second,” Peter said. “What if you lose? I gotta get something.” A smile spread across his face as slow as molasses. “You have to wear my hat. And you can't wash it.”

“
Ew
,” Marigold said, then, figuring she could just wear it around the house in the dark, added, “Whatever.”

“To the dance,” Peter said.

Marigold gasped. “But I don't wear any sort of hat—”

“Final offer,” Peter said, grinning.

“Fine,” she said, and they shook on it.