Chapter 38

NOW WE’RE COOKIN’

Henry lugs out the half barrel for another neighborhood cookout. Ruby is dragging an empty cooler, and Esme is following her with bags of ice.

“Ruby,” I ask, “why are you always covered in Band-Aids?”

“I like how they smell.”

“How they smell?”

“Yeah, they smell all Band-Aidy. I like them. And I like how people act about them.”

“What do you mean?”

“When people see them, they act all nice, asking me how I hurt myself and if I’m okay, and I like it.”

I smile at her logic. “And are you okay, Ruby? Are people being nice to you?”

“Everyone but Olive.” Ruby frowns. “Olive says I’m clumsy and probably trip over my own shadow.”

I put my arm around Ruby and pull her close. I think of the elephants that Esme told me about and how Ruby is sort of like my little sister. I’m going to be extra good to her.

Grammy drives up, and Ronan is in her car. “Look what I found on the road.” Grammy laughs as she gets out of the car. “I told him it was cookout night and he should come over.”

“Hey, everyone. What’s for dinner? Not that it matters.” He smiles.

“Crab cakes,” I say.

He makes a face, and I laugh, telling him that I’m kidding.

Henry has got some of Esme’s island music playing and uses his root beer bottle as a microphone to sing to us while he cooks.

Soon, Olive trudges across the neighborhood, pine needles flying, looking all Olive-like. But she has a white box in her hands. What could she be carrying?

She steps up to Ruby, and I join them, feeling a bit worried; Olive lets some pretty awful things fly when she talks to her.

Esme is also nearby, keeping an eye out.

Olive, clutching the box, looks up at both Esme and me. “What? Is this a committee? I just wanted to talk to Ruby for a minute.”

“Go ahead,” Esme says.

Olive’s expression looks like she just stepped on a tack. “Here,” she says, pushing the ratty box toward Ruby. “This is yours.”

Esme looks nervous, but lets Ruby open it. What’s inside is too beautiful for such a box.

“Oooooooh,” Ruby says, pulling out a dress. It’s a quilt of many different squares of fabric in all colors of purple with some red and orange sprinkled in. I’ve never seen anything like it. It seems to glow. Underneath there is another dress. Identical but small. Like it’s for a doll.

Ruby looks up, wide-eyed but sad. “They aren’t mine.”

Olive sighs. “Well, of course they are, child. You’ve been prattling on for months that you wanted that Melody doll and matching outfits. I couldn’t manage the expensive doll, but I thought the dress could be worn by another of your dolls.”

Ruby’s happy squeal hits a note I swear could shatter glass.

Olive looks nervous.

Esme speaks slowly. “So . . . you bought these somewhere?”

“No. I couldn’t do that. I made them. Been working on them since March ninth. My sewing machine died, so I had to stitch them by hand.”

“Wait. You made these? By hand?”

Olive stands like a statue.

“Oh my!” Esme says. “I don’t know what to say, Olive. They’re gorgeous!”

“W-well,” Olive sputters. “You don’t need to say . . . anything.”

She spins and takes a step away and then turns back. She speaks fast. “They’re purple because you and your momma love that color. Although I don’t know why. And look.” She points to a quilt square. “I searched for a fabric with red wagons on it. There’s some fish on there for your father. And some silly bright lizards to match the ones on your house. You’ll have to look for the other things yourself. So that’s that.”

And she spins and stomps away the same way she came. Man, just when I thought Olive couldn’t possibly surprise me any more. Isn’t it strange how she can be so sharp and yet so soft, too?