Blaire Page 5

  Suddenly, a little window popped up to announce a new email to the Pleasant View Farm account. It was from someone named Josephine Vandegriff.

  Vandegriff was Gabe’s last name. Were they related? I couldn’t resist finding out.

  Dear Pleasant View Farm,

  I’m hoping this email finds its way to your event planner. I am overjoyed at the news of my son Gabe’s engagement to Caterina Minardi!!!!!! However, you can imagine my surprise when they told me the wedding would be scheduled so soon. Your farm sounds like a beautiful location, but two months to plan a wedding??????? I would like to offer my help. I already have some terrific ideas. For instance, I’m picturing colorful paper star lanterns all over the ceiling. Barns have big ceilings to fill up, yes? I look forward to discussing more suggestions with you.

  Very very sincerely yours,

  Josephine Vandegriff

  Finally! Someone who was just as eager to get going on wedding planning as I was!

  I knew from Cat that Gabe’s mother lived in Manhattan and was involved in a lot of charity fund-raisers. Maybe that’s why she assumed we had an event planner here at the farm. Funny how she already had ideas for the barn decorations even though she’d never been to Pleasant View. Maybe she got idea-sparks, like I did.

  Colorful paper star lanterns filling up the barn ceiling. I could see that.

  I wasn’t allowed to use the Pleasant View Farm email account—my parents had strict rules about who I could interact with online, and how. But it wasn’t like I was emailing some random person from the internet. This was Gabe’s mom, and Gabe was practically family! Mom and Dad won’t mind in this case, I told myself. I typed a reply.

  Dear Mrs. Vandegriff,

  Thanks for writing. I love your idea of paper star lanterns! We also have a lot of butterflies on the farm. Maybe we could have giant paper butterflies, too. What do you think?

  Sincerely,

  Blaire Wilson

  I sent it off, and the reply came a minute later.

  Dear Blaire,

  Why, yes. I see it!!!! I can’t wait to talk about these ideas some more. When are you available for a phone meeting?????

  Wait, what? A phone meeting?

  I read her email again, then read mine. And it hit me:

  Mrs. Vandegriff thought I was the Pleasant View Farm event planner!

  Beckett, it’s your turn,” Dad said at the dinner table that evening. “What was your Up?”

  This was a game our family played—sharing the best and the worst things about our days.

  “Feeding Penny with her bottle,” Beckett replied proudly. “She only pulled me over twice!”

  “What was your Down?” Mom asked.

  Beckett’s smile vanished. “Stepping in her poop right afterward.”

  We all laughed, Grandpa extra loudly. “My sister and I used to compete to see who could pick up the most poop,” Grandpa said. “Good times!”

  “Okay … that’s enough poop talk at the dinner table,” Dad said, turning to me. “Blaire, your turn.”

  I paused, thinking. I’d been planning to tell my parents about Mrs. Vandegriff. But was our email exchange an Up, because I was excited to trade wedding ideas with her? Or was it a Down because of the whole mistaken identity thing?

  “My Up was … um …”

  Suddenly there was a knock on the back door. Cat and Gabe stepped inside.

  “Sorry to bother you guys,” said Cat. “I was wondering if I could speak with the Pleasant View Farm event planner?”

  Uh-oh.

  “We don’t have an event planner,” Mom said, putting her fork down.

  Cat just raised her eyebrows at me as she and Gabe took two empty chairs at our table.

  “Blaire,” Dad said, catching Cat’s glance. “What’s Cat talking about?”

  “Um … well, I …” I gulped. “When I was at the desk this morning, an email showed up and I may have answered it.”

  “Blaire Wilson,” said Mom, giving me a sharp look.

  “I know I wasn’t supposed to,” I blurted out. “But Mrs. Vandegriff emailed Pleasant View looking for the event planner, and she had some good ideas, and we really should get started planning, and Gabe said she had a lot of experience organizing big fund-raisers—so I wrote back to her. I didn’t mean for her to think I was the event planner!”

  “Well, she did,” said Gabe, a smiling a bit. “And she loved your ideas, too!”

  “Really?” I asked Gabe.

  But Mom, sitting next to him, still looked serious. “I’m concerned that you communicated with a stranger by email,” she said to me, “and on an account that wasn’t your own—”

  “Mrs. Vandegriff isn’t a stranger,” I argued. “She’s Gabe’s mom—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “You don’t know her, which means she’s a stranger, and strangers can be dangerous.” She turned to Gabe. “No offense to your mom, of course.”

  “None taken, Mrs. Wilson,” Gabe said. “You can never be too careful with this online stuff.”

  “This is serious, Blaire,” Mom continued. “You know we—”

  “Mommm,” I said, giving her a look to stop her speech. It was embarrassing to be chewed out in front of Cat and Gabe. “Can we stop talking about this now?”

  “Yes,” Mom said, her voice softening a little. “So long as you understand that going forward, you don’t respond to any emails, on anyone’s account, unless you’ve already met the person. Deal?”

  I sat back in my chair. “Deal.”

  There was an awkward silence until Beckett said, “Can I change my Up?”

  “I guess,” Dad said.

  “Blaire got in trouble!”

  I kicked him under the table as Mom said, “That rule applies to you, too, buddy. Now, please clear the dishes, you two.”

  Beckett and I started gathering plates as Grandpa rose from his chair, too. “I hate to leave you all, but I told one of our guests I’d show them around the farm after dinner. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Mom and I exchanged a glance. Was there really a guest waiting for a tour, or did Grandpa just not want to talk about wedding stuff?

  “So,” Gabe said after Grandpa left, “I’ll explain everything to my mom. But she’s going to be bummed that you’re not the event planner.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “He means that you would probably be much better dealing with his mom than me,” she explained. “I can’t talk flower arrangements or party decorations for very long.”

  “My mother can be a bit intense,” Gabe said.

  I was grabbing a glass off the table when an idea-spark suddenly burst in my brain. “Hold on,” I said. “If Mrs. Vandegriff likes planning parties and I like planning parties, then maybe we could plan this party—I mean wedding—together.”

  Cat and Gabe exchanged a look. “I’d run everything by you two, of course,” I promised.

  “I have to say,” said Cat, “you have a gift for making things special. I mean, what you did for Gabe’s proposal was amazing.”

  “And that does sound like a perfect way to handle my mother,” added Gabe.

  “So that’s a yes?” I asked.

  “It is for me,” Cat said. “But there are, uh, other people you have to ask.” She pointed to Mom and Dad.

  “Oh, right.” I turned to my parents. “What do you think?”

  “I have no doubt you can help plan a gorgeous wedding,” Dad began, “but you’re already pretty busy with the animals and helping renovate a gorgeous barn.”

  “And you’re going to be a junior bridesmaid,” added Mom.

  “But I want to help Cat and Gabe make this special. It’s like a dream come true! Please?” I scrunched up my nose the way I used to when I was little and wanted another cookie.

  “Well.” Mom sighed. “How can I vote no on a dream come true?”

  “You have my vote, too, kiddo,” said Dad. “But we meet every few days to go over what you’re doing. Got it?”

  “Yes
, yes. Whatever you say!” I jumped up to hug him and then Mom. This was going to be SO. MUCH. FUN.

  “Stop it. You’re helping plan the wedding?” asked Thea from my tablet screen. I’d called her as soon as dinner was over. “I have just three words for you: O. M. G.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. But here’s the thing: Will you help me? I’ll need an assistant, especially at the wedding itself because I’ll have bridesmaid duties. Plus doing the proposal stuff with you was so much fun.”

  “It was,” Thea said, a gleam in her eye. “Okay, I’m in—”

  “Yes!” I said.

  “But only if there aren’t any more staple guns involved,” she finished. “I never want to see one of those again in my life!”

  I laughed. “Deal.”

  We said good-bye and hung up. It was getting kind of late, but there was an internet full of wedding ideas to be explored! I opened up my search window and dove in.

  07/09/2019

  To: Cat Minardi

  From: Blaire Wilson

  Hey, Cat! I searched “farm wedding decorations” and found a ton of great ideas! I started an online inspiration board, here’s the link. Take a look and let me know what you think. But don’t take too long, I can’t wait to get started!

  07/10/2019

  To: Blaire Wilson

  From: Cat Minardi

  Wow, you’re not kidding! There are a lot of options. I really like the weddings that have a rustic theme, where the decorations are inspired by nature. That fits the farm, don’t you think? And it also fits me. I showed my favorite pictures to Gabe and he said whatever I want is fine with him, except he does have a short list of things he MUST have. Here’s one: He’d like us to ride from the ceremony at the gazebo to the reception at the barn on an old two-person bike he’s been working on. Can you come up with ideas to decorate it?

  Mrs. V: Hello, event planner! Have you been able to pin Cat down on a direction for wedding decor? Clock’s ticking!

  Blaire: Hi, Mrs. V! Yup, I just heard back from Cat and she wants a rustic theme. Yay!

  Mrs. V: Rustic? Oh dear, that’s not what I was picturing. Rustic is for log cabins and tents in the woods. Not a wedding! Weddings should be fancy, even in a barn.

  Blaire: Hmmm, I guess that’s true. Okay, I’ll tell her.

  07/12/2019

  To: Blaire Wilson

  From: Cat Minardi

  Hey, Sprout, check out this photo of the farm at sunrise. I told you it was worth it to get up super early to help load the truck for the farmers’ market. Don’t you love the lavender streaks in the sky? That color is one of my favorites. Can we use that for the wedding?

  Thanks for running interference with Mrs. V. I get that she wants fancy. That’s who she is. Gabe thinks we can do both—rustic and fancy. What do you think?

  07/12/2019

  To: Cat Minardi

  From: Blaire Wilson

  Ooh, we could add some golden, coppery sort of color to the lavender. That would make things fancy. Hey—this wedding can be “farm fancy”! I’ll let Mrs. V know.

  You are on a ChitChat Hangout with Thea, Amadi, and Sabrina − ↗ +

  Thea: Hello?

  Amadi: Yah, I’m here

  Sabrina: Me too

  Blaire: Me three! What’s up?

  Thea: Amadi and I are going to the town pool today, want to meet us there?

  Sabrina: Yep, I’ll ask my mom!

  Blaire: Sounds fun!

  Sabrina: I even have money for the ice cream truck this time, LOL.

  Amadi: That’s right, you owe me for that creamsicle!

  Thea: So Blaire, you’re coming?

  Thea: Blaire, are you still on?

  Blaire: Yeah

  Amadi: Can you come to the pool with us?

  Sabrina: We haven’t seen you since Thea’s party, we miss you!

  Blaire: Miss you, too. But I have work to do here on the barn and wedding. Next time, ok?

  Thea: Really? Bummer. Sabs and Amadi, see you later!

  Sabrina: Bye!

  Amadi: Bye!

  Mrs. V: Farm fancy? Love it! Brava! What do you call those little pictures you put in your messages? Is there one for clapping hands?

  Blaire: They’re called emojis and you can find them on your keyboard! Here’s the clapping hands one.

  Mrs. V: Oh my. Fun fun fun! Look at all these!

  Blaire: ?

  Mrs. V: It’s cute! Oh my, I already have some good ideas for farm fancy. Cat and Gabe can leave the wedding in a horse-drawn wagon decorated in white silk!

  Blaire: Oooh! I like it. And maybe the horses can be wearing unicorn horns. Because unicorns are way fancier than horses!

  Mrs. V: Yes! Look, now I’ve got it.

  Blaire: LOL! I’ll also send you a link to my online inspiration board. You can add stuff, too.

  Mrs. V: Great, I will share some pics of floral arrangements.

  Blaire: Um, evil?

  Mrs. V: What’s evil?

  Blaire: You sent a smiling devil face, so I thought …

  Mrs. V: Is that what that is? I thought it was a purple cat!

  Mrs. V: That is not what I meant to send. I meant this one.

  Amadi: Hey Blaire. My family’s having a barbecue potluck thing later. Thea and some other people will be there. Hope you’ll come. You can bring a snack to share!

  Mrs. V: Blaire, darling, how’s it going today?

  Blaire: Good! Just added some centerpieces to the inspiration board! Go check them out. I really like the ones that look like birds’ nests with eggs in the middle—they remind me of the chickens here on the farm. But we can fancy them up with glitter and stuff!

  Amadi: So you’re bringing fancy eggs to the potluck? Can we eat glitter?

  Blaire: OMG, I thought I was answering Gabe’s mom. Sorry! Can’t come to the potluck, but have fun!

  07/15/2019

  To: Blaire Wilson

  From: Cat Minardi

  Sprout! I just looked at the new stuff you added to the inspiration board. Some of this is cool but I think there’s a lot more “fancy” than “farm” in here. Like the picture with the sequined silver fabric on all the chairs? I thought we were sticking to lavender and copper? By the way, I posted some photos of wildflowers that we have on the farm because I’d like to use those. But the photos are gone. Did you take them down?

  Mom: Hi, Blaire.

  Blaire: Hi Mom.

  Mom: Oh good, I do still have a daughter named Blaire!

  Blaire: LOL. Why are you texting me, you’re in the next room.

  Mom: This seems to be the only way I can get your attention. Can you come in here? Your dad and I would like to chat.

  Hey,” I said to Mom and Dad, who were sitting on the couch in the living room. I waved at Grandpa, who was on the other side of the room reading the newspaper. He winked at me and went back to the Local section.

  “Come sit,” Dad said, pointing to a chair opposite them.

  “You guys want a wedding planning check-in, right? I have lots of new ideas to show you.” I pulled up my inspiration board and placed the tablet on the coffee table between us.

  “Great,” Mom replied, picking up my tablet. “But first, your dad and I are concerned about how you’ve been so absorbed in this device lately.”

  “I haven’t been that absorbed,” I said. “I’ve been helping Dad in the barn most of the time. And what I do online is for wedding stuff.”

  “We know. You’re taking your job seriously, and we’re proud of you for that. But you’re spending way too much time by yourself, lost in a screen.”

  Across the room, Grandpa rustled his newspaper.

  “That’s where all the good ideas are,” I protested.

  Mom closed the tablet, then got up and put it on a shelf. “Well, let’s give it a break for the night.”

  “Hey!” I begged, starting to get up.

  “Not negotiable,” she said in the firm voice I knew too well. I sat back down.


  “Besides, that’s not where the good ideas are,” Dad said. “Last time I checked, they were all in here.” He leaned over and tapped the top of my head.

  “Well, okay,” I said. “But isn’t it a combo? Mom, don’t you get inspiration from recipes you see online?”

  “Sure, I do,” Mom replied. “But just the inspiration. Then I take that and experiment in the real world. Try that, okay?”

  “Fine.” I sighed. “I’m going to go check on the animals.”

  It’s not working! Why isn’t it working?

  I took Mom’s suggestion, and the next afternoon I was doing some experimenting based on what I’d seen online: a delicate bird’s nest centerpiece with fake moss and silver eggs inside it. But I figured why use fake moss when we had real moss handy? And if the eggs were covered in lavender and copper glitter, that would add Cat’s colors and the “fancy” factor, right? I had gathered some moss along with twigs for the nest from the woods that morning. Eggs were courtesy of Dandelion and her friends.

  But nowhere online did it say how hard it would be to wrangle twigs into a nest shape. My “nest” looked more like a raft, the eggshells kept cracking when I tried to paint on the glitter glue, and the moss was making everything all dirty.

  Beckett came bounding out of the house onto the porch. “Ooooh!” he said, seeing my nest raft. “Are you making a fort?! Can I help?!” He leaned in closer to look at the eggs. “Is there supposed to be a worm there?”

  “What?!” I leaned in, too. An earthworm was squiggling out from under one of the eggs—I must have picked it up with the moss this morning. “Yuck!”

  Beckett picked up the worm and dangled it front of me. “Do you want it, or can I have it?”

  “You can have it, Beckett,” I said. He grinned and ran off. Good. I did not need my little brother around right now.

  What I did need was my wedding assistant. I snapped some photos of the centerpiece and then texted Thea.