But her eyes don’t linger on him like the other women’s do, and that feels good. I’ve never really been jealous of my brother, but I want to be Taylor’s favorite guy.
Meg gives her uncle a hug and he immediately starts grilling her about which dog she thinks will win and why, which predictably makes her laugh.
A moment later, the pets start coming by and we all forget everything except watching the parade.
In a city parade, the dogs would probably be purebred animals in elaborate costumes, or maybe doing tricks. And their owners would be wearing coordinating outfits.
But this is so simple, it makes me wonder if Taylor will think we’re crazy for enjoying it. The owners are wearing their hats and coats like the restof us, and the pets are just walking down the street on their leashes. Like Meg said, there are about three dozen dogs and one little girl carrying a rabbit in her arms.
The crowd is going wild, everyone cheering and calling out their names. I look to Taylor again and see that she’s smiling too, so shegets it.
We cheer as the animals pass us on the way to the judges’ table, which is a plastic folding table filled with the little prizes. As each pet passes, their name is announced and their owner receives a ribbon and a baggie of treats.
“Everyone wins,” Taylor realizes, looking really happy about it as she claps for the pets that pass.
“Of course,” Buck says, sounding a little scandalized. “All of them are excellent.”
“We can’t leave any of them out,” Meg agrees.
The girl with the rabbit takes her ribbon and hands her baggie of dog treats to a Jeanne Lipcott who has an elderly dog of no particular breed, but that’s about as big as a horse.
Jeanne thanks her and pats her head and a couple of people in the crowd sayaww.
The judges announce that the festivities will continue with the Craft-mas Angel Gathering.
“What’s that?” Taylor asks.
“That’s the ornament making,” Meg tells her. “But I want to do a carriage ride with Santa first.”
“I thought Grandma might want to do that withyou when she gets here,” I remind her. “Maybe Grandpa too.”
“Oh yeah,” Meg says happily. “Too bad you lit that fire.”
“I know,” I say, feeling itchy about the fact that I did it on purpose to keep Mom at home a little longer. I know Meg would understand, but I’m not sure she’d keep it under wraps, and I don’t want my mom to feel embarrassed.
“But she was using her cane,” Meg says softly. “So maybe it’s good for her to rest a little.”
I nod and try not to smile. No one said a word about it, but even Meg can see that it’s a bad day for her grandmother to be out standing on the pavement watching parades and jostling around making ornaments at a crowded table.
“I’ll meet you guys in there,” Buck says, waving to a friend of ours from school.
“I’m going to make a little Foghorn,” Meg decides as we set off for the Craft-mas event. “What will you make, Taylor?”
“I’m not sure,” Taylor says. “Maybe a book?”
“You could make a tiny bookshop,” Meg says excitedly. “I can help you.”
“Oh, you’ll be hard at work on your dog,” Taylor says.
“I made him last year,” Meg says, shrugging. “And the year before, too. We can do a bookshop together, if you want.”
“That would be great,” Taylor says with a big smile.
And just like that, the two of them are off to the races, talking about how they’ll make the best ornament ever.
I feel kind of like a third wheel.
And I sort of love it. Just seeing Meg open up like this feels good.
