Night of the Living Dandelion by Kate Collins

blissful cocoon burst shortly after eleven o’clock, when Grace came in to alert me that she’d spotted my cousin Jillian through the bay window, heading for Bloomers.
    “This will help you brace yourself, dear,” Grace said, placing a cup of tea beside me.
    “The only thing that would help me now is a potion to ward off evil spirits.”
    “I’m afraid it’s only chamomile, love.” Grace headed for the curtain. “I’ll see what I can do about the potion.”
    Did she think I was serious? “Wait, Grace,” I called after her. Sometimes she was so efficient she scared me.
    The curtain parted and Jillian swept in. She wore a rich, colorful paisley scarf over the shoulders of her white wool coat, with brown leather boots and a matching beret that brought out the highlights in her coppery red hair.
    “Look at this picture,” she said, thrusting her tiny camera at me. “Tell me what you see.”
    “I see people standing around the bar at Down the Hatch.”
    “Now tell me who’s not in the picture.”
    “How am I supposed to know who’s not in it?”
    She huffed in exasperation. “Remember when I stopped at the bar to take Vlad’s photo? Well, do you see him in the photo?”
    “Here’s an idea, Jillian. Say, ‘Look, Abby! Vlad’s not in the picture.’ ”
    Frowning, she said in a monotone, “Look, Abby. Vlad is not in the picture. Now tell me why he’s not in the picture.”
    I examined the screen. “Here’s your problem. Your thumb was on the lens.”
    Jillian clicked a button on the camera to forward it to the next shot. “He’s not in this one either.” She clicked again. “Or this one.”
    I had to admit it was odd that she hadn’t managed to capture even one shot of Vlad, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. “Maybe you should have asked Vlad to pose instead of trying to take his picture through the crowd.”
    Jillian put her hands on the sides of my face and bent her knees so we were eye to eye. “Abby, hello! Don’t you get it? He isn’t in the photos because vampires can’t be photographed.”
    “Let go of my face.”
    She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Have you ever thought of flipping your hair? Remember when you were fourteen and I did a makeover on you? We were at your house over spring break—it was March twenty-sixth, at one seventeen p.m.—and you—”
    I pulled away from her. “Vampires aren’t real, Jillian.”
    “You don’t believe me?” She narrowed her eyes. “Then I’ll just have to get more proof.” She slipped the camera into her purse and started toward the curtain. She’d forgotten all about dinner at the country club.
    Then she paused, turned toward me, and tapped her chin. “There was something else . . .”
    I held my breath.
    Lottie peeked through the curtain. “I’m gonna take my lunch break now, sweetie. The shop is quiet and I need to get home to start my dinner for tonight.”
    “Dinner!” Jillian said, brightening. “That’s it! Thank you, Lottie.”
    “You’re welcome,” Lottie said, giving her a puzzled glance before she left.
    Looking smug, Jillian returned to the worktable and leaned on both elbows to smile at me. “You were hoping I’d forget, weren’t you?”
    “Listen, Jillian, about the dinner.”
    She pointed at me. “I agreed to keep quiet about your you-know-what for one more week, and that week is up tonight. So if you don’t show up, I get to tell.”
    Where was Grace with that potion?
    “I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of our news,” I said.
    “And I don’t understand your need for secrecy,” Jillian countered. “This is a big deal, Abs! After waffling for months, you’re finally going to tie the knot. You should be delighted to share that with family. Imagine the fun you, your mom, Marco’s mom, and me and my mom will have planning your bridal events and shopping for your wedding accoutrements. Seriously, who could possibly be better qualified