Blaire Page 6

  Blaire: Hey, wedding assistant. I can’t make these look the way I want. HELP!

  I stared at the screen while waiting for Thea’s reply. Where was she? We hadn’t talked much lately, and she hadn’t been back to help with the barn. I realized how much I missed her.

  Finally, Thea messaged me back:

  Thea: Hi, what’s up? Cool sparkly things. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

  I waited for her to type more, offering advice. But that was it. No emojis or funny GIFs either. Was she mad at me?

  Blaire: What R U doing?

  Half an hour later, she still hadn’t replied. Maybe she’d missed my text. I sometimes missed short ones, too. I texted her a photo I’d taken of Penny the lamb with an adorable expression on her face. It actually looked like she was smiling! Pleasant View Farm had gotten a ton of likes online when we’d posted it.

  Blaire: Look at this face! Penny misses you!

  No answer. I waited one minute, then two. After three minutes, I went back to working on my centerpieces but couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like Thea not to answer right away, especially for a super hilarious photo like that.

  “Blaire!” called Mom from the restaurant kitchen. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

  I hopped up and dashed inside, bringing my tablet with me in case Thea texted. Mom was standing in the kitchen with a big grin, holding something behind her back.

  “What is it?” I asked. “A magical cure for my lactose intolerance?”

  “Sort of,” she said. She held up the surprise. “Ta-da!” All I saw was a shrink-wrapped block of something white.

  “Ohh-kay,” I said, not sure what I was looking at.

  “It’s soy cheese!” Mom exclaimed.

  “Ew,” I said, scrunching up my nose.

  “Hey now,” Mom said. “You haven’t even tried it yet.” She put the block down on the counter. “I know you haven’t wanted to cook lately since you can’t have dairy. And I totally understand. But maybe you can start cooking with dairy substitutes.”

  I put the tablet down. “I don’t know, Mom.”

  “You can start with something simple. How about a grilled cheese sandwich? It’s one of your all-time favorites, and we’ll just tweak it a little for the new, healthier Blaire.”

  Mmmm. Grilled cheese. I hadn’t had one since long before that day in the doctor’s office.

  Mom grabbed a skillet from the pot rack. “How about this: I’ll make a sandwich and we can split it.”

  “Will soy cheese cook up the same as regular cheese? Like, will it get all gooey?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mom replied. “Let’s experiment!”

  We got to work. Mom sliced the soy cheese, and I used olive oil to grease up the bread so it got crispy, the way I liked it. As Mom grilled the sandwich, my mouth started to water. When it was done, she put it on a plate and cut it in half. Cheese oozed out. That was a good sign!

  Mom handed me my half and held up hers. We touched our sandwich halves together.

  “To grilled soy cheese,” I said, feeling hopeful.

  I took a bite. Crispy bread, check. Warm gooeyness, check. But as I chewed, something wasn’t right. The texture was rubbery, and it didn’t taste like the cheese I loved. I tried not to think of the worm Beckett had found in the moss earlier.

  Mom was chewing her bite slowly. “Hmmm,” she said. “This is … sort of … a bit …”

  I managed to swallow. “I think the word you’re looking for is gross.” I dropped my half on the plate.

  Mom put her sandwich down, too. “You’re right. It’s gross. Okay, so this experiment officially failed, but there are plenty of other substitutes out there.” Mom put her arm around me. “We’ll try again, okay?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “I’ll talk to the Martins,” Mom said. “They’ll have some ideas.” Joan and Elliott Martin are our neighbors, and they run a dairy. Mom uses all their stuff in the restaurant. They have the best cheese ever.

  I looked at the clock. “I’ve got some chickens to feed,” I said, grabbing my tablet.

  “And I have to make your brother a snack before I get ready for the dinner service. Hey, Blaire,” Mom said as I headed for the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for trying with the cheese.”

  I grinned. “I don’t think we should call that stuff cheese!”

  Out at the coop, I told Dandelion about the experiment gone wrong. “It was a mess,” I said. “But you know what? I liked cooking with Mom again—even if it was just a sandwich.”

  Dandy clucked sympathetically just as my tablet dinged. Finally, Thea answered!

  Thea: Adorable! I haven’t seen the animals in forever. Or you. Maybe I could come over for a sleepover tonight?

  Blaire: I was thinking the same thing! BFF jinx!

  We sent high-five emojis back and forth like we always did when that happened. Yes! This was the BFF I knew.

  Blaire: Hey—do you have any glitter glue? I’m all out and we still need to figure out those centerpieces.

  I waited while Thea typed. She took forever to reply.

  Thea: Actually, if I come over, maybe we could NOT do wedding stuff?

  Huh? Thea hadn’t actually done any wedding stuff with me since that day in the barn.

  Thea: I have this Epic Sleepover idea anyway—campout with Penny and Dash in the pen!! What do you think?

  That was actually a really good idea—I wished I’d thought of it.

  Blaire: A sleepover with the animals? Genius! Let’s do it!

  My stomach started growling, so I headed back to the kitchen. My tablet dinged again right as I got inside. Another text from Thea, with a photo this time.

  Thea: Hey, remember this place?

  It was a selfie of Thea in front of a waterfall. I would have recognized that swimming hole anywhere—it was Split Rock. Thea and I always tried to find the funniest possible way to jump off the rock into the water. So that’s why she hadn’t been replying. She was swimming. Whew.

  Blaire: Split Rock! Good times!

  Another photo came through. This one was of Madison, the girl from Thea’s dance troupe, doing her own jump off the rock. Her legs were in cross-cross-applesauce, and she was leaning her elbows on her knees, like she was just hanging out there casually in midair.

  Thea: Madison officially won the Funniest Jump Award today.

  I felt my stomach drop. Thea played our game without me? She hadn’t even told me she was going to Split Rock.

  Thea: I’ll show you more pics tonight when I come over.

  Blaire: Sure.

  I set my tablet down on the counter. There was a plate with half a grilled cheese sandwich—a real one made with the Martins’ fabulous sharp cheddar. Mom must have made it for Beckett. And Beckett didn’t finish it? Didn’t he know how good he had it?!

  One bite’s not going to hurt, a little voice inside me whispered.

  So I took one bite. It was totally, completely delicious.

  I looked at the photo of Madison at Split Rock and took another bite of the sandwich. Why didn’t Thea invite me today?

  Another bite.

  Before I knew it, I’d … um … eaten the whole sandwich.

  “Blaire?” Grandpa called me from the front desk. “Can you set up the afternoon service?”

  We offer tea, coffee, and cookies to the B and B guests every day at four o’clock.

  “Yup,” I called back, turning my tablet off.

  As I set things up in the common room, my stomach started cramping. It hadn’t done that in a while—I’d forgotten how intensly awful it felt.

  Forty-five minutes later, I was in my room, curled up on my bed, feeling absolutely terrible. I was in no shape for a sleepover.

  Blaire: Not feeling great. Rain check on the sleepover?

  Thea: Are you okay?

  Blaire: Yeah. But … I MAY have eaten some cheese.

  I attached a GIF of a dog looking guilty.

 
Thea: Blaire! That’s not funny!

  Blaire: I know. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.

  Thea: Bummer, I was really looking forward to the sleepover. I missed you today at the swimming hole!

  I didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t exactly look like she missed me in those photos with Madison. Besides, she was the one who hadn’t invited me! Now she was making me feel guilty about canceling the sleepover?! It wasn’t like I made myself sick on purpose. I’d just forgotten what eating cheese did to me …

  Thea: Blaire? Hellooooo?

  I knew I should talk to my BFF, but where would I even start?

  Blaire: I’m going to bed. Good night.

  Thea: Okay. Feel better soon.

  I tossed my tablet down on the bed, tears welling in my eyes. Grilled cheese was out of my life, and now it felt like my best friend was, too.

  I picked up the tablet again and opened the web browser. There were a few new episodes of Dress Quest. I’d watched two episodes when there was a knock on my door.

  It was Beckett. “Dad says dinner’s ready.”

  Ugh. My stomach still hurt, and I didn’t want to tell Dad what happened. “I had a late snack,” I told Beckett. “Can you tell Dad I’m not hungry?”

  Beckett shrugged and left. I went back to Dress Quest, watching one episode after another until I fell asleep.

  I was in the front porch swing the next morning, my stomach feeling better, when a car pulled up. It was fancier than what usually arrived at the farm—shiny and black with dark windows. I couldn’t see who was inside.

  The car stopped and the back door opened. A woman stepped out. She was wearing a pink dress with tiny white dots and gold-toned high heels. Her hair was jet black, so big and poufy that at first it looked like she was wearing a hat. Tied around her neck was a shimmery white silk scarf. The scarf was fastened with a rhinestone brooch in the shape of a smiling frog with long eyelashes and big red lips.

  The lunch service had started, but most of our noontime guests were people from the area. I usually knew them by name. But I had no idea what to call this lady. Maybe she was lost.

  Then Gabe climbed out of the car.

  Wait. Mrs. Vandegriff? OMG! I jumped off the swing.

  “Hey, Blaire!” Gabe called.

  “Blaire? Where?” Mrs. Vandegriff turned to me as I came down the steps. She clasped one hand to her heart and the other to her mouth, gasping dramatically. “The Blaire Wilson? She’s a real person? She doesn’t just live inside my phone, coming up with wonderful wedding ideas?”

  I hid a giggle. For some reason I’d expected Mrs. Vandegriff’s voice to sound like Thea doing a British accent. But Gabe’s mom didn’t sound like that at all. “I can’t believe you’re finally here, Mrs. Vandegriff!” I said.

  “Call me Mrs. V, you brilliant mini designer. Come here and give me a hug!”

  Mrs. V’s super-tight squeeze took my breath away.

  “Sorry for the unexpected visit,” Gabe said.

  “I couldn’t go another day without meeting you in person,” said Mrs. V. “So I called the car service and, lickety-split, I was on my way out of the city.”

  “This is great,” I said. “Cat’s in the orchard.”

  “I’ll go get her,” Gabe said quickly.

  I grinned. “And I’ll give your mom the Pleasant View Farm grand tour. This way, please,” I said to Mrs. V as Gabe headed in the other direction. “Our tour starts in the herb and flower garden.” I did my best tour guide impression—Thea would have been proud.

  “We don’t use any pesticides, so all of the flowers here are edible,” I told her, picking an orange marigold petal and eating it. “We use them as garnish in the restaurant.” I moved down the row so I could pick Mrs. V another flower to taste. But when I turned around, Mrs. V was already chewing on a plant she’d picked herself.

  “It’s … interesting,” Mrs. V said, twisting her face up.

  “Oh no!” I said when I saw the plant in her hand. “You can’t eat that one!”

  Mrs. V dropped the weed and looked alarmed.

  “Well, you can eat it,” I stammered. “It just doesn’t taste very good. Hold on.” I picked her some mint. “To cleanse your palate.”

  “Oh, thank you dear,” Mrs. V said, putting the leaf in her mouth. “Mmm, minty fresh!”

  “Doesn’t get any fresher,” I agreed. “Now, follow me.”

  Mrs. V teetered a bit as her fancy gold heels sunk into the soft soil, but she steadied herself on the dirt path that led to the barn.

  “Oh my,” she exclaimed. “This is certainly the ‘farm’ in our ‘farm fancy’ wedding, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. But just wait,” I called, pointing to the barn. “The fancy’s up ahead.”

  When we got there, I slid open the barn door and froze. There were stacks of lumber, a wheelbarrow full of stones, and towers of paint cans. Definitely not fancy.

  But Mrs. V looked up at the cavernous ceiling and towering wooden beams and broke into a huge smile. “Oh, I can see the potential! Such a marvelous space. You’re going to have so many wonderful events here—what FUN!”

  I wanted to hug her. Maybe I could get her to talk to Grandpa!

  From the barn, I led Mrs. V to the animals and introduced her to the chickens.

  “That’s a chicken?!” she said when I picked up Dandelion. “It looks like a feather boa with webbed feet.”

  “Would you like to hold her?” I asked, thrusting Dandy toward her.

  “No, no, no, no, no, dear. Thank you. Poultry makes me nervous. But she’s lovely.”

  “How do you feel about lambs?” I asked, waving her toward Penny and Dash’s pen.

  Mrs. V practically squealed. “Who can resist a sweet little lamb? They’re so darling and gentle and—omph!”

  Suddenly, Mrs. V fell over and landed with a thud on the ground. Before I could help Mrs. V up, Dash was climbing on her backside like it was the summit of a mountain.

  Maaaaaah!

  “I see you have a goat, too,” Mrs. V sputtered.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said, plucking Dash off Mrs. V. “The gate must have been open. Are you all right?”

  Mrs. V stood and brushed herself off as I put Dash and Penny back in their pen. “I’m fine.” She laughed. “More surprised than anything.”

  One of Mrs. V’s shoes was lying on the ground. When I picked it up, the heel stayed stuck in the grass.

  “Oh! It’s broken,” I said.

  “No worries, I can get it fixed in the city,” Mrs. V assured me. “I don’t know what I was thinking with these shoes. I guess I didn’t expect your farm to be so … farm-like.”

  “Do you need to take a rest?” I asked.

  Mrs. V put her shoe back on. “Nonsense. I’m not that easy to get rid of. Onward!”

  Mrs. V limped through the strawberry field, the blueberry patch, and the kitchen gardens. I pointed out the greenhouse in the distance and paused by the arch at the entrance to the orchard.

  “I have one more spot to show you,” I said, and led her through the orchard to the creek. We stopped at the edge of the wide, green lawn in front of the gazebo. Mrs. V took off her broken shoe and rubbed her ankle, balancing on her other foot.

  “This is where Cat and Gabe want to have the ceremony,” I said, holding a hand out to steady her. “They’ll exchange vows in the gazebo, and we’ll set up chairs on this lawn with an aisle going down the middle.”

  Just then, Beckett came rushing over. His pants were sopping wet and he held his hands cupped together like a little box. “I found the coolest thing in the creek!” he said.

  “You also left Dash and Penny’s gate open,” I said. “And Dash’s ball lying around. Gabe’s mom tripped, and Dash jumped on her.”

  Beckett took in Mrs. V’s bright pink suit and her awkward, one-legged stance. “You’re Gabe’s mom?” he asked. “You look like a flamingo.”

  “Don’t mind him,” I said, clapping my hand over his m
outh. “He’s seven.”

  Mrs. V smiled and put her broken shoe back on. “That’s okay. Gabe was seven once. What do you have there, young man? Something pretty? A beautiful rock?”

  “Better than a rock!” said Beckett after I took my hand away. “Look.”

  He opened his hands and held up a frog.

  A dead frog.

  Beckett wiggled it around like it was dancing a jig. “Isn’t it awesome?” he squealed.

  Mrs. V stumbled backward in surprise. “Oh. Well. That’s …” she stammered.

  This tour was now officially a disaster. Would Mrs. V insist Gabe have the wedding somewhere else? “There won’t be any dead frogs at the ceremony,” I said. “I promise.”

  Mrs. V broke out laughing. “I’ve always liked frogs,” she said, pointing to her brooch. “Perhaps each wedding guest could get one as a party favor!”

  Beckett’s eyes widened. “A dead frog? That. Would. Be. Awesome!”

  “Ewww, Beckett. Gross!” I pointed to the creek. “Get that thing out of here!”

  Beckett left, and I turned to Mrs. V. We both started laughing. “I guess we could put the frogs in little jars and tie pretty bows around them,” I said.

  “It would be—” Mrs. V started.

  “Farm fancy!” I finished. “Let’s head back to the house.”

  We were still giggling when we walked up to the front porch. Cat, Gabe, and my parents were waiting. When Cat saw us arm in arm, she broke into a big grin.

  “Hello, my dear Caterina!” said Mrs. V, giving Cat a super tight hug. When Cat introduced my parents, Mrs. V gave them each her signature squeeze, too.

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” said Mom, eyeing Mrs. V’s broken shoe.

  “What do you think of Pleasant View Farm?” asked Dad.

  “It’s charming,” said Mrs. V. “And so is Blaire.”

  Mom smiled. “Please, come inside for something cool to drink.”

  Suddenly I had an idea-spark. “We were supposed to have a wedding meeting tomorrow,” I said, turning to Cat and Gabe. “But maybe we could do it now so that Mrs. V could join us?”