Scones and Sensibility (12 page)

“Can I come along?”

I hesitated, reaching down and plucking a pansy from the small bed of flowers. But I did not speak. Was it wise to bring Fran along?

“Come on, Polly. I mean, if she’s going to be my stepmother I think I should at least get to see her. This is a big deal for me. You already have a mother, and I haven’t had one for three whole years.”

“Say no more.” I lifted my hand out for her to join me. “See her you shall, Fran. But you must promise to allow me to do my work.”

We started down the sidewalk. “All right.”

I sighed and locked my arm through hers. “Today, dear Fran, is a most glorious day for you and your new motherly confidante.”

F
ran and I made our way to the front of her house, passing by a small bed of lilies of the valley. The delicate white bells hung like drops of dew from the elegant green stalk, and I knew at once what I would do upon meeting Miss Penny in just a little under one hour.

“Oh, they are darling,” I said, plucking a handful of the flowers and bringing them to my nose. “If I know Miss Penny, and I am sure I do, we being like-minded, she will adore this gesture from your father.”

“But Polly, my dad didn’t really give her—”

I placed a hand to her mouth. “
Tsk
, my dear Fran. Remember, you have vowed that you will not hinder the gift I seek to bequeath upon you and your father.”

She shrugged her shoulders, and I scanned the beds of flowers. From the garden I chose a single delicate red rose to offset the purity of the white, as well as the small tiny flower that resembled frost on the ground from afar. Then removing the white ribbon from my own hair and wrapping it around the bouquet, I held the display out for Fran to gaze upon.

“It’s pretty. But use this instead.” She held out a new bracelet she had completed.

Indeed, though the bracelet was made with elegant pink thread, the ribbon was much more becoming. Yet I allowed her this gesture and smiled.

“Very beautiful indeed, dear Fran.” I breathed in the scent of the bouquet. “But now we must make haste to the delicatessen or we may miss her entirely.”

“Can I ride your bike? Mine’s still not fixed from when my dad ran over it with the car.”

“But of course, Fran. I weep over your misfortune, for it is such a refreshing feeling to have the wind kiss your face and the blood rush through your veins from exertion.”

“Oh, come on, Polly. It’s not that bad. Ooh, what’s this?” Fran pulled a wilted pink rose from the inside of my bike basket. Attached to the flower with black string was a stark blue piece of paper. “ ‘For Polly
Madassa, the love of my life,’ ” Fran read aloud. “Polly, do you have a boyfriend you never told me about?”

“Certainly not! I know nothing of a suitor except at this moment.” I took the rose, my heart rising at the thought of such romance, and opened the paper.

The paper is blue

And the rose is pink

“He knows how to state the obvious,” I said. I coughed into my hand and continued, though the words did not improve.

I love you forever

Like a flower that stinks
.

Fran let out quite an unattractive guffaw at the conclusion of the poorly written poem, if that indeed was what it was. “You do! You have an admirer!”

I folded the small paper and placed both it and the flower back in the basket of my bicycle. “This,” I said, pointing to the paper, “this, you think, would excite me? Indeed, quite the contrary. I have been insulted to the utmost degree. If he is an admirer, he would be better off showing his affections to someone other than myself. The prince who shall come for me would never declare his love with a wilting rose and a poem with the word
stink
in it. Now come along, Fran. We
must be about the business of real romance.” And with that, I started down the sidewalk, the heels of my sandals clicking on the cement in rhythm with the beating of my heart.

It was indeed a wonderful thing to be pursued, though it was unfortunate my admirer was not a true gentleman, something that was first on a long list of traits I wished of a suitor. He was, however, very secretive and mysterious, things that were also very high on my list. I crushed the desire to know this young man. His words clearly spoke that though he had affection for me, I would not be the damsel to fall in love with him. No, I must stay on my task, and this one with Fran was of much importance.

“Polly? Polly!”

My thoughts returned to the sidewalk and I found Fran behind me, pointing at a building.

“Huh?”

“Isn’t this the deli?”

“Pardon?” I looked up and saw at once that indeed we were in front of the very deli where Miss Penny would be dining. With one glance at my watch, I saw that we had arrived none too soon.

“Why, yes it is, Fran. My apologies for passing by.
My brain seems in a tremulous activity of thoughts.”

“Tremulous thoughts of
him
,” she said, raising her eyebrows up and down.

“Perish the thought, Fran. And please, never again bring up the letter or the vainly hopeful suitor who has written it.” I took her by the hand and strolled into the small dining area filled with the scents of tomato and lettuce, grilled chicken and humus. My own stomach growled at the delightful scents, for in my haste of the morning I had forgotten the nourishment of my own body.

But now was not the time. Romance was my sustenance and love my drink.

Within the small restaurant, dear Miss Lucy Penny sat straight upon her chair, delicate glasses gracing her small, perfect nose, with a hardbound book—possibly leather—before her on the table. If my suspicions of her elegance and supreme upbringing were correct, she was reading the elegant Jane Austen.

A true kindred spirit, I was sure.

“There she is, Fran,” I whispered into her ear. “Your soon-to-be mother. Isn’t she lovely?”

“Her? The one with the mouth that looks like a frog?”

I gasped, the image bringing up a dreadful remembrance
of being chased by an amphibian in the hands of one Brad Baker. “Oh dear me, no, and please, Fran, you know how sensitive I am to such talk. The dazzlingly beautiful woman in the pink dress.”

“Oh, her? Yeah, she is pretty.”

“And so much more, I am sure.” I turned my bosom friend toward me, lifting the bouquet between us. “Now, my dear Fran. It is time for me to speak with her. I ache for your prayers on my behalf that I might not fail you, though my heart indeed feels eager to burst inside my chest with rapturous happiness.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You always are. But are you sure that … you know … this is okay?”

“But of course. Love has no boundaries, Fran. Once your father knows of this, he will be eternally grateful to us. Love is in the air, and I am its vessel.” I squeezed her hand once and set off for the table where the lovely Miss Lucy Penny sat.

My mind whirled with romantic visions. She would smell the flowers. Mr. Fisk’s name would ring in the air like church bells. Her cheeks would blush to a rosy pink. Their first date. Their magical wedding day. Fran and myself adorned with light-yellow dresses, releasing wild butterflies into the crisp blue air.

It would be a fairy tale come true.

“Hey, Polly!”

The voice startled me. I was reluctant to turn and see who had interrupted my reverie.

Brad Baker. He looked shorter than when last I saw him, though his nose was still rather hooked and his feathery hair gave him the appearance of a bird of prey. I nodded. “Oh hi, Brad … Bradley. I hope you are doing well this summer.”

He smiled, almost blinding me with the unsightly metallic braces on his teeth. Though time had darkened his eyes to a handsome ocean blue, I could not say the braces added much to the attractiveness of his appearance. “I’m doing all right,” he said, stuffing three Cheetos into his mouth. “I’m gonna visit my dad and his girlfriend in a few weeks, but otherwise I’m here if you ever …”

I peered over at Miss Penny with all earnestness. Really, I hadn’t much time to engage in conversation. “Well, I am sure you will have a wonderful time on your travels.”

“Yeah.” He gazed down at his cheese-covered fingers. “Well, how’s your summer going?”

“Pleasant as expected, though not without its trials and tribulations.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I forgot you like talking like those people in old books.”

I cringed. His manners and upbringing had not improved since school let out. “It was … nice to see you, but now, I really must be going.”

“Well, um … do you maybe … would you … um, yeah, hope I see you around.”

I nodded and set off once again to Lucy Penny, attempting to herd my thoughts away from cheese-filled braces and back to the luscious pastures of romance.

I strode over to the lovely Miss Penny and offered my bouquet of fragrant posies.

“Pardon me, I do not mean to interrupt your meditations on this beautiful day, but a gentleman, the father of that beautiful motherless girl, asked me to deliver this to you, Miss … Miss …”

“Miss Penny, but … you can call me Lucy.” She smiled at me and gestured graciously toward the seat across from her own, as I thought she might.

This I politely refused. “Oh, thank you, Miss Penny, you are much too kind, but really I must be going. My task was merely to deliver these flowers to you.”

She brought the bouquet to her face, and I was
pleased to see that I had chosen the flowers well. “Yes, they are beautiful. Lily of the valley is my favorite. Who did you say sent them?”

“A Mr. George Fisk. Isn’t that a handsome name? He is a very distinguished gentleman who has the highest regard for you. And his daughter handmade that beautiful bracelet just for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely.” She looked around the deli. “Is Mr. Fisk here?”

“No, Miss, unfortunately he is not. Being of a shy nature, he wanted your first encounter with him to be based solely on his admiration for your beauty and demeanor. In my opinion, it would be so mysterious and romantic to have an admirer like him. But do not fear, he has assured me that if you receive his gesture with favor, he will make further arrangements to meet you.”

She smiled. “Well, that is very mysterious and … I have to say, romantic too.” She giggled. “You can tell him that—how did you say it? His gesture was met with favor.”

I allowed myself a small smile, though I tried to contain my elation within propriety. “I will tell him, Miss Penny. And his happiness will be beyond words. Good day.”

“You too,” she called after me.

I dashed up to my dear Fran, narrowly missing a great bear of a man who stalked through the deli.

“My dearest Fran! She accepts your father’s gift with favor and is anxious to make his acquaintance.”

Fran’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Wow, really?”

“But of course. So, what say you to this situation?”

She locked her arm in mine and we strolled from the deli to the cobbled street. “Well, I think … I think it’s great, Polly. I can’t wait to meet her. But what do you think we should tell my dad?”

“Do not fear, I have thought on this as well, though I must ponder but a little longer. Be assured, however, that by the end of the week, you, my beloved friend, will have secured for yourself a most wonderful stepmother.”

T
he sun beat down upon our shoulders as we strolled along the sidewalk. Delicious happiness seeped from my skin like lavender perfume over such a wonderful meeting with Miss Lucy Penny. Love was indeed invigorating to the spirit, mind, and body. Right then, I sought to further refresh myself and my dearest friend. “Fran, wouldn’t you adore an afternoon at the beach together? Shall we go and bask in the success of your father’s future wife, and relish how lovely she is?”

Fran smiled and nodded. “All right! That does sound good. It’s getting hotter by the minute.”

After changing into our swimming attire (my bathing suit a delicate pink and trimmed with ruffles), we retired to the sand beside the jetty, the spot I now
called the Faithful Stone Pathway, for it was far from the clustered crowds and close to the spraying water that hit the jagged rocks with much determination and flourish.