Blaire Read online

  Cat’s smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so sparkly!” I said.

  “Is this one a maybe?” Mrs. V asked hopefully.

  “Well, not this one,” Cat said. “All these beads feel too fancy for me, and I don’t really care for the one-shoulder look.” She turned to Monique. “Do you have one with lace?”

  “Oh, yes!” Mrs. V squealed. “There’s a lovely lace option in there.”

  It was a long time before Cat came out again. When she did, she was wearing a strapless dress that was snug against her hips and legs and flared out at the bottom around her feet. “Monique tells me this is a mermaid style,” Cat said, shuffling over to the platform. She could barely move her legs to walk. With Monique’s help, Cat made it up the small step. Then she just stared at herself in the mirror.

  “What do you think, Cat?” Mrs. V asked. “Do you like the lace?”

  After a long pause, Cat finally said, “Yes. But I don’t think I’m the mermaid type.”

  Mrs. V looked disappointed.

  “Gabe is planning on them riding a two-person bike from the gazebo to the barn,” I reminded Mrs. V as Cat shuffled back into the dressing room. “Cat wouldn’t be able to pedal in that dress. And mermaid doesn’t really go with ‘farm fancy.’”

  “You’re right, I guess,” said Mrs. V with a sigh. “It didn’t look quite so fishy on the hanger. Oh dear, I’m not sure Cat’s enjoying this.”

  “I think she is,” I reassured Mrs. V. “Cat doesn’t dress up that often. She just needs to get used to seeing herself in something other than work clothes.”

  “Hmmm,” Mrs. V said. “Blaire, you may be onto something.”

  The next time Cat came out of the dressing room, she was wearing a sleeveless white satin dress with a wide band of beading around the waist. The style was simple, and Cat was beaming.

  “I’m sorry, Cat,” Mrs. V said quickly. “I picked that one before I knew how you felt about beads.”

  But Cat shook her head. “No—I like this,” she said. Cat stepped up on the platform, and Monique adjusted the skirt so that the short train settled behind Cat in a gentle flutter.

  “What do you think?” Cat asked, meeting my eye in the mirror.

  I smiled. “You look perfect.”

  Cat smiled too. “Josephine?” she asked. “Do you like it?”

  “Well, it’s rather subdued, but it certainly suits you, Cat.”

  I squealed. “Cat! Is this THE dress? Have you ended your quest?”

  “I do like it.” Cat smiled and turned to Monique. “How much does it cost?”

  When Monique told her, Cat’s smile disappeared. “Whoa. That’s just too much. I’ll need to look at something in a lower price range.”

  Monique nodded. “Of course. Now that I know what you like, I’ll go get some others.”

  As soon as Monique left, Mrs. V said, “Cat, if you love it, let’s buy it! Consider it my gift.”

  “That’s so kind, Josephine, but I can’t. I would never spend this much on a dress I’m going to wear once.”

  “But it’s your wedding, Cat, and—”

  “Yes. It’s my wedding, and I know what I’m comfortable with.” Cat’s voice was firm. “This dress is beautiful, but it’s too expensive.”

  With that, Cat got off the platform and hurried into the dressing room. Mrs. V was absorbed with picking imaginary lint off her pantsuit.

  Idea-spark. “Mrs. V, do they sell dresses for mothers of the groom here?”

  She looked up and smiled. “They do.”

  “Maybe we should go look at them for a bit and give Cat some time to look at dresses by herself,” I suggested.

  Mrs. V agreed, so I tapped on the door to Cat’s dressing room. “It’s me,” I called softly.

  Cat opened the door and waved me in. She was still wearing the satin dress. When I told Cat where I was going, her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Sprout. I owe you.”

  An hour later, Cat and I said good-bye to Mrs. V outside Kellenberger’s and watched her get into a cab. She was carrying a giant dress box. Mrs. V had purchased a dress for the wedding, but Cat had not.

  On the train ride home, Cat leaned her head against the seat as we chugged along the Hudson River.

  “Phew,” she said. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you didn’t find anything.”

  “It’s okay,” Cat said. She offered me a quick smile as her phone chimed with a text message.

  She spent some time messaging back and forth with someone while I stared out the window. Eventually, Cat fell asleep, her phone still in her hand. I didn’t want her to drop it, so I pulled it gently out of her grip. Just as I put it down on the seat in between us, a new text message popped up on the screen.

  Shannon: Please don’t say that, Cat. You CAN do this. Don’t think for a second about calling off the wedding.

  WHAT?!

  I blinked a few times, trying to make sure I was reading that message right.

  But there it was in bright, glowing letters. Cat must have told her friend Shannon about her frustrating day dress shopping with her future mother-in-law. Was Cat having doubts about the rest of the wedding plans? Would she really call things off? My stomach did a flip-flop.

  This wedding was going to be one of a kind. It was going to make Cat so happy, and Grandpa, too.

  I’d just have to work harder to make sure Cat could see that for herself.

  Mrs. V: Blaire!!! HUGE problem!! You know how Cat wants crème brûlée instead of a wedding cake???? My sister just called to remind me that her whole family can’t eat dairy!! What are we going to do?!

  Blaire: No worries, Mrs. V! I’ll talk to Mom.

  Mrs. V: Oh, okay! So you’ll have a dairy-free dessert option?

  Would we? I thought it was just me who was going to have to skip the crème brûlée that night. But I guess if our guests had dietary restrictions, too, we needed a plan B.

  Blaire: We’ll figure something out.

  Mrs. V: You are, as always, my hero.

  I went inside and found Mom in the restaurant kitchen. When I gave her the news, she didn’t seem worried.

  “Actually,” she said, “I’ve been researching crème brûlée recipes that use coconut milk instead of cream.”

  “Is that even a thing?” I asked her. “Coconut milk crème brûlée?”

  “Definitely a thing,” Mom said, She brought up a few recipes on her laptop. “See?”

  I stared at the photo on the screen. It didn’t look any different from regular crème brûlée. Then again, that grilled soy sandwich had looked like the real thing, too.

  “I have the ingredients we need,” Mom said. “And I have time to test some recipes now if you want.”

  “Can you just do it?” I hadn’t cooked since the Grilled Cheese Disaster.

  “I can,” Mom said. “But do you really want to avoid cooking forever?” When I didn’t answer, Mom added, “It would mean a lot to Cat if you made her favorite dessert.”

  I took a deep breath. That was true. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get to work.”

  We spent the afternoon making three different versions of dairy-free crème brûlée. It was really fun to be experimenting with Mom again, tasting as we went. I realized how much time we used to spend cooking—and how much I missed it.

  I’d just put a third recipe try on the stove when Grandpa came to find me, the phone in his hand. “Thea on the line for you,” he said.

  “Hi!” I said after I took the phone, motioning for Grandpa to watch the pot on the stove while I talked to Thea. Mom had gone to find something in the walk-in refrigerator.

  “Hey,” Thea said. “Just making sure we’re still on for the fair tomorrow.”

  OMG, the fair! I’d totally forgotten it was tomorrow. We hadn’t really talked about it lately. “Um … yeah,” I said, as Grandpa snuck a taste from one of the finished crème brûlées on the counter. “Of course.”


  “Okay, good, Thea said. “When do you want to meet? My dance troupe goes onstage at the International Pavilion at one o’clock.”

  “So I’ll come watch your performance,” I said as Grandpa tried the second crème brûlée. “Then afterward we can go on rides and see stuff.” Grandpa shook his head. I wasn’t surprised—that recipe definitely needed work.

  “Make sure to get a seat up front,” Thea said. “I’m excited because—”

  I glanced at the third try on the stove, which Grandpa was supposed to be watching. It was about to boil over into a huge mess! I dashed over and turned down the burner.

  “I wanted to tell you—” Thea was saying in my ear.

  “Gotta go!” I said. “Wedding recipe emergency! Tell me tomorrow in person.”

  The next afternoon, Dad, Beckett, and I drove to the fair. The guys were having a “Dudes Day” while I hung out with Thea. When Dad gave me my admission wristband, he also handed me Mom’s phone. “In case you need to reach me while we’re here,” he said. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks,” I said, tucking the phone into my pocket. Mom was going to find a ton of crazy-fun-house-mirror selfies on this thing tomorrow!

  I was headed toward the International Pavilion when the phone rang. It was Cat.

  “Hi, Cat,” I answered.

  “Maggie?” Cat sounded confused.

  “No. It’s Blaire. I have Mom’s phone.”

  “Oh, good. I was calling for you anyway. I’m at the vintage dress store with my bridesmaids.”

  My heart skipped a beat as I remembered how our trip to Kellenberger’s had ended. But if Cat was shopping for dresses, she hadn’t called off the wedding. That was good.

  “I’ve found two awesome gowns,” Cat was saying. “Shannon likes one, but Maya likes the other. I love them both and can’t decide. Will you be the tiebreaker?”

  “Of course!” I said. “I’m at the fair, so send me pictures on Mom’s phone.”

  It was almost one o’clock, so I picked up my pace, staring at the phone as I went. I walked straight into a little girl holding a giant stuffed banana. “Oops, sorry!” I told her.

  I found a seat at the pavilion with two minutes to spare. Come on, Cat! Show me those dresses! What was taking her so long? I shook the phone in frustration.

  “Cell phone service is terrible around here,” said a woman sitting next to me.

  Ding! Finally, the first photo popped up. Wow, that dress was beautiful. And Cat was glowing! I waited for the second photo to come through.

  “Come on, come on,” I whispered. There was movement near the stage as members of the dance troupe entered the pavilion.

  Come on, Cat …

  The dancers were now onstage and had formed a semicircle. The leader of Thea’s troupe stepped up to the microphone to welcome the audience.

  Ding! The second photo came in. That dress was gorgeous, too! But my gut said the first one was the winner. I quickly typed a reply and pressed SEND as the first notes of the music started. I tucked the phone into my pocket and looked up to see Thea and Madison onstage.

  Wait, what? What happened to the other dancers?

  Oh! The duet! It was weeks ago that Thea talked about trying out for it. And she got it!

  “Woo-hoo!” I sat up straighter and cheered for my friend.

  Thea and Madison were amazing. I could tell by the way the other dancers watched them in awe that this duet was a big deal, just like Thea had said at her rehearsal that day. That was my friend up there, and she was rocking it!

  But as the dance went on, my excitement slowly turned into a lump in my throat.

  Why hadn’t Thea told me she got the duet? That was exactly the kind of Big News you’re supposed to share with your BFF. Like when I had Big News about Gabe proposing or Cat agreeing to let me help with the wedding, Thea was the first person I called.

  As Thea and Madison pulled off some complicated footwork, I flashed back to the day Thea went to the swimming hole with Madison. She hadn’t told me about that either. What else hadn’t she shared?

  After the performance, Thea and I found each other in a crowd of her dance friends and their families. We hugged, but it was awkward. I drew away quicker than usual.

  “You were great,” I said. “I loved those turns at the end of the duet.”

  “Thanks,” she said stiffly. “It means a lot to me that you were here. I was afraid you’d have to cancel again because of wedding stuff.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t miss this! I know how important it is to you.”

  Thea’s expression softened, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “So,” she said, linking her arm through mine. “Should we get something to eat?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “There’s a funnel cake calling our names.” I steered us through the crowd in the direction of the funnel cake booth.

  “Hey, wait,” Thea said, stopping short. “I was thinking maybe we could share a jumbo cotton candy this year. Since we can’t get the whipped cream on the funnel cake, maybe we could start a new tradition. One that doesn’t mess with your lactose issues.”

  “We always get funnel cake,” I said.

  “But the whipped cream—”

  “Thea,” I said, more loudly than I meant to. “I KNOW what I can’t have. Why do you always have to remind me?!”

  Thea’s eyes widened. She looked hurt. “Well, sorry for caring.”

  “Forget the food,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s just do the fun house before it gets too crowded.”

  We headed down the midway in silence. Everyone around us looked like they were having a blast—the kind of awesome time Thea and I were supposed to be having.

  We showed the attendant our wristbands and stepped inside the fun house to my favorite part—the mirror maze. Thea ran ahead, and suddenly there were a million Theas in front of me. I felt a twinge in my stomach. It was like all those girls weren’t just Thea but also our other friends and her dance buddies, whom she’d been hanging out with all summer instead of me.

  “Come on,” said Thea and her infinite clones, waving me deeper into the maze. She stopped in front of a mirror that made her look super short, as if she’d been smushed into a mini version of herself. I stepped up to the mirror next to it, which made me look freaky-tall. Mom’s phone stuck out of my front pocket. It looked bigger than my head!

  “Whoa, can you imagine if phones were really that giant?” I said, letting out a laugh.

  “Yeah,” Thea said, examining my reflection. “You probably wouldn’t carry them around everywhere if they were that big. And I guess you’d be forced to actually watch a dance performance instead of texting.”

  I pivoted to face Thea. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Thea looked angry. “I barely see you all summer, and then when I do … you’re on your phone instead of watching my performance.”

  Huh? “I did watch your performance! I just had to deal with a wedding situation first. Cat was—”

  “Enough about the wedding,” Thea said. “I don’t want to hear any more wedding talk.”

  “What happened to you being excited about the wedding and helping?” I asked her, but she had already raced up the stairs to the second level of the fun house where there’s a bunch of moving platforms you can walk across. I followed her.

  Thea was on a platform that went up and down when I got upstairs. I jumped on one that wobbled back and forth. We were going in totally different directions.

  “What happened to you being excited about the wedding and helping me out?” I repeated.

  “I didn’t know you’d get totally obsessed and not want to do anything else,” Thea said. “Or talk about anything else—like the things I’m doing.”

  “But you didn’t even tell me you got the duet!” I said.

  “I tried to tell you on the phone yesterday,” Thea said. “But you didn’t have time to talk—because of course you were too busy with wedding stuff.”

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nbsp; “This wedding’s important to me!” I yelled, losing my balance and grabbing the railing next to the platform. “I want Cat to be happy. I want Grandpa to stay. If you were a good friend, you’d get that.”

  “And if you were a good friend, you wouldn’t have totally abandoned me this summer.”

  I jumped off the platform. My head was spinning. “I abandoned you? No! You abandoned me, even though you promised to help.”

  Thea stepped off her own platform. “Forget this fair thing, okay? I’m done.” She turned and ran at top speed, out of the fun house, away from me.

  As soon as Dad’s truck pulled up to the house, I scrambled out of it and headed straight inside.

  Grandpa was at the front desk. “How was the fair?” he called.

  “Fine,” I mumbled, rushing past him to the stairs. I was on the second-floor landing when I heard Dad come in.

  “What’s up with Blaire?” Grandpa asked Dad.

  “I’m not sure,” Dad answered. “She said Thea got a ride home from someone else but she didn’t say another word on the way home.”

  When I got to my room, I slammed the door, which made something fall off my inspiration board. It was the photo strip of me and Thea from last year’s fair. I kicked it under my bed, then curled up in a ball on top of my covers.

  There was a knock at my door, and Mom poked her head in. “Are you okay, sweetie? Did something happen with Thea today?”

  The drama in the fun house played on a loop in my head. I felt angry and sad and confused. How could I explain any of it to Mom? Finally, I just said, “We had a fight.”

  Mom sat down on the edge of my bed. “Do you want to talk?”

  I shook my head. “I just want to be by myself for a while.”

  “Okay,” Mom said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “But you know where I am if you need me.”

  After Mom left, I reached for my tablet. I needed a distraction from the day. Maybe there was something new posted on my favorite animal channel.