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“I see that. And there I was thinking the NBA was fierce.”
“Imagine having all these gorgeous flowers in your house,” says Molly dreamily. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Lydia and the other judges complete a final loop around the floral arrangements. There’s a moment of earnest whispered conferring then Lydia steps forward.
“Each year the Floral Display Awards brings out the absolute best in the art of floristry. This year it has reached new levels of creativity and inventiveness. We have been astounded as the quality of work just keeps getting better. Being a judge at this competition is an honor and I wish I could award each and every one of the participants this year with the coveted cup and title, Best in Show. But there must be only one. The prize, as always, is generously donated by the Oak River Garden Center, and here to present the gift voucher for one hundred dollars, is the owner and manager, someone we all love, Mrs Penny Yates.”
Lydia smiles warmly and extends her arms out to an older woman, with short grey hair and glasses, wearing denim dungarees. She hugs Lydia then, when the crowd is quiet, she prepares to announce the winner.
“This display has taken an old classic structure and reworked it with a thoroughly modern and unexpected twist, which pushes the boundaries of floral artistry. And that is the essence of what this contest is all about. Please show your appreciation for…. Apple Blossom Heaven arranged by Miss Gladys Miller.”
A very pink-cheeked woman, who is close to tears, gasps when she hears her name and covers her mouth with her hands. She steps forward to receive her prize and a hug from the judges. The audience applauds and whistles appreciatively. She obviously has fans watching and cheering for her. Someone with a camera, a reporter I assume, takes photos of the proud winner and judges in front of her display.
“Oh, I’m so happy for her,” says Molly. “Gladys has been in the library, researching floral design for weeks.” Molly takes my hand. “Let’s get a closer look.”
The floral displays are even more astounding up close. Contestants and their friends and families stand together, taking pictures and admiring the colorful and intoxicating creations. I still hold Molly’s hand as we wander around. It’s small and warm in mine. I wrap my fingers around hers. She doesn’t pull away.
“I knew it,” someone says behind us. I turn to see who is speaking. “Molly Ryan. You are a sly one.” It’s Lydia. She hugs her friend and sneaks a sideways look at me.
“Ah, Lydia. Congratulations on another brilliant show,” says Molly beaming, releasing my hand.
“Thanks. And same to you,” says Lydia smiling broadly. “I think the dog and owner dress-up competition is here to stay at the Annual Spring Fair for years to come.” She claps her hands together. “Well done, you two, for, you know, getting it together.” Lydia winks at me.
“Believe me. It was all Molly,” I say, feeling a bit self-conscious.
Molly looks into my eyes and says, “No. It was both of us.” Then she looks back to Lydia. “But, whoa, I had no idea Doggy Dress-ups would be so popular. And what about Ernie and Sinatra? Wow. They stole the show, didn’t they?”
“Sure did,” says Lydia as we walk out of the central marquee together.
“The battle re-enactment is on soon,” says Molly. “We should go and get a good spot on the bank.”
“You guys go on ahead.” Lydia smiles at me then hugs Molly. “I’ll catch up with you in a little while. I have to finish up here first.”
“Don’t be too long, otherwise you’ll miss it,” Molly says.
Lydia waves as she walks back to the central marquee where there’s still a noisy hubbub, leaving Molly and I standing together: an island in a sea of people. It seems as if everyone is going to the battle re-enactment.
“It’s the main event,” Molly says turning in the direction of the pretend castle. “You’re going to love it. It’s mad.”
“Molly. Just a minute.” My own voice surprises me.
“Okay. What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Alright. What?”
I breathe deeply trying to find the right words that will explain how I feel. I’m suddenly shy and awkward. I look at my feet. Then I reach out and take both of Molly’s hands in mine. Noisy people pass on either side, but I don’t see them. I look into Molly’s eyes. She’s so pretty. I can see that she’s puzzled, waiting for me to say something.
“I’m pleased you don’t hate me anymore,” I begin.
“What?” she says, laughing. “I never hated you. What makes you say that?”
“Oh, that time when you went off at me on my driveway.”
“Ah yes… well… I can explain.”
“No. It’s alright.”
