Blaire Page 3

  “Beckett made the introductions,” she said, giving me a hug.

  Cat is twenty-eight, but she seems more like a teenager to me. She wears ripped jeans, work boots with rainbow-striped laces, and funky T-shirts. Today’s tee had a picture of a princess climbing down a stone tower, with the words I WILL RESCUE MYSELF, THANKS underneath.

  Cat pulled straw out of my hair as I told her about my first attempt to feed two hungry baby animals. “Chickens are definitely easier,” I said. “How did things go in Kingston yesterday?” Cat takes produce from Pleasant View Farm to sell at the big farmers’ market every week.

  “We sold everything I brought. How was Thea’s party?”

  Ugh. Thea’s party. I changed the subject. “Time for our Saturday morning field date!” I offered my hand up for a high five.

  “You know it, Sprout,” Cat said as she slapped my palm. “It’s my favorite time of the week.”

  Sprout is her nickname for me because that’s what her father called her when she was growing up on her own family’s farm, and because she says it makes her happy to be reminded of another generation of farmers. Cat’s parents both passed away years ago and Lorenzo, her only sibling, is in the Marines and lives two thousand miles away on a military base in Arizona. We’re like a substitute family for Cat, and I’ll take her as my big sister any day.

  We headed to the vegetable fields, where we grow food in bigger quantities than the kitchen gardens. I waved at some of the farm crew working another field.

  “Squash seeds,” Cat said when we got to a patch of tilled soil. She showed me how deep to plant the seeds. As we worked, I thought of how the tiny seeds would grow into bright gold butternut squash. I pictured myself working with Mom in the kitchen, peeling the squash, chopping it, and roasting it with olive oil and cinnamon. YUM.

  We worked for a while, until we heard the sound of bike tires on the gravel path bordering the field.

  “Looks like my lunch has arrived,” said Cat with a smile. Her boyfriend, Gabe, popped a wheelie before sliding to a stop beside us.

  “Show-off,” Cat teased, then gave him a quick kiss hello.

  “Can’t help it,” Gabe said. “Gotta impress my two favorite girls.” He hopped off the bike and pulled a brown paper sack out of one of his saddlebags. I recognized the logo on it: It was from the deli next to the bike shop where Gabe worked.

  “Turkey sub on wheat for Cat.” Out of the other saddlebag, he pulled two packages of snacks. “I got these for you, Blaire. Take your pick!”

  I looked at the choices: potato chips and white cheddar popcorn. It was sweet of him to bring me something, but … seriously? I’m not even safe from dairy out here in a vegetable field?

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take the chips.”

  If Cat is my pretend big sister, Gabe is like a big brother, and he’s always super thoughtful. In the two years he and Cat have been dating, he’s brought picnic lunches to her once a week—even in the winter. Cat says he’s the best boyfriend ever.

  “I’ll go wash my hands,” Cat said, heading toward the greenhouse on the other side of the field. “Meet you at the gazebo?”

  “See you there,” Gabe said.

  I couldn’t help but smile. The gazebo is their special picnic spot. Dad had built the gazebo right on the edge of the creek, with two bench seats inside.

  “Have a good lunch,” I said to Gabe, “and thanks again for the—”

  “Blaire!” Gabe interrupted me in a shaky whisper. “I need your help.”

  My help? “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Just …” Gabe glanced toward Cat, who was still walking toward the greenhouse. “Just … come on, I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “Okaaaayyy,” I said, “but you’re kind of freaking me out.”

  We walked in silence down the dirt path and under the archway at the entrance to the orchard. Once we reached the trees, Gabe stopped and turned to me.

  “So the thing is,” he began. He paused dramatically … then his serious expression opened into a huge grin. “I want to ask Cat to marry me.”

  “What? Oh, Gabe. She’ll be so happy!” I jumped up and down. More straw fell out of my hair.

  “I hope you’re right,” he said. “We’ve never even talked about marriage, so honestly, I’m not sure what she’ll think. You know how Cat likes her independence.”

  “But she loves you,” I reminded him. “How could she say no? That would be so mean!”

  “Well, Cat always says what she feels, and I love that about her. If she’s not ready to get married, she’ll turn me down. But I’m ready, so I have to ask.”

  “Oh, I hope-hope-hope she says yes!!!” I gave him a big hug.

  “I’m glad we have your blessing,” he said when I finally let go. “But here’s the thing. Cat’s one of a kind, so I want her proposal to be one of a kind, too. That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Will you be my proposal assistant?” Gabe asked.

  Proposal assistant? I had no idea what that was, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to do it!

  “I will!” I said. “What are your ideas so far?”

  “I definitely want it to happen here at the farm,and there should be some surprises,” Gabe said. “I need a hand making the whole thing as special as Cat is.”

  “You’re talking to the right assistant,” I said. Idea-sparks were already bursting in my brain. “We’ll need decorations. And food,” I said as we started walking toward the creek. “Wait—I might need some help. Can I tell my mom? And Thea?”

  “Okay, but don’t let Cat find out.”

  “You got it,” I said, flashing him a thumbs-up. Then I skipped back through the rows of apple trees toward the house.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said as I rushed through the kitchen door. “I have news. You’re going to flip.”

  “In a good way, I hope,” she said. She was standing at the stove, stirring something in a big pot.

  “Gabe’s planning to propose to Cat,” I whispered. “And he asked me to help him!”

  Plop. Mom had clapped her hands together, which made her drop the spoon into the pot. “That’s wonderful news!”

  “Do you think Cat will say yes?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Well, marriage is a big deal,” Mom said. “She may want to think it over. But Gabe seems like a terrific guy, and they look so happy together.”

  “If I make this proposal super awesome, she won’t have any choice but to say yes!”

  Mom laughed. “That sounds like a Blaire strategy! Just let me know if you need a hand. You’ll make crème brûlée, right? It’s Cat’s favorite.”

  My crème brûlée is Cat’s favorite. But I haven’t cooked anything with dairy in it since being diagnosed as lactose intolerant. I’m not sure I could do it, even for Cat. “You may need to make this batch,” I told Mom. “I’ll be pretty busy with decorations.” Then I changed the subject. “What’s that?” I gestured to the pot on the stove. “Red pepper sauce?”

  “Yep. I’m experimenting with something new for the menu. Don’t you think this would be terrific on zucchini noodles? Wait … what did I do with my spoon?”

  I pointed to the pot and tried not to laugh.

  “Oh my goodness!” she said, fishing out the spoon and wiping the handle. “What would I do without my official taste tester? Want to give your opinion?”

  Mom scooped up some of the sauce with the spoon and held it out. The sauce looked as delicious as it smelled, rich and creamy …

  CREAMY.

  I stepped back.

  “Mom, if that has cream in it, I can’t.” This is why I can’t cook right now, I thought. A chef has to taste what she’s making.

  “Oh, Blaire,” said Mom, her face falling. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I’m still getting used to this whole thing, just like you.”

  Beckett appeared behind Mom. He must have come in through the family kitchen.

  “Hey,
if Blaire can’t be your taste tester anymore, can I do it?” he asked.

  My mouth fell open, but no words came out. Beckett? A taste tester? The kid eats dirt! But that wasn’t what made tears sting my eyes. I left the kitchen and ran up three flights of stairs to my room, wondering what kind of a cook I was now.

  Goat on the go!” Thea exclaimed, laughing as Dash skidded down the slide. Grandpa had set up an old plastic play set in the animals’ pen—the one Beckett and I outgrew years ago—and now it was farm baby recess all the time.

  I’d texted Thea the night before to tell her my two pieces of big news. She was thrilled about Gabe’s proposal, but when she heard about Penelope and Dash … well, let’s just say that if Thea could have climbed through the computer screen to get to the farm, she totally would have. We were so busy squealing about the animals that Thea didn’t say anything about me leaving her birthday party early. That was okay with me.

  Dash hopped back up onto the top of the play set, where Thea was sitting, and nibbled at her ear.

  “Dash!” Thea exclaimed. “That tickles.”

  “Dash, no!” I said, grabbing the headband from Thea’s hair as Dash tried to take a bite of it. “He’ll eat anything,” I explained to Thea.

  For the next hour, I took pictures and videos of Penny and Dash with my tablet. They were going to be a huge hit on the farm’s website. But eventually, the slide wore them out and they fell asleep curled up together by the shed.

  “Okay, back to the proposal,” Thea said. “What did you and Gabe talk about last night?”

  “We were brainstorming, and since he and Cat both like games—”

  “Oh yeah!” Thea exclaimed. “Remember that night we played Monopoly with them? Gabe was so mad that I beat him. That’s when he started calling me—”

  “Deadly Dimitriou. And you were,” I said, shaking my head at the memory of Thea’s killer Monopoly skills. “Anyway, we’ve decided to do a sort of scavenger hunt, with Gabe planting a trail of notes for Cat to follow around the farm. They’ll end on the restaurant patio. That’s where Gabe will propose.”

  “I love it,” said Thea. “That’s so much better than how that guy proposed to his girlfriend on Dress Quest last week. Did you see it?”

  Dress Quest is one of our favorite shows. A hidden camera captures the couple’s proposal, then follows the girl as she shops for her wedding dress at the famous Kellenberger’s salon in Manhattan. “Oh, totally,” I said. “That proposal with the ring in the dessert was so boring! A million people have done that!”

  “But wait,” Thea said. She sat up and crossed her legs. “Don’t you think Cat will suspect it’s a proposal before she even gets to the patio? I mean, notes from Gabe all over the farm is kind of a giveaway.”

  “Yeah, I had the same thought. I need to figure that out.”

  Thea’s face lit up with an idea. “What if you made it look like the clues are from you and Beckett? Like, you’re the ones playing the game with her? She wouldn’t even know Gabe’s behind it until she gets to the end.”

  “Oh, Thea!” I said. “Brilliant. You’re so good at this sneaky stuff.”

  “I knooooow,” she replied in an “evil villain” voice, stroking an imaginary beard. “Being devious is my specialty.”

  “So when Cat walks onto the patio, she needs to know instantly that what she’s seeing is from Gabe, not us. It needs to be romantic.” I closed my eyes, and it came to me in an idea-spark. “What if there were dozens of paper-bag lanterns? We could use bags from the deli where Gabe gets sandwiches for their picnic lunches.”

  “Ooh, that’s good,” Thea said.

  I turned to my tablet and started browsing for paper-bag-lantern photos.

  “So I have some news of my own,” Thea said.

  “Oh yeah? What?” My tablet screen filled with images. WHOA. Who knew there were five bajillion different types of paper-bag lanterns? And that they’re called luminarias? My head started spinning with all the possibilities.

  “The director of my dance troupe asked me to perform with them at the county fair on August third,” Thea continued.

  “Really?” I looked up from the tablet. The county fair is more than a major summer event around Bluefield—it’s a tradition for Thea and me. We take silly photos in the old-timey photo booth, go through the fun house as many times as we can, watch the older kids in her dance troupe perform, and most importantly, get a giant funnel cake covered in whipped cream. Oh, man. I’ll have to skip the whipped cream this year. I turned back to my tablet.

  “Normally you have to be twelve,” Thea continued, “but he said I’ve improved so much lately, I’m ready to dance with the older group.”

  I nodded, half listening, as an image popped out at me. In it, a row of luminarias lit up a string of photos attached with clothespins to a bright red ribbon.

  Idea-sparks started going off. We could hang a bunch of photos on the patio, and strings of lights, too. And the luminarias could be different colors, like a rainbow!

  “Helloooo? Earth to Blaire! Are you even listening to me? This is BIG.”

  I looked up from the screen. “Sorry. That is amazing news. We should celebrate!”

  “That’s what I was saying. What if you come watch my dance rehearsal tomorrow and then we go to Trinkets afterward?” Thea pretended to push a shopping cart. “I got a gift card for my birthday,” she sang.

  Trinkets is our favorite store in town. “I’m in!” I said.

  Tuesday morning, after the B and B breakfast service was done, Mom and I drove to the art store in town to buy supplies for Cat’s proposal. I’d emailed Gabe my plans for the The Big Moment the night before and he’d given me the green light. I couldn’t wait to start making the decorations.

  Afterward, while Mom ran errands, I walked to the community center where Thea’s dance troupe rehearsed. When I peered through the open door of the dance studio, I saw that Thea was right—the girls were all a couple of years older than us. But Thea was tall, and she fit right in. She looked so intense and focused as she moved to the lively Greek music. Advancing to the older group obviously meant a lot to her.

  When class was over, Thea came out of the studio and flashed me a little smile.

  “Bravo!” I said, giving her a mini round of applause. “You looked amazing!”

  “Totally,” said another girl who’d also been in class.

  “Thanks, you guys,” Thea said. “Blaire, do you know Madison? She’s going into seventh grade. She had Ms. Burdick for fourth just like us.”

  I recognized Madison, but I’d never talked to her before. “Hi,” I said, giving a little wave.

  “So are you going to audition for the duet?” Madison asked Thea.

  “There’s going to be a featured dance at the fair this year,” Thea explained to me. “It’s kind of a big deal if you get it.”

  “You have to audition,” I said. “You’d be great!”

  “You should!” Madison agreed.

  Thea nodded. “Thanks! I’ll think about it.”

  “Hey,” Madison said. “A few of us are going for milk shakes at Moxie Café. Do you guys want to come?”

  I love Moxie Café, and I love the way Thea always does her pretend French accent when we order. But the thought of a milk shake made me panic. I pictured myself sitting there while everyone ordered ice cream and I stammered to explain why I wasn’t getting any. It reminded me of Thea’s party, and I sure didn’t want to feel all awkward and embarrassed again.

  “Come on, Blaire,” Thea said. “Moxie has plenty of nondairy stuff, too. I’m sure you can find something you can eat.”

  I felt myself blush. Why did Thea always have to talk about my dairy issue? “Um, no, thanks,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Go ahead. I forgot to buy some stuff at the art store anyway. Let’s do Trinkets another day.”

  “You sure?” Thea asked.

  I nodded. I watched Thea and the others cross the street and disappear around the corner. None of t
hem would have to worry about rushing to the bathroom after drinking a milk shake. Just the thought of what that ice cream would do to me made my stomach turn over. I let out a big sigh. This new normal is pretty lonely.

  After six days of crafting and coordinating for Operation Sneaky Proposal, it was go time.

  We picked Sunday evening because Cat would be gone all day at a farmers’ market across the river. That gave Gabe a chance to help Beckett write and plant the notes, while Thea and I decorated the patio. Cat was due back at the farm by eight o’clock. Thea was desperate to stay, but she had to get home for a family dinner. “Remember every little detail,” she said to me before she left, “so you can tell me tomorrow.”

  Beckett and I sat in front of the greenhouse, playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt, feeling as excited as if it were Christmas Eve. At three minutes after eight, Cat finally pulled up. “Hey, guys!” she called. “Are you here to help me unload the truck?”

  “Even better,” Beckett called, pointing at the door of the greenhouse. “We have a surprise for you!”

  Cat saw the note taped to the door handle of the greenhouse. “What’s this?”

  “It’s for your anniversary,” I said.

  “I have an anniversary?” asked Cat.

  “Of working at Pleasant View Farm. It’ll be two years this month.”

  Cat smiled. “Wow, you’re right. Time flies.” She pulled the note off the door and read it out loud:

  “You love our farm and our farm loves you.

  We got you a gift that’s not green or blue.

  Come to the barn so you can see

  What this awesome thing will be!”

  Cat tucked the note into her pocket and looked at us with a twinkle in her eye. “A game, huh? Okay, I’ll play!”

  Beckett and I exchanged a glance. So far, so good.

  When we got to the barn, there was no gift in sight. Just Dad’s tools spread out on his workbench.

  “I’m getting the sense I’m going to have to work for this surprise,” Cat said.

  “I wonder what’s up in the loft?” I asked in a singsongy voice.