“It certainly does!” said Ms. Nalone, who was pleased that Vito and Miss Ficollo would have so much time together. Perhaps a spark or two might ignite.
The other responses of approval were more forced. Franklyn had hoped to be in Isabella’s group, and Vito had hoped to be with Brice.
“Marvelous!” said Isabella. “Then let’s begin. And try not to get lost. It would be a shame if the picnic spoiled.”
So the groups divided and entered at the same time, from separate entrances. What Lena and Arlo had neglected to tell anyone else was that Zeke was already inside the maze, waiting for the signal.
* * *
There are hedge mazes that are like charming paths, and then there are actual mazes made of ten-foot-tall, impenetrably dense hedges. This was the latter. Those who did not know Isabella well might have been surprised that she had a true passion for them. She not only had requested the maze but also had designed it herself. That had been a year ago, though. She knew she might not recall every twist and turn, so she had intended to bring her blueprints, in case one of her guests became lost and needed to be rescued. But she was unable to locate them. Lena had assured her they would turn up eventually, and for the purposes of the day, she had complete confidence in Isabella to lead them through by memory.
Lena continued to exhibit that confidence, even after it became abundantly clear to Ms. Nalone and Vito that Isabella had a dreadful memory.
“I could have sworn it was this turn that brought us into the next section,” Isabella said, mostly to herself.
“Vito, why don’t you see if you can help,” said Ms. Nalone, giving her son a meaningful look. In her mind, there were few things more attractive than some masculine, take-charge action. She assumed, incorrectly, that Isabella felt the same.
“But I’m awful at mazes,” said Vito, who didn’t mind taking masculine action, but only when it was something he was actually knowledgeable about or skilled at.
Ms. Nalone sighed in exasperation. She pulled Vito aside, letting Isabella and Lena turn a corner.
“Don’t you get it?” she hissed. “This is your chance to make a move!”
“Don’t you get that I’m not going to?” he asked.
Ms. Nalone released his arm and hurried to catch up with the girls. It was clear that Vito would be no help. Perhaps he was worried that Isabella would reject his advances, crazy as that seemed. Maybe if she spoke to Isabella on his behalf, she could get her to show some glimmer of interest in him, and it would give him the confidence to ask her out. Yes, that’s how it would work.
“Isabella, dear.”
But when Ms. Nalone turned the corner, Isabella and Lena were gone.
* * *
“How did you know about this bypass?” Isabella asked Lena, as they walked alone down a long, straight path.
“Oh, I just remember it from the first time we tested out the maze.” Lena felt a stab of guilt. She didn’t like lying to Isabella. But she had promised Arlo she wouldn’t confess that they’d stolen (secretly borrowed, he’d insisted on calling it) the blueprints until after their plan came to fruition.
“I wish I had your memory,” Isabella said wistfully. “Still, it seems a bit like cheating, don’t you think?”
“It was more to get us away from Ms. Nalone,” said Lena. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. You were the one who insisted they be in our group. I would have much preferred the Elores.”
“I didn’t expect Ms. Nalone to start pushing her son on you so intensely,” said Lena.
“Pushing Vito on me?” asked Isabella, looking bewildered.
“Hadn’t you noticed? She’s been trying for years.”
“But Vito’s gay, isn’t he?”
“I don’t think she realizes.”
“Good gracious, then she’s the only one,” said Isabella. “Do you think she’ll keep trying all summer? How tedious.”
“She might give up if you were to make your interest in someone else more plain.”
“Franklyn, you mean?” Isabella sighed. “Every time I try to get less formal with him, he runs away. He’s made it plain he’s not interested in pursuing that course.”
“On the contrary,” said Lena.
“How do you mean?”
“Would you say young Mr. Elore has a gentle nature?”
“Why, yes of course.”
“And a poetic soul?”
“The most poetic I’ve ever encountered.”
“Wouldn’t it be feasible, then, that your overtures so overwhelm his sensitive nature with feelings of affection that he simply doesn’t know how to handle his own ardor?”
Isabella’s eyes grew wide. “Could I have that much of an effect on him?”
Lena smiled. “I have it on good authority you do.”
“Oh, Lena!” Isabella took her friend’s hands. “What must I do then to sway his delicate heart?”
“Perhaps a poem to win the poet? Something that allows you to express your feelings for him without overwhelming him with your beauty at the same time.”
“But I’m terrible at poetry. I adore it, but I couldn’t rhyme a couplet if my life depended on it.”
“Then I will help you,” said Lena.
Isabella squeezed her hands. “Would you? When should we do it?”
“Why not now?” Lena produced a small notebook and pen from her pocket.
Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “There’s some scheme at work here.”
“Scheme, Miss Ficollo?” asked Lena. “I’m not sure what you mean. I always have pen and paper on hand.”
“In the three years we have been together, I have never known that to be the case.”
“Very well,” Lena said gravely. “Then may I ask you to simply trust me this once?”
“Silly Lena,” said Isabella, taking the pen and notebook. “I trust you always. Now, how should it begin?”
* * *
“What do you mean, there’s a plan?” Brice whispered to Arlo. The Elores were far ahead of them, but Brice was never one to take chances. And at the moment, that was the problem.
“I mean exactly that,” said Arlo. “Lena, Zeke, and I have devised a scheme to get Franklyn and Isabella together that requires your help.” Arlo decided it would be premature to let him know that far more than his help would be requested. “And don’t chew your nails.”
“What?” Brice guiltily pulled his hand away from his mouth.
“Lena said when I sprang this on you, you might be tempted to fall back on nail-biting as a means of coping.”
“Nonsense.” Brice turned up his nose in disdain. “And so is this whole wretched idea. What business is it of ours if Franklyn and Isabella get together or not?”
“Don’t be like that, Brice,” said Arlo. “Think of the looks of joy on their faces when they’re finally united.”
“Think of the cooing and giggling and hand-holding,” said Brice. “The public displays of affection.”
“I promise you’ll hardly notice,” said Arlo, who was of the firm belief that the only people who disliked seeing other people kiss were those not being kissed themselves—something he hoped to remedy for Brice. “Look, all I need you to do is take the good doctor ahead while I work on Franklyn.”
Brice gave him a disgruntled look. “This won’t end well.”
“That depends on your personal feelings regarding the fulfillment of true love,” said Arlo.
“Fine,” said Brice. “But you owe me. All three of you.”
Arlo winked. “Agreed. Now, let’s catch up with our guests.” They hurried toward the Elores as they made a turn.
“The history of garden mazes is a curious one,” the doctor was saying to Franklyn.