The judge in jeans waved and winked at our team as she walked off the field. Leanne grinned and waved back.
I raised a brow. “What was that about?”
“That’s Agnes Chiu,” Leanne said. “She was my Girl Guides leader, and she’s the one who got me into rabbit agility shows. She has three English lops—the sweetest things ever. They always trip over their ears when climbing the little ramps.”
Ah. Hopefully, we had a small advantage thanks to the bunny-loving judge.
Rowan wheeled over the wagon of moss. It was time to start building our Bloom sculpture.
After making sure the skirt was well secured to the base, we started lining the chicken wire with moss. The moss could hold twenty times its weight in water, so we packed it very loosely to give it space to expand. With luck, once we wedged the plants in, it would look fuller.
The frame was holding its shape pretty well. We had to be careful to stuff the breasts evenly so she wouldn’t be lopsided, and the narrow shoulder strap was a bit tricky. But overall, the sculpture was coming together. Not quite the magical gown of flowers she’d be later, but more solid at least.
Leanne was securing moss with floral wire when she sighed. “This almost makes me want to put on a dress again. Rowan, wouldn’t a dress have been better for our prom pictures?”
Rowan laughed. “You looked fine in the green pantsuit. Very Hillary Clinton. I haven’t seen you in a dress since—”
“Grade-eight graduation,” Juniper interrupted. She covered her mouth, clearly mortified that she’d admitted to cataloging her brother’s best friend’s formal-wear history.
I had no idea what exactly was going on between the two, but there was a different vibe between them today. June was a touch less awkward,and Leanne a bit more natural with June. I wanted to respect them, and respect Rowan when he said I shouldn’t pry, but I was dying to know. Had they had the heavy talk yet?
I glanced at Rowan. We, of course, were also due for a heavy talk. We’d agreed to a kind of holding pattern today, even though last night had been so spectacular. I felt closer to him than I ever had. Emotionally, I mean. He’d been so great when I told him about my existential crisis in Toronto. He listened and understood why I had needed to go to that photo shoot. And he understood why I came back. We talked about my struggle to decide what to do about college, and he gave me some great insights without trying to influence my decision.
I knew more than ever that I couldn’t let this summer fling end when the season changed. And I was 90 percent sure he felt the same way.
But it was that last 10 percent that was freaking me out whenever I let myself think too much.
So I focused on the Bloom. I might not have had that much to gain by winning, but Rowandid. I planned to give everything to this competition, because that’s what I did.
I pushed out some of the wire that had collapsed on the skirt and added more moss.
“Wow,” June said. “It’s finally looking like a dress. I love this thing.”
About half an hour into the competition, we were ready to add the most important element of our Bloom sculpture—the flowers. We started with the darkest-magenta begonias at the bottom.
“What do you think?” I asked Rowan when I was halfway around the skirt. There were a few gaps between the flowers, but we could fill them in with clumps of sod or more moss. I thought the ombré effect was working.
He nodded. “She looks good.”
“She looks like a headless nymph floating through the garden,” Leanne added, which made Juniper give her a curious glance.
I studied the sculpture through narrowed eyes. “It’s probably too late to give her a head, right?”
Rowan laughed. “She’s fine. It’s a sculpture of a dress, not a person. Like a dress on a dress form.”
I nodded. With it on Ruby’s base, it looked pretty much like a dress in a designer’s studio.
We kept adding flowers. So far, the heavy metal base and the sturdy wire we’d used were holding the weight fine. I was feeling seriously optimistic about winning. Even with flowers only one-quarter of the way up the skirt, this gown was dazzling.
I was sitting on the ground, adjusting a coreopsis that wasn’t sitting right, when the woman in the fifties dress approached. All I could see were her pink satin pumps.
“Stop. The prop on this entry is illegal.”
Damn it.Everything had been going too well today. The woman loomed over me. Her dress looked like an authentic vintage piece up close. “Who authorized you to use this prop for your entry?” she asked me.
I blinked. She’d sounded nice in her welcome speech. Now? Not so nice. Also, she was with Mrs.McLaughlin, Addison’s mother. Extra not nice.
“What exactly is the problem?” Leanne asked, coming around the sculpture to face the women. I stood.
