Notto worry.It’snot likeI’mhere to learn a new and completely useless skill.Ionly needRitato like me enough to vote to approve the store.Andmaybe forPollyto like me enough to…Well, just liking me would be a start.
“Oh, thanksRita, butIthinkI’llstick with the rustic and natural look.Ihear it’s all the rage.”
Halfthe other wreathmakers chuckle and give me a bless-his-heart-for-trying look.Therest seem to disapprove of me not taking it seriously.
Pollymeets my eyes and laughs, like we’re sharing a private joke.And, oh myGod, those legs have been wasted inside overalls.
“Nowthe best part,” saysRita. “Takewhatever decorations you like and twist them into the vines.Securethem with wire where you need to.”
I’msupposed to attach this pile of leaves and flowers to the vine circle?Inan artistic fashion?Inthe remaining three minutes?Ishouldn’t care.Thisdoesn’t matter.Butmy competitive nature can’t help but kick in under the pressure of a ticking clock and the fact everyone around me is better at this thanIam.
“Youdon’t have to stick to what’s in front of you.There’splenty of greenery, florals, berries, and what have you to go around.Swapas much as you like,”Ritatells us.
Thereare some twigs covered in leaves that look like they’ll provide maximum cover with the least amount of effort.
Ipoke half a dozen of them into the vine hoop and lash them on with wire, without any bloodshed this time.
Isnatch another glimpse ofPolly, who’s now chatting easily with an elderly man.Helooks at her with real affection.Ittakes a special kind of person to have an entire town be so fond of them.
Thewoman in the next chair takes pity on my efforts and points at some clusters of red stuff.
“Thewinterberry would look nice with the eucalyptus.”
Iguess that means the leavesI’veshoved in are eucalyptus.Ithink that’s in one of the soapsPolly’smom gave me.
“Thankyou.Goodidea.”
Inthey go.Iattach one, then a second, beforeRitadeclares, “Time’sup.Toolsdown.”
Ilook up to find quite a crowd has gathered.Andthey’re clapping.Maybefloristry is what passes for excitement around here.
Asthe applause fades,Ipoint at my pathetic offering with twigs, leaves, and berries sticking out at random angles.Ablind badger with its paws tied behind its back and zero interest in wreath-making would have done a better job.Ifonly my mother and her legendary green thumb could see this.She’dbe both appalled and bent double in hysterics.
“Isthere a prize for the worst one?”Iask the room.
Thatgets a good laugh.Ican win over this town.IknowIcan.
“Well,Ibet your lovely friend over there would consider your wreath a prize in itself.”Ritapoints atPolly, who instantly turns as red as the berries falling out of my wreath. “Ibet she’d tell you that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Pollylooks like she wishes she was the beholder of an invisibility cloak, or that the ground would open up and suck her into the earth’s core, or that a giant hand would swoop down from the sky, lift up the tent, toss it aside, then pick her up and carry her off to a far-flung land never to be seen again.
Herembarrassment is also somethingIcan work with. “Youknow,Ithink you’re right,Rita.”
Everyone’seyes turn toPolly, who shakes her head slowly from side to side.
AsIpick up the wreath, half a dozen leaves and a couple of berries drop out.Anda twig unfurls and pokes me in the hand.
Istep around the row of ladies and their perfectly organized creations and head toward the cutest, sexiest produce seller imaginable—who still looks cute and sexy even though she’s now holding her palms up at me and mouthing “no” exaggeratedly.
AsIget right up to her, she sucks in her lips and her brow shoots sky high.It’sthe look of dread you’d expect from someone who thinks they’re about to get a custard pie in the face.
“Imade this especially for you,”Ideclare.
Thecrowd emits a collectiveaw.
Unableto do anything else, she takes it from me, slowly and in silence, and looks up at the roof of the tent as if searching for that giant hand.
“Itmight not be perfect,”Ritasays from the head of the table, her hands clutched to her chest. “Butit’s the love that goes into it that matters most with a fertility wreath.”
